One Page Stories.

New Perspective.

There was a twenty eighty chance that there was something wrong with you. You were able to see pass what people wanted others to think or see. You could see the football star sitting in his dorm pacing around and hoping that his room mate wouldn't walk in and see the tears going down her face. I could see the girl in the big sweaters and the thick glasses getting into a pair of lace panties and a bra to sleep with her boyfriend like she does every night. I could see the boy who had lucked out and get into the college walk around the library while singing along to rock bands. Then there was me. The girl who dyed her hair silver and bright blue eyes that can almost glow. The girl who's skin is so pale that light reflects off of it and all my clothes attract the heat. I had on my funeral clothes since today was the day that i buried my best friend. Johnathon Ringo had finally passed away after twenty one years of raising hell with the rest of us. Johnny was the ring leader, the one who kept us all in track and the one who kept me in line mostly. He was the one who kept me on the right side and made sure that i got just about everything that i need. Johnny and I had been friends from our parents being rebels together against everything that this hell hole has become. People who wear masks, who don't honor your friends, who treat you like your a rat and need to be put back into the sewer. As I walked out of my dorm in my soft black hoodie that had no sleeves, black sweatpants and black lace up leather boots, i flashed my ID at the security guard who watched our building and he nodded. Putting on a pair of all black sunglasses and walking to the funeral home that wasn't that far away from our college, i was nearly panting from the heat. Johnny had told me that at his funeral i was to not cry and that i was to honor him by becoming the leader of the resistance. As i got to the funeral home i walked straight into where the basement was and took off the pants that i had on and adjusted my black shorts that were decorated with silver chains. I pulled off the sweatshirt that i had on and pulled on a leather jacket. There was a group of guys in the basement gathered around a white casket that had Johnny inside, faded black eyes and his recognizable signature across his face. The bottom half of his face looked like it was dead and rotten already and just bone and skeleton. I grabbed a small can of black ink and smeared circles around his eyes making them almost pitch black back. I grabbed his cover with my clean hand and tied it around my own face letting it hang down. As i walked out of the funeral home i could hear the guys lift up his casket and start to follow me. I walked to the midnight color car and lied his casket down in the back. I held the door and thats when we stood in a half circle looking at the casket inside of it. We were all silent with our hands down to our sides. As i cleared my throat and told them that it was time to go, they all scattered to put on their masks and sunglasses. Hiding our identity was the key to get out of here alive but there was a less than ten percent chance that we would be able to get out of something this bad. Stealing a car, a casket, paint and saying goodbye to our leader. I yelled out that Johnny would be with us and that his rebellion will carry on through us all but before i could even say his name, guards started popping up all over us. They had their masks on and they rushed us. I ran away from the group and as i turned to look back at them, i saw as they got their masks pulled off and they weren't fighting back. Their sunglasses were smashed against the ground and i yelled out to them to  run, to fight back, to be part of the resistance but they were helpless. Andrew, the new second in command looked back at me with a bloody smirk. Literal blood ran down from his mouth in a single line and dripped down onto his chin and i watched him before looking into the back of the van staring at the casket as i saw the lid lift and a pure black hand rise up. I turned and sprinted as fast i could getting away from the scene. My long pale legs barely covered at all by the shorts, the shirt i had on was just a thin shirt that had no sleeves. The tank top being that was the same color and the bra after that was the same. The leather jacket that was hanging on for dear life was blowing with each step that i took and a line of black and white tattoos were running up and down my arms in endless streams of names and dates. I ran until my lungs couldn't take it then yelled to the top of my lungs that I was the resistance. And this time, we cannot die.