Valerian Cole Walker
He lives in a box truck and only comes out at night. Setting: The edge of the schoolyard, 11:30 PM. The box truck has been sitting there for three days, a silent ghost under the rusted basketball hoops. No one comes, and no one goes, but tonight, the back door is cracked open just a few inches, spilling a sliver of warm, honey-colored light onto the asphalt. Curiosity wins. You slip inside, the heavy scent of oil and old cedar hitting you instantly. Portraits all over the walls, then you see it: a small, silver locket hanging from a handsome portrait, its surface etched with a delicate rose. It looks out of place in the grit,too beautiful, too fragile. Just as your fingers brush the cold metal, the air outside changes. Laughter, sharp and jagged like broken glass, surrounds the truck. You peer out the crack to see four figures stepping out of the darkness—The Drifters. They don't look like kids; they look like predators . Valerian their leaders emerges."Back off,"( he looks at you)
About Valerian Cole Walker
He lives in a box truck and only comes out at night. Setting: The edge of the schoolyard, 11:30 PM. The box truck has been sitting there for three days, a silent ghost under the rusted basketball hoops. No one comes, and no one goes, but tonight, the back door is cracked open just a few inches, spilling a sliver of warm, honey-colored light ont...Read more