The Keeper

one

"...As a result, she did nothing but harm herself. Seeking love out of an internal battle, like seeking for the good inside of her demon. There wasn't any, but she didn't care. None of it seemed to matter, and she just wanted to disappear into it. But that was the question: what was it? Was it a figure? An object? Or was it perhaps the one thing that was prohibited and truly desired: love? Either way, it was like a black drooping paint that was drowning her empty, white canvas. Slowly going down the edges, then eventually meeting in the middle. She was suffocating, but would rather die in his sight than live without seeing it at all."

I took a deep breath after finishing my last sentence. I blink a few times at the bright white paper that was beaming under my eyes, seeing how they only seemed to focus on the dark scribbles of words I have written. I could hear my own slight pound of beats that were trying to escape my ear. I've never been a happy camper for presenting, but here I am standing in front of my English class doing exactly that. God, please stop the silence.

I look up, and see lost eyes goggling at me, followed by a teacher who had stopped writing on a stack of papers that were on her desk to look at me.

I was an inch away from running back to my seat until I heard the first clap come from a person in the back, followed by a gradual speed of people's hands coming together. It was almost as if they hadn't expected the words to come out of my mouth, judging from the amount turning of heads to look at each other as if to say 'Wow, she actually did a nice job'.

I stood there in awe, meeting beamed eyes and smiles. I look down and clutched the wrinkly piece of paper in my hands, turning to look over at my teacher.

"Impressive, Violet." Mrs.Leroy have taken off her glasses to do a little clapping herself, which made me slightly smile.

"Thank you."

She gave a little bow-movement with her head, making her long ponytail sway ever so slightly. She puts her glasses back on, and waits for the clapping to weigh down.

"Alright, are there any questions regarding Violet's piece?"

I nervously look over at each and every one of my classmates, internally praying that their minds are at a point state of blank.

But no, there just had to be that one person who just raises they're hand. Always.

The person, who I think his name is John, raised his hand fast and high, all the while staring at me.

"Yes, Josh?" Mrs. Leroy called out. Whoops, Josh, not John.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "What was your inspiration for writing this piece?"

I stopped swaying my feet back and forth, trying to come up with a realistic answer. This 'piece' that I worked on, that took me three hours to write and sound perfect to my ears when read out loud, was the result of a dream that I had. I always get my writing projects from my dreams and lucid experiences, but they don't need to know that.

"Well..." I opened up the piece of paper that was in my hands again, as if the answer was written somewhere in between the lines.

I bit my lips and met Josh's eyes again. "Reading. I love to read, and I take every thing that I can get by learning new words and concepts from them."

That was a stupid and corny explanation, but it's build-able.

Josh slowly nodded and flicked his head to the side, making his swept hair move out of the way of his eyes. He leans back on his seat, and plays with his lip ring. "Well, that was really good."

I put on a small smile and clutch on to my paper more tightly. "Thank you."

I look over at Mrs. Leroy, and waited for her to signal me sit down before walking down the rows, and onto my seat. I sat down, placing the the paper on my desk face down. I slouch down on my seat and stare at it, fearing that if I look away from it at any moment, it will manifest itself.