Alright, this is newsie characters in present time. There will be
slash! Death! Witches! And yes...THERE WILL BE SPOT! Em.read, please.
Oh, for the sake of clarity, I'm going to tell you whom I am relating so far.
Pie Eater-Race-Specs: Brothers
Series: Scooby Gang
Title: The beginning.
Summary- it has been about three or four hours and I long for the comforting familiarity of home. I could smell blood; I'm not really sure whose, on my hands. I know there's something wrong with me, and only one person can help. But I'm not going to see him. I'm not.
"Oh shit, shit shit shit shit shit!" I whispered fiercely into the dark room. It was happening again. All of a sudden the telltale pain in my shoulder blades sprang up and my thoughts and free will were put on pause. I kind of remember writhing in pain for a few moments, and then everything went a murky grayish green. I know it generally 'goes black' but it didn't. It went grayish green and I'm saying so.
I remember feeling as if I was moving. But it wasn't a smooth ride. I felt like I was in a go kart with really, really bad shocks. Then, I recall lying outside my room, stark naked. I looked around and waited a second for my vision to clear. My strength returned and I crawled up to my room. I then made a mental note to thank dad for not relenting when I said that the little brick ledges under my window were cheesy. The last thing I remember was waking up.and wishing I hadn't.
"Spill," my brother stood over me, looking accusingly down. His brown hair fell into his eyes, already shaded by glasses.
"Spill what?" I questioned innocently, tugging on a pair of boxers and then jeans. I truly had no idea what he was talking about.but I did have a massive headache and was in no mood for his dumb mind games.
"You know what I'm talking about Dallas, now talk," I swear this boy has mental problems. And speaking of problems, here's mine. I lied, I know what he's talking about. I know exactly what he's talking about. For the last few months I've been waking up in odd places with headaches like no ones business. I know it sounds like the hangover from hell, but it isn't. I don't drink.
"Honestly, Taylor, I really don't know where I went.go.whatever,"
"Are you two awake?" came a voice from the other side of the room.
"No Jacob, this all part of a mystical dream"
"Shut up Taylor.Oh, you decided to come back did you?" I hate having two older siblings. I really truly hate it. My younger.older sibling is 17, his name's Jacob, but we call him Pie Eater because of that one time at the family reunion.never mind. My older older sibling is 18. His name as I'm sure you've guessed is Taylor, but we call him Specs, because he has em.
My name is Dallas, I'm 15 and people call me Racetrack.don't ask me why.
"You saw him go?" Specs questioned. My little 'outings' had always fascinated my brothers.
"Yeah, but it wasn't him.well, it was.but it wasn't," Specs groaned.
"Oh, we understand, it's clear as mud now," the sarcastic remark was spat just as Dad's voice came up the stairs.
"Boys! Food!" Ah yes, disyllables, dad was famous for them. I was good with monosyllables myself. We all scrambled out of bed and headed down the stairs. Putting the morning's discussion behind us. For a while at least.
"So, how did you sleep?" my mother asked in that syrupy sweet tone she always had.
"We slept," Specs said offhandedly
"Most of us." Pie Eater proclaimed getting a kick under the table from yours truly.
" Bad night?" there he goes with the disyllables again.
"Nah, it was okay," Specs made the recovery. The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence, thank God.
After, since it was Saturday we headed back up to the room where we all slept, to discuss.me. Yay.
"So, if it wasn't 'me' what was it?" I questioned Jacob, who swallowed and shifted his eyes to the floor.
"You were.well.fuzzy,"
"I was fuzzy," I repeated as Specs burst into laughter.
"C'mon, you think I'd lie? He was fuzzy damnit!" Pie was apparently insulted, so Specs contained himself and asked another question.
"Was there anything else.interesting about him?"
"He had wings," Pie sounded as if he liked this part.
"They were huge.and golden and feathery. They had eyes too!" Specs shook his head and I groaned. Wings? Me?
"Don't believe me? Fine. For the next month we'll post a camera above your bed. You can see it for yourself.
