dormancy - chapter one

Whitney smoothed out the wrinkles on her duvet. It was Tiffany Blue and adorned with large pink roses, and this would be the last time she would see it for a while. She felt a bit melancholy. Normally, she would’ve been overjoyed to leave her parents and go away to study for awhile, but today she just felt... different. She opened her white lace curtains and her silky hair was immediately dappled by the sunlight coming in through the trees, and the breeze coming in through her open window was scented like the peonies that her dad had planted in their garden. Walking towards her armoire, she inspected all of her trinkets. Her mother had often joked that she could set up a museum since you could see everything through the glass doors. It was filled with seashells she had collected last summer, bottle caps, jars of paper stars and hundreds of small figurines in the shapes of her favourite things. Food, landmarks, flowers and other miscellaneous things like tiaras and fine china.

“Whitney, time to go. I want you down here in one minute,” her mother called from downstairs. She sat down on her chair that she had upholstered with floral fabric and gazed up at the glow in the dark stars she had put on the ceiling when she was 9. Her dad had to put her on his shoulders because she refused to let anyone else stick them on -- she remembered it so clearly. She let a laugh escape her lips and shrugged on her backpack, grabbed her suitcase from underneath her bed, left the room and shut the door. She practically flew down the stairs before smiling at her mum who was sipping on some black coffee at the dining room table. Her dad was waiting in the car; she knew because she had heard him yelling about how the engine wasn’t working.

“Are you ready? You didn’t forget anything did you?” Her mum asked, passing Whitney a piece of buttered toast. She shook her head and wolfed down her food, then ran out the door. She got into her dad’s four wheel drive and left her suitcase outside for him to put in the back. Everything felt so surreal, like she was in a movie and the main character was getting ready for an adventure. Her mum got into the passenger’s seat and her dad had finished putting her luggage in the trunk. They were off.

--

“All passengers for Train 43, departing at 11:25, should proceed at this time to gate 17. Please have your tickets ready for inspection.”

The train station was packed, as usual. Whitney struggled to get to gate 17 without accidentally tripping over someone’s shoes or hitting someone in the face with her backpack. She pushed her way through the crowd and almost stumbled onto the tracks. Her parents emerged from the pack of people and stood behind her as the train came into the station. They hugged her and said goodbye in a panic as people began to board. Whitney hugged both her parents and waved, staring at the ground as she walked into the carriage. She felt numb, like she had lost all of her senses. Not knowing what to do or how to feel, she slinked into a seat in the corner and pulled out a novel from her bag, staring at it as if her life depended on it. She felt guilty. She could’ve said goodbye to her parents properly instead of awkwardly hugging them and then rushing away.

“This is the final boarding announcement for Train 43, departing at gate 17. All aboard!”

It felt like it had been hours before the train started moving, although part of the reason was probably because she had been reading the same sentence in her book over and over again. Suddenly, she saw something move from the corner of her eye. She put her book down and saw a boy sitting across from her, wearing a dark black scarf. His hair was a mixture of strawberry blonde and dark auburn, he had blue eyes.

"Hi," Whitney said. He glanced at her and shrugged his shoulders ever so slightly. Whitney rose an eyebrow. "Yeah, I get it. You don't want to talk, but at least pretend you're listening, will you?" she said, obviously flustered. “I’m Whitney Hart, and you are...?” she asked him. He looked up at her and stared. Whitney adjusted her bracelet awkwardly as she waited for a response. A nod, a glare -- anything.

“I’m Ronford Damien. I’m sixteen years old, my parents are extremely rich and our family resides in a château and -- actually, that’s pretty much it,” he finished, dusting off his jacket and folding it neatly, placing it into his brown leather messenger bag. “I could go on for hours but I wouldn’t want to brag,” he laughed, gazing out the window. Whitney was taken aback, and she didn’t really know what to say. She went through the options in her head and wondered if she should retort or just ignore him.

Whitney sighed and went back to her book. She fidgeted in her seat. She couldn’t seem to get comfortable in her chair and she was starting to get a headache. She looked over at Ronford who had fallen asleep, resting his head on the window ledge. Her eyes went back to the window. They were passing a large field of canola. The sight was so bright and vibrant, it almost hurt her eyes, yet it calmed her somehow. At that moment, she scrambled for her backpack and took out her polaroid camera. She liked being able to have physical copies of all of the photos she took, and enjoyed hanging them around her room on washing lines along with her homemade bunting. She waited a while for the photo to appear and smiled when she saw it. Whitney pulled out her photo album and tucked it into an empty pocket, then put it back in her bag.

