What Happened Last Spring

Smoker?

'Fucking bollocks.'

I'm making my way down the East wing corridor of the Academy. The only sound keeping me aware of my surroundings, thus keeping me from having a manic episode is the constant clatter of my heels on the marble floor.

Gripping the clipboard with all the rules of the school written down that I, by myself had to announce. As it seemed our lovely Griffin president had better matters to attend. That tosser. That is why this year things are going to be different. I'm changing them.

Reaching the end of the hallway, I take a left and walk a little more.

Reaching that, shorter hallways end, I also reach the top of a small, marble staircase. Both of the ends of its width are decorated with marble, black and white pillars that reach the high ceiling. No doors stand in front of me as this is an open part of the building, it's basically outdoor hallways with classrooms on your right shoulder as you walk through it.

I step down two of the three stairs, pulling my skirt under my ass with my right hand and taking a seat on the cool floor. Placing the clipboard next to me I rise up my head to stare at the stretch of the massive garden our academy holds dear.
You wouldn't call it a garden really. More like a field on top of which the academy was built. We are its, it isn't ours.
You can almost see the end of it, the line where the field ends and the forest takes over making it take a rectangular form, faking a sense of confinement. To tell you the truth, the school didn't have any real barrier isolating us from the wild of Edinburgh.
The only part where one could spot any barricade is the fence stretching from the right and left of the gate. It's just for show really.
Wow look at us. The Sphinx Academy and it's pearly gates!
Give me a break. We are no heaven.

Attaching my knees together I rest my elbows on top of them and my chin on top of my palms. Hm... I'm cold.
Well, it is cold it's bloody September and it's Scotland.

Gazing a bit more, absentmindedly, I blink pulling myself out of my trance and remembering why I'm here, out in the cold like some nutter instead of my warm bedsheets.

I'm here to smoke pot.

And I'm smoking pot because of this bell end.

This irresponsible, self absorbed, self proclaimed heartthrob... fucking shoot me in the mouth.

You don't want to stand in front of the freshmen and welcome them into the Academy? You can't be arsed to fix up your loose bloody tie, straighten your back and say a couple of shallow words to the crowd?
Fine.
Don't do any of that.
I'll be happy to cover it for you. Like I do everything else.
Just-

Just. Fucking. Notify me.
Jesus I almost had a panic attack before I went on stage.
My first words were highly inappropriate too.
I mean I do speak like that to be fair.
But I know I'm not in a movie. I can't just insult newcomers and expect them to take it.
Fuck.

With all that seething I had managed to pull a fag of marijuana out of the chest pocket of my blazer and a pack of matches.

Placing the rolled up weed in between my closed thighs I take the match box in both of my hands.

Opening it I take a match. I slide it closed.
Taking a moment, I stare at the match. Then back at the field. My eyes skim the dark exterior. They slowly move from the middle of the field closer to where I was sitting. They end up targeted towards the patch of dirt that wasn't fully covered with rich, green grass. I could spot my heels at the bottom of my eyesight. It was just one marble step away, and then... nature took over. I stared at that brown patch of dirt. It was where I discarded my cigarettes.

I could almost spot the dead grass actually, the little bit of natural light that was left being absorbed by the night sky, extending its darkness into the compounds of the outside corridor.

Slightly, dully raising my eyebrows I refocused my attention towards the match box.

Tiredly blinking I placed the match firmly on its end, planning to slide it swiftly towards the other end in hopes of gaining a couple of sparks and a small flame.

I repeated that action a couple of times before getting the desired result, out of which resulted the only sound heard in a good twenty minutes.

I let the light of the flame illuminate my face for a little bit. I stared at it, calm and docile mostly, except when my breath, upon leaving my nostrils makes its way towards it, making it twinkle. Shake for its life.

I picked up the fag.

I placed it between my lips ready to light it.

I heard a sound.

Upon it reaching my ears I swiftly turned my head over my left shoulder towards the dark hallway. My eyes are met with a dark, breath devouring void. I rise my left hand holding the lit match. The light of the small wooden stick can only clear out so much of the darkness. My eyes intensely stared into the void, not blinking and I swear I had seen something make its way across my vision.
I stare a little longer.
No sound. No movement.

Feeling my heartbeat starting slow down I think I need that cig more than ever now.

I turn around, the fag still in my mouth and with me turns my hand holding the match.

I once again bring it close to the end of the cig ready for the flame to light it, making it useful to me finally.

I start to suck in from the other end of the cig as the end of the match comes in contact with its own end and it's lit!

Ahhhh yes...

I take a long awaited drag of smoke, keeping it in my mouth and swallowing it down, feeling it burn my throat before it safely rests in my rotten lungs.

I hold the burning marijuana in between my fingers and I contemplate.

I contemplate about Ruxana Amani White.