And so we did. Every night for a month, just to catch my 'transformations'. Honestly, I can't pass sophomore English and they think I'm a ware wolf. This is so unfair.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Specs_)_)_)_)_)_)_)_)
"Dallas Higgins you get your ass back in this house, now!" wow, more than two syllables. My father was yelling at my youngest brother, we'll call him Racetrack while he's alive. Odd as it might seem, he may not stay that way for long.
"Streaking were we?" Pie Eater questioned as Race trudged up the stairs and into our room- naked.
"Yep," he yanked on a pair of jeans, "just felt like letting 'em breathe for a bit," he gestured to his.yeah.
"Really Race, " I walked into the room, flopping onto my bed, "Pie tells me we got some footage,"
"Well, hook it up, I wanna see this!"
He didn't I don't suppose. You could just see his stomach folding into knots as he strained and pulled against the sheets. You could hardly see what leapt out the window, but you could tell it wasn't Race.
"We should tell dad," now Pie is a sweet heart, but not the brightest crayon.
"Yeah, and then he'll tell us to shoot the heroin right into out eyeballs so he can send us into rehab. Sounds like fun!" I tried not to be too sarcastic. It didn't work
"Well, who do we tell? Who do you go to for something like this?" Pie questioned. Race took a breath to speak and I silenced him before he had the chance to suggest.
"We are not talking to Spot about it. No," Race scowled. This Spot guy may have actually been our last resort. But he was weird.
"C'mon Spec, the guy deals with this stuff.he'd know," Race really wanted to be saved, he was truly, genuinely scared.
"Honestly, his name is Spot because that's what he is. He's a Spot in existence, a waste of air. Absolutely no purpose whatsoever," I made one last attempt at reason with him, to no avail. Tomorrow, we were going to see Spot. [1]
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Race_)_)_)_)_)_)_)
Ah yes, the school bell, nothing like it. Me, Specs, and Pie walked out of that building like free men from jail. It was a cold, cloudy, ugly day. But Spot would probably be where he always was, at the park.
Grabbing our bikes, we sped along to the park. 'The' because there was only one, and it was where Spot resided. Two rumors constantly circulated about him. He was either some sort of daemon whisperer or a pothead. My brothers and I were hoping for the former. But until Specs heard it straight from the horse's mouth, Spot was still "that skeevy loser who hangs out in the park"
Well, there he was, as expected, lounging on a picnic table, one knee slightly bent. His eyes closed. A cigarette was placed firmly between his moist lips. Well, he was both then.
"Can I help you?" how did he know we were there? Freaky.
"Colby?" Specs began tentatively.
"You can call me Spot, everyone else does," he still hadn't opened his eyes.
"Well, Spot, the thing is." I trailed, trying to think of what to say. Pie was two steps ahead of me.
"We think Dallas is possessed," great, just great. But Spot didn't look mad or shocked or even disbelieving. His eyes opened and he sat up looking straight at me.
"You're Dallas," it was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah,"
"Talk to me Dallas."
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Spot_)_)_)_)_)_)
Well, of course I heard them. Never in my life have I ever heard anyone think so damned loud. But, it was what it was. The little one was apparently being possessed by some kind of daemon, and that was my line of work.
"Do you remember the dates?" it was a perfectly logical question, but they all looked rather confused. The taller one came to the rescue, whipping out a small pocket planner with a calendar.
"There's a pattern," I said without having looked at the calendar, I didn't need too. There was always a pattern.
"The thirteenth of every month, you change," The guy, Dallas, looked almost relieved.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Race_)_)_)_)_)_)
"So I'm not a ware wolf? And I don't go along eating people?" This, believe it or not, was great news.
"Well, yes on the first one.but we cant be sure on the second," I groaned inwardly. My brothers were no longer on either side of me; they'd both moved back a pace or two. Cowards.
"We'd have to examine you, and see a transformation," we?
"Um, okay." I didn't really know how to answer that one.
"Yeah, I'll give you directions," he grabbed a napkin and a ballpoint pen and began scribbling.
"So, next thirteenth?"
"Yeah, before dark."
