Scary Monster's, Nice Sprite's

Outcasts

I stood outside my school, listening to my IPOD while waiting for my parents to arrive. It was the end of the last day of school, and unlike my friends, whom were joking and having fun a few yards away from me, I was depressed. You see, I’m what’s called a military brat, meaning that my parents were in the military. It also meant that we moved constantly. Sometimes this was a good thing, but this time I didn’t want to move. I liked my small 300 pupil school, I liked my small, horrid smelling locker, and I especially liked being the outcast. Unlike my other schools, where everyone compared themselves to me, this school was different. New kids were considered outcasts and thrown away from the bigger, more popular groups. I never really realized how much I liked being alone, it allowed me room to think. Although I was the newest member of the 9th grade class of Winona Christian Academy, I wasn’t the only outcast. I had become close friends with 3 kids, all of whom were just like me in a way.

First there was Austin Bennit. He was your medium sized build, well you could say husky for that matter. His mother always cared for him and everyday would send him a home made lunch, and ill tell you, that lady can cook. He always seemed to be bullied because of his actions, which really ticked me off. As a victim of bullying myself, I knew how he felt. Next was John Eric Burrell. He was one of those rare kind of kids that could be popular amongst the bigger groups if he wanted, but like me hated it. He was about 6 foot tall and kind hearted, as well as smart and strong. If you ask me, the perfect leader. After that was Hannah Elizabeth Ritchie. She was a very kind, warm hearted girl whom could tear your head off if you got on her nerves. Although she wasn’t considered to be an outcast, she thought herself as one. Mainly because of a rare skin disorder she has had since birth. The disorder is called epidermalisisbalosa, and left her skin scabbed and bruised. Although she was more fragile than the rest of us, she was still a cool person to hang out with, and was considered a long time friend in my mind.

I on the other hand was a totally different kind of person. My name is Katlyn Russell, I am 15 years old, stand about 5’11 and am as tiny as a balled up fist. I have blond hair that goes halfway down my back, and blue eyes that my parents say sparkle like diamonds in the sun. My tastes were different than most girls my age, you could consider me as a Tom Boy. I couldn’t stand being in a dress and would rather prefer a pair of lose blue jeans and worn out working boots. Although I had only been in Mississippi for a year now, I liked there way of life. How calm everyone was, how caring they all seemed. The song on my IPOD changed to “Strobe” by Deadmau5, and I began to rock my head back and forth to the beat, losing all my worries in the music. No one knew why, but music influenced me in a way like no other. Along with liking old Japanese legends, you could call me strange. You see, when I listen to music, I don’t just hear a beat or a tune, but a story. The music reading itself to me like a well written book, causing me to lose myself in imagination. I often thought of the old legends I read about. How spirits of great importance could live on in the smallest of things, like a grain of sand. Or the biggest of others, like a river. My favorite story was that of the Demon of Razgreez. (Roz- Grease) The legend goes like this.

When the world turns to darkness, and losses all hope, the Razgeez will show itself. First as an evil Demon, whom brings nothing but death and desperation onto the world. But as the world itself and all the spirits begin to lose hope, Razgreez will disappear, allowing everything to recover before coming back, as a great and wonderful spirit. Its power and beauty will help everything recover, and the world will be at piece once again. After this, Razgreez will disappear, only to return when it is needed the most in the world it once called home.

Suddenly, the sound of a car horn brought me out of my thoughts. I immediately noticed my parents vehicle, a Nissan Altima, waiting in front of me. My mother leaning half way out of the window, waving at me. I turned to grab my backpack and notice that I was the only person left at school. The kids from my class had already left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sighed, lifted my backpack, and entered our car.