Hi School Love On (HSLO)
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- Votes 3
- Parts 4
We open in the spring of 2016, at a university campus. A student-our hero-bumps into a girl in front of a building, and she drops her books at his feet. He returns most of them, but before he can hand her the last one, she's off without a word.
Her face is kept purposely hidden from us-and from him-and there's something rather urgent in the way he runs after her, trying to catch up. But he loses her around the bend.
He looks down at the book, titled A Hand to You (on the cover, a note has been handwritten in pen, "To Dummy"). He heaves a heavy sigh of disappointment.
A sudden downpour sends him running for cover, which is where a girl steps up next to him, her face hidden under an umbrella. He recognizes the gold key necklace she's wearing and his fingers instinctively touch the silver necklace around his neck, in the shape of a lock.
"You..." he starts to say in surprise. But the girl with the hidden face walks off again.
He thinks, "In the time in my life when you were my every moment, we loved. And in this moment now, I hope that it's you."
Then we jump backward two years, to the spring of 2014.
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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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