Notebooks and Needles

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Okay. So guys, This is the first time, I am actually writing something. I hope you like it. 

All characters and scenes are purely  fictional and any resemblence to real life people and settings is coincidential. If any of you want to make a cover for the story or a trailer, then feel free but remember that all content related to this story, including pictures, playlists and text is protected under international copyrights and any sort of unauthorised transfer or reproduction of data is punishable by law.

WARNING: The updates are slow and there'll be a lot of errors and I'll be editing the chapters, once the story has picked up some pace. Okay? Okay. 
Happy reading! =D 

That's about it. Don't forget to vote/comment and share this story if you like it. Thanks. 

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“Okay, flip to page 204, students.’ His voice echoed inside the cavern study hall, and as if immediately on cue, every student flicked through their textbook, and a faint sound of clattering pages invaded the room. A few whispers flew around and our teacher shushed them with his bold, commanding voice. He threatened the students by telling them he’d literally throw them out of the window if they made any more noise. I shrugged, that was just how a typical Pakistani teacher was.  
I lazily dragged the book out of my satchel and thumbed it down to page 204. The page was titled “Monna Innominata”-The unknown woman; a collection of fourteen sonnets by Christina Rossetti.

“Stereotypes, Dante would go on for hours to describe Beatrice’s beauty, but amidst a sea of countless words, little did he ever write about the person underneath the mask of pretense. Little do we know about the woman, who stole his heart away.” He lectured, monotonously and that was until I zoned out.  

I looked around, to see everyone engrossed in the lecture. Some students were taking notes, while others were genuinely tuned into Sir Inaam’s words. Gulping down some water from the container in my hand, I reset its cap and placed it underneath my chair. I was bored, so I kept glancing at the wall clock behind Sir Inaam. I wouldn’t last for another hour of endless talk about love and women so; I excused myself and made my way towards the girls’ lavatory. As I walked down the hallway, I could see the football team warming up for the big game on Friday. A thick smirk played across my lips as I looked over at the football players who were scattered like tiny moths in the grounds. Who cares? I thought to myself. I didn’t find anything remotely interesting about football. The players had weird names and the game itself was confusing and quite frankly boring. I didn’t even understand the criteria for supporting a particular team, I mean for girls it was the probably the team with the hottest players but what was in it for boys?
It was a sport in which a dozen of athletes ran around a pitch chasing seventy-five percent air. Call me dull but I fail to grasp the ‘fun’ aspect of it all. 
I walked over to the sink and splashed cold water on to my face; that helped to instantly bring me out of my sleep-induced state. Hours of sleep deprivation and English lectures had that kind of an effect on me. I glanced at my reflection; tiny globules of water tickled down my facial skin, my hair were in knots, so I ran my finger through them a couple of times to untangle them. After I was done straightening them, I twisted my voluminous hair into a high bun and secured a few stray strands with bobby pins.
I didn’t feel like going back to class, so I ended up strolling through the hallways, aimlessly; casually. I glanced over at the series of soft boards, decorated with glazed paper to my right. I made my way towards the cafeteria, luckily I had kept a few paper notes in my pocket, that morning so, I fished around until I pulled out a few crumpled notes of cash. I bought a mango juice box, a bag of chips and a chicken paratha roll. I slurped down the contents of the juice box and munched on crispy potato chips, as I sat on a bench near the school courtyard.

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