Ash, slumped on his bed, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, idly shuffled his deck of cards. He was a trickster by nature, a necessity with six younger siblings constantly vying for his attention, a perpetual distraction from his own peculiar appearance and circumstances.
He'd been named Ash for a reason: his eyes were a startling shade of gray, one tooth shimmered with an unusual grey hue, and a distinct, odd gray spot marred his forehead.
My gaze drifted to the window, and a peculiar light caught my eye. "What is that?" I muttered, a prickle of unease tracing its way down my spine. Then, my heart lurched—I spotted James, my youngest brother, slowly, almost hypnotically, walking toward it.
I sprang from my bed, the lingering grogginess instantly banished, and bolted out the door. The light pulsed, growing brighter with each frantic step I took. "James, inside, now! Go get Mom!" I yelled, my voice cracking with urgency.
Turning back to the ominous glow, I clenched my fists, a defiant challenge forming on my lips. "Hey, big light, I'm not scared of you!" But I should have been.
The last thing I clearly remember was the familiar weight of my deck of cards leaving my grasp, fluttering onto the dewy grass. Then, a voice, smooth and unsettling, echoed around me, severing the threads of consciousness. "Hello there, Ash."
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Pixie Daniel sat on her couch, gazing out the window, pondering when she would finally be able to venture out into the world. Her father had always warned her that bad people existed.
However, she now understood the harsh truth: she was different. Her hair was a striking blend of pink and gold, and her eyes, one pink and the other a stark blank, held a mystery.
The doctors, baffled by her condition, had quarantined her for weeks until they finally realized she was harmless. She often wondered where her mother had been during this tumultuous time.
Her mother had simply left, as unexpectedly as a whispered word.
Pa interjected. "Pixie, help me with the groceries; I need them in the fridge."
Pixie walked over, reluctant to interrupt her thoughts. She pulled out bags filled with meats and vegetables. As she headed outside to continue, a strange sound pierced the air
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"Howdy, partner!" Bebe drawled, her voice a theatrical twang. She was diligently practicing her new accent for the school play, a passion that consumed her every waking moment. She adored everything about plays – the costumes, the lines, the sheer theatricality of it all – save for one cruel irony: she never actually got into them.
Her "oddness," as others so delicately put it, always stood in her way. Her hair, a peculiar blend of brown and electric yellow, her entirely yellow eyes, and an inexplicable, perfectly round yellow spot on her chin made her an instant, albeit charmingly strange, outcast.
"Yeehaw!" I hollered back, cantering valiantly on my trusty steed (which, to the untrained eye, was merely a stick adorned with a surprisingly realistic horse head). I was mid-gallop in the backyard, engaged in an epic showdown with imaginary bandits, when a blinding flash of light zipped past me.
"What in the tarnation is that?" I exclaimed, dismounting my noble broomstick with all the grace of a startled giraffe.
The light, seemingly sentient, skidded to a halt and then, with an almost predatory hum, veered directly towards me. I stumbled backward, my heart doing a panicked little jig, tripping over a conveniently placed rock. The light enveloped me, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for... well, I wasn't entirely sure what.
When I dared to open them again, the familiar scent of my sweet home was gone. The California sunshine, a distant memory. Instead, I found myself in an utterly alien landscape, surrounded by a bewildered gaggle of people. Each of them, to my astonishment, bore a striking resemblance to me – a kaleidoscope of strange hair, peculiar eyes, and inexplicable spots.
Their own eyes darted wildly, a chorus of silent questions etched onto their faces as they tried to process the utter absurdity of their predicament.
"Oh, good to see you, Bebe, Ash, Pixie, Angest, Txu-Txu, and Waze," a mysterious man declared, his voice smooth as polished stone.
"How do you know our names?" Angest roared, looking less like a person and more like a human-sized fireball about to spontaneously combust.
"Haha... never mind that," the man chuckled, completely unfazed by Angest's incandescent fury. "Let's just get to learning something about me." He paused dramatically, as if expecting applause, leaving us all to wonder if we'd accidentally stumbled into some sort of bizarre, improv show.