Horror strikes the faces of those in the moon light... never once checking their surroundings.
It is these kinds of people that I hate.
They don't understand. What I've been through.... none of them.
As I walk through the hallways of my high school. New waters prepatory academy, I read the name in my head quite venomously. It is here that it happened. My mothers death.
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A younger version of myself ran around the castle like structured building, giggling as I ran with my best friend at the time, Vincent.
"Rose! Over here!" He laughed as he ran towards the teachers building. I followed, laughing as he almost tripped.
"Watch yourself now!" I yelled, running ahead of him. When we got to the teachers hall where our parents had one on one time with our teachers, I froze at what I saw. My mum stood perched at a window, holding my barely 3 year old brother Derek. She smiled down at me.
As I ran towards her, the worst thing possible happened. She threw Derek. He hit the ground in a puddle of blood and guts.
"Mum! Why?!" I screamed at her. She just kept smiling. Why? What reason did she have to do that?
Then she screamed at me, "For you, darling! So you may feel what I felt when your father died! The way I felt raising you! A girl who is the spitting image of him!"
After that.... she dive bombed into the concrete, laying next to Derek.
I hate this school.....
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I approached my classroom. After mum died and things blew over with the cops, Vincent ignored me. He wouldn't run with me. He wouldn't chat. He wouldn't even look at me.
I live in an alley now. People don't help. Dads don't come back. You fend for yourself and that's it.
I walked and took my seat in the back. I was always first one here, so I get to choose first hand where I sit.
I looked around the room as people filed in. Most were screeching like banshees or trying to make each other laugh. This was English. Not some playhouse. I gave everyone a dirty glare. The teacher called everyone to sit down.
Mr Heast is one of the meanest teachers you will ever meet. He pairs you up with anyone he wants. He never lets us work alone.
As he assigns us groups for today, I notice half of the girls eye rolls and irritated hair flips.
I stare at my own black hair. It had slight hints of natural blue light. My eyes were a really light silver gray. My skin a pink white pale.
I'm not one of the prettier girls, coming to school with the expensive dresses and shirts. I'm the kind of girl who only has one outfit. But its strange how I never smell like anything but vanilla and roses.
My group:
Rose
Vincent (oh God)
Tiffany (someone help me)
Ingrid (isn't she the redheaded bitch who threw a book at me? Pair me with her why don't you.)
And
Brady.
Oh God. I hate Brady with a firey passion! From his fake Blonde hair down to his lightly tanned skin. He is one of those jerky jocks who use girls then complain that it was their own fault. He's an asshole, really.
They formed their group then looked over at me. I gave them a glare, grabbed my Sketchbook and English notebook and walked over.
Mr Heast gave us composition work.
"Alright class, today's topic will be... what do we think about life? Only write four to five sentances then discuss them in your groups." His southern accent rang through the class.
So I started to write.
~~~~~~~
The other flowers have always been treasured more than I. Always more fortunate than I at the bottom of the chain. For I am a pure white flower. Blessed with a heart. A soul. A mind. But for whom shall I share it with?
The bright Blonde daffodils have the rosey red tulips. They share their secrets and use them against others. They are more confidant than anyone I know. They don't like me at all though.
the indigo petunias play around and joke with the lillies of the river. They are like animals. Making loud noises and bothering the rest of the flower chains.
Everyone has each other. But I have no one. My friend is gone. He went back with the petunias. I am the lonely flower. The only moon rose of the bunch.
I am rare, I know. No one tries to get to know me. I'm the untouched ones. The one everyone thinks is a waste in their garden.
For no one treasures the moon rose.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After we finished, we showed each other. Everyone kept giving me dirty and confused looks. I didn't really think much of it. Their analogies quite crippling to hear. Ingrid portrayed life as the candy she loves to eat and enjoy. Brady said it was like a never ending video game. Tiffany said her life was a constant self admiring session. Shopping for herself and making plans for parties. And Vincent....
Vincent's was decent. He discribed his life As the epiphany of spring. When all shall start anew. When everything is reborn. When everyone gets second chances.
Describing our life's to each other (well I ignored them, but still) took about 35 minutes. By then it was time to go. I walked to my desk, grabbed my stuff and left.
I walked to my locker. Not really thinking of anything but Vincents analogy.
'Like spring? Why spring? Things are renewed in spring, yes, but things are in full bloom by summer. Why didn't he choose that?'
As I got to my locker, I quickly put in my combination.
'21-49-22'
I grabbed my stuff for math and closed it. Making sure to kiss my fingertips and hold it to our family portrait. Our only family portrait. When dad was alive.
It had my dad with his arms around me and my mother next to us, smiling and holding Derek. He was swaddled in a blue blanket. Only 16 months then. I was only 11 back then. Dressed in my blue and black Victorian. My mother wore a similar one. Except hers was green and brown. Her blonde curly locks cascading down, twisting around each other.
After a while of walking, I reach my class.
Time for math.....
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Hey guys! I'm trying a new style of writing! I'm writing my own book. Tell me what you think and if I should continue it. I didn't really plan on even making it, it just came up in my head randomly. So I hope you like it!
