Prologue
Elizabeth Andrews disliked anything supernatural, mainly because it was fictional, also, all her friends were into it. Playing around with ghosts, waking up old, dead people at night and trying to communicate with the devil, those were the things they did. She never understood why, since science had disproven so much of this stupid stuff. The girl always found herself being woken up near midnight, then getting up and sitting together with the other two, staring at a paper with weird runic markings on it. Two candles burned and they would all touch a stone-thing in the middle of the paper. The whole process of summoning ghosts was painstackingly annoying and one time Gwen had actually managed to kick a candle to the ground, thus burning the paper. They later had to explain the headmaster that it was an accident, while Gwen herself proclaimed that the ghost himself did it. She had no dislike for the girl herself, though, they were friends for a reason.
She stroke through her red hair, searching for the bow ribbons. Then she sighed. The girl always ran around with pigtails, only undoing them before bed-time. Being awake without the hair tied to them felt weird at least. She then took off her glasses again, she wouldn't need them for something this stupid anyhow. The petite Girl looked to her left.
„You wouldn't mind hurrying, I want to go to sleep.“
Gwen Marshall simply frowned at that remark. Things like this were a hobby of hers, aside from sports. If she ever had to choose between this and baseball, she'd chose baseball by a length, unless it involved the school team. She hated these people. The blondhaired girl looked at the paper before them. She owned a number of books concerning necromancy and ghosts, so communicating should have been easy.Yet, up until now the number of failures outnumbered the successes by so far, that they actually never had any success at all. She looked at one of the candles. The wax near the flame became fluid and rolled down, just to become solid again. It seemed like a futile attempt to escape the flame, just like she futily tried to escape from reality. The girl smiled at the thought. The moments were she was angry at Elly always were connected to when the poet in her came out.
Her blue eyes remained locked at the candle, and she raised her hand towards her forehead, touching the left side of it, going down the small scar she had there.
Elizabeth Andrews disliked anything supernatural, mainly because it was fictional, also, all her friends were into it. Playing around with ghosts, waking up old, dead people at night and trying to communicate with the devil, those were the things they did. She never understood why, since science had disproven so much of this stupid stuff. The girl always found herself being woken up near midnight, then getting up and sitting together with the other two, staring at a paper with weird runic markings on it. Two candles burned and they would all touch a stone-thing in the middle of the paper. The whole process of summoning ghosts was painstackingly annoying and one time Gwen had actually managed to kick a candle to the ground, thus burning the paper. They later had to explain the headmaster that it was an accident, while Gwen herself proclaimed that the ghost himself did it. She had no dislike for the girl herself, though, they were friends for a reason.
She stroke through her red hair, searching for the bow ribbons. Then she sighed. The girl always ran around with pigtails, only undoing them before bed-time. Being awake without the hair tied to them felt weird at least. She then took off her glasses again, she wouldn't need them for something this stupid anyhow. The petite Girl looked to her left.
„You wouldn't mind hurrying, I want to go to sleep.“
Gwen Marshall simply frowned at that remark. Things like this were a hobby of hers, aside from sports. If she ever had to choose between this and baseball, she'd chose baseball by a length, unless it involved the school team. She hated these people. The blondhaired girl looked at the paper before them. She owned a number of books concerning necromancy and ghosts, so communicating should have been easy.Yet, up until now the number of failures outnumbered the successes by so far, that they actually never had any success at all. She looked at one of the candles. The wax near the flame became fluid and rolled down, just to become solid again. It seemed like a futile attempt to escape the flame, just like she futily tried to escape from reality. The girl smiled at the thought. The moments were she was angry at Elly always were connected to when the poet in her came out.
Her blue eyes remained locked at the candle, and she raised her hand towards her forehead, touching the left side of it, going down the small scar she had there.
