Post by blind on Aug 30, 2006 19:34:06 GMT -5
Stray told me that Shay requested I post my story online. I hope this is the appropriate place to do this. All of my writing is copyrighted to me, Blind. I have done my research, I know this story inside and out, plagarism is not welcomed with me. If you'd like to use a quote or anything, just ask. Give credit where credit is due.
Chapters also get longer over time.
The Silent Girl I
The Beginning
A petite young lady walked down the dusty street completely silent. Her jacket billowed in the wind along with her scarlet brown hair. The girl’s amber eyes were fixed on the horizon ahead of her. Her mind was rapt in thought. She floated down the street, a broken spirit.
The girl was still young, only in her teens. Nothing in her life made sense anymore as if she had lost her way. With every breath she took in, it felt like she was becoming more and more empty, more and more distant. The girl spoke no words; she had cut herself off from the world for a long time now.
The Silent Girl had been walking home from her usual Sunday job at the coffee shop. She jingled her keys and opened the door. In the doorway stood the Silent Girl. Her eyes were barren and empty as she watched her family eat. At the table sat her family eating their evening meal. Their faces were euphoric while they ate between bits of conversation. The father sat at the head of the table, a portly man, as he passed around the freshly cooked ham. The mother sat at his left eating daintily. Across from mother sat her older sister, rambling on with the day’s festivities. The younger sister sat at the older sister’s side pouring gravy on her mashed potatoes. Her seat stayed empty; although the space was set, there was no one there.
The family looked up to the threshold only for a minute thinking they had heard something, but saw nothing, only the curtain swaying with the wind. They continued with their meals.
The lady walked onto the common and climbed into a tree. She gazed at the moon and stars for a while until finally, she drifted off to sleep. The next day she woke up in the early hours of morning feeling quite refreshed, feeling a little better than yesterday, not as heavy or as null. The girl walked aimlessly until she finally came upon her school. She slithered in quietly, getting her books from her locker. She walked to her first class and sat at her desk in the back of the classroom.
Soon students began to emerge, walking into the room with their friends. Many were enveloped with deep conversation, and some looked as if they had only woken up ten minutes ago. No one paid any notice to this silent girl in the back.
The class began, as the teacher started up with the lecture. He spoke about early poetry by Shakespeare and many other famous poets. He spoke of their next project, one in which they had to write a story, the best ones would be taken to a state level contest and the overall winner would have theirs published in a book.
The class was allowed to start their projects in class. The classroom suddenly became lulled to a silence as the students diligently worked on their assignments. She pulled out a pen and her black notebook and began. By the time the period was half over she had an ocean of paper balls at her feet. A nearby student picked up a paper ball hiding it from anyone who could see. He opened it wanting to read it, but to his surprise there was nothing there. There were no words; it was nothing but a blank page.
The sound of a boy talking interrupted the classroom’s calm and tranquil tone.
“I’m glad She’s gone, She was a drama queen anyway!” He says to his friend. She looks at him from across the room glaring. His name was Malik, the high school football star.
“She always had to have things go her way!”
He pranced around the classroom skipping and acting like her with a mocking squeaky voice. She stormed out of the classroom unseen but was fuming. She leaned up against the hallway’s wall. Choler boiled within her; she pulled out a giant red marker and taking up the entire space on the wall she wrote, Death to Malik
At the end of class when the students rushed out into the hallway, they all stopped abruptly and stared in awe at this anonymous note. Many were bemused, and a few just laughed and thought it was funny, like some kind of prank. Malik said it was just a rivaling football team; everyone was jealous of Malik’s divine skills and talents.
Finally the world continued on, and the kids rushed to their next classes. The rest of her classes went by smoothly. By the end of the day, the note of the wall was the latest gossip, considered to be some big prank. No one knew who it was that wrote that note on the wall; no one even suspected her.
Finally the last bell rang and she walked home. Upon entering the house the Silent Girl was greeted by no one; no one was home. The house was completely empty. Even her own dog did not greet her at the door. She walked up into her bedroom and locked the door. Everything was exactly as she had left it this morning; bed unmade, clothes and books in disarray. She did her homework quietly. She didn’t bother eating; she just went to sleep.
