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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Feb 19, 2016
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Fanfic
Ever since I was young, I could see things that other people couldn't or wouldn't seem to bother to see. The shadows; they used to welcome me with open arms... They used protect me from everyone and everything.. At least.. I thought they did... Until... The incident... I was about thirteen when they started getting out of control. What? The shadows?? Hell no.. My parents. They thought something was wrong with me.. A lack to make friends.. A socially awkward dweeb... Hey!! Don't you go judging me I was only thirteen and I had a crazy obsession with Nyan cats! Give me a break. Anyway.. I never talked to many people.. And I always kept reading the same book, over and over again. Specifically it was my favorite book since I was a young child. Anyone remember the classic Grimm brothers stories? Those were my favorites. Gory and all. My best one? "The girl without hands." Haha that's a good one. I decided to walk to school to get some fresh air from the saddened room full of my parents. I kept wandering the streets until I met up with Sophie, my old best friend. She glared at me; her eyes showering me like old black mold on the scuff of an an abandoned house. She flipped her brown hair, and stalked off down the sidewalk. 'Bitch' I thought to myself as I followed down the path of her same frilly ass pink skirt. God I hate pink. Give me some jeans converse a black hoodie and I'm great. I looked up towards the sky. Thunderheads. Fucking fantastic. I pulled my black hood up over my messy dirty blonde hair and continued walking down the same path I had taken for years. Raindrops started plopping down on the worn out cement. Messing up my makeup too. I sighed as I continued walking down the road until I found sanctuary at the High school. I pushed open the old creaky door. The school was alive that's for sure.. But something... Didn't quite feel right..
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Something didn't feel right. I looked around my room slowly; cautiously; taking everything in and trying not to feel too nervous. Perhaps Lure was in my room right now, watching me, silently laughing to himself. I didn't doubt it. I slipped off my bed and walked around, hugging my waist, and tilted my head. I felt my rough ponytail slide against the back of my neck and over my shoulder as I moved. "Lure?" I hissed, "Lure, are you there?" I wandered around a little, for some reason feeling scared. But why? It was only Lure. He wouldn't hurt me, would he? "Okay, Lure. Quit it. I know it's you. Who else would it-" I stopped, startled, when I heard a strange sound that made me cringe. It was like fingernails being dragged across a chalkboard. I whipped around and came face-to-face with my mirror. Immediately, I saw the difference. Various scratches were displayed across the glass, forming words. It looked as if claws had written the words in the mirror. "Deepest apologies, but it was fun." (All credit goes to my sister, who wrote this when she was in the twelfth grade)

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