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Pie Eater_)_)_)_)_)_)_)
We fed mom and dad some excuse about studying or something. After school, we rode off towards our doom. Or Race's at least. The ride was completely silent, and got more silent if possible as we saw the house. It wasn't a house. It was a castle.
"Specs, is this the right place?" my younger brother questioned my older. The latter frowned and nodded.
"But look at it, it looks like it was designed by a mad man.there's towers and turrets sticking out everywhere," I had a point you know.
"Well, come on, its almost dark,"
We decided to let Racetrack knock, it was his problem. There was a giant brass knocker on the giant wooden doors. One door appeared to be pine, the other cherry wood. As for the knocker, it was half brass, half corroded copper.
The pine door was slowly pulled back and to our surprise, a girl answered. She had short brown hair and the bluest blue eyes I'd ever seen. Her hair was pulled into a pony tail and she wore a long sleeved black shirt that contoured to her very nicely, not that I was looking, a pair of fairly baggy camouflage pants and six, count 'em, six, necklaces. I didn't bother counting her earrings.
" Are you Dallas and co.?" She asked, and it was then that we saw the guy standing behind her in the hallway. He was tall and Asian looking. His short, spiky hair was streaked with red, and he held a cup of kool-aid in his hand. Cherry, I think.
"Why Spot, you've changed, in size.and.gender," I cracked a joke and she scowled.
"And species, come in," species? Wait a sec.Colby.his ears.oh God! He's an elf!
DISCLAIMERS: Don't you just hate it when S's make things plural?
The general idea from this story is credited to Becky and Patrice's "The Scooby Gang" which you can no longer find on this site. Some of the characters and situations are modeled after "The Scooby Gang" stories.
Some of the mystical creatures and their situations will take from information from the author Stage.
And if anyone can guess who the mystery man is, I shall give you a lollipop.
I don't own the newsies, unfortunately, they're Disney's.
While I'm at it.this isn't my computer. Thanks Dad.
[1] No pun intended
Stand by for the next chapter, or parish in the dust, SWEATY MONKEYS!
Random quote of the day: "He's got one leg Jim! Count em, ONE!" =Gonzo, "Muppet Treasure Island"
Oh, for the sake of clarity, I'm going to tell you whom I am relating so far.
Pie Eater-Race-Specs: Brothers
Series: Scooby Gang
Title: The beginning.
Summary- it has been about three or four hours and I long for the comforting familiarity of home. I could smell blood; I'm not really sure whose, on my hands. I know there's something wrong with me, and only one person can help. But I'm not going to see him. I'm not.
"Oh shit, shit shit shit shit shit!" I whispered fiercely into the dark room. It was happening again. All of a sudden the telltale pain in my shoulder blades sprang up and my thoughts and free will were put on pause. I kind of remember writhing in pain for a few moments, and then everything went a murky grayish green. I know it generally 'goes black' but it didn't. It went grayish green and I'm saying so.
I remember feeling as if I was moving. But it wasn't a smooth ride. I felt like I was in a go kart with really, really bad shocks. Then, I recall lying outside my room, stark naked. I looked around and waited a second for my vision to clear. My strength returned and I crawled up to my room. I then made a mental note to thank dad for not relenting when I said that the little brick ledges under my window were cheesy. The last thing I remember was waking up.and wishing I hadn't.
"Spill," my brother stood over me, looking accusingly down. His brown hair fell into his eyes, already shaded by glasses.
"Spill what?" I questioned innocently, tugging on a pair of boxers and then jeans. I truly had no idea what he was talking about.but I did have a massive headache and was in no mood for his dumb mind games.
"You know what I'm talking about Dallas, now talk," I swear this boy has mental problems. And speaking of problems, here's mine. I lied, I know what he's talking about. I know exactly what he's talking about. For the last few months I've been waking up in odd places with headaches like no ones business. I know it sounds like the hangover from hell, but it isn't. I don't drink.
"Honestly, Taylor, I really don't know where I went.go.whatever,"
"Are you two awake?" came a voice from the other side of the room.
