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"The Beast!" That's totally wicked!

⸸ or Sinner’s Descent Into the Depths of the Unreal or Thomasin Sinclair 1 A Deo, Omnes Sapientia “Rosie!” The Beast’s intoned cry shook me from my train ride nap, interrupting a pleasant window-dream. I would look out the window and see one landscape: green plains on rolling hills. Then I’d close my eyes and see another: a lush vineyard stretching for miles. I lost track of whether my eyes were open or closed. “There you are. I’ve been looking up and down the train for you,” Hannah said, pushing her voice into the shrill, sing-songy tone she used to speak to me. “Hello, Hannah,“ I croaked out. Hannah dropped her luggage and hugged me. Her strong arms gripped me tightly, stopping my lungs. I wasn’t a short woman. But Hannah, a titan of the lacrosse team, easily towered over me. Her embrace swallowed me. I was forced to inhale the stench of her sickly sweet feminine odor, visibly bleeding through her polo shirt in the humid passenger car broiled by the last of summer’s warmth. I patted her on the back, more to beg for mercy than to return her gesture. She released me and dragged her luggage into the car. As she stood tall to place a bag on the luggage rack she exposed the bottoms of her panties from under her short skirt. I turned away in disgust and spotted a passing conductor who had stopped to admire the view. His eyes met mine. I gave him the ugliest look I could muster, scaring him off. “How come I always have to search for you, Rosie? Which is your stop?” “Ambrose.” “That is after mine!” Before embarking, I had taken care to study each of the train car windows from a hidden vantage point. After spotting the raucous revelries of Hannah and her easily excitable sporting friends, I did my best to find a lonely car as far away as possible. But Hannah was relentless. Hannah was my roommate. We were forced together many years prior. I had long given up hope of getting a different roomie; that simply wasn’t something that was done at Hawkins. After a great effort, I was eventually told by the Headmistress herself to make do. Later into the ride, Hannah faded away from a lecture on the history of psychoanalysis and, fittingly, into a deep sleep, her head resting on my shoulder. I tensed up as she wrapped her hands around my arm, pinning me like a toddler would a stuffed bear. She squirmed and moaned in her sleep. I could feel her pulse quicken. I witnessed her underarm sweat stains grow. The solitary window turned translucent, the radiating tomboy turning our cramped car into a sauna. Her grip tightened. She trapped me between a rock and a hard place. If I allowed her to continue, I could suffocate. If I woke her, she would continue her lecture. I watched in horror as fog condensed on my glasses. That was the last straw. “Hannah,” I finally said in a raised voice. “Hm? Oh, my. Oh, I’m sorry, Rosie. I was having the most exciting dream. I thought you were a young gentleman…” she said and released me. She pulled off her tennis shoes and kicked her legs up on the adjacent seat, fanning herself with her hand. I wasted no time opening the car window, allowing the wind to let the room breathe. “That’s nice,” she let out with a sigh. She pulled up her polo shirt to let her navel cool. My disgust only mounted as several gentlemanly passers-by swiveled their heads to take in the sight. Hannah was not a naive girl. On the contrary, she was a genius. She saw the way men looked at her. I’m sure she enjoyed it. Her shameless exhibitionism made me sick. I stuck my head out the window to catch a breath of fresh air. I was happy to see my suffering would soon be relieved, albeit briefly. We drew close to our final stop, Hawkins. A brief lesson on the life of Jung later and the train slowed with a screech. Steam hissed and we lurched to a stop. “Oh! On arrive!” Hannah said, standing to retrieve her luggage. Her bags were large and stuffed full, doubtlessly packed with the various outfits and toiletries her narcissism demanded. She lifted them with ease. Meanwhile, I just had one, which loosely stored my uniforms, toothbrush, and other necessities. “Could you help me with my bags please, Rosie?” she begged, pouting. I wished I had more disagreeability to reject such requests, especially from the Beast, but with a profound sigh I grabbed the smallest bag she had. Its heaviness stunned me. I dropped it