A/N: I haven't seen Strange Days for several years, but a few days ago, right out of the blue, this story idea came to me. And once I get a story in my head, it won't go away! So here we go.
Prologue (Episode 1: Wormhole)
Catalyst, (cat-a-lyst); 1: A substance that enables a chemical reaction to proceed at a usually faster rate or under different conditions that otherwise possible. 2: an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action.
I think Blake Holsey High has received it's very own catalyst. Her name is Josie Trent. Ever since she arrived this morning, something in the air feels… different; charged; like we're on the precipice of something amazing. Don't ask me what.
Let me start from the beginning. While most other rooms are shared, I am fortunate enough to have a room all to myself. Fortunate… if that's what you call living in a tiny closet where I barely have room for my bed and desk. Blake Holsey High is a private school, one of the best in the entire state. It takes a lot of money to attend; money that our family just doesn't have. But with an IQ of 175, my mother felt it was her duty to send me to the best school that was available.
Ms. Durst lowered the tuition for me, but it was on the guarantee that I maintained a 95% average, got into no trouble and did a little work around the campus. I quickly agreed.
So that's how I found myself in this amazing boarding school, classes that (to my 175 IQ brain and photographic memory) are challenging, but not difficult, and in a small room that looks more as if it were an afterthought on the behalf of the builder than an actual room.
Anyways, back to Josie Trent.
When I first arrived at the school I asked the principle if I were allowed to make changed and decorate my room. She said it was alright as long as I didn't disturb the other students.
I think half the time the other students don't even know I exist. I go to class, do the work, and do odd jobs around the campus in the evening. I'm not a part of any clubs, I don't have any close friends, and I have no interest in anything.
I love to paint. Ever since my chubby baby fingers held their first crayon, drawing and painting is the only thing that makes me feel alive. Unfortunately, due to some budget cuts a few years ago, the Art Class was stopped. There were only 2 of us in it.
So I re-arranged my room so that one wall was completely blank. I turned on all of my lights, and not for the first time, I wished that my room had a window. I took out my paints and brushes that I had left over from the class. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, picturing exactly what I wanted my wall to look like. I pictured green rolling hills, a bright blue sky with a blazing sun. There were flowers everywhere and the scene filled me with a sense of peace and tranquility. I opened my eyes and began to paint.
That was a month ago. I'm still faithfully working on the vision that I have in my mind. Every morning after I finished my morning classes I take a few minutes to add to my wall. It's very soothing to be able to forget all my worries and cares and just focus on the way the brush spreads the colours on the wall, the texture of the drywall and the imperfections in it.
I was concentrating on shaping the petals of a flower, trying to breathe life into the fragile plant when all of a sudden my peace and tranquility was interrupted by a deep rumbling sound. The suddenness of the noise made my brush momentarily slip, causing the petal to warp and take on a whole new shape.
I frowned and quickly wiped as much of it away as I could, but it was irreparable. I would have to repaint the entire background. I picked up another brush to start the work, but the rumbling started again. I listened closely. It was coming from the next room.
I was puzzled. The girl who had the room next to me, Corinne, was usually so quiet. There were a few times when she'd have her music going and it was a little distracting, but nothing like this.
I glanced at my watch. I didn't have a lot of time before my afternoon classes began and I was really hoping to get that section finished before then. I decided that I would casually stroll by her door (most of the students keep their doors open when they're in their rooms during the day, though I never do) and see if what she was doing would last long.
I was surprised when I glanced in and saw a completely new girl. Because of my photographic memory, I know the faces and names of everyone at this school. I watched for as long as I dared as the new girl re-arranged the room, obviously disregarding her room-mate's careful and precise housekeeping.
I quietly left and went back to my room and got ready for my next classes. I hadn't realized, because Corinne is usually so quiet, how thin the walls are.
Anyways, I found out later (the girls in the washroom were talking so loud I couldn't help but overhear) that her name is Josie Trent and that she got kicked out of her old school for attacking a teacher that she didn't like. She also led the entire school in a revolt and they had to close the school down for a month. There were also whispers that she had a boyfriend in college and that she had killed someone.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure that the ONLY truth in those stories is the fact that her name is Josie. But nevertheless, something is different about Blake Holsey High. I don't know what, but I have a feeling that 'something [if not wicked then certainly strange] this way comes'