The Leading of Paper Cranes

Chapter 7: The Wailing of Cranes on a Sakura Tree

Woodworking... seems to me this class is on repeat. Mr. Freynas is back at least. We get started on a project quickly. We're making a toy airplane as a simple project. My saw partner next to me seems to be depressed. I don't inquire about what may be making her feel this way. Speaking of, Jasline is never usually saddened. She looks at me, and I take a glance at her. She smiles at me and she hands me a paper crane. I widen my eyes. I wish for the best, but I no doubt think it will not happen. She looks at me confused. I look back. I calm myself down. Then I put on a smile with forlorn eyes, gazing into the future that holds for her. I accept her gift graciously. She becomes happy and starts making her airplane productively and readily.

Class ends and I walk out the door to walk with Jazz. Jasline taps my shoulder and she hands me a book. "Thank you... For accepting my gift." She holds her head down.

"Oh, it's beautiful. Where did you learn how to do origami?"

"I watched your sister during science class, I became inspired to try it myself." She perks her head up. "I just thought it would be a good gift since..." she pauses, "that happened."

"Oh, it's fine, your intentions are good. I believe you."

"Okay, sorry if caused any trouble." We stand there, silently while the streets run at optimal pace.

Jazz screams from ahead. "Roland! We need to get to class!"

"Jasline, I need to get to class. See ya',"I pause then I mumble under my breath. "Hopefully."

Jazz and I get to class just fine. Mr. Ghoar seems to be late... or absent. I wait on the bleachers that I fell off yesterday. I realize there is uncleared blood on the ground. Did I have a nose bleed when I fell? There are drips which lead to his office, definitely from me. The 3rd gymnasium door opens and it's a supply teacher. The teacher comes in exasperated. He doesn't say a word and angrily makes his way into the equipment room. He takes out dodgeballs and the class celebrates and quickly makes a team of boys versus girls.

Gym was fun, it took my mind off of school and death.

It's now lunch and I make my way to Jazz's class. He greets me at the door and we sit down to eat lunch in his class. I had leftover roast beef, he had a burrito. I stare into his eyes every single bite I take. He opens his laptop and we start watching an anime. A discreet from mainstream anime. A knock appears at the door and I answer it, Jasline stands there with a smile.

"Ooh, does she love you Roland?" Jazz sneers in the background trying to make me laugh. It works.

I roll my eyes back to Jasline. She hands me another paper crane in her hands, like a person who has a crush on me. I smile back at her, and a figure appears behind her. I gasp. I see an evil grin from behind her. I fall behind in fear with my mind becoming a crimson red. Jasline was struck through her heart by a point. A point sharp enough to cut right through anything, even my heart. It feels as if time has stopped. Everything in slow motion. She keeps on smiling, even if it hurts. The spear like object leaves her body leaving a scar, tainting her body as if she was simply a piece of paper. She falls into my hands. My eyes are like a camera going berserk, making many copies of the same photo, the same old wretched photo. The red changes to an orange, then a yellow, then a maroon, then a deep blue, then a burgundy and it keeps on changing. I look at Jasline. It's like my vision makes a huge streak of red paint, or filtering the light like in a red room.

I want to die. These people don't deserve to die. Is it truly my fault that they died. Are they correct? Are my parents correct? I look up. Jazz is holding the intruder, the unwelcome guest, at the door. My visage turns red while the scene around me turns a confusing blue... or a green.. or a shade of some purple. The moment is too crazed, the people are freaking out. I'm freaking out. It feels as if I was brought into purgatory and I can't escape it. Is it a god that directs the movie? Or is it the actors who dictates it?

I hold Jasmine's head softly and fix my gaze on the figure.

We're only a few months into the semester. I knew my class for a month before I departed for the month. I knew everyone's name. Jazz, Maveah, Carleah and Jasline's names being the most memorable. There she falls. Like the king in a chess game, like the last piece in checkers, like a leap of faith in which someone pushed you off the cliff.

"Roland!" Jazz yells at me to snap out of my confusion. "Help..." he struggles for a moment. "Take his weapon..."

I stay petrified. I feels as if I can't move, like I'm glued in place. I watch the scene of a theatrical play. Jazz looks at the audience in horror and fear. He screams for help. The figure he is holding back takes it's right hand up so vividly it's almost in real time. But sadly it is the harsh reality. He slices downward and misses. Blood comes streaming out the left arm of Jazz. He wails in pain. I just watch there hopelessly.

Sometimes I wish I was a crane. I could fly wherever I wanted and be free and beautiful. The fragility it upholds isn't what I'm worried about. All I'm worried about is looking behind me. Seeing all the destination I have ruined. I'd have guilt and I'd fly on. Just like a crane, or a sparrow, or a raptor. I could be free, and I would have to be afraid to look ahead.

Sometime later I read the book that Jasline gave to me. It was called The Authors Secrets, written by Gale D'Englo. The synopsis was capturing, thought sadly it's a non-fiction book. I like immersing myself into a good fantasy that people dress up. Besides, it read...

Just like how a magician never reaveals his/her/their secret, there is something similar amongst writers. However sometimes secrets are meant to be shared, and for the better. As myself (D'Englo) says "Anyone can write a story, but to create and make and furnish a story is something different. A story is the most authentic when you're in the middle of one, whether through immersion or having it already happen through reality. Why? It's because something like Harry Potter didn't happen without being a living breathing character inside of it. Nor' did the story of Rosa Parks come along just like *poof* and it's there. It's all to make a better experience for your audience and for your readers.". All in all writers are the ones that.... Well.... Write history, rewrite history and rewrite history. Therefore it should be known that a writer needs to learn the ins and outs of the industry, want to join me.

It was more of a message than a synopsis, but it works.