Original Canon

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A Whateley Academy Tale

Murphy’s Laws Of Whateley

Semester in Review

By Joe Gunnarson

Thursday, March 1st, 2007, Whitman Cottage

Murphy’s Law #17: When everything appears to be working correctly, all hell will break loose.

Never let it be said that my life isn’t interesting. After picking a quiet war with several Alphas, thoroughly embarrassing myself to my fellow Cottage-mates in a distinct show of not-decorum when faced with inhuman anatomy, I’d made a few friends in the Whateley Academy Literary Club, and the leader of the Alphas. Sort of.

Don’t get me wrong, they were cool, but then so were Froggy, Kerry, Thorn and a few others I’d met since I arrived here in the poorly named “Freak House Femme.” It was never, ever fair the way a lot of the Whitman girls denigrated themselves, which sat in odd mirror to the bitches in Dicksucker and Melvillain who liked to pick on the freaks. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy that would never end, yes it goes on and on my friend…

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The Bear, the Bitch, and Everything

A Whateley Academy Story

By

E. E. Nalley

 

Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain

With the rain in Shambala

Wash away my sorrow, wash away my shame

With the rain in Shambala

Three Dog Night, The Road to Shambala

 

Prologue

August 15th, 2007

Office of Senior VP (currency exchange) Theodore Walcutt, Chase Building, New York New York

The view from the corner office of the Chase Manhattan building was spectacular. Out of two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows the financial district of New York was spread, along with the dark, serene waters of the East River flowing out into the bay and the iconic span of the Brooklyn Bridge. Inside, the office was understated luxury; dark wood paneling tastefully accented by Ansell Adams original photographs over a thick, rich carpet. The furniture were all similarly stained hardwoods, sofa, matching chairs facing the desk, each the work of a master craftsman handmade to order, done up in rich leathers taken from the finest specimens of their respective animals.

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A Whateley Academy Tale

Small Mercies

By Joe Gunnarson

Wednesday, December 27, Kilgore Texas

Matt Carter slid out of bed, groggily, trying to come to grips with the daylight outside. He dropped the four feet to the floor from the top bunk of his room, and wandered over to the computer and hit the power button, listening to the fans rev up on the ancient piece of computer hardware. He looked over at the empty lower bunk, meticulously made up by their mother.

Matt never touched the bunk, he refused to acknowledge the meaning of it being made up as though the owner was merely out elsewhere. Mom and Dad were deluding themselves if they thought Ryan was coming back. He hadn’t been spirited away, or possessed by the devil, like they tried to convince themselves of. Ryan had turned into a mutant and they, along with the help from Pastor Ferris had tried to kill Ryan in their delusion that the devil had taken their son and left a demon in his place.

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A Whateley Academy Tale

A Little R&R

By Morpheus

 

Part 1

 


Dunwich, Monday August 27th, 2007
Roulette:

Dunwich. After a long and uncomfortable flight from Portland to Boston, and then a somewhat more relaxing and comfortable, yet still long, train ride to Dunwich, New Hampshire, I had finally arrived. Well, technically, I hadn’t actually arrived at my final destination just yet, but I was close enough that I could taste it.

I stared out the window of the train, watching carefully as we pulled into the Dunwich station. Once we came to a full stop, I finally put away the books that I’d been reading for most of the journey.

The first book was one on basic magical theory. Witchling, who was something of my mentor, or at least, the woman who’d given me some basic lessons in magic, had also given me this book. I read through most of it while onboard the plane, but a lot of it seemed like stereo instructions to me. I’d grown up with devisor technology, not magic, so this was still pretty new to me.