Thornless Roses

chapter one - carnations

Marcus Colt was done with his schooling before it even started. This was after he shattered his mother glass of milk on the carpet, and after the milkman yelled at him for asking for another at half price.

    His first day didn't start off as great as he had been told. He's been fed hopes of being something more than the butcher, Gregory Charles, that had a disgusting habit of spitting on the merchandise. Merchandise that was a little too pricey for the quality you'd be receiving. The condition got even worse during this winter shortage. In fact, everything seemed to get worse in the winter shortage. When it seemed everyone is begging for a spoon of cough syrup and a nickel to pay for it. The winter wasn't very exciting in Azark. Crop died along with small children and the less wealthy. Which was horrible because everyone was running around with empty pockets during winter, feet were chilled, spit was frozen, and no one could put a penny to their name. Gregory Charles, for one, was not a fan of Marcus's favorite season.

    Marcus stood in front of the building, it was made of red bricks that were usually covered in moss, but now the walls are covered by a full sheet of icy snow. Children had whispered of it being an asylum back when the world was more prosperous, and before the dark period.

Marcus shook his head, brushing away the thought and excused his shivers as a lack of warmth. He squeezed his beloved cracked horseshoe in his pocket for good luck and walked through the rusty doors, shrugging off the chills that were present on his arm.

He hung his coat and hat on the hooks by the door. He took a seat with the rest of the boys his age. Everything in the classroom was in a form of two; there were long desks, big enough for two people. they were put in rows of two. Girls on one side, boys the other. It was common practice for the younger children to be towards the front, some as young as seven years old, the older kids were in the back, ranging from fifteen to eighteen. Marcus took the only open seat available, right next to his family's biggest competition since the first big harvest season. The Morus's eldest Connor Morus.

"Hi, Marcus! I'm so pleased you'll be accompanying us this winter! I overheard from Sara Lee that you're rather witty." Connor Morus snickered, handing Marcus an extra bottle of ink for his pen.

"What's this for?" Marcus asked, looking confused on why his competition was acting so friendly towards him.

"Hey just because our parents can't come to good terms doesn't mean we can't. I'm in the market for new friends, along with new shoes." The boy grinned, pointing at the giant gaping tear in his black footwear.

"I can fix that for you, if you're willing to pay." Another boy joined in, grabbing the ink right out of Marcus's gloved hands.

"Don't listen to 'em." An older boy, Marcus recognized as Blake Koles, joined in. He snatched the ink and returned it back to Marcus. "Alex will do anything for a quick buck. Ask around, and you'll find a handful of the pitiful children who've given into Alex's wicked tricks and jokes."

"You know you love it." Alex winked, bopping Blake on the tip of his red nose. Who, in return, scrunched up his nose to the point where it could be mistaken for a shriveled up prune. Marcus smiled, sensing a admirable friendship from the two.

"Alex Narev, right? I heard you sold you're mom's favorite cow to pay for a bottle of liquor down by Tuffsberry." Connor smirked, glaring at the boy with a playful smile tugged at his lips.

"Yeah that's him, his folks gave 'em chores to last till death." Blake laughed, smugly punching his friend on the shoulder.

"Don't worry 'bout it, with winter getting harsher, who says death is that far off?" Alex groaned, sending all four boys into bittersweet laughter.

"Don't say that!" Blake laughed, ruffling through Alex's golden blonde hair.

With that, the bell rang. Quieting down the children, the only sound was the rubbing of their hands. Trying to calm the chilling cold that roared through their fingertips. It seemed this season would not satisfy by warm clothing or ashy smokes poking out through fires. For this, was a winter no one in Avark was ready for. It was the bitterest in years and may go down in history as the worst the land has ever seen.

"Welcome to our class Marcus, I'm sure you'll find friends before the year comes to a close."

"He already did." Alex murmured wiggling his eyebrows, earning a glare from the teacher and a worried expression from Blake and Connor.

"Allow me to rephrase." The teacher sighed, "I'm sure you'll make some valuable friends before the year comes to a close." Connor and Blake frowned at this, Alex glared daggers into the teacher's head. Clearly the teacher had a bone to pick with the two sixteen-year-old boys, but Connor was fourteen and usually, the teachers were kind to the younger ones.

"My name is Mr. Casset, you'll address me as so, profanity is forbidden, and you speak when spoken to once the bell rings. Which reminds me, Alex Narev would you so kindly step up to the front of the room; surely, Marcus would like to be a witness to the prone accidents that are displayed when you disrupt my class." Mr. Casset smiling wickedly, signaling his hand towards the front of the class.

Alex silently stood up with his head down, hair masking his features so you couldn't observe his facial expression. Marcus was horrified about what took place next, the professor took his cane, next to his charcoal-colored desk. Alex quivered as Mr. Casset swung around his cane, in such a mockingly demeanor it made Marcus's blood boil with seething fury.

The first hit struck Alex's stomach, Alex cried out in agony upon impact. The blow of the cane was so harsh against his pale skin that it echoed across the dead silent classroom. The cry only angered Mr. Casset more, striking him again in the same spot. Alex remained silent, only able gasp for air. He leaned against the chalkboard, not able to keep himself standing upwards.

"Stand up straight, boy." The teacher threatened, voice growing low and quiet. Alex did as he was told, swaying from side to side as he coughed loudly, blood spattering all over the hard-wood floor. Alex got hit nine hits to the stomach, three strikes for every word he said. The room grew dim and the atmosphere was ruined. Alex's tears and blood stained the hardwood floor he was forced to clean up after class. Marcus wanted to cry for Alex, but he sat shocked and angry. Until he could no longer even make eye contact with the teacher. He sat in silence until the bell rang, ignoring the worried expressions from Connor and Blake. Who silently tried to heal Alex's wounds.