At least she had the scenery to entertain her.

--

The gentle rhythm of the train had lulled Whitney to sleep. She rested comfortably with her legs stretched out on the seat in front of her, which she had covered with the jacket that she had put on before leaving the house. Ronford had snored, but not loud enough to disturb her slumber. She rested peacefully for a while, until she decided to prop herself against the ledge as the almost inaudible chatting had grown louder and louder.

“Where are we?” Ronford had woken up before her. For some reason, it was already dark outside even though it was only 2pm. Whitney could feel the train coming to a stop as she stuffed her jacket into her rucksack. She tried to listen for the conductor’s voice announcing where they had stopped through the speakers.

“This is Gare de Cannes. Please check your overhead luggage rack for any personal belongings and be sure to take all of your luggage with you.” They were supposed to have stopped in Paris, and she was positive that the train didn’t make any stops beforehand since it was just carrying the students to their school. She shrugged in response to Ronford’s question and took her suitcase from the overhead compartment. The students waited for the doors to open and rushed out. Whitney looked around. As soon as everyone had gotten off, the train doors closed and it sped off. Then it hit her; there was only one place that they could be.

They had been abandoned in a ghost station of the Paris Métro.

“Ah, fascinating! A ghost station. I believe this one is Red-Cross, or Croix Rouge in French. An old terminus of line 10, although I have absolutely no idea how we ended up here,” said a girl standing next to her. She sounded American. “It's been closed since 1939. Pretty sure the tracks were cemented over too,” she said, pulling a flashlight out of her bag. The platform was dimly lit by two small old fashioned lamps, but Whitney was glad that the she was sensible enough to know that they needed more light.

Whitney laughed nervously. “I’m surprised at how calm you are,” she remarked, trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. She felt like hyperventilating into a brown paper bag until she passed out so she wouldn’t have to deal with whatever this crap was. She took her phone out of her bag and checked it quickly. “Darn, no signal,” she sighed, putting it back.

She laughed. “Well, of course there’s no signal! Lots of the ghost stations were either reused temporarily or just disappeared completely! In fact, they even constructed two stations that were never used or released to the public. Pretty dumb in my opinion. They could’ve spent that money on making more pâtisseri-- I mean, um, helping the poor,” she corrected herself. “Anyways, I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here anytime soon! The entrances are all blocked off and we’ll probably be stuck here until a miracle happens.” By now, all of the students were watching her. She smiled. “My name’s Meghan Bishop by the way.”

“Whitney Hart,” she replied. “So, does anyone have an idea to get out of this place?” she asked, projecting her voice. Many people murmured anxiously, trying to think of ideas, but most of them just shrugged and stayed silent. “We can’t stay down here forever. I mean, I guess we’re safe since no one can get in, but it also means that no one can get out,” she said, stating the obvious. Ronford kept on adjusting his scarf and people just sat down on the edge of the platform, letting their legs hang off the edge. She could tell that something wasn’t right.

Okay, so the main issue here is that there's too much description, and since you don't separate it into smaller parts, it ends up creating multiple lengthy sentences.

But its a promising story, and I think you'll get a decent placing in the competition. I'm looking forward to future chapters~

*flags*

dormancy - chapter two

Whitney's heart was pounding faster than ever as thoughts began to flash through her head. Meghan's attitude towards the whole situation had calmed her down a bit, but now she was more confused than ever and had snapped back to reality. This wasn't a dream. This was real. How on earth was it possible to be trapped in a ghost station? Meghan had aimed her flashlight on the non-existent tracks many times, which had simply been cemented over as she had assumed beforehand. The other thing that didn't make any sense was that most of the students seemed to be pretty calm, despite the circumstances.

A strange, cold draft made it's way through the room and made Whitney shiver. After multiple years of being stuck in the darkness, the place was chilly enough without the weird breezes coming in from nowhere. It was dark and eerie, not to mention the fact that  could've sworn that she heard the sound of a nearby train coming into the station or a loud creaking -- then again, she could've just been going mad. She paced around in circles, gnawing at her nails anxiously. It was just one of a hundred bad habits she had. Ronford had sat down next to Meghan and rolled his eyes. She could already tell that he was going to be a nuisance to her for the next few months.

"Jeez, you need to just calm down," he said casually. "You're acting like a psycho." Whitney looked down at him with a scowl on her face and their eyes met. She'd dealt with annoying boys in the past, but none were as half-baked and irritating as Ronford.

