Tuesday, September 25, 2012

~*~


Connie Wheeler shifted her bag to her other shoulder uncomfortably. She was earlier to English than she had expected, and the strange girl was already there. She sat hunched over that blue notebook scrawling swirly dark letters across its pages as if her life depended on it. Connie had never dared to glance at the words, but she suspected that they weren't English notes.

Now, nervous to be alone with the girl, Connie walked slowly over to their desk and took her seat. She pulled her own notebook from her bag and began doodling.

The pale hand hesitated in its frantic pace for a moment. Then, as if reassured that Connie was not going to bother her, the girl resumed her writing.

Connie scribbled flowers and hearts for a few minutes, her thoughts fixed on the purpose of keeping her eyes downcast. They strayed towards that small figure next to her. Connie jerked them back. Why did no one come?

The clock read 7:16. Fourteen more minutes until class. Connie shuffled her feet nervously, setting her English book upright on the desk. She glanced back towards the girl. A quick look. She would never notice...

Unable to resist her curiosity, Connie peered cautiously around her English book. The scars were deep. What would cause such horrible, ugly marks? Had she been maliciously attacked or mauled when she was a child? An abusive father maybe? Or an uncle? Or perhaps she was burned in a terrible fire.

Connie's vivid imagination quickly concocted a scene in a large gothic mansion. Blazing fire snaked its way towards the innocent babe as the mother fended off an insane first wife of the father. Satisfied with the romantic horror of this scene, Connie spun the tale further. Her mind spiraled faster and faster, enjoying the delicious eeriness of her story. She concluded that the insane woman must have murdered both of them and then killed herself, leaving the child to be rescued by a servant.

Pleased, Connie tucked the plot away in her mental file cabinet to be used later. Coming back to reality, her eyes refocused. Startled, Connie realized in horror that she was still staring at the girl's face, more specifically, straight into her cold, clear blue eyes. Gasping, Connie dove behind her textbook again. Her face filled with hot color.

What must she think of me?!

The girl continued to stare at her. Those eyes, like pale blue daggers, pierced Connie's very soul. Filled with shame and embarrassment, she searched her mind for some apology. Nothing.

What could she say? I just couldn't help it, your face is so weird I had to look?

Of course not! Desperate for an excuse to leave the room, she sniffed loudly.

"Oops, need a tissue."

On her way out Connie upset her chair and a pile of papers on Mr. Alden's desk. She didn't stop to pick them up.

2 comments:

  1. I like the way your Connie-character's mind works. That scene she cooked up in the castle with the fire and friction was fabulous! I feel like I know this girl. Nice job!

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