Post by DANSH on Jan 26, 2010 21:41:55 GMT -5
A DREAM AS A MEMORY
just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world, she took the midnight train goin' anywhere-
bam.
just a city boy, born and raised in south detroit, he took the midnight train goin' anywhere.
The record kept playing as the blood soaked the dark pink carpet, as bits and
pieces of skull, skin, and fiery red hair littered the floor. She was gone. Ginny
Weasley had shot herself in the face with a gun. She wouldn't be discovered until
later that evening. Her motive for the suicide would never be known.
Fast forward three years. Everyone in the ministry is working late. Breaks are
few, and no one is getting paid over-time. Five missing people. Wizards, in fact.
Twelve year olds, really. Four twelve year olds and one thirteen year old. The
thestral carrying the carriage up to the castle just flew away, without a trace. No
one knows how, why, or where, but they have to find out, and fast. How could the
safest place on Earth be so vulnerable that five students went missing? How
could a threstral have even been controlled by anything to do this? The world is
getting strange, as if the wizarding world needed this.
There's a memorial, too. For Ginny Weasley. Three years since her death.
Forever seventeen. Most everyone who's invited will be attending. It's somber,
and filled with memories of the War and things the wizarding world has been
working on suppressing. Forever erasing from their mind. But you can't suppress
dreams. You can't erase memories that come back to haunt you at night. You
just can't.
RULES. PLOT. CANONS. CLAIMS.
just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world, she took the midnight train goin' anywhere-
bam.
just a city boy, born and raised in south detroit, he took the midnight train goin' anywhere.
The record kept playing as the blood soaked the dark pink carpet, as bits and
pieces of skull, skin, and fiery red hair littered the floor. She was gone. Ginny
Weasley had shot herself in the face with a gun. She wouldn't be discovered until
later that evening. Her motive for the suicide would never be known.
Fast forward three years. Everyone in the ministry is working late. Breaks are
few, and no one is getting paid over-time. Five missing people. Wizards, in fact.
Twelve year olds, really. Four twelve year olds and one thirteen year old. The
thestral carrying the carriage up to the castle just flew away, without a trace. No
one knows how, why, or where, but they have to find out, and fast. How could the
safest place on Earth be so vulnerable that five students went missing? How
could a threstral have even been controlled by anything to do this? The world is
getting strange, as if the wizarding world needed this.
There's a memorial, too. For Ginny Weasley. Three years since her death.
Forever seventeen. Most everyone who's invited will be attending. It's somber,
and filled with memories of the War and things the wizarding world has been
working on suppressing. Forever erasing from their mind. But you can't suppress
dreams. You can't erase memories that come back to haunt you at night. You
just can't.
RULES. PLOT. CANONS. CLAIMS.