Finally Free/A dreamnotfound story

Chapter 1 "Dreams Journal"

As dull brown eyes wandered along the scenery, watching over the same dull grass that glows from the sun's rays, giving off the appearance of delicate threads of gold growing amongst an empty schoolyard. Tall trees hover over the field providing shade that's set as a reminder that gold could never just magically appear and replace the dead greens with a little bit of sun, morning dew and imagination. With his head resting on an aching hand, George sits alone with his thoughts as he contemplates that this year will be the last time he ever treks along the school halls with a backpack pulling down on his tired shoulders as he drags his feet to each class. The mere thought of all those crowds of pushy teenagers with too much time on their hands to be spreading useless gossip about the going ons in the lives of others and teachers giving out too many lessons that at the end of the day will mean nothing to him disappearing from his life is enough to put a smile on his still pale face. Not long after, George had realized he had torn his gaze away from his next door window and had been staring at the grayish-blue painted walls for an unreasonable amount of time and thought that if he stared long enough the paint might just start peeling.

Somewhere in the distance of his quiet mind, he could hear his own name being called out by a familiar voice, slowly getting closer and closer until his eyes drifted to his teacher's own ocean blues, then to the students that had been staring at him for God knows how long.

"George? Are you there?"  Those words had reached out to George and brought him back to the reality that he was still in his math class and had just been caught dozing off again by his attentive teacher. He really wished the teacher would just leave him be, in all his other classes the teachers pay no mind to George's searching eyes or his dozed off mind. In fact they'll even let him get away with sleeping so long as he passes their class, yet Mr. Watson just had to be the one teacher to pull George back from his world of quiet dull colors and end of the school year thoughts.

Mr. Watson had taken notice of George's slight flinch with his name being called out and immediately suspected that he had his head in the clouds, again.

"Good" the teacher sighed, clearly not surprised," Now that I have your attention could you please answer question number 10 for us?'' he asked with his gaze still facing George's direction. The other students never tore their eyes away from George either, staring as if he had just committed a crime. "Why are they looking at me?" George thought to himself as he started to furiously flip through the pages of his unopened math book in hopes of somehow finding the correct page with the question needing his answer.

George had never really appreciated the looks he got from others, having his movements being analyzed by silent eyes and judgmental onlookers as if he was something to be put on display for all to see whenever his name was called. The sudden unwanted attention had always put George's eyes in a panicked frenzy, preferring to look at the slight bits of dirt and dust on the floor still needing a good clean or the shoes he's had since the beginning of his junior year or the texture of the wood his desk was made of and see how it shines bright to the exposed sunlight, anything if it meant avoiding the faces he's blurred out of his mind for years just because he did not care for people.

Before George could admit, though it was plainly obvious, that he had not been paying attention and had no idea what page they're supposed to be on, Mr. Watson had already lost his patience and moved on to another student he knew for sure would have the answer because he always does. "Techno" the teacher called out, "Could you answer number 10 for us please?" he asked once again, only this time he'll actually receive an answer.

"Of course, Mr. Watson" Techno said with a slight hint of his ego rising in his tone before giving the answer the teacher had been expecting. While George could argue that it isn't right for teachers to have favorites, he really doesn't care and is just glad that the little embarrassing show he had put up in front of everybody was over.

"That's one way to make yourself look like an idiot" he thought to himself as he stared down at the mess of bent pages in front of him. Now he will be tormented with that moment playing over and over again as he wished he had just been listening to avoid such an agonizing memory, again.

What felt like an eternity of beating himself up over his stupidity the bell rang, saving him from those cursed flashbacks. The loud ear piercing shriek the bell gives out sends slight shivers down his spine as he rises from his seat to pack up his mess of a math book and laying around school supplies that were set up as mere decoration on his desk at this point. Anytime George has to pack his things to move on to his next class he would sometimes just stand there with his back facing the others and wait. The sound of scuffling students determined to get out of there as quickly as possible with the sound of chatter slowly dying out along with it has always been music to his ears and after today's embarrassment, George really needs this. By the time he had zipped his backpack shut and hauled it over his shoulders and turned the students where already gone. With the teacher standing outside the door waiting for his next pack of students, George at this moment was left alone standing in the barren classroom with the sun illuminating him with its golden rays and casting his shadow among the long rows of now empty desks.

As he started making his way through the rows of desks, the sun's light, no longer being covered up by George's silhouette, had landed on an object left in the far corner of the room. Now that he thinks about it, It is as if the whole classroom has now been lit up with George's movement, as if his very presence darkens a vibrant world as the light now decorates the classroom with long bright strips of warm soft yellows. George curiously turns his attention away from the now warm toned classroom to the illuminating object laying still on a desk left to isolate in the cold shaded corner, shying away from any windows. If it weren't for the sun's current position in the sky angling out the rays let in through the blinds, the back room desk along with the rest of the classroom would never see or feel the touch of sunlight.

As George got closer he realized that the object left behind was a regular journal, still glowing gold even once it was in his hand. The journal had a name written at the top center of the cover, spelling out the name "Dream" in permanent marker with slight smudges along the bold letters. It's funny, George doesn't recall ever hearing the name "Dream" before. Then again, George can't recall anyone's name even if he tried so it's no surprise that he wouldn't know the name of a student who sits in the corner of the class, probably trying to avoid the attention of people, like himself. Still, George figured that he'd try to find this "Dream" kid and return their journal to them before the end of the day. That is if he ever has the kid in another class. With the little quest George has now for some unknown reason bestowed upon himself, he quickly shoves the journal into his backpack and leaves the class to make way for the next one.

*Word count:1,358*