"No Jacob, this all part of a mystical dream"
"Shut up Taylor.Oh, you decided to come back did you?" I hate having two older siblings. I really truly hate it. My younger.older sibling is 17, his name's Jacob, but we call him Pie Eater because of that one time at the family reunion.never mind. My older older sibling is 18. His name as I'm sure you've guessed is Taylor, but we call him Specs, because he has em.
My name is Dallas, I'm 15 and people call me Racetrack.don't ask me why.
"You saw him go?" Specs questioned. My little 'outings' had always fascinated my brothers.
"Yeah, but it wasn't him.well, it was.but it wasn't," Specs groaned.
"Oh, we understand, it's clear as mud now," the sarcastic remark was spat just as Dad's voice came up the stairs.
"Boys! Food!" Ah yes, disyllables, dad was famous for them. I was good with monosyllables myself. We all scrambled out of bed and headed down the stairs. Putting the morning's discussion behind us. For a while at least.
"So, how did you sleep?" my mother asked in that syrupy sweet tone she always had.
"We slept," Specs said offhandedly
"Most of us." Pie Eater proclaimed getting a kick under the table from yours truly.
" Bad night?" there he goes with the disyllables again.
"Nah, it was okay," Specs made the recovery. The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence, thank God.
After, since it was Saturday we headed back up to the room where we all slept, to discuss.me. Yay.
"So, if it wasn't 'me' what was it?" I questioned Jacob, who swallowed and shifted his eyes to the floor.
"You were.well.fuzzy,"
"I was fuzzy," I repeated as Specs burst into laughter.
"C'mon, you think I'd lie? He was fuzzy damnit!" Pie was apparently insulted, so Specs contained himself and asked another question.
"Was there anything else.interesting about him?"
"He had wings," Pie sounded as if he liked this part.
"They were huge.and golden and feathery. They had eyes too!" Specs shook his head and I groaned. Wings? Me?
"Don't believe me? Fine. For the next month we'll post a camera above your bed. You can see it for yourself.
And so we did. Every night for a month, just to catch my 'transformations'. Honestly, I can't pass sophomore English and they think I'm a ware wolf. This is so unfair.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Specs_)_)_)_)_)_)_)_)
"Dallas Higgins you get your ass back in this house, now!" wow, more than two syllables. My father was yelling at my youngest brother, we'll call him Racetrack while he's alive. Odd as it might seem, he may not stay that way for long.
"Streaking were we?" Pie Eater questioned as Race trudged up the stairs and into our room- naked.
"Yep," he yanked on a pair of jeans, "just felt like letting 'em breathe for a bit," he gestured to his.yeah.
"Really Race, " I walked into the room, flopping onto my bed, "Pie tells me we got some footage,"
"Well, hook it up, I wanna see this!"
He didn't I don't suppose. You could just see his stomach folding into knots as he strained and pulled against the sheets. You could hardly see what leapt out the window, but you could tell it wasn't Race.
"We should tell dad," now Pie is a sweet heart, but not the brightest crayon.
"Yeah, and then he'll tell us to shoot the heroin right into out eyeballs so he can send us into rehab. Sounds like fun!" I tried not to be too sarcastic. It didn't work
"Well, who do we tell? Who do you go to for something like this?" Pie questioned. Race took a breath to speak and I silenced him before he had the chance to suggest.
"We are not talking to Spot about it. No," Race scowled. This Spot guy may have actually been our last resort. But he was weird.
"C'mon Spec, the guy deals with this stuff.he'd know," Race really wanted to be saved, he was truly, genuinely scared.
"Honestly, his name is Spot because that's what he is. He's a Spot in existence, a waste of air. Absolutely no purpose whatsoever," I made one last attempt at reason with him, to no avail. Tomorrow, we were going to see Spot. [1]
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Race_)_)_)_)_)_)_)
Ah yes, the school bell, nothing like it. Me, Specs, and Pie walked out of that building like free men from jail. It was a cold, cloudy, ugly day. But Spot would probably be where he always was, at the park.