"Well, look who's talking! You're being so nonchalant and acting as if this is no big deal! Let me tell you something. This is a big freaking deal, and we're going to try and get out of here whether you think it's a good idea or not. We are in a freaking ghost station in Paris and you are hardly freaked out about it! What is with you?!" she hissed.

Ronford smirked, pushing Whitney away. "You look a lot better when you're smiling and not threatening to mess up my face," he commented, adjusting his scarf for the thousandth time. He reminded Whitney of a businessman checking his tie to make sure it wasn't crooked. Suddenly, she could hear someone; or something, coming. It was a fierce rattling noise that got louder by the second. It was another train, and it had just pulled into the station.

"Next stop--" The sound through the speakers that notified where the train had stopped sounded glitchy and corrupted. There was a loud 'beep' that went on for a few seconds, and the doors opened. Whitney assumed that it would be their only chance to escape. She grabbed Meghan's hand and dragged her in. Some of the younger students seemed hesitant, but everyone else had gotten on.

"Get in!" She screamed to the students that still hadn't boarded the train. They stood there, confused and worried. Whitney was about to pull them in until the loud beep sounded again. The doors shut, the train sped off, and two girls that looked about 12 years old had been left waiting at the platform. Whitney felt sick to the stomach. Meghan looked at her nervously and tried to comfort her.

"It's not your fault," she said in a hushed voice, "Whitney, it's not your fault..."

Whitney struggled to breathe. The train wasn’t like the one they had been on before with luxurious cabins and five star dining carriages. It was a subway train, and a crowded one at that. The kind of train that was actually supposed to go through Paris’ underground metro. All of the seats had been taken, so she had loosely grabbed onto one of the metal rails that were on the ceiling. She was having trouble breathing; having trouble speaking and standing and doing things that you’re supposed to be able to do without having to focus on them. She felt responsible for leaving the two students behind on the platform, and felt as if a little shard of her heart had left her and wasn’t coming back. Most of the time, she felt like it was her responsibility to assume her position as leader.

“This is --” the voice over the speakers sounded the same as before, inaudible and screechy. “--, our last stop.” The train didn’t even begin to slow. It just stopped suddenly, jerking everyone to the side. They stumbled and almost knocked into eachother like dominos. The same beeping noise from before sounded, and the doors opened. Everyone rushed out of the doors. The air was hot and sticky, unlike before. Whitney was relieved to see that they hadn’t been dropped off at another ghost station. Instead, it was a real Paris station that was bustling with people.

The lights began flickering. On, off. On, off. They then switched off for good, and it was like the whole station and all of it’s people had just... died. Everything went silent. The electric advertisements had stopped as well. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Whitney opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make a sound. She clicked her fingers right next to her ears. Nothing. She even tried screaming as loud as she could, and yet... she couldn’t hear anything.

“You are worthless. You are unintelligent. You are dissatisfied. You are ugly. You are disgusting. You are filthy. You are depressed. You are an idiot. You are a moron. You are a disgrace. You are nothing.” A voice in Whitney’s head echoed. It droned on and on, repeating the statements, and there was nothing she could do to stop them. She couldn’t cover up the noise or distract herself with images.

“No wonder everyone hates you. You belong in the trash. You don’t belong here. You can’t do that. You’re so fat. You’re uncoordinated. You’re unfunny. You’re unartistic. You are nothing,” it repeated. She didn’t particularly like them, but some reason, the voices didn’t bother her that much. She had told herself some of these things before, and it was just as if someone was repeating them all back to her for no apparent reason. The voices continued to repeat themselves for a few minutes, and then the lights flickered back on. Whitney was relieved to realise that she could hear again, and it appeared as if things had gone back to normal, although she knew things wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Another train pulled into the station.

“This is Train 29, which will be making the following stops at: Franklin D. Roosevelt, Champs-Élyséees-Clemenceau, Concorde, Tuilleries, Palais Royal-Musée du Louvre--” Static again. Whitney turned around to look for Meghan, who was standing right behind her. They boarded the train and sat down on two remaining seats.

“What just happened?”

Meghan shrugged. “No idea,” she blurted out. The words seemed forced. “I think we’re all just going insane because of how tired we are, haha!” she said flatly. Whitney was no genius, but she knew she was lying.

Meghan suddenly went very quiet and stared at the ceiling.

---

Thanks for the feedback and for flagging, Ian! I'll definitely try to space things out a little more for future chapters.

dormancy - chapter three

The train made a horrible screeching noise as it came to a grinding halt. Whitney had gotten used to the routine of getting on and off trains. It was tiring, but they didn't need to keep track of stops, so it was stressless in that aspect at least. She felt an sharp elbow jab her in the ribcage as the doors opened and the students came flooding out of the subway train. She sighed. There were pros and cons of being small. The thing she hated the most was when she was trying to navigate her way around a busy path and she had to walk around people. No one would ever walk around her, they just expected her to move -- and that really ticked her off.

