Monster High: A New Start (Male Reader)

Homecoffin

Hidden between groves of tall and cumbersome pine trees was Salem’s oldest and most glorious cemetery, the Skelemoanian. So grand and elaborate was the Skelemoanian that it was more than a cemetery; it was a necropolis, a city of the dead, littered with towering tombs, ornately carved mausoleums, and elaborate underground crypts. It had been built centuries earlier by Skelen Moania, an ostentatious zombie who believed that in life, death, and the afterlife, one ought never hold back. Therefore, traditional understated headstones were few and far between at the Skelemoanian. Those that did exist had been worn down by years of rain and heavy foot traffic and were now mere nubs peeping through the grass.

Shrouded in shadows both day and night, the Skelemoanian was as creepy as it was spectacular. A design flaw in Skelen Moania’s own family mausoleum had resulted in a faint but eerie whistle. Although it was merely the noise of wind passing through cracks in the marble structure, it sounded like someone whispering, or, when the wind was strong, wailing.

On the night of the fateful Homecoffin, the wind was light, creating only the faintest hiss. So feeble was the sound that it was rather annoying, like a fly buzzing in one’s ear.

The trek from campus through the dense pine forest was as uncomfortable as it was tense. Robecca, Venus, Rochelle, and you not only had to navigate through branches, birds, and a wide variety of insects while dressed in werewolf costumes (lifted from the Wolfler on the Roof production), but you had to do so without being noticed.

For if you were to be caught now, on the precipice of taking down Miss Flapper, all would truly be lost. There was no safety net to protect you or the town of Salem should you fail. Of this fact you were all painfully aware, none more so than Rochelle.

As a gargoyle, Rochelle prided herself on calm, calculated thinking that allowed her to assess every possible outcome of a scenario. This was an ability she had always relished, as she believed it kept her and those around her safe. On this night, however, Rochelle would have liked nothing more than to be lost in naive optimism, heading into battle without the consequences of failure so clear in her mind.

But alas, such naïveté was impossible. Rochelle was a gargoyle, a creature burdened with both a heavy body and a heavy mind.

Venus: Rochelle, can you try to walk a little more softly?

She was clearly worried that the gargoyle’s gait would attract attention.

Rochelle: Zut, I am trying, but tiptoeing is not something that comes naturally to gargoyles. There is a reason we are often said to have two lead feet.

Venus: Use your wings!

Y/N: They make even more noise.

From behind Venus a large cloud of steam passed by, the product of Robecca’s frazzled nerves.

Robecca: Deary me, I can’t seem to calm down. I’m like a bat on a hot tin roof back here!

Y/N: I hear singing! Quick, duck!

You pulled Robecca to the ground.

For once, you were grateful for the relentless crooning of the pumpkin heads. Dressed in their finest attire, the posse of orange-headed creatures jovially made their way through the dense woods. Once the high-pitched voices had disappeared into the night, you started to pick yourself up off the ground, but Venus grabbed your arm and shook her head. You didn’t hear anything. As a matter of fact, no one, including Venus, heard anything. She had, however, picked up the faint smell of body odor mixed with cologne and hair product.

This could mean only one thing, trolls.

Within minutes, the sound of their craggily clawed feet marching in formation could be heard and even felt. So it was hardly a surprise when a troop of ten stomped past, but it was terribly shocking to see Miss Sue Nami among them, dressed in the same navy-and-red uniform as the others. While never your friend, she had been a reliable and stable presence during their short time at Monster High, and seeing her devoid of her normal biting individuality was nothing short of disheartening.