September- Marble

It's September 1st.

I'm nervous.

You see,

I go back to school tomorrow.

But things are different.

I'm different.

I've changed.

Things have changed.

 

My school was condemed last year.

They said there was bacteria in the ceiling.

But thats not true.

Everyone knows its a lie.

Now they built a great fortress to keep us "safe."

From what?

Nothing ever happens in Shayton, North Carolina.

There are rumors of one of the old history teachers,

Having knives in his desk,

But that's not true.

You always keep your knife on you,

Not somewhere else.

 

The new school is different too.

It's all stone.

Marble actually.

They say its lit by candles.

And the heating is a big wood stove underground.

If old is safe,

Then they've just made us immortal.

And they shipped out three uniforms a student last month.

They came with a note saying that any student not wearing them,

"Will promptly be expelled."

No joke.

 

I'm in my room right now.

I have a good window seat in full view of that "palace."

Like really,

What princess paid the head honshos to give us a palace.

I look at it,

Like I have been all summer,

And I have to admit,

I keep seeing shadows in one window.

Once I even saw a flashing light.

You might call me crazy,

And maybe I am,

But this whole thing gives me goosebumps.

 

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I walk to school.

There's frost on the ground.

It feels weird,

Walking alone up the cobblestone walkway,

Past the manicured lawns and trimmed hedges.

Ahead of me,

The principal stands next to the open 40-foot oak doors.

My navy blue pleated skirt fits in with the entire formal being that surronded the school.

I'm one of the few students that is close enough to walk,

So I'm one of the first ones there.

 

I spot my friend Amy,

She's on a early bus,

And apparently she's already gotten her locker.

It's been outfitted in Neon polka dots,

That won't last the year,

But Amy doesn't care.

I walk over,

My flats barely tapping on the Marble floor.

Above Crystal chandeliers send light over the shades of brown.

 

She looks up,

And we make eye contact.

That's all it takes.

You see,

You might of thought I was crazy earlier,

But guess what?

We can read each other like books.

Everyone says its mind reading,

But it's simpler than that.

We know each other inside out,

See the feeling painted on our face,

And respond with our eyes.

 

I can do it for other people too.

I see disappointment on their face,

and I say every thing will be okay.

You should see their expressions

When they see I know,

Their problems,

Their joys,

Their fears.

It's almost fun.

But then there's those people

Who consider me a freak.

They make me sad.

Because I'm only trying to help.

 

But anyway,

I walk over to Amy,

And we exchange schedules.

No simular classes.

I shrug and walk away.

I need to find my locker,

And then find a map,

If I'm ever going to survive here.

 

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I walk upstairs.

That's where my locker is.

I turn out of the stairwell,

And see the window facing Home.

There's a tall man there,

With wispy white hair.

His skin is faded and sagging,

While his hands are dotted with freckles.

He turns slowly,

Turning to face me.

I swear my face is more transparent than a diamond.

His face is drawn with the lines of sorrow,

Wrinkles pulling down on his eyes.

Their deep brown, like that of clay.

 

I can't move.

His figure matches that of the one in the window,

The one I saw all summer.

Hello,

He says in a deep, slurred voice,

Like that of a silt found in my mother's garden.

You must be Crystal,

Your locker is right here.

He motions to one next to the window.

I swallow,

Hard.

I nod,

Stiffly.

I try to divert my eyes,

But with no avail.

I do, however, lose focus,

When the chanderlier,

Falls on top the man.

 

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Author's Note

Tell me if you want it continued