A Scarlett Heart

Update

This is a little late...

By that I mean it's been over a year.

So as I may have already told you guys this was a short story that my english teacher had requested us to make. 

Everyone in the class did a wonderful job and he was proud of all of us.

A little over a year ago he died.

Just like Charli in this book he also had a terrible illness. He had Leukaemia Cancer.

July 28th 2015 he died. 

He told us we were one of his favourite class throughout his years of teaching. So he told us he was doing a secret project he was going to write a book about his life. We were all very excited to hear that. Before hand during his lessons he would always tell us stories of when he was growing up. They were all too hilarious especially the way he interpreted them. It wasn't anything close to boring unlike normal teacher stories about their life. I think that was mainly because we never looked at him as a teacher, more of as a role model, a best friend even.

 He was an amazing writer no doubt. You could come up to him one day and ask what book to read, just tell him your preferences and he could hand you a book right then and there, his judgement never failed.  He could've been a millionaire. He could've been famous by being an author. He was given the chance. He passed it, he wanted to stay being a teacher and thank god for that or else I wouldn't have met such an amazing person.

Even to this day I can't help but think about 'what if's' and 'why not'.

I miss him so much. 

One day in English class I just zoned out. English was my subject with Mr Cartoni. Although the teacher I have now is pretty good she still didn't compare at all to what he can do. I zone out quite a lot now in english and I just scribble down poems and notes about him. Here's one.

I found it endearing, almost terrifying,

how well anyone can write such 

a marvellous sentence.

The sentence within itself was...

speechless, no words can describe it.

In a way it was mystical, very magic like

the way his pen just ran over the surface 

not stopping to create a master piece. 

It was filled with so much emotion just by 

a few words.

And his writing, oh his penmanship,

it was truly something else.

A different life on its own.

Every letter looped with its own unique character.

It kept that vintage feeling that no one else 

can ever master.

It made it one of a kind.

He wasn't rotting.

Oh no he was far from being old.

He did have that fatherly feeling 

much love and hope for his children to succeed.

He did not treat us like we were students.

Nor did we treat him as a teacher.

He was worth more than that just to have that title 

he deserved more than that.

if by a sentence he could amaze anyone in an instant.

Imagine what he would've been able to do with a paragraph.

An essay.

A report.

A book.

He was supposed to finish his book.

Everyone was supposed to love it.

He was supposed to become a famous writer.

Even then he would've never forgotten about us 

because that us just him as a person.

He was always down to earth and truthful.

Never was there a bad bone in his body.

Everyday he wore this badge to school.

"school bully" is says.

Far from it, He was far off from it.

He knows that - I hope he does -

no one could ever compare to his brilliance.

Thank you to whoever has read this short story. 

R.I.P Giovanni Cartoni