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Chapter 1: A Hopeful Future In Strange Surroundings

Chapter 1: A Hopeful Future In Strange Surroundings

Timber Creek School Of Fine Arts, Wakefield, U.S.A...

     Trembling pale hands held the barely visible and sweat-soaked white paper formerly crumbled and filled with a good degree of wrinkles after having been stored away in the back pocket of tight-fitting blue jeans as a young pale-looking lad sixteen years of age with unkempt dirty blond locks and inquisitive blue eyes amplified in size behind shining eyeglasses seemed to be out of sorts upon arrival to the massive school that loomed before him. He had not been much to look at being of average height and lacking any sort of physical advantage in terms of looks. He was reduced to simply being a "typical nerd" from middle school and up through high school. He'd found himself shoved into quite a few lockers and trash cans over the long four-year route to get to this point. The point in his life when his decision to attend a four-year college due to the excellent tuition program and record academics had been something to be proud of.

Timber Creek School of Fine Arts was to be the place where he could finally reinvent himself without the stresses and terrors of the past getting in his way. Thousands of miles away from the life he knew before and the people that didn't think too highly of a book-smart bloke such as himself, Porter Fulton had made plans to change his public perception and achieve the greatness he had always strived for ever since his first day at school in kindergarten.

After taking a deep breath and looking over the crumpled piece of paper once more, he found himself moving toward where he could hardly read the address of the place he was supposed to go to. When he first read the brochure he had not been aware of the influx of people applying and had neglected to mention the important aspect of his living arrangements when speaking to the Headmaster of the school having been so caught up on how cheap and far away from his hometown it had been.

The information told to him by the front desk following his registration and their subsequent seeing to his luggage being placed in his new living quarters had been that he was to make his way to bungalow 13. It had been a long way away from the main dorms, a place where the no doubt wealthy most elite of the students had been bunking for their respective terms and of course, the staff members had their ideal places for refuge after a long teaching day.

The confused new arrival sighed as he moved toward what looked to have been a large grass field and then some as he slowly made his way toward the place he'd be spending the majority of his time when not in class or prowling the small town that had been at the exit just before reaching the enormous school's vast lands. It was a long and trying walk from the main building toward where bungalow 13 had been located.

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Bungalow 13, Timber Creek School Of Fine Arts, Wakefield, U.S.A...

A walk that had been filled with silence, more confusion, and second-guessing. The lone lad adjusted his glasses when he saw his building, it wasn't as nice or as neatly kept as the main buildings or the living quarters of the more wealthy students it had all the appeal of a rundown apartment complex but it was cheap and far from his hometown in terms of his desire to reinvent himself. Taking a moment to get his bearings, the confused new arrival made his way inside noting the graffiti on the door and the broken windows and dim lighting in the entrance hall.

There were claw marks along a few walls and the place smelled of sweat, urine, and old gym socks. With a wrinkling of his nose and a determination to find his room as quickly as possible, the new arrival moved through the dimly lit halls toward the location of his would-be room although he held out no hope that it would look any better than the main entrance hall.