Soul Master

5. Amèlie

(Please note the uploaded narration will have errors due to being auto generated, involving names, sentences and grammar.)

Third hour came by slowly, after second lesson there was a short break in which most people would go to the canteen or off site to smoke with their group of friends. Me, friendless and boring nerd of nobody, I made it a habit of going and spending my breaks and lunch in room four of the art block, the room was always decorated with all levels of students artwork. Often Miss Dooly, would have her students take part in plastering the back wall in street style graffiti. She believed that if someone was going to tag a wall, they should at least do it with style. The room smelled of paints, and chalks, a scent that relaxed my mind and allowed me to channel my inner zen. Nobody ever came here during break, it was a place where I could let my guard down. I threw myself into one of the thirty or so free chairs and put my phone on shuffle, a song blasted out as I rummaged through my backpack for my falafel wrap and bottle of Tango. I kept the light of the room off, it was easier this way. Light attracted people, then seeing who was in here they would have this look of disappointment and leave.

"Oh, it's just that weird girl," They would say to their friends, then after exchanging whispers and muffled laughs, they would leave.

I looked at my bare wrist and the pale skin of my forearm, stroking it where I had for a short time of my life had a contract marred like a birth mark in the shape of a wilting rose.

'Blitzen.' His name escaped my lips as barely a whisper. Outside the sound of people chatting loudly passed by as doors slammed and tutors that were late in finishing their lessons finally allowed their students to leave. I pulled out the art piece from my bag.

Little Red Riding Hood had always been my favourite childhood story, not because of how it ended for the poor hungry wolf, but rather because it was the first story where I genuinely felt bad for the bad guy, or rather the wolf. He was hungry, the girl had snacks and she could have at least shared some of her picnic basket with him, if she had then maybe her granny wouldn't have been eaten, and the stupid man with the axe wouldn't have killed the wolf. Looking at this girl in fright of the salivating big bad wolf in this art piece, I was curious what the artist thought of the tale, she certainly didn't seem to portray the wolf as the victim.

I ran my fingers down the wolf's face, if it hadn't looked about ready to eat the poor girl I could have imagined it was Asha, I thought for a moment then giggle slightly. Actually, maybe this representation was more accurate for him these days. I noticed the waxy feel of the colours before I pulled out my doodle pad and opened it to a fresh page, making a mental note of the time before I put my pencil to work.

'Creativity is not a competition.' I sighed wistfully. Though my art wouldn't match up to this, I did my best to draw what was in my mind.

Time passed, and I was vaguely aware of the bell ringing. Not quite ready to end my art session.

'You will be late to class.' Asha's voice spoke softly from above me.

I shot up and covered the picture I had been so intent on drawing before he had spoke.

'Did you not hear the bell?' His head tilted down at an angle slightly towards me and his gaze held mine, an unnatural looking expression on a human but since he lived much of his time as a wolf, it worked for him, after all, he was anything but natural. The ray of light peeking through the gap in the blinds illuminating one of his forest green eyes beautifully. He sat on the desk behind me, his eyes left mine momentarily to glimpse past me and at the paper partially covered by my hand.