She pinched her nose to stop horrible body odors from filling her nostrils. As she sat down on one of the seats to wait for the next train, she saw an elderly woman sitting on the ground. Her bones were clearly visible, and she looked unhealthily skinny. She had put down blankets and pillows on the ground to rest on, but they were filled with holes and smelled awful. Her hair was dark grey, and her dull blue eyes could've once been beautiful. She held out an empty tin can and sat there with her back against the wall, motionless.

Whitney frowned, beginning to search through the pockets of her backpack for spare change. She found a €5 note that her mum had packed in the front pocket, and hesitated for a moment before giving it to the woman. She dipped her head slightly as a way to say thank you.

"Merci, mademoiselle," she said feebly. Her voice was hoarse and raspy, and she sounded lethargic. Whitney had learnt basic French at school; she wasn't the best, but she was pretty good at it and it was obvious what the woman had said to her.

"Vous êtes les bienvenus, et je vous souhaite le meilleur," she stuttered, wondering if she had said it correctly. 'You're welcome, and I wish you the best.' The woman nodded, and she smiled. It brought the life back into her eyes. Whitney snapped her fingers at her side impatiently and tried to remember phrases from French class.

"Je sais que vous pouvez arranger les choses pour le mieux," she whispered tentatively. 'I know you can change things for the better.' She always got so nervous when talking to people in another language. The woman smiled again, and Whitney went back to her seat. Meghan lightly patted Whitney's back and grinned. She seemed to be herself again, but there was something strange going on with her.

The train had arrived on time. There was a rush of cold air as it came to a stop, and before she knew it, people were making their way onto the platform.

"Bon après-midi, good afternoon. This is Train 22, which will be making the following stops at--" There was a long beeping noise. "Bonjour, students of Palissandre Académie, or Rosewood Academy. We are deeply sorry about the... unfortunate mixup with the trains earlier. However, we are glad to see that you have all used your initiative to make your way to our school grounds in Paris," boomed the voice coming from the loudspeaker. The man speaking had a thick French accent.

"But, it is saddening to tell you that you have been... how you say, duped. Rosewood Academy does not exist. Instead, you will be attending Lune Clairière Académie, which roughly translates to Moonglade Academy," he paused. Whitney looked around -- everyone, including herself, had gone silent. "Everything you've done in the last few hours since you've got off that train has all just been a simulation. Simulations to test you emotionally, specifically in: fear, empathy, paranoia, anxiety and willingness. I will explain."

"This is ridiculous," Meghan whispered. "Someone must be playing a trick on us... But, then again, if all this has just been a simulation, then it'd explain the whole getting into a ghost station thing..." Whitney nodded in agreement, but she noticed that Meghan's voice sounded fake again.

"Many people are afraid of the dark and the unknown. The ghost station was cold and unwelcoming, and with only two lamps to light it, you could barely see where you were going. The two students that had been left on the platform were just figments of your imagination. We conjured them up; they never really existed. Your paranoia and anxiety were tested when the lights went out and you lost all of your senses. We transmitted negative thoughts into your brain to see how you would react. Your willingness was tested just now, and we wanted to see if anyone would help the homeless elderly woman. Only one student did so," he said. Whitney's cheeks immediately turned bright red. She looked around. All of the people that had been walking around the station had disappeared. They... they hadn't been real. They had never been real. This had all just been a charade. A horrible dream, a nightmare... it had all been fake. Murmurs and cries of outrage began to erupt from the crowd.

"Quiet down, please," Everyone fell silent. "I'm making things sound very complicated. Scientific, even. But to answer the question that I know most of you are wondering about right now..." The atmosphere had changed completely. It was unnerving -- frightening, even. "This has all been possible thanks to something absolutely incredible. Lune Clairière is a school for only the most talented. You, my friends, will be studying about a secret that has been well kept for many years... magic."

i'm glad to have found this again. I'll be looking for your next chapter!

Just going to save this thread from going to the archives. Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been working on the next chapter but school is so horrible and draining right now and I'd rather spend a lot of time on one chapter instead of just posting a bunch of really crappy ones. I hope you guys understand, expect a new chapter as soon as possible. Thanks for your understanding.

Don't worry, we can wait!

I'm a very patient reader, so don't stress, ok? I'll be here when you are ready to post another chapter.