Melancholy Words.

'Nother chapter. People freak out and you're introduced to what really went down at SCAW. Posted by the brilliant Bowties.

 

            Whispers of rants and raves about various subjects were hollow and meaningless as they reverberated against the library’s walls. The new members, also called Distraught Desks by The Gory Details’ ranking terms, were sitting in the center of the library, giggling and talking about nothing in particular while they waited for something to happen. This was their orientation day; they day they would learn about the school they got accepted to, and the day about half of them would get up and walk out, screaming for their sanity.

            It was all just fun and games for the council when they picked the members they chose to accept. Only about half of them would truly get in, and the other half were the one’s council thought would have the best reactions to the various horrifying and unseemly things that would be shown to them at their little orientation meeting. Many members, some Desks, others of higher ranking years, called this something along the lines of an open season for the poor, unfortunate souls who were picked to be the comedic relief of their little demonstration to the Distraught ones.

            Lady Emergency’s dark purple nails (black cherry, to be exact) tapped against the chocolate colored wood of her desk. She sat in front of them all, purposefully tapping out her favorite song as loud as she could, just to see who would listen or shut their mouth. The Lady really hated doing the orientation speech. Sure, the fun was to come, but that was towards the end, and the beginning and middle of the demonstration was rather excruciating.

“There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses—
It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains—
And a few more of your least favorite things.”  The lyrics spun through the Lady’s head, creating an intoxicating tune meant for only her. She had the sudden urge to stand up and dance and sing like she was insane. Well, err, more insane, if that was humanly possible (it most likely wasn’t). Her tapping grew louder and louder until only one gum chomper was talking.

            That’s when the Lady stood and faced the crowd, a scowl laced into her bright red lips. She stared at the chomper, and no one else. She really hoped this one would be gone in a few seconds

            “…and and! She said that she wasn’t going out with Steven, but he said she was! I was like, O-EHM-GEE.” The Lady was amazed. Not particularly by her tone of speaking or the fact that her IQ probably was equivalent to her shoe size, but by the simple, itty bitty fact that she was the only talking in the entire room filled with people. The Lady put on her death glare, and she didn’t even notice.

            “Hello? Miss California back there?” Lady E smiled at her, the wicked grin that the Lady was famous for. A few people around the bleach blonde in the short-shorts and aviator sunglasses poked and prodded at her, until she finally removed her phone from her disgustingly tan (she sort of had the color of a slightly overcooked chicken wing) and looked up at the Lady. The girl eyed her up and down, one of her eyebrows raised at the sight of the short Lady Emergency in her dress made completely of pockets up on the stage.

            She chomped her large wad of pink gum as she spoke, “Yeah? What do you want?”

            A smile cracked on the Lady’s face, sarcasm dripping from the broken seams, “I want you to shut up, or leave, darling.” Saying that the leader of The Gory Details was unorthodox was a huge understatement.

            Miss California, as she will forever be called by now, smiled sarcastically and flipped her obnoxiously neon pink phone closed with a hmph.

            “Now that that’s all done and over with, my dears, let this begin. Surely, this is possibly one of the most boring things I ever do in this wondrous mansion, but everyone’s had to live through it at some point.” The Lady began, smiling as warmly as she could upon her TGDers—and only succeeding in scaring many of them. “I am going to tell you all the perils of this mansion. Waltzing through here is not as easy as walking through a regular library or house. You see, dear Desks, anything you say figuratively in this mansion becomes literal. This house is not a house. This place is not made of bricks and wallpaper and pretty little house-y things like that. When I say that this place was built with the words of its founders, I do not lie.” She walked backwards on the small stage and up to a small spot of wallpaper in between the large bookshelves. One of her very pale, petite hands touched the white and black deco designs running hidden behind the walls of bookshelves. The Lady’s black cherry fingernails dug into the pretty designs just then, ripping back a piece of the flimsy wallpaper. She then reached her hand in, and the crowd did a sort of ripple backward, like they were awaiting something to chomp off her hand and hear her cry out in pain; instead, she pulled out something. It was a word. A physical word that just sat in her hand like it had nothing left to do.

            “You see, this mansion was built upon the hopes, dreams, aspirations and inside jokes of the founders of this lovely school; quite literally. Being as it is, this mansion now tends to have a mind of its own. Many a TGDer has gotten themselves lost within the walls of this place, either lured away by some of the captivating scenery or scared into a dark corner by one of the many ghosts living among us here.”

