Chapter 1
The Bramston residence lived within the city of Olympia, the bizarrely unknown capital of the equally obscure state of Washington. The Bramstones lived along Jasper Avenue to the northeast, a relatively quiet, if somewhat crowded, neighbourhood laying opposite of the industrial central suburbs of Olympia. The Bramston home was a tastelessly standard home fashioned with a grass garden along with several mundane decorations.
Richard Bramston was married to Tamara Bramston for fifteen years and currently had two children, an older and a younger daughter. Richard sported a career as a key grip in a studio for regular castings of television advertisements for products, several of such products Richard currently owned in his own home. Tamara Bramston lived the uneventful lifestyle as a traditional housewife, remaining at home in order to maintain the lifestyles of her kin as her husband earned his daily profit for his services to the community.
Douglas Bramston was currently thirteen years of age and attended the Reeves Middle School, a relatively remote school with an unusually large attendance of students ranging within two hundred to two hundred and fifty. Ever since his young age, he has aspired to become a world famous artist, capable of practicing and perfecting each and every form of art that had ever been conjured in the history of mankind.
Naturally, because of these intentions, his most concentrated subject in his classes was the art class, along with multiple other classmates with similar, if less outlandishly driven, intentions. He was immediately drawn to these lessons by the supposed guarantee of earning a consistent career and gaining a popular reputation amongst the public, or so he had been told. The only obstacle he could consider that would undermine this 'guarantee' is his mediocre teacher representing the lessons.
Melissa West had been the art teacher for several years, and although Douglas couldn't pinpoint the exact amount of time, it was clearly too long. Her caring attitude towards her class's success in the profession seemed non-existent, and the consistency in her instructions were of an equal nature. Douglas has failed many art assignments simply due to the instructions contrasting with either the nature of the tasks themselves or of the teacher's clear instructional sabotage.
Currently, it was Douglas's third week during his third term of school, and was spending his Tuesday afternoon in his art class before the stroke of three. In this current lesson, he was taught the way of painting still life, in the loosest possible form of the word 'taught'. As usual, the teacher would comment on the incorrect mixing of the paints that Douglas used, ironic was the fact that these specific paints were supplied to him by the art class itself and were mandatory to use.
Finally, the homestretch of ten minutes was taken into account and Mrs. West began reviewing the student's artworks, each student in question placing them on the tables. Ten minutes of unwarranted criticisms and useless explanations passed until Douglas's artwork would be subjected to this fate. By this time, Douglas could not decide whether these criticisms were truly based on the teacher's obvious lack of deductive reasoning and art skills or simply with intent to spite him.
After finally receiving his latest fail for his hindered perseverance in this lesson, the three o'clock bell chimed and announced the end of the agony and suffering that is education. Douglas remained begrudged over his unavoidable failure within his class, and now expected the rest of the Friday to be of an equally mediocre nature. Thankfully, the only consolation for studying these classes was his connection to several students within the class.
Brock Samuels had become his closest friend ever since he had begun attending Reeves middle school, proudly offering him the longest relationship with Douglas. Brock sported a large mop of blonde hair and an absurdly based voice. He was primarily a sports person and aspired to join an American baseball team, but Brock also had an eye for practicing both culinary and artistic activities. Brock had often explained to Douglas that these activities allow him to gain concentration on his actions during sports.
Leonard Park, on the other hand, was often a mere associate and a general convenience to Douglas. Leonard had thick and shimmering black hair that would hide the left half of his face behind his fringe. Leonard was a complete opportunist in Douglas's eyes, often attempting to convince classmates and other students to pay him to perform certain acts, including spying on people and spreading gossip. Besides this, Douglas has noted his clear honesty, considering him to be the archetype for a man of business.
Several other students were among the list of Douglas's companions, though they rarely offered a similar connection or left a similar impact. Eric was often a subject of complications for Douglas because of his short temper, though Douglas rarely approached him for any particular reasons. Douglas considered himself to be a relatively social person, this fact being best presented by how everyone in his class seemed to know him, for better or worse.
