Copper I



Scene Title Copper I
Synopsis The start of a no-good (birth)day.
Date November 8, 2019

Winslow Crawford Academy

Somehow he feels like he remembers a way colder November. But then again, he doesn't. It's always been cold, but… Kids bundled up, and here he is, just a tad too stifled under down coat and scarf. Gloves crammed into pockets, hat too.

Mum just says he runs hot. Maybe redheads are spicy or something. His freckles do remind him of cinnamon. And right now, they are especially speckled, cheeks flushed pink and the dapple across his features just stark enough to have a girl interrupt his stare into the school's outside window.

Recess. Midday. A tiny voice beside him, startling his focus from his reflection.

"Walter?" Owlish brown eyes, plastic glasses, inquiring mind, all spooks him. "Um. It's time to go inside." Only then does the redheaded boy look past her to the last few kids heading in the doors; she doesn't say anything more, just expects him to follow along. Of course, he does, trailing further and further behind.

Once he finishes today, it will be the weekend soon- - and a birthday party. Not much, just some friends over. Still, as kids are, he is excited about the prospect. Even if something feels… weird, today. He's nine. That's a good number, isn't it? He thinks so.

The bustle of kids bumping against him heading inside feels- - too much. The cold he doesn't quite feel until the warmth of the building gets to him, and his ears and nose and fingers ache. Lights are too bright, noises and voices like hammers and saws, chest wrenching slowly and surely. Why does it hurt to breathe? This isn't right at all. Something's wrong.


Stimulation on all sides makes his head spin, and instead of following the blur of tiny frames in front of him, Walter Trafford ducks his way into the restroom. An older boy shoulders past him, and the bump sends his stomach flipping around in a fit of nerves, origin a mystery to him.

A pain blossoms behind his eyes, fluorescent above searing his vision. It feels like a nail hammering into his eye and into his forehead, and such a sudden pain sends him stumbling forward. A harder pain, just a moment after his eyes go wide in the chipped mirror. Dark takes over the white light in his dilated eyes.

Before Walter loses consciousness he feels the press of cold tile against his cheek, and tastes metal on his tongue. Like pennies.

He swallowed one of those, once…

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License