Short Stories/ Long story AU's

I wasn't always like this

So last night I had this dream of a special needs boy in my grade. He has a speech impediment that makes it hard for me to understand him. He's gotten a lot better though.

       We sat in the cafeteria talking/mumbling a bit to each other when Bradley turn around and grabs a sketch book out of his bag.
        "I didn't know you did art!" He smiled awkwardly. Bradley continued to open up the book. The illustrations inside were absolutely incredible.
       "I don't show people often, but here, read," he allowed and swiveled the book around for me to admire. I examined the pages and began to float across the pages collecting it all.

I wasn't always like this. I used to be something people would respect and cherish. Making the best of grades, and having a group of good friends.

The images matched these. It showed him being in an astonishing suit and standing up straight. It showed him talking with others, and Bradley being all around lovely.

Before it hit people didn't shove me or make fun of me in the halls. They would never imitate how I spoke or anything of the sort.

The pages become more gray after this. The color begins to drain at this point.

When it first struck I believed that all good had come to an end. My speech becoming slurred, my brain slowly decaying, and my muscles residing with it all. It was almost as watching a garden shrivel up and die. Weeds beginning to over throw the flowers, and grass growing too high to see over. My eyes sight even became a bit worse.

The illustrations become only gray or showing he color draining from the flowers. It showed him holding his arms out weakly as he tried to pick up words of the ground. Another panel showed how the words became only ash in his hands that slipped through the cracks. The picture of sand leaking through his ears, and his eyes becoming fogged over. The last image was him being stripped of his old body.

For a short period of time people pitied me. I hated that and returned with remorse. They began to only make fun of me after that. I tried at my studies in which some I still thrive in, but it's much more difficult than before. I believed that everyone had left me. I believed it couldn't be worse.

It shows Bradley's old imagine bound inside his head. The old him was blindfolded and shackled to the base of his head. It showed people making those looks of pity and his yelling at them for it. Their new faces showed disgust. The next illustrations shown him in a classroom having paper thrown at him or people mocking his voice. The other were the pushing in the halls and the taunting.

I began to get used to it...

The color began to slowly regain.

I was still the same, but I looked on the bright side.

It began to show bright colors of video games, the outside, and a few nice people.

It's not all bad...