and it met the ground with a thunderous thud. “My weights?” Hannah asked, smirking. “You don’t need to carry those if they’re too heavy for you. Here, this one’s only full of clothes.” She offered me her rolling suitcase, but my pride singed at the implication of my low physical fitness, I refused it. “It’s fine,” I replied, picking up her bag alongside mine. I could feel my left arm going numb even as I stepped into the train car hallway. “Pardon,” said a quiet voice behind me. “Sorry.” I shuffled out of her way. When she slipped past me I caught only a glimpse. She was my age, my height, and very thin, with a head of long black hair cut into bangs that obscured much of her face. She carried nothing but a book. My God, I can even recall the color of her dress. Faded orange just like the evening sky was captured, I confess. The girl stuck in my mind even after only that brief encounter. Who was she? Why did she carry so little to Hawkins? Why did she wear her hair like that? What was she hiding? She darted past me. I stumbled my way off the train. Once outside, I dropped my heavy burden and took a moment to catch my breath. Glaring, I scanned the mob of newly arrived students for the girl, but she was lost in the crowd. “Idle hands make fretful minds,” Hannah chirped while she glided off the train, effortlessly hauling the rest of her bags. I took a deep breath and brought up my load again, trudging to follow her. We entered the school and made our way to the dormitory.

Hello! Nice to be a part of this. Story Statement The bookworm wants to be like the new girl. The new girl is good. Antagonist The bookworm’s ultimate antagonist is herself. She is not the new girl. Titles ⸸ Sinner’s Descent Into the Depths of the Unreal Thomasin Sinclair Comparables “Meave Fly” by CJ Leede. Her debut. Horror. ABA IndieBound bestseller. Much like what I’ve got, it’s a corruption of the disillusionment plot. A libertine Disney park princess confronts her mortality by embracing progressively debauched acts of hedonistic savagery. “#thighgap” by Chandler Morrison. In this unflinching psychological horror, a supermodel pursues flawless beauty at the expense of her former ambitions, relationships, physical well-being, and sense of self. The novella explores sex, beauty, loneliness, and pain– just like the one I’ve written. Hook A bookworm boarding school student beats back the advances of her beastly roommate and shuns the world around her until an enchanting new student excites her obsession and sends her spiraling. Conflict Inside, the bookworm wants to be like the new girl. But her perception is hopelessly mangled by the classic flaw, hubris. The bookworm believes she’s above those around her because, as far as she knows, within her alone stirs the terrible understanding gained from the Tree of Knowledge. She projects her arrogance onto the new girl and turns her into a golden calf. For an example scenario, look at the first sin. The bookworm overhears gossip that the new girl failed to turn the other cheek during a rough encounter with an angry groundskeeper, instead pushing the man over and injuring him. The bookworm becomes self-conscious of her own weakness and cowardice, so takes steps to be more like the new girl. She augments her social status, becomes the school’s top dog, and uses her newfound power to weed out the weak. Can you see a secondary conflict start to take root? One student is heavier than the others. Gluttony disgusts the bookworm– a moral weakness. The new girl is thin, after all. So she befriends the heavyset girl. She fosters the girl’s trust and uses it to break her. Setting The Hawkins School. Established. Sophisticated. Cultivated. Refined. A charitable institution, but an institution nonetheless. Huge. Labyrinthine. Originally built by libertines to facilitate abductions and gruesome acts of depravity, the school hosts an endless plethora of long-disused hallways, corridors, tunnels, and entrances to its depths. Down in the depths are strange, vulgar, macabre dwellers. And if you brave the dark passages deep enough, you’ll find they reach all the way down. The setting changes with the protagonist’s perception of it. At the start, the school is a dreary old place full of mindless peons to be avoided and ignored. But the new girl’s presence softens her heart. By the midpoint, she’s in love with the place because it facilitates her tenuous connection to the new girl.