Joy Is Like Wild Fire. It Will Spread And Consume Till' There's Nothing Left.

C H A P T E R 1

Arthur sat at his desk, redacting papers like he did every afternoon, making sure that no one would have a gloomy moment because of the old printings. He hummed to himself as he darkened another article, removing the canister and placing it back into its transport tube. He smiled, and pulled the lever once more, bringing another canister and placing it into the machine to view the paper.

HASTINGS BROTHERS WIN SCRAP GATHERING PRIZE

JUNE 4TH, 1947

Percival and Arthur Hastings were the surprise winners of the scrap drive. Arthur told the judges that his brother has a photographic memory. "Percy knew exactly where all the old cars and prams and things were in the Garden District." Percival himself rarely speaks to strangers. Apparently.

The scrap will be melted down to be used to support the war effort against the Soviet Union, which is by all reports going splendidly. The brothers brought in a record 1654 pounds of scrap steel, winning them a €50 Victory Against Communism Bond. The second prize went to Allen Unwin, who brought in 315 pounds.

Arthur blinked, his eyes remaining trained on the article. He didn't move; couldn't move. He could feel himself muttering the words over and over again as if someone were casting a spell, each one giving him a sharp pain in his head. He felt like he was going to vomit, like something was inside of him, just clawing to get out.

He clenched his mouth at this, the stew-like liquid could spurt out of it at any moment.

What was this feeling?

He didn't think he'd ever felt it before.

But it was almost terrifying how familiar it was- in a strange way, it was comforting.

Comforting?

That was an odd way to describe it.

To feel as if you were about to retch all over yourself with a massive migraine for looking at a mere paper, not to mention the fact that he hadn't had either of those in felt like a century.

He dug his fingernails into his head as he desperately tried to rip out the sick emotion, whatever it was. It certainly wasn't one of joy, more so the exact opposite.

Wait.

Joy.

He swiped a trembling hand at the small bottle of pills sitting to his left on the desk. His movements were intended to be precise and accurate, when really, his hands fumbled about on the top of the desk as he attempted to grab the item, almost falling over in the process.

Once he managed to get his hands around the damn thing, he immediately popped off the cap, shaking out one of the bright pink pills into his hand.

He brought it to his mouth, ready to take a dose of that wonderful, amnesiac feeling. He was about to throw it down the hatch when he glanced back at the article, just now noticing the picture.

Two boys were standing side by side, smiles stretching ear to ear. One was most definitely him, but the other was a face he would never forget. His wide eyes shifted right back down to the pill, and before he realized he was doing it, he threw it onto the floor with a look of disgust. He then took the entire bottle and threw it against the wall, causing a slam to echo through the room.

He took in a gulp of air as he stared back at the picture, realization hitting him like a brick.

Echoes of screams and cries ran through his head as well as the sounds of rushing water. Tears welled in his eyes as he found himself touching the glass on the redactor.

"P-Percy...Percy..." His fists pounded on the glass, "PERCY!"

"Arthur?"

And he was back.

Everything was silent as he quickly rubbed his eyes, ridding himself of the tears that were previously resting on his cheeks. He looked up as a familiar figure strode through the door.

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So there's the first chapter! Tell me what you think! I love feedback and constructive criticism :D

Let me know if you think I should continue!

"We Happy Few" Belongs to Compulsion Games. The story-line and characters ARE ALL THEIRS. I DID NOTHING. The only thing that belongs to me is the (unofficial)written version above.

Thank you for your time!!