The Murder Of Willowstream

Ch01. Another Day Of School

 The town of Willowstream sits shielded from the northern winds by a small mountain range called Winters Bluff. Lovingly called "The Bluffs" by those living below, in the summer, on a day just like today, the sun catches it's snowy peaks in just the right way that it breathes life into all it's colours in a breathtaking display of largely untouched nature. It's coat of deep green trees at it's base, that crawls and bleeds into the greys of stone and then white, all on the background of a pale blue sky made it an artists envy.

Marshal Barrock took every opportunity, rising just before dawn, to catch it's sweeping colours as the sun began to rise. Today was no different. He hadn't much practise with the application of colour in his drawings, never really having the spare money to afford them, but felt that he could capture it's majesty in the shades of grey his pencil allowed. Or at least try to.

Today was going to be a warm day. Marshal could tell, despite the chill of the morning air. He'd always been sensitive to temperature.

"Marshal, you're going to be late for school" His father called in an exasperated tone.

"Shit!"

"Language!"

"Sorry!" Marshal called back hurrying through the small apartment, instinctually raising his hand and catching the paper bag filled with his lunch, that his father had pre-emptively tossed in his direction. It was the routine that had happened since Marshal had become quite the avid sketcher. Wake up. Draw. Be almost late for school. Catch lunch on his way out. Oh and never forgetting to jog back and peck his dad on the cheek.

As predicted: the day was warm. As Marshal entered the school grounds, weaving through the mass of bustling student bodies, it didn't take long before he eventually came upon one of his long time friends, Rhys.

Rhys was dressed in his usual clothes that seemed to hang in all the right places. Simple jeans and an over shirt, along with the chestnut brown of his unruly hair were his most defining features. His hair was kept short, but never tidy, and it suited him just perfectly Marshal thought. When Marshal moved to the town at the young age of six, Rhys was one of the first people to approach him. Towns like this one take a little while to warm up to outsiders, but Rhys had apparently forgot that part and was eager to make a new friend who smelled like the sea.

Rhys was kind, everything about the way he carried himself said so. A gentle and warm face. A welcoming posture. Rhys ticked all the boxes for being the kind of sunshine on a summers eve you wanted to be drowned in. Bright, warm, comforting, and not to mention hot.

When Marshal grew into himself more, the budding of puberty all but totally being in full swing, Rhys still insisted that they remained friends; even when Marshal made his little crush known. Although, Marshal was forever grateful that it never developed further than a small crush. He wasn't forlorn or heart broken at the unrequited love of someone so close yet just out of reach. He'd hate to be apart of that cliché. Now they were closer than ever, far stronger as friends than anything else could be.

"Hey!" Rhys announced breaking off from the people he had been mingling with and wrapping his arm roughly around Marshals shoulders, pulling him into less of a hug and more of a head lock, and ruffling a hand though the pale, sunlight-blonde, strands of Marshals hair.

"Get off!" Marshal giggled shoving him away and hurriedly attempting to fix himself and flatten his now ruffled hair.

"You ready for another day in this hell hole?"

"No. I've got Math first. Who the fuck puts Math first thing in the morning!?" Marshal groaned, throwing his head back.

"Don't let Alice hear you say that, you know how much she loves Math." Rhys elbowed Marshal softly as the two made their way inside.