Stuck With the Miscreants

Shake When You Haunt Me, Like You Were a Ghost'town

(Y/N) - Your Name 

(E/C) - Eye Color

(H/C) - Hair Color

(S/C) - Skin Color

(F/C) - Favorite Color

Disclaimer : Underage drinking and smoking will be mentioned. 'Candy' is depicted as drugs in this universe. (Y/N) is depicted as bisexual. The trio are teens and are written between the ages of 16-18. Other than that, enjoy the ride.

The carriage shook, rumbling against the dirt path as it quickly arrived at its destination. You slowly fluttered open your eyes, rubbing at the crick in your neck from laying on the side of the carriage door. The carriage soon came to a halt unexpectedly, forcing you to steady yourself with your arms against the carriage's innards.

Heavy footsteps approached the carriage door, "Oi, get out 'ere, we've arrived!'' insistent, pounding knocks came to the carriage's door, what you assumed was from the coachman. As you opened the coach door, you stumbled, and your face met the wet stone bricks of the ground below.

"What are ya, knackered mate?" The coachman nudged your body with his shoe before lifting you up by the collar of your overcoat.

You huffed brushing your greasy hair out of your eyes, "Nah, where's my luggage?" you slowly mumbled out, rubbing your face from the previous assault of the ground. "Where's my money?" the coachman quickly replied, lifting his brow unceremoniously. "Oh right, um-" Your lanky arms reached out and patted your front pocket for the money, before reaching for your back pocket and pulling out your tattered wallet.

You'd shuffle around with your wallet, the thin, cracked dried out leather scratching against your fingertips. Your hand pulled out a few shiny, scuffed coins, flicking them over to the coachman, "Here." You'd muttered whilst rubbing your shoulder awkwardly, looking to the side to avoid eye contact. The hefty sounds of your luggage being lifted off the carriage hit your ears. "Bloody 'ell, this is 'eavy!" That's until it hit you.

It felt like a whole train ran over you, the hard leather case hitting your face as you tumbled over onto the wet stone brick pavement. Only then to add salt to the wound your second bag was tossed at you, almost like it was planned out, it landed perfectly in a dirty mud puddle, splashing the shit-water all over you. Quickly you shoved the large saxophone case, off of you, you felt if it stayed any longer your ribs would collapse inwards. Heavy breathing filled the air as you quickly glanced around only to find the carriage already took off.

"Godfucking, dammit!" you groaned, loudly, rubbing off the morning migraine. Stumbling to your feet, wiping leftover mud-water off your ass, throwing one of your bags over your shoulder and grasping the other's hard metal handle.

Walking felt like forever, mostly because you couldn't barely see the town ahead of you because of all the tall grass blocking your view. Then you could see the population sign approaching, well at least what you could make out of it. It looked like it was going to fall apart any minute, making an eerie creaking sound, swaying in the wind. Not to mention the actual population number was covered up with graffiti. Thankfully you didn't have to touch this bird-shit-stained sign with your bare hands, your cotton fingerless gloves scuffing the town's name as your hand wiped away the dust. Course you didn't know the name of the town, you just asked a coachman to take you to the nearest town, you barely asked any questions, you'd only known that a bunch of rich folk lived there, easy money.