As the Friday afternoon continued beyond the school hours, Douglas basked in the rays of the setting sun as he prepared to leave the school ground and return home. Douglas didn't require being transported home by his parents since his home was only several blocks away from the school itself. He stretched his muscles as the pressed firmly against the bindings of his formal school uniform, before stuffing his hands into his coat's pockets as he began his journey home.
He passed the intersection into his neighbourhood, the boiling sun poisoning the gusting wind with its malice and radiating from the overhead horizon of the concrete pavement. His house finally loomed into view, the blandness of the front lawn's decoration scheme contrasting with the other surrounding homes offering a clear definition. Douglas himself felt a sense of dissatisfaction from the state of his home, yet was relieved by his lack of responsibility for its current condition.
As he passed the picket fence and through the identically styled picket gate, a familiar sound could be heard from ahead. Through the window, Douglas could hear the sound of an unfamiliar voice explaining a decrease in yearly profits for oil, indicating that his parents were watching the news in the living room. Douglas climbed the front porch's staircase and opened the door, a quantity of air-conditioned wind greeting him through the hallway.
Upon entering his abode, Douglas breathed in the fresh air that emanated from the surrounding sanctuary and sighed with content relief. He continued to listen for the source of the voice, the voice itself sounding evermore distant as it became clearer. He carefully creeped his way through the hallway and turned to his left and enter the living room, his suspicions having finally been confirmed. The living room's television was broadcasting the daily Channel 7 news program, the typical anchor-man discussing a recent burglary of a family home within a nearby suburb.
Douglas turned to the couch to find his the rest of his family, sitting together comfortably as they watched the television with a level of intensity. It was peculiar that his eight year old sister would even bother to watch the news, the news here being a series of events that a child should not concern herself with. Douglas considered the time of day and concluded that it must be 4:00 in the afternoon, well after the time of the typical cartoons for her to watch.
However, Douglas was about to greet his family, the anchor-man had altered the subject of discussion to a new topic. "And in other news…" the anchor-man began as he sorted his papers into a neatened collection, before continuing "The world renowned artist Pascal Fandango, otherwise known by his celebrity title Pinky Flamingo, has made a public appearance in the state of Washington, sighted within the capitol Olympia".
In an instant, Douglas's mother and sister were awed by this revelation and gasped in surprise, his mother exclaiming "Pinky Flamingo?! Here in Washington?!" The anchor-man continued "The famed artist is widely recognised in the Guinness Book of Records as the fastest painter in the world, capable of panting flawless replicas of famous artworks within significantly less time than the originals". Douglas's mother covered her mouth in excitement as the anchor-man continues his description.
Douglas, on the other hand, had never even caught a mention of this celebrity and admitted such to his family, despite the excitement his family seemed to express at the mere mention of his name. Douglas shrugged and explained plainly "I've never heard of him. What does he do?", his sister turning to face him with an expression of confusion. Amanda replied "How can you not know this guy?! He is the artist that managed to pant up to 15 portraits within a single hour!"
To Douglas, after hearing of this astounding accomplishment, in spite of how amazing it should seem as an artistic feat, the nature of this artist still seemed questionable. For Douglas, the artist seemed to be some form of stuntman searching for an unsuspecting audience, hoodwinking them through a series of alleged accomplishments without arousing suspicion. However, within moments, Douglas's first impression of the teacher's true nature was cemented in its entirety.
Upon the left hand side of the television screen, an image of the artist was displayed, possibly in order for the news to allow identification of the artist they referred to. The image portrayed an Italian man within his late thirties and early forties, sporting an incredibly sinister expression. His hair silvery grey with a minor comb-over that arose upwards towards the tips. His skin was pallid and appeared almost ghostly, his face expressing a pair of wide eyes and a large, intense smile.
"Holy-" Douglas exclaimed as he stepped back in surprise, "He's not… that's got to be the creepiest face I've ever seen!" Douglas's mother, understandably irritated by the discrediting of her favourite celebrity, stated "Douglas! Don't say rude things like that!" Douglas himself slouched and sighed in resignation, "Sorry… I just wasn't expecting to look like that". From then, Douglas left the living room to prepare a snack in the kitchen, his attention transfixed on the artist's image until the television was no longer in his sight.
