Tainted Perceptions

Present Day (Unedited)

Kenton Manor was a short plump bald sweating Santa. That's what Jenson first thought when he saw the man waddle up to his school group. He was sweating heavily under his patchy tweed jacket. His handkerchief was no match against the flood. He pushed his circular glasses up his red face, only for them to slide down again.

Jenson stuck towards the back of the 6 children in his school. Jenson was considering many ways to get away from them, although he couldn't get past the problem.

"Welcome to the Graystone residence homes," Kenton flared. He paused for, what he thought was, a dramatic pause. Nobody told him, that the effect was ruined by his heavy breathing. "We'd like to thank the Layshine Academy for once again volunteering to help around the residence home."

Kenton nor the teachers could stop the whining from the 7 students. None of them had volunteered. They were sacrificed by their school for being the most rowdy students, for being sent to the headmaster's office too many times, or simply for being too annoying for their teachers. They were the select seven to set and example. Instead of enjoying spring break, away from the Layshine Academy, they had to do spring cleaning at an old folks home.

It took all three teachers and Kenton to calm the young boys. With scowls and pouts they began their journey through the residence home. "Now. We have new...vacancies available now that some residents have moved out," Kenton hesitated on his words, as if he was trying to be delicate, "They accidentally left some of their things behind and we need help boxing it all up."

"So we have to get rid of the dead guys stuff? This is to weird." Complained pimple ridden face boy. Jenson didn't know who he was, but he agreed. "This has got to be inhuman treatment to kids. Or child labour." Pimple face ranted, throwing his hands around. Jenson kept nodding in the background.

Slowly the other boys began joining in. Kenton just wiped his hands on his pants as he continued, "They have moved on. It's so disgraceful to say they merely died." He stopped at the staircase and told the teachers to take us up, one floor. And with that, Kenton waddled into the elevator opposite of the stairs and rode up.

Kenton had the grace to wait for the boys who dragged their feet and the teachers that herded them. Then the slow process of following Kenton happened until he brought the group to a secluded hallway with 10 doors. "You each will be assigned a room from a previous resident." Kenton slouches against the wall, and the teachers silently worried that he would pass out in the heat. "You are to pack their belongings in the boxes provided." With those simple directions, he grabbed a clipboard hanging from the wall and began to tell which boy goes with which room.

After two of the boys were picked off, Kenton turned towards Jenson and walked him towards the corner room at the very end. Jenson felt like he was getting special attention if Kenton decided to actually walk down the hall. "Jenson Marshall will have room 345, Mrs. Whitley." He motioned towards the small white door that was ajar. Jenson moved towards the room, waiting to see the damage done.

It was a small grey room. The sheets on the bed were crisp white and tucked in at the corners. The drapes at the window were draw up towards the ceiling and the window was open to filter the stale air out of the room. The window overlooked the expansive garden below. It was quite the view that included a far off pond. Other than the window and the bed, the room looked untouched. Dust was littered on the wooden shelf as well as hardened wax from a burnt down candle.

There was a dresser that was left open, to show a multitude of clothes, mostly dresses, brown, blue, white and grey. Next to the dresser sat a large chest on the floor. The lock was busted and the lid hung half open in the air. It was a tarnished white and yellow. Paint chipped off of it, with multiple dents on the corners. There were empty boxes that sat next to a rocker. The rocker looked frayed and had a small worn pillow on it.

"Get started lad." Kenton huffed and he once again pulled out his handkerchief. He patted Jenson on his back, leaving a damp impression on his upper back, before trudging back down the hall.

Jenson huffed as he collapsed on the bed. Dust flew off the covers and it wasn't long before he had a sneezing fit. He hopped off the bed in protest, one hand waving the dust away while the other protected his face. He scowled at the mess of the room. So some old lady died. Why did he have to clean her room out? Jenson, in a fit of anger of mistreatment, kicked out at the nearest thing, which happened to be some boxes. The tower of boxes buckled and started leaning. Karma had the boxes lean in Jenson's direction and before he could so much as yelp, the boxes descended on him in a fashion as bats dive down from the sky. Jenson uttered curses as he struggled from under the pile of sinking cardboard.

Jenson was determined on storming out the door. Causing such a fuss that they had no choice but to take him back to school, but he was distracted by soft leather. Normally he would have overlooked this small thick thing, but his fingers tingled as he caressed it. It wasn't anything special. Just a small brown leather bound book. It had some stitching on the back of a symbol that looked like a pod of flowers. Dull, dirty and dinghy. There was nothing for Jenson to notice, and yet it compelled him, stopped him from wrestling in the boxes. Turning the small book back to its front, Jenson removed the leather strap holding the book closed. It was stiff from not being used. Jenson expected dust to shoot up his nose, but the book's spine only gave a small groan before opening. It contained off white pages, darkened from years and mistreatment. There was a tiny black print that provided a space for the owner of a diary to provide their name and in small neat cursive was the name: Permilla Agneir.

Jenson furrowed his eyebrows before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. Jenson sucked his teeth and chucked the thing over his head, thinking he would rather be caught stealing and go to the headmaster's office then be caught reading a diary. The diary landed with a soft flutter onto the bed. Jenson restarted his task of removing himself from the boxes. When boxes were finished flying through the air and settled throughout the room Jenson brushed imaginary dust off his outfit.

He heard one of his teachers laughing from down the hall and made to march out the room to demand a phone call or some type of justice. Jenson got two steps when the diary slid down the smooth sheets and collapsed at his feet. Jenson, bent down with a annoyed puff of air to pick it up. It had opened to a small random page and he would have casted it aside, if he had not seen the small words in some fancy writing. "Monsters."

It was so unexpected to Jenson, not what he expected to see. He could have thought that it was simply talking about a nightmare the owner had. Some silly little diary thing that he told himself he didn't care for. However, the words that followed were serious. He took a seat on the bed and began flipping through the pages, until he reached the beginning.

(*)

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~Jasmine