This is a piece a wrote ages ago, but figured I'd revisit it.
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A young girl sat calmly on a tombstone. Her long raven hair swayed lightly in a soft, chilling early evening breeze. She stared at the black wrought iron gate of the cemetery for a long moment as she quietly hummed an eerie lullaby.
A large crow fluttered down on the gate. Perched for a moment and looked directly into the girl’s eyes, then fluttered to a nearby aged tree that was gnarled and twisted from years of watching over the dead souls who lie beneath. The crow stared at the girl once more, then in a flutter of wings took off into the brilliant orange sky. The young girl stood and casually walked out of the cemetery, still humming the lullaby. She walked to an apartment and went inside to find an older woman cooking.
“Anna? Is that you honey?” the woman called.
The girl walked into the kitchen without a word, then silently retreated to her darkened room.
“That child . . . she's so strange . . .” the woman muttered as she carried on.
In her room, Annabell Thanato was writing in a black book with leather bindings. In an ornate, curling scroll, she wrote:
Marcus Austen Tollings
Then she crossed his name out and closed the book and replaced it on her shelf.
Several years later, the same girl sat in a Calculus class, silent and not bothering to pay attention. “Annabell, come solve number thirty-seven on the board.” the calculus teacher, Mr. Burkins asked.
Wordlessly, Annabell solved the problem flawlessly, then returned to her seat.
“Thank you Annabell,” Mr. Burkins smiled. He thought he must be doing something right if even one of his students understood.
Anna was a rare sort. Where other students, even the most advanced, struggled, she excelled. She never had a question, but always found an answer. Not just in Calculus either, in every single one of her classes. She either terrified or creeped out her fellow classmates. She also tended to ignore everyone, unless asked a direct question. While others wouldn't consider her to be mean, she wasn’t deemed friendly either. She simply was apathetic towards everyone and everything.
The class bell rang and everyone shuffled out.
“Thanks for making us look bad, freak!” a girl with bleach blonde hair, too much make-up, and overly revealing clothes sneered. Lisa Jones.
Anna simply ignored her and kept walking.
“I’m talking to you, freak!”
Again Anna ignored her.
“Don’t ignore me, bitch!” Lisa ran up to her and swung her loose fist at the back of Anna’s head. Swiftly, Anna spun around and caught Lisa’s fist and bent it back slightly, not enough to cause her any harm, just enough to cause pain.
“I suggest you walk away while you still can,” Anna warned, her voice was soft, dark, and harsh as her eyes flashed dangerously. Anna then pushed Lisa back to her gaggle of friends.
“Freak.” Lisa repeated. “You saw her, she attacked me! I think she broke my wrist!”
One of the teachers heard the commotion and came out. “What’s all the fuss about? Miss Jones?” he asked.
