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When Daylight Dies
"And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consolations. They're quite aware of what they're going through........."
-David Bowie-
I have no idea where I am, It's unbearably dark...and the air is stale with the rank stench of roadkill. As I wake up I notice I'm lying down, having trouble moving, and can't breath. I feel so light headed, I realize I'll soon die if I don't get some oxygen. So, I do what anybody would, I panic. As bad as if I were still in a nightmare and in need of running away from a murderous, escaped, psychopath, from prison that will stop at nothing until he has you decapitated and bleeding on the floor. I claw and claw at the cold, hard, rough, wooden surface above me. My vision starts to get blur, I try to wipe my eyes but it doesn't help much so I start clawing again harder and faster as I become frantic. I claw until my fingers burn. It gets harder and harder to breath with each second that passes. I start to freak out, worse than a claustrophobic stuck in a small elevator. I claw and kick, I would scream, but I haven't the breath to do so. Finally, I hear cracking and dirt starts to pour into what I know think is my grave. I try to take the deepest breath I can, which isn't much, and break out onto the surface. I'm so light headed and confused I don't know which way is up and which is down. My lungs start to burn and warmth soon consumes me, I realize that the air is suddenly clear, I'm on the surface in a deserted graveyard. 'But How did I get out?' the thought trails off as I realize my fingers are bleeding, a huge piece of wood is stuck through my leg, I reach down to take it out before I regain feeling in my numb body but the slender, blood stained spike of wood won't even budge...... HOLD IT! HOLD EVERYTHING!I seem to be getting ahead of myself. You don't even know how I ended up here. Well, when it comes to trouble and harsh predicaments like these they are everyday experiences for me. The name is Clare, Clare Warner. I lived in a small town were there are, how do I explain this, Ummmmmmm.......well, let's just say more secrets than one can count. I lived in a small white house just the same as most of the house's on 4th Av. with the exception that mine was the only one with chipped paint, no grass at all, and a rusty old Chevy that blows out black smoke stacks so huge people on the next street sometimes mistake it for a house fire, waiting in the parking lot. My mother left me and my dad when I was thirteen, said she 'Hated the life she was living', whatever thats supposed to mean. My father took it pretty hard, he started drinking after mom left and never stopped. Ever since she left dad was always blaming me for the bad things that happened in his life. Every now and then he would throw a punch my way, but no permanent damage right? School was filled with a ton of superficial idiots, they make up over half of its population. The hallways were usually filled with the smell of B.O. although nobody could ever tell if it was B.O. or the cafeteria food. The teachers were well.....teachers, most of them were evil little hags that had bad breath, and had probably been alive so long that they knew Jesus and his disciples personally. 'I think that might be why they were so mad all the time.' As for friends, I didn't have any, unless you count the school councilor as a friend and most kids wouldn't. Mrs. Elwood, the councilor, sat in an old, plastic, lawn chair that looked lucky to still be standing as she announced to the student body her 'plans' for the new school year. " Group counseling" she chirped in an overly cheerful voice that was enough to make the happy little animal's from Snow White barf all over the ugly old dwarfs. It seemed that a million sighs went up from the stands......mostly originating from those clad in black. "Now, now kids it's a great way for everyone in counseling to make new friends." she said with a huge smile that showed off her porcelain teeth like trophies. Most kids thought of her as an overly enthusiastic nutcase trying to help fellow nutcases, not me. I thought of her as the type of person that bit the heads off dolls as a child, but still as vengeful as the other teachers. I also thought her smile was her way of marking you for death or just a freak of nature in my case. 'Still for some reason I just can't bring myself to think that she is a nutcase but I do think that shes some sort of odd human life form that has mad cow disease and is closely related to Barley Manalo. "Everyone who is in counseling will be required to stay after school every Monday, Wensday, and Friday." Elwood had exclaimed so fast that you could hear the exhaustion in her voice. 'Oh, great. I can't play nice with other kids, don't to play nice with other kids, so naturally they're trying to force me to play nice...with other kids. This will not go over well and believe me if you've seen the kids in counseling you'd say the same thing.' I had thought this and similar things at the time. So there I was sitting in the counseling room with Scary Terry, Lora Marson, Jerry Taylor, and Mark Thomas. Boy were we a bunch; the psycho, the emo, the normal guy, and some new kid from Romania that looked as twisted as the rest of us. Mrs. Elwood sat in silence as she rocked back and forth scribbling on her new, yellow note pad, the only sound coming from her occasional "hu?" or "I see." Then Mark Thomas, better known as the new kid, decided to be brave and break the code of silence with a subtle "Hi I'm Mark." Then as if he had started a new trend, it proceeded throughout the room. "Hi!!!! I-I'm Terry." the psycho screeched with a freaky murderous pitch. "I'm Lora." "Jerry." and last but not least "Clare....Clare Warner......" I sighed as everyone proceeded to look at Mrs. Elwood puzzled, trying to imply that we were completely clueless as to what exactly we were supposed to be doing. As I turned to take a look at the new room, Mrs. Elwood had been given for 'counseling purposes' Scary Terry was bitting her nails. I noticed her eyes were as big as quarters with bloodshot, thunder bolt vanes running through them. 'Sometimes I think that girl is totally off her rocker.' Then Suddenly Mrs. Elwood said "Lets get started, shall we." she spoke s fast without warning that it made everyone in the room jump, except for the new kid, there was something strange about him, of course everyone in there was strange. Mrs. Elwood proceeded to 'talk' with Terry
RedDyeNumberFive · Fri Oct 31, 2008 @ 05:45pm · 0 Comments |
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