(Demacia's P.O.V)
It's around 4 o' clock in the morning, and I can't sleep. Lately I've been having this weird feeling, and it's really been bugging me. It could just be my over active imagination, because it feels as if I'm being watched. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened to explain this feeling, but I'm still vigilant. The worst part is that I don't have anything good to do. I'll get the occasional text message from a friend, but it's normally just a question about the math homework. Speaking of homework, I have a biography to do.
I sigh and get off of my bed, walking to my desk and pulling out a wooden chair. I sit down and pick up a pencil next to a piece of paper. I put down my name, date, and period number. I begin to write,
My name is Demacia, a 12 year old attending Seika Highschool. If you are wondering why I'm in Highschool at such a young age, it's because of my intelligence. Not to brag of course. It seems that it runs in my family. I was born, raised, and still live in Shiroku City, and had trained in Tendokyu. My mother is the manager of a company, and my father used to be an engineer. I'm mostly home alone, since my father is now deceased and my mother is often at work. I have some experience with martial arts and swords, and train whenever I have the free time. My father taught me most of the stuff I know such as defense and education.Unfortunately I'm the only one in my family with strange characteristics, such as two different colored eyes, so it's like I'm in the lower class of the family. The only members of my family who treat me as who I am are my mother and father.
I put down my pencil and rub my wrist a little. It starts to hurt after I write too much without break. This seems like enough anyways. I briefly look at the time, 4:30. There's still a few hours until I have to head off for school, I may as well go on a walk. I grab my black coat and a dark blue scarf, along with a warm beanie. I slip into my coat and button it up, then wrap the scarf around my neck and fit the beanie onto my head. I also grab my backpack, I may as well head to school right after my walk. I open my bedroom door, go downstairs, and then head outside.
As soon as I open the front door,a sharp gust of wind blows into the house. It's the beginning of winter, and this time it looks like it'll hit us hard. We do have some pretty bad winters here, but this one may be the most harsh we've had in years. The cold is so sharp that it numbs you to the point where you're not sure if you have legs anymore. But that obviously isn't stopping me, I like taking walks anyways. It's quite relaxing.
I step off of my porch and right into the snow. I sink down a good few inches and sigh. I didn't think it would be this bad. I continue on, shuffling through the snow with my hands in my coat pockets. I'll take my usual route, through the market and stop by the bakery. It must be warm in there, I wouldn't be surprised if there were more customers than usual. I soon arrive to the bakery, since it isn't too far from where I live I go to it and pick something up. I enter the building and instantly let out a relieved sigh from the warmth that greets me.
"Hello, Demacia." The cashier says to me with a smile. I come here often, so the shop knows me well. "Here to pick anything up?"
I nod, "Just some bread," I say. The woman goes in back to get a warm loaf. I look over to see a girl about my age, browsing the rest of the bakery's foodstuffs with a rather sad look on her face. She glances at me and quickly turns away, noticing that I'm looking at her. I catch my mistake and look away slightly embarrassed. I couldn't seem to take my eyes off of her.
The woman comes back to the counter and I turn to her, handing her some money and hearing a chiming noise as she puts it inside the register. I pick up my bread and turn to catch the young girl looking at me now. She does the same as she did last time, look away. She looks a little worried, maybe I can help her in some way?
YOU ARE READING
The Game of Annihilation (Another not-rewrite)
Short StoryAn old story on a now unused account. Not re-written; only edited for minor corrections of spelling when I saw them. (Old Description) Demacia, a 12 year old boy, is selected at random to participate in a game of slaughter. He is pitted against 12 c...