Ashen

Ashen - Short Story

The smell of cheap perfume and over powering cologne linger through the dimly lit halls of Bakerview High. The once bright halls, now covered with splotches of a color we like to call 'occasional repaint due to graffiti', hold the history of many years. I walk through these dark halls every day, going to and from, nothings ever new or interesting in the least. The people are always the same, there's only two types, the over achievers, you know the type hoping to get out of this small hell hole of a town and have some major corporation business or whatever. The nice, do as there told, straight A's in every class type. And then there's the type like me, dim, boring, people who have a mutual acceptance of the fact that we aren't going anywhere, get a job at Wal-Mart and you've made it big time. What's the point of working hard to get good grades when it really doesn't matter in the end? This town limits us. Were stuck here whether we like it or not, unless of course you've got the funding to go places, which most of us don't.

The bell rings and I slam the door to my locker shut. I sling my burgundy and black leather bag over my shoulder and walk to my first class, Algebra. Can we start the day off in any more of a boring way? I don't want to go, but if I miss one more day I'll be called down to the office, which is an even worse place to be first thing in the morning, so I grit my teeth and walk in. I decide to sit with my best friend Bri, like normal she's as bubbly as ever. The class goes smoothly; me not getting asked any questions and all, algebra's my worst subject. Time slowly, very slowly, ticks by second after second. At last, the final bell of the day goes off. I grab my things and walk out into the back parking lot. Quickly, I make my way to the street, trying to beat the mad rush of students going home. I'm barely in the middle of the road when the rumble of a car's engine tousles the charms on my bag. Aiming right for me a black chevelle rushes forward. I try to move but I'm frozen with panic. I prepare for the impact, but it never occurs. The car goes rushing by, my fingers inches away from the sleek black paint.

'Asshole,' I mutter under my breath. People should learn how to drive. One foot in front of the other and soon enough I'm already in my overgrown front yard, flowers long forgotten and wilting from lack of water. That's one advantage to a small town, you can get anywhere quickly and people don't care what your house looks like cause theirs is as bad, or worse, then yours. One guy had a freaking dilapidated shed in his yard for years. His front yard. In front of his living room window. Then he continued to brag about his view of the mountains...and the shed for a couple more years. That's a small town for ya.

I pull a sliver key dangling from green thread out of my bag and am about to slide it into the lock of the beat up and previously kicked in white front door when it screeches open on its own. I slowly step inside and frantically look around. Nobody's inside the kitchen, I cautiously thread over to a drawer and reach around until I find something of use, I stop as my fingers glide across a smooth, sharp surface, I pull it out, a serrated steak knife, perfect. I keep going, living room, clear, bedroom number one, clear. I stop at the last door, my room. As fast as I can I yank the door open and raise the knife, ready to use it. No one...I check everywhere, 'FIND THE RIGHT WAY UP OR LET ME TAKE THE WRONG WAY DOWN. 'My elbow slams into the wall as I jump backwards, letting out a shriek. On my white wicker night stand sits my old clock radio, I only calm down when I come to the realization that it was my radio, not an intruder speaking. Oddly enough playing one of my favorite songs. I press the 'off' button and tear the cord out of the wall, walking out of my room and firmly closing the door behind me.

The next morning the sound of my Dad's voice hollering 'Caroline, its7:40, time to wake up and get ready.' awakes me.

'Alreeeady?' I exclaim while lazily yawning.

I stumble into the kitchen and pop a piece of fluffy white bread into the toaster. Dad gives me a warming hug and kiss on the forehead before he walks out of the house, off to work.