Douglas stepped through his front door and proceeded to descend the porch's staircase, his mind focused on a single negative aspect of the morning itself. It was currently Monday today, and Douglas naturally could not help but find a sense of dissatisfaction from this fact. He breathed a sigh of disappointment as he pushed his front gate open and stepped out onto the street, the cool breeze gusting against him offering a single consolation as to the nature of the following morning.
After approximately between ten to fifteen minutes of walking to his school, though the repetitive action of walking to school would convince Douglas of a lesser length of time, he finally found himself standing outside of the school gate, As soon as he entered the school grounds, he immediately turned towards the outdoor lunch area in search of the friends, hoping to be able to have a quick conversation with them before their first class starts.
Finally, within their signature lunch table of choice, Douglas spotted Leonard and Brock chatting alongside to other students, though the identity of the latter individuals remained relatively unknown to Douglas. He wandered to a vacant seat of the table and seated himself amongst the rest of the gathering, Brock turning to face him and offering an expression of confusion, Leonard mimicking this act in addition.
"Hey Douglas…" Brock began, his eyebrow raising as he asked "Where were you yesterday?" Douglas shrugged and replied "I dunno… just at home, enjoying the weekend" before he questioned "Why? Did I miss out on something?" Brock nodded enthusiastically and answered "Yeah, dude! We went to the bowling alley yesterday and you weren't there!" Douglas's jaw dropped in realisation and exclaimed "Are you serious?! Why didn't anyone tell me about this?!"
"I thought at least somebody would tell you. Personally, I expected Brock" Leonard explained, clearly attempting to avoid any suspicion of his role in this lack of information. Nevertheless, Douglas believed that uncovering the culprit responsible would be fruitless and decided to change the subject, "So who won at the bowling alley?" he asked curiously. Brock, sporting a smug grin, answered "I did, and it was by a long shot".
"That's rubbish! I came a pretty close second to you, dude!" the student across from the table accused, his finger pointed towards Brock for emphasis. Leonard chuckled mischievously and replied "Sure thing, Carlos. If any living thing on this planet would define a fourth of the highest score to be close, then you're absolutely right". "A fourth?! Brock, that's legendary! You could be in the Guinness book of records for that" Douglas described, Brock dryly chuckled in response.
So what did you actually do for your weekend, Douglas?" Leonard questioned out of curiosity. Douglas merely shrugged before answering "Hardly anything, really. I just spent my time practicing my painting skills". Douglas continued to emphasise his point by adding "But I've also been practicing some poetry. You know… like I'm writing this one about how I would make a better art teacher than my actual art teacher". Brock suddenly whispered "Dude, don't say stuff like that so loudly. She could have heard you, y'know".
"Well, I don't know about that, dude. Something tells me that she couldn't have possibly heard that" Leonard stated with a wry grin. "What? Why?" Douglas asked, to which Leonard answered "From what I hear, Ms. West has hit the road for good". Brock, once he had finally finished gagging on the water from his water bottle after hearing this revelation, shouted "Really!? Gone for good?!" Leonard nodded in confirmation and added "And apparently, some new teacher has just offered to replace her".
"Holy cow…" Douglas exclaimed breathlessly as he slouched in his seat, "I might actually be able to have an art career yet!" Leonard couldn't help but laugh at Douglas's diabolical humour over the topic before adding "Better yet, I hear he's a proper artist too". Douglas punched towards the sky in excitement from this news as he shouted "Yes!" before sighing and adding "Guys, you have no Idea how awesome this is for me. I feel like I reached nirvana!"
"Nirvana on a rollercoaster, from what I can see, bro" Leonard described from Douglas's excitement. Suddenly, amidst this rejoice and satisfaction, Brock asked with genuine curiosity "But Ms. West… why would she quit?" Leonard turned and answered "I never said she quit, dude. She apparently just up and left the whole city; her whole house had no furniture, so I guess she just moved somewhere without telling anyone".
As uncomfortable as this conversation had become, Douglas disregarded the details regarding his former instructor and decided to steer the conversation by stating "Well I, for one, am really excited for this new art teacher. But I wonder who he is?" Suddenly, before the newest conversation could commence, the school bell began to ring to mark the beginning of their first lesson. Reluctantly, the trio and their follower left the table and proceeded to their different classes.
