Lost

 

And what a surprise it was when it didn’t. Nothing in particular went wrong, except for my everyday misery, which was bad enough on its own. Not to mention I was so busy doodling and daydreaming that I didn’t even know what we were learning about. I didn’t really care. No one cared either way my grades went, so I decided that I would just do as I please. After all, I wasn’t going to be able to get into college. There was no money to pay for such a luxury. I didn’t know what I wanted to be anyway.

Life after high school was blank for me. I had no clue what was going to happen to me after I graduated and left home forever. That was the only thing that was certain. I was leaving and I didn’t care how, but I was never going to come back. It’s really scary when you don’t know what will happen to you, when you have no plans for yourself but the vaguest ideas.

But, I assured myself, anywhere had to be better than where I was already. Nothing could possibly be worse that what I already experienced in my life. Nothing at all.

I picked up my notebook and slung my backpack on and stalked towards the doors at the end of the day. People went out of their way to stay away from me without even knowing that they were doing it. Unconsciously their minds made them decide to take another path, to greet a friend they had just seen. Let me say, that is great for your self-esteem. I think everybody should try it.

I thought to myself that since everyone else was going a different way, maybe I would too. Even if I was still stuck with me and my crazy. I decided to walk home through one of the more…strange parts of town. It was called by all who lived and worked there the Theater District. By everyone else it was called the Drama Slums. Very different opinions as anyone can see.

I had never been there, and decided that my crazy would fit right in with their kind of crazy. I came to it and I was immediately in love with it. The buildings sagged with age but still retained a sort of dignity, even with the graffiti over their brick walls. The graffiti couldn’t even be described as words anymore. They were more like liquid story, essence of soul. They were the most beautiful pictures I had ever seen. Not because of the actual pictures, but more because you could feel the life behind them. You could breath the passion behind the story.

Tumble down shops littered every side of the square I had stepped into. Half lit neon signs flickered lazily in their windows, bored stores clerks swept at the same patch of sidewalk. I could smell the delicious food coming from the small stands on the street, hear the vendors calling. But what I liked the best was the people. They were in all sizes and colors, wearing clothes from all regions and religions. Laughter echoed up to the tops of the old brick district and rolled back down like ripples of joy.

This was where I wanted to be. Here, I felt…safe. It was the Theater District. This was as far from the slums as you could get. High-class mansions were holes in the wall compared to the overwhelming sense of life I felt there.

I meandered up and down the convoluted streets and I could feel a silly grin I had kept locked up bubble to the surface. Laughter came too. Then it was my joy that called back to me from the tops of the tall buildings. It was my happiness that echoed again and again.

One by one the street lamps flickered on and lit the dimming streets with a pale gold. There was trash and leaves on the ground, but that in no way diminished the beauty of the District. Rather, it preserved the sense of life there. I was in a thin alleyway that smelled like sawdust and wood polish when I looked up at the sky. The sun had begun to set and painted the air rose and ginger as it sunk below the skyline.

For the first time, I remembered that I was still in my uniform, far from my house and alone. And lost. I was sure that the District would not be nearly as friendly by moonlight as it was by sun. I had to find a place to stay. I would never make it home by nightfall.

The sound of a wood saw cut through my fear and I turned to look at the sign above the door I was standing in front of. Malachi and Sons Carpentry. I gust of wind blew a wrapper on the ground and made it crinkle like footsteps on the hard ground. I decided to chance the wood shop.

A bell on the door jingled happily and a gust of warm wood scented air blew my hair back. Carefully I closed the door behind me and the bell chimed once more.

Reviews

[HorrorMaster]

I thought it was good.

[The Perfectionist]

One typo at the end that I caught. 'I gust of wind' should be 'A gust of wind'

Other than that, my patience is running thin now. Nothing actually happens in this very short chapter, and I'm bored of Alula. You need to get something that halfway resembles a plot going here, but quick. Alula is not so complex that you needed to devote a chapter to getting to know her - not to mention you actually didn't even do that very well.

This is easily the weakest chapter. Something had better happen in the next one or this is going to turn a lot of people away.