He woke a few hours later, notebook page stuck to the side of his face. Alexander sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. He vaguely remembered submitting three small assignments before taking a break to rest his eyes for a moment.

Alexander grabbed his phone, checking the time.

Twelve-twenty-two A.M.

“Ngh!” he thumped his head briefly against the books on his desk. What a time to wake up. He sighed heavily and turned his head to look out his side window. Something flashed by just as he turned.

He blinked, his heart dropping into his stomach.

Did he just see a person?

He was five storeys up.

Alexander stood slowly, hesitantly moving towards his window. He stopped himself before he got there. “This is how the idiot in a horror movie dies, moron…” he muttered to himself, backing up towards his door.

His room suddenly went dark.

Alexander reached for the switch as he backed into the alcove, flicking it a couple of times just to be sure. He glanced behind him at the base of his door. There was no light coming from the hall either. Evidently the power to the building had been cut.

Alexander slipped into his shoes, sliding his phone into his pocket as he reached back for the door handle. A strange scraping noise made him take pause before he tried to flee his room. His stomach felt like it was doing back-flips. He looked down to the base of his door again. Thin shadows were racing back and forth through what little moonlight seeped through the crack. Then, a little metal claw peeked out from underneath.

He sucked in a breath and jumped back from the door in horror as more sharp objects clawed their way through the gap.

Alexander felt something awkward in his pocket and looked down to see the fabric of his jeans bulging. He reached in and ripped his phone out just as it broke apart into a little mechanical thing that leapt for his face.

“WAH!” he cried out, slapping the thing away from himself and stumbling back into his room proper. He fell backwards and landed on his backside, watching in horror as what remained of his phone scuttled into the darkness under his bed like a giant roach.

“W-what the fu—!?”

A horrible skittering sound drew his eyes to his ceiling where another monstrosity clung to the drywall with horribly sharp legs. He vaguely recognized it as his laptop—which was now missing from his desk.

His door shuddered as something massive smashed against it.

Alexander heard the wood groan and splinter followed by a deep, unnerving scrape as something large and sharp was dragged roughly against the surface from top to bottom.

He came to his senses and scrambled to his feet, launching himself at his balcony door. He seemed to recall that there was a drainpipe he could use the climb down should the need arise—well, it had risen now.

Alexander wrenched his balcony door open, pushing the screen door aside so violently that it ripped off its track.

The laptop monster finally launched at him from the ceiling and Alexander made to swat it away, a streak of orange flames erupting from his hand—the thing fell to the floor in a searing, melted heap and ceased movement.

Shocked, Alexander stood stock still staring at the thing, his hand trembling. That had been the witch’s fire—he was sure if it. Somehow he just knew—the heat, the colour, the feeling of energy—it was the same as from the train station.

“I—I…!” he stammered, terror racing through his nerves.

The sound of the door splintering into bits pulled him from his shock and he backed out onto his balcony. He turned to go for the pipe only to come face to face with a neon green glare.

A hand shot out and grabbed the side of his head, slamming the other side against the thick glass of his balcony door. Alexander stumbled into a daze before he was grabbed by his arm, another hand guiding him by the back of his neck as he was rushed to the edge of his porch.

Five dizzying storeys of space appeared in front of him. Alexander’s heart leapt up from his bowel into his throat as he hurtled over the railing—shockingly, his attacker went with him, keeping a tight grip on Alexander’s injured forearm.

Five storeys turned into six, seven—the roof of the building hurtled by as Alexander’s heart and stomach felt like they were slammed into his pelvis.

“OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!OHMYGOD!” he cried.

Panicked, Alexander ignored the pain in his arm and twisted to look up at who gripped him so tightly.

He was struck dumb—as if lightning had paralyzed him.

Laughter echoed around him as he looked up into that piercing neon gaze framed by messy electric blue hair. Alexander was now over two hundred feet in the air, held only by his bleeding, unbandaged arm by another teen boy who straddled what looked like a scuba scooter keeping him afloat comfortably and safely in the sky.

“Hullo, Princess!” he sneered, a malicious grin spreading across his smooth features.

Alexander stared dumbly at him. He didn’t recognize this person at all.

More giggling and laughter finally made Alexander look away, his heart pounding as he realized that this strange boy wasn’t the only one with him. No, there were more. A lot more.

At least thirty kids ranging from what looked to be twelve to eighteen all circled him, each with their own distinct inhuman colours and strange flying devices.

“W-what… What the fuck!? What the fuck!? What the FUCK!? WHAT THE ACTUAL FLYING FUCKING FUCK!?” sheer panic gripped Alexander as he struggled, pain racing through his arm with a familiar burning tingling.

“Now now, Hunter Princess, is that any way to talk. It’s not very lady like,” the boy that held him cooed. The gentle tone held an undercurrent of malicious viciousness that sent a chill up Alexander’s spine.

Alexander winced as the grip on his arm tightened and he was jostled cruelly like a fish hanging on a line. “P-please, put me down! What do you want!?” he cried.

“Hmph!” the young witch scoffed, “What do I want?” he grinned widely.

“Blue Machine!” a girl with lemon yellow hair dyed lime green at the tips called out as she tried to fly to Alexander. She rode on a gnarled broom with a glowing bush of golden-yellow light for its bristles, reaching for him.

Alexander wasn’t sure what was happening—he was terrified beyond reason, but he still reached out towards her, hope swelling in his chest.

A slightly older boy on a surfboard decorated with citrus patterns blocked her. His flaming red hair tied back in a low ponytail. “Stop!” he growled, grabbing her.

“You need to stop this right now!” she warned, “If you don’t, I’ll tell the adults!”

Blue Machine laughed at her. “Citrus Sunset, you need to send your sister home, it’s past her bed time,” he said stiffly.

“You!” she huffed.

Her brother on the surfboard tried to guide her away, muttering something to her. He grabbed her wrist as she reached up to her temple, “Don’t you dare!”

SMACK!

She slapped him hard, pushed him backwards and beelined for Alexander.

Citrus Sunset grabbed his sister’s shirt and pulled her back, ripping her off her broom as it vanished into particles of light.

Blue Machine looked down at Alexander. He didn’t like that look of hope. “See ya, Princess—NOT!” He let go of Alexander’s arm.

Alexander’s eyes went wide as he felt his stomach start to rise into his throat.

He dropped, hurtling towards the pavement.

For a moment, he couldn’t even scream—until he managed to—then, he couldn’t stop.