Days of Darkness: ¡Viva la Gloria!

Chapter 1:

My alarm clock blares it's obnoxious sound into my ear, telling me it's time to get up for school. My head rushes and my vision blurred as I quickly sit up in my bed. The clock reads 6:30 A.M., my average wake up time.

I lazily slip on a very torn pair of jeans, my favorite T-shirt, my "21st Century Breakdown" by Green Day shirt. In an unsurprising move, my favorite song was "¡Viva la Gloria!" because I thought it was very similar to myself, in some way.

I force myself to walk down the short hallway and down the old, creaky stairs. We live in an old, shitty house, so basically everything creaks when you put even a hair of pressure onto it. It makes it hard to sneak out late at night, even with my dad and his bitchy girlfriend being heavy sleepers. And I can't use my window, because it takes a lot of effort to even open a crack, and it too, like everything else, makes a lot of nose when you try to use it.

I get downstairs to find the kitchen empty, no signs of adults anywhere. Liz's purse, my dad's girlfriend, was nowhere in sight, same with my dad's wallet. Both are usually on the little drawer next to the front door. I walk into the kitchen and see a note on the counter.

'We went to San Fransisco to catch a plane to Melbourne, Australia for a vacation. Don't burn the damn house down,- Dad' the note read.

Fucking unbelievable. It's one thing to neglect me, but to just up and leave without even telling me beforehand, I don't know why I even stay with them. They just leave me in Oakland, by myself, no fucks given. What great parents they are.

I crumple the note up and toss it behind me, not caring to throw it in the garbage. I make myself some toaster waffles, and a glass of milk. The house is eerily quiet, even with the constant creaking and settling it does. I look at the bright side, I'll have the house to myself for the weekend. I can have a few of my friends over, order a few pizzas, maybe even cause some mayhem on the local townspeople. The fun stuff. I even consider skipping school, but there's nothing I can do here to entertain me, so school is my only option.

I walk back upstairs and brush my teeth. When I'm done, I wash my face off, to wash myself for lack of a shower, and to wake myself up a bit. Then I stare at myself, short brown hair, one side longer than the other, drooping over the right side of my face, the ends dyed blue. Dad wasn't too happy about that choice. My deep green eyes stare back at me in the reflection, just praying the day won't be boring as hell.

I grab my long, grey and black plaid flannel, the sleeves hanging down fair past my hands, slip it on, grab my book bag, and walk out side. I hop on my bike and ride to school.

The ride to school takes five minutes tops on my bike, ten if I walk. I've grown so accustomed to doing so, that I've developed a decent amount of muscle in my legs. So the ride is effortless now.

I get to the front door, and park my bike in the bike-rack. I walk inside, making my way through the halls to my homeroom for attendance. People surround me, in front, behind, to my sides, walking past me to go the other way. I never really consider how many people there really are until the halls are empty, and you can walk around and not bump into a single soul.

I'm the last one to walk into homeroom, the bell ringing as I sit in my seat. A minute after the bell, the teacher who takes our attendance walks in, a mid-forties man with a grey and white batch of beard hair around his mouth and chin. He sits in the chair behind his desk, and scans the room. At this point in the year, which is early November, he can see which seats are empty, and determine what student should sit there. So there's no need for the standard and clichè roll call stuff.

Once he's finished scanning the room, he pulls out a book, I believe it was Ray Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451." He does this while someone on the PA system tells the school what the day, the Pledge of Allegiance, and the daily extra information of the specific day.

"Good morning, students!" an over enthusiastic woman's voice says through the PA, "Today is November sixth, 2015. I hope you all have a happy Friday today! Today's after school activities include..."

I slip my earbuds in and start to listen to Twenty One Pilots. I blast their song "Migraine" into my ears, drowning out the sound of the announcements. While I listen to the song, I think about the things I plan on doing over the weekend, knowing I am going to have one hell of a good time without my buzzkill parents around to keep me tame.

The announcements finish, and we are dismissed to first period. On that day, I had Latin class first, my favorite class in all of high school. It's a difficult language to learn, but I find it fun and easy to pick up on. I still have to study a shit-ton to make sure I'm ready for tests though.

As I walk into the Latin room, I notice everyone murmuring about something. I walk up to my guy friend, Jimmy, nickname: Saint Jimmy (the name I gave him, in reference to Green Day), and ask him what everyone's talking about.

"Didn't you hear; apparently people all over the west coast have stopped paying that ridiculously fucking high tax increase, and rumor has it the heads of the government are planing something bad for punishment," Jimmy says.

"Do you people really believe everything you hear on the news? Half that horseshit is fake media or someone trying to get their conspiracies into the news. We're going to be fine," I reply harshly.

"But what if it isn't?" someone to my left says. I turn to see Calvin, the person I hate the most in life, giving me a smug look as if he knows the news and he is right.

"Then I'll be seeing you in the seventh circle of Hell, you bastard," I reply, a devilish grin forming on my face.

He simply scowls, walks back to his seat, and sits down.

The bell indicating first period rings, but the teacher is nowhere to be found. I find this especially odd, because he hasn't once been late to class in the two months we've been in school. 'Maybe, he's just in a meeting that took too long. Yeah, that's it,' I tell myself.

Fifteen minutes pass, and he still doesn't show up. By this time, everyone has started making loud conversations, walking around, just generally messing around. Suddenly, the classroom phone rings, and everyone falls silent. Calvin, being the ignorant piece of shit he is, picks up the phone, when our teacher always says not to touch the phone.

"Hello?" he says into the speaker. He's silent, letting the person on the other end speak. As the silence goes on, his face grows more worried and scared. "O-okay. I'll tell them. T-thank y-you." He hangs up the phone. "That was the superintendent; he just told me Mr. Henderson quit his job as teacher, and that we should just sit in first period until we're dismissed. No substitute watching us, they all quit too. Apparently, half the faculty hasn't shown up to school," he says, a very real look of concern plastered on his face.

"What the fuck?!" some other guy yells, breaking the short silence.

"Well, what the hell do we do know?" "We're so screwed!" "Where'd they go?!" A bunch of girls in the corner start to say in panic.

"Relax," I say, stepping out into the center of the room, "I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for this."

"What, like that our teachers were murdered!" Tiffany, the most popular girl in our grade cries.

"No. That would be retarded to think. I said logical, not ridiculous bullshit," I hiss in reply. "We'll just sit here until someone tells us what to do. In the meantime, relax and just look pretty, or whatever you normal people do to entertain yourselves."

"Attention, all students and faculty," the lady on the PA says, making all of us jump. "On the account that a good portion of our teachers are not present, if they do not show up by 1:00, you are all dismissed for the weekend. Thank you."