Grabbing our bikes, we sped along to the park. 'The' because there was only one, and it was where Spot resided. Two rumors constantly circulated about him. He was either some sort of daemon whisperer or a pothead. My brothers and I were hoping for the former. But until Specs heard it straight from the horse's mouth, Spot was still "that skeevy loser who hangs out in the park"
Well, there he was, as expected, lounging on a picnic table, one knee slightly bent. His eyes closed. A cigarette was placed firmly between his moist lips. Well, he was both then.
"Can I help you?" how did he know we were there? Freaky.
"Colby?" Specs began tentatively.
"You can call me Spot, everyone else does," he still hadn't opened his eyes.
"Well, Spot, the thing is." I trailed, trying to think of what to say. Pie was two steps ahead of me.
"We think Dallas is possessed," great, just great. But Spot didn't look mad or shocked or even disbelieving. His eyes opened and he sat up looking straight at me.
"You're Dallas," it was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah,"
"Talk to me Dallas."
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Spot_)_)_)_)_)_)
Well, of course I heard them. Never in my life have I ever heard anyone think so damned loud. But, it was what it was. The little one was apparently being possessed by some kind of daemon, and that was my line of work.
"Do you remember the dates?" it was a perfectly logical question, but they all looked rather confused. The taller one came to the rescue, whipping out a small pocket planner with a calendar.
"There's a pattern," I said without having looked at the calendar, I didn't need too. There was always a pattern.
"The thirteenth of every month, you change," The guy, Dallas, looked almost relieved.
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Race_)_)_)_)_)_)
"So I'm not a ware wolf? And I don't go along eating people?" This, believe it or not, was great news.
"Well, yes on the first one.but we cant be sure on the second," I groaned inwardly. My brothers were no longer on either side of me; they'd both moved back a pace or two. Cowards.
"We'd have to examine you, and see a transformation," we?
"Um, okay." I didn't really know how to answer that one.
"Yeah, I'll give you directions," he grabbed a napkin and a ballpoint pen and began scribbling.
"So, next thirteenth?"
"Yeah, before dark."
(_(_(_(_(_(_(_(_Pie Eater_)_)_)_)_)_)_)
We fed mom and dad some excuse about studying or something. After school, we rode off towards our doom. Or Race's at least. The ride was completely silent, and got more silent if possible as we saw the house. It wasn't a house. It was a castle.
"Specs, is this the right place?" my younger brother questioned my older. The latter frowned and nodded.
"But look at it, it looks like it was designed by a mad man.there's towers and turrets sticking out everywhere," I had a point you know.
"Well, come on, its almost dark,"
We decided to let Racetrack knock, it was his problem. There was a giant brass knocker on the giant wooden doors. One door appeared to be pine, the other cherry wood. As for the knocker, it was half brass, half corroded copper.
The pine door was slowly pulled back and to our surprise, a girl answered. She had short brown hair and the bluest blue eyes I'd ever seen. Her hair was pulled into a pony tail and she wore a long sleeved black shirt that contoured to her very nicely, not that I was looking, a pair of fairly baggy camouflage pants and six, count 'em, six, necklaces. I didn't bother counting her earrings.
" Are you Dallas and co.?" She asked, and it was then that we saw the guy standing behind her in the hallway. He was tall and Asian looking. His short, spiky hair was streaked with red, and he held a cup of kool-aid in his hand. Cherry, I think.
"Why Spot, you've changed, in size.and.gender," I cracked a joke and she scowled.
"And species, come in," species? Wait a sec.Colby.his ears.oh God! He's an elf!
DISCLAIMERS: Don't you just hate it when S's make things plural?
The general idea from this story is credited to Becky and Patrice's "The Scooby Gang" which you can no longer find on this site. Some of the characters and situations are modeled after "The Scooby Gang" stories.
Some of the mystical creatures and their situations will take from information from the author Stage.
And if anyone can guess who the mystery man is, I shall give you a lollipop.
I don't own the newsies, unfortunately, they're Disney's.
While I'm at it.this isn't my computer. Thanks Dad.
[1] No pun intended
Stand by for the next chapter, or parish in the dust, SWEATY MONKEYS!
Random quote of the day: "He's got one leg Jim! Count em, ONE!" =Gonzo, "Muppet Treasure Island"