Chapter 1
Kids were throwing paper airplanes across the classrooms, spitballs were hitting the worn down chalkboard. Teachers were trying to gain control of the rebellious children, but they were outnumbered 30 to 1. That was just another Wednesday at Ebony High. In fact, that was what everyday looked like at the small high school. That was until Dagon Sterling wandered through the halls as the “new student”. His Kill Hannah tee and black skinny jeans hugged his body in all the right places. Slung over his shoulder was an Invader Zim backpack. His sleek, black hair framed his flawless ivory face. His gray and deep blue speckled eyes-lined heavily with silver eyeliner- begged for attention. Girls stared in awe. Boys scoffed in jealousy. Never before had someone looked so mysterious and malevolent. Yes, Ebony had their share of Gothic and Sub-Gothic cliques, but Dagon had a lonely, fantasy-like aura about him. The type of aura that pulled on the hearts of the innocent, shamed the sinners, and pleased the saints. Dagon walked into his first mod class, English, with Mr. Monroe. The chatter stopped.
“Students,” Mr. Monroe motioned in Dagon’s direction, “this is Dagon Sterling. He will be going to our school from now on. Please make him feel welcomed.” Mr. Monroe gathered his papers, “I am going on my break. Everyone please behave.” He turned to Dagon, “Mr. Sterling, take a seat wherever you would like. We don’t use seating arrangements in my classroom.” Dagon coughed and cleared his throat, “Thank you.” Mr. Monroe nodded then left.
He sat at the desk located in the far corner of the classroom, dropping his backpack on the floor beside him. What a pathetic group of people. Dagon thought as he pulled out his notebook. On the front, he had carefully scripted the words: Dagon’s Thoughts. He flipped to an empty page and began to write.
Words, like daggers, pierce the heart of a warrior.
However, wounds of the dagger heal over time, wounds of the mouth cannot.
-D. Sterling
A voice interrupted his thoughts, “Awe, looks like pretty boy has a diary,” Dagon’s notebook was snatched out from under him, “let me see that.” He glanced up. A Barbie looking cheerleader was smirking. “PRETTY BOY HAS A DIARY!” She waved the notebook around. The class roared with laughter.
“Is pretty boy getting mad? Does pretty boy want his diary back?” The cheerleader said in a babyish tone.
“It is not a diary,” Dagon whispered, “and I advise you to give it back.”
“Alisha! Just read the freaking thing already!” a voice interjected.
“What?” Alisha said cupping her ear, “Did you say to read it aloud, or” she paused, then opened to the first page, “I don’t really care.” She rolled her fake blue eyes. “So,” Alisha smacked her lips together, “this is what pretty boy writes about in his precious diary.” She began to read.
“We are a perfect love, tender and true. My dearest Juliet, where are you? I found you in my dreams. It feels surreal. I feel you in my heart. A truly breath taking pain. I watch as you cry, covering your beauty in tearstains. I ask who the center of this misery is. You voice in breathless whispers, the heart wants what it wants, but the mind prohibits such a love. -D. Sterling”
“Awe, how sweet! Pretty boy’s in love!” Alisha laughed, “I wonder what else he writes about.” She flips through the notebook, uninterested in everything until she came to another ‘Juliet’ page.
“Ok, listen to how cheesy this is.” Alisha smirked.
“Dear Juliet, my precious Juliet, how can a hummingbird hum without its melody? Or there be day without the sun? Or a rose exist without thorns? How can the moon shine at night when the night is everything but clear? The answer is impossible. A hummingbird needs its melody to hum; it is happiness. We need our sun or there wouldn’t be day, the heart of life. A rose needs its thorn, its protection. A moon needs a clear night to shine; it’s our guide. Just as I need you, my sanity. -D. Sterling,” Alisha closed the notebook as she pretended to wipe a tear from her face, “How touching…not!” She tossed Dagon’s notebook at him.
