Shattered Sight (Not Finished)

Chapter 1: Look

"Hey, did you hear?", Crystal whispered in my ear while we sat in World History, with the boring and pale Mr. Anderson. He was droning on and on about a savage tribe that supposedly was not so savage in contrast to the uptight British culture, back in the 1800's.

"Hear what?" Leaning in and over the metal bar that separated us as we sat in our high school style tiny desks. I shifted in my seat a little to not feel the metal bar being way to cold on my skin. Hanging my arm over and reaching for her notebook that sat on her desk, I let her continue to tell me of some obscure new rumor that had spread like wildfire. Some new freshman had decided she would pay her ex -lover back and fill his locker with period soaked women's underwear. Considering the douche bag she was referring to, I believe it was well deserved seeing as though it was the famous Christopher Pines. He was suave with the ladies and his good looks. However not so suave with how he would treat them. Whatever he may have done this time , would not make me willing to follow through with that kind of revenge. My payback usually involves a little bit more blood and broken bones.

"Ms. Johnson, might I have you lean in this direction?" Looking over his glasses, the rail thin Mr.Anderson gave me the sternest look he could muster, furrowing his bushy eyebrows, and causing his pale features to look somewhat serious. He had to be at least around six feet, no shorter. Yet he looked so much smaller as he gestured towards the front of the class, as if he actually wanted my presence in front of the smart board beside him. Usually one could get away with anything while in his class, considering he was blind as a bat and extremely hard of hearing, you would really have to be doing something wrong to get his attention. Seeing as though I was hanging halfway out of my seat I'd say I more than deserved his scrutiny. Still facing forward he waited for me to respond, crossing his lanky arms in front of his quarter sleeve, navy blue button down shirt. He impatiently tapped his dark brown loafers, causing whatever rested in his khaki pants pocket to make noise.

Nodding I straightened myself back into my seat, and let go of crystals notebook. While not looking at anyone, I  muttered an okay, as I stared blankly in his direction. I could feel the other students eyes on me and wanted to sink further and further into my seat. I hated being the center of attention, especially if it was embarrassment that brought that attention on. Clearing his throat Mr.Anderson turned back around and resumed his mono-toned lecture and continued to drone on with the lesson. Not wanting to continue looking forward, I fiddled around with my notebook, moving it around on the desk and, found myself fixated on a small word scribbled into the desk. The lettering was extremely tiny and almost illegible, however if I squinted really hard I could just barely make out the first few letters. Though once I looked closely it read.

A.R.C

A.R.C? That's funny because those were my initials. There is no way that someone could have the exact same initials as me. Considering that the name Akkeira Rose Compellon, was no run of the mill name for anyone. Though it is really really unlikely, I laughed a little to think that someone else could have my initials, especially since I no longer go by my maiden name. Akkeira Rose Johnson was what was always on my teachers roll call. Maybe, I have a long lost twin out there. But then again I think I would find it really annoying if I had to deal with another version of me all the time. Glancing down in the bottom left corner of my dirty desk I looked for anything else that someone might have scribbled due to boredom. Running my gaze along the bottom of the desk I saw what looked to be a sentence really etched into the wood. Trying to make out the rushed and very bad handwriting I was able to make out some of the sentence.

"Upon the A.R.C is where she resides, upon the A.R.C is where it hides"...

The rest of the sentence was consisted of mostly scratches and twisted symbols of some sort. Well someone was definitely bored enough considering that they took the time to scratch all of this nonsense into the desk. Thinking about what the sentence meant I figured it to just being some kind of intro to a morbid poem. Or even maybe it went to a song that might have been stuck in their head that day.

"Reading your future over there?" Crystal sarcastically said as she gathered her things. Was I really that fixated over some scribbled words on my desk? Looking up I noticed that it was a quarter to one in the afternoon, and realized that the class was pretty much over.

"No, shut-up before you get the stare from Mr.Anderson". I sarcastically replied as I looked to the front of the room and noticed that Mr. Anderson was not there. She laughed and came over to the left side of my desk and waited for me to gather my things. I stood and threw my notebooks in my satchel and clipped it shut. Looking over I checked to make sure I had everything, because usually I am always leaving something behind no matter where I go. I glanced at my desk and realized I left my mini note pad on the the desk and reached to get it. Upon grabbing it the notebook slid just out of my reach and landed onto the seat. Laughing at my clumsiness Crystal hurried me and started walking towards the entrance of the classroom. Picking up the notebook I saw more scribbles on the seat and noticed there were more Initials. I tried to make them out by bending over to get a closer look. Still holding my satchel I traced over the letters on the still warm seat.

A.R.C

A.R.C

A.R.C

"In death...."

Reading those same initials gave me a sense of dread as I read the two words that were hurriedly scribbled under them as well. Even the same symbols that were on the desk seemed to be right beside them. Staring at the symbols now as if I was seeing them for the first time, made me feel as though they were very important. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was supposed to know what they were. I reached for my mini note pad as if I was compelled to copy what I saw. It was as if I had to write down what I saw at that moment or else something awful was going to happen.

"Ms. Johnson?" hearing my name in the distance, brought me back to reality for a moment and I realized I was now on my knees to the side of my desk. I gazed up at Mr.Anderson's questioning gaze.

" I um almost-", stuttering I closed my notepad and stood. I swung my satchel over my head and adjusted it so it lay across my chest and stomach. Clutching my note pad I tried to avoid his gaze and slightly turned my body away from where he was standing. He was considerably close,and it made me feel very uncomfortable.

"I hope you found what you were looking for Rosilynn?" His breath smelled of sour peppermints and a hint of whiskey. I winced as the smell lingered around my nostrils. I was not sure why he chose to say that considering I had everything in my hand. I turned my head and muttered a goodbye and walked even faster to the door.

"Oh Ms. Rosilynn?" What was it now? Stopping I turned around to face him and saw that he held my mini note pad in his hand. But how could that be when I was holding mine. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were empty. Even my satchel was still by the desk though I don't remember setting it down. I could have sworn I swung it over across my body before I said goodbye to him.

"One should not be so careless of such things. Maybe if you had recognized it sooner you would not be in this predicament". Suddenly Mr. Anderson was no longer standing by my desk and was now in front of me. But how?

"Silly right?" He spoke but I could not focus on his voice, what was he saying about not noticing something sooner? Who is Rosilynn? I couldn't think straight, it seemed as though something was jamming my thoughts, and all I could focus on was the warm feeling I suddenly felt on the tips of my fingers.

" Oh Rosilynn, I need you to try harder," His breath no longer smelled of peppermint and whiskey, but of a fowl kind of sour smell. Something close to rotting beef left out in the sun for several days. As he bent over to get closer to me, his gaze shifted pass me and he shifted to whisper something in my ear.

"I need you to truly look and tell me, what do you see?"

Suddenly Mr. Anderson was not Mr. Anderson anymore, and we weren't in his classroom any longer.

Thank you for whoever is reading this. Please feel free to comment below and tell me what you think:) I welcome your positive and constructive feedback. I hope I can get you more interested in my story.