            A hand shot up from the sea of people before the Lady. It shook and wriggled around like a fish out of water. Without anyone calling upon it, the person in which the hand was attached to spoke, “How can a house have a mind of it’s own? And ghosts? Are you kiddin’ me? And that word? That was a parlor trick! You’re insane!”

            Lady Emergency simply smiled at the poor, unfortunate soul that was destined to run out of her lovely school screaming for their sanity. “Well, my dear, it appears I am, and I’m quite sure that I was already informed many times over; anyone who is chosen to learn here left their sanity at the door many, many years ago. If you do not believe me, why don’t you get up and take a look around this place yourself? Or would you rather I just give you a little demonstration?” The Lady’s Cheshire smile was painted on her face once again, this time as mischievous as ever. Her white features shone almost golden in the light, and rays reflected off her exotic eyes that had a color that was called by no particular name.

            The audience member didn’t answer.

            “Well, well, demonstration it is. Horror, would you come here a moment?” The Lady snapped politely, beckoning something called “Horror.”

            Just then, something cracked, and then it created a wavelike shudder. The mile-high oaken bookshelves that surrounded the crowd moved. The Desks in the crowd awed and marveled at this, and many proceeded to throw a tizzy over it. Each bookshelf moved to make a pathway for the genre the Lady called for.

            “Get it, now?” The Lady asked the crowd, a smile still stitched on her face. “This mansion has a mind of it’s own, and if does not like you, my dears, then it will promptly find a way to get you out of its walls, and it will not care one bit if you’re alive or not when it does so. So I suggest sticking with a friend, as you shall not get lost as easily.

            “Actually, one of the most frequently asked questions of me is, ‘Where can I get a map?’ well, there is one, but it would hardly get you out of any tough situation you might have here.” Many members of higher rankings laughed sinisterly at this, knowing that about half of them would indeed loose their way in the big building. They also knew that many wouldn’t show up in the month or two that most Desks took to reappear. They still giggled at this; it’s not like they were called The Gory Details for nothing. Many Desks, at this point, started to make their way to the door, and once the heavy doors shut, fast-paced footsteps sounded from the cobblestone drive outside—just as expected. 

            “So, in reality,” The Lady ignored the ones getting up and leaving, though she let out a small laugh as Miss California got up and left, a scared expression on her face, “there is no telling what this place will do, how it will react to you, or where it might put you. Thus the reason for shared dormitories. Now, any questions about the mansion, or something you’re just dying to know?”

            Multiple hands shot up, all at once. Some hands shook, some were decorated in lively (and annoyingly jingly) jewelry, other hands were callused over many hard days worked, but there was one thing in common with all of them, a writing utensil—pens, paintbrushes, and pencils alike— was entwined between a few fingers of each and every hand.

            The Lady turned, looking at her other council members, and smiled cunningly. These students were not only writers, but they were writers with a gift that the colorful and unorthodox creators of The Gory Details would take in and promptly corrupt.

            Lady Emergency turned again, calling upon a hand towards the back. The hand belonged to a rather tiny girl, maybe the age of fourteen of higher. She had long, thick bushels of copper hair surrounding her heart-shaped face, which was enlaced with two sinister green eyes and a crooked smile. Her voice was sweet and cheerful as she spoke, “I have been reading about this very fine school of yours, and well, in my research, I came to a dead end in something I thought was one of the most interesting pieces about this school I could find. Well, um, what I’m tying to ask is, well, will you tell us about SCAW?”

            Just then, as if on one of the most cliché cues ever, the lights flickered, and faded into nothing but darkness. Screams ripped through the stagnant air and the frantic sound of footsteps bounced off the library walls. Senior members attempted to calm the Desks, but with no such luck.

            It was the laugh of Lady Emergency herself who stopped them all in their tracks. It was a sinister thing, like something you’d hear from a horror movie, only worse. It was a sound that only a great writer like Edgar Allen Poe could’ve harnessed in a dance of mere words.

            The smile in the Lady’s voice was painfully obvious as she spoke. “You want to know about SCAW, eh? Well, I’ll tell you about that little cult of ours.”

Author's Note

Two people were supposed to go before me, but one's running around doing college-y things and the other is having a terrible case of writer's block. Sorry if it sort of sucks, but I'll fix it later.
(Note for people just finding this: This is a collab story written with many more people than me. We put who it's been posted by in the description.)

Reviews

[Poetic Solace]

Haha, this made me smile. I really liked the end of it, and when Lady asked 'Horror' to come to you. That was awesome. :3