Graduation had begun, and of course Asher was late. He had been so wrapped up in the endless Black Sea that flowed across his notebook. The lyrics of his new inspiration seamlessly gliding with every thought and movement of his hand. Looking up, he realized that graduation started about 8 minutes ago and he hadn't even gotten ready yet. So in the span of five minutes, Asher had combed his hair, brushed his teeth, slipped on his black button up shirt and pants, and laced his dress shoes. Prepared to the best of his abilities, he quickly grabbed his cap, gown, backpack and keys. Getting outside he locked the door behind him while slipping the gown on and aggressively stuffing the cap in his backpack, slinging it around his shoulders. Keys in hand, he hopped onto his motorcycle and started the ignition. Hands gripping the handles, he revved it twice, before launching at full speed. In doing so he turned around in the driveway, leaving behind dark, black tire marks, and the smell of burning rubber in the air. Wasting no time he sped through the haze of smoke left by his tires, and raced down the streets, snaking through cars, and flying through red lights. With the occasional driver honking, yelling, or throwing up the middle finger, he kept upping his speed-gown aggressively whipping back and forth as the wind hit it. Catching air from accelerating up the small hill of the railroad tracks, he pushed his legs up, slightly crouching, with arms straightening up a bit, waiting for the impact. Landing hard, but gracefully he kept going, gaining back his lost speed. Once reaching his school, he sped into the parking lot, barely stopping before ripping the keys out, throwing his backpack off and grabbing his cap. He then proceeded to run to the gymnasium, swinging open doors and weaving through halls, he reached the entrance. Swinging the doors open, quite violently, he sped walked to his seat among his classmates. All the while, eyes from every parent, staff member, and classmate followed him, never letting him escape from view, but still carried on as if nothing had happened. Sitting down, his friends a row behind him and a couple seats over mouthed; "where were you? What happened? Late again Asher..." To which Asher mouthed in reply while moving his hand in a writing motion; "Yeah, got caught up in writing lyrics again."
YOU ARE READING
The Restless and the Wicked
ParanormalThe atmosphere dark, the lights blinding as they move in synchronized patterns, the screams drowning in and out of focus. The bodies full of sweat and tears, the energy ricocheting from one person to another. The voices piercing their souls, rattlin...