The next day she sat down in her class as usual. After the students had found their seats the bell rang. For a while, the teacher sat at his desk saying nothing, just staring down at his hands. Finally, suddenly, as if leaving a trance he stood up, walking into the front of the room. He cleared his throat once, and then he did it again.
His voice so quiet, it was almost in a whisper, but it was loud enough to be heard. He informed his students that Malik was dead; he had been killed in a drive by shooting. He was shot through the heart from behind. He said by the time anyone had found him he was long gone.
That afternoon, she walked down the hallway, and there he stood, Malik. His face was pale, but clean. He was dressed in his normal football jacket, looking like he was ready for another ordinary day of school. He looked completely fine, totally unscathed.
She grasped her marker and walked away slowly.
“Wait! Don’t leave me! I’m so confused! How come no one can see me?” he asks, confused and distressed as he gripped a red marker of his own.
She turned around and looked at him deplorably but then gave a small smile.
“You’ll get used to it, trust me.”
Chapters also get longer over time.
The Silent Girl I
The Beginning
A petite young lady walked down the dusty street completely silent. Her jacket billowed in the wind along with her scarlet brown hair. The girl’s amber eyes were fixed on the horizon ahead of her. Her mind was rapt in thought. She floated down the street, a broken spirit.
The girl was still young, only in her teens. Nothing in her life made sense anymore as if she had lost her way. With every breath she took in, it felt like she was becoming more and more empty, more and more distant. The girl spoke no words; she had cut herself off from the world for a long time now.
The Silent Girl had been walking home from her usual Sunday job at the coffee shop. She jingled her keys and opened the door. In the doorway stood the Silent Girl. Her eyes were barren and empty as she watched her family eat. At the table sat her family eating their evening meal. Their faces were euphoric while they ate between bits of conversation. The father sat at the head of the table, a portly man, as he passed around the freshly cooked ham. The mother sat at his left eating daintily. Across from mother sat her older sister, rambling on with the day’s festivities. The younger sister sat at the older sister’s side pouring gravy on her mashed potatoes. Her seat stayed empty; although the space was set, there was no one there.
The family looked up to the threshold only for a minute thinking they had heard something, but saw nothing, only the curtain swaying with the wind. They continued with their meals.
The lady walked onto the common and climbed into a tree. She gazed at the moon and stars for a while until finally, she drifted off to sleep. The next day she woke up in the early hours of morning feeling quite refreshed, feeling a little better than yesterday, not as heavy or as null. The girl walked aimlessly until she finally came upon her school. She slithered in quietly, getting her books from her locker. She walked to her first class and sat at her desk in the back of the classroom.
Soon students began to emerge, walking into the room with their friends. Many were enveloped with deep conversation, and some looked as if they had only woken up ten minutes ago. No one paid any notice to this silent girl in the back.
The class began, as the teacher started up with the lecture. He spoke about early poetry by Shakespeare and many other famous poets. He spoke of their next project, one in which they had to write a story, the best ones would be taken to a state level contest and the overall winner would have theirs published in a book.
The class was allowed to start their projects in class. The classroom suddenly became lulled to a silence as the students diligently worked on their assignments. She pulled out a pen and her black notebook and began. By the time the period was half over she had an ocean of paper balls at her feet. A nearby student picked up a paper ball hiding it from anyone who could see. He opened it wanting to read it, but to his surprise there was nothing there. There were no words; it was nothing but a blank page.
The sound of a boy talking interrupted the classroom’s calm and tranquil tone.
“I’m glad She’s gone, She was a drama queen anyway!” He says to his friend. She looks at him from across the room glaring. His name was Malik, the high school football star.
“She always had to have things go her way!”
He pranced around the classroom skipping and acting like her with a mocking squeaky voice. She stormed out of the classroom unseen but was fuming. She leaned up against the hallway’s wall. Choler boiled within her; she pulled out a giant red marker and taking up the entire space on the wall she wrote, Death to Malik
At the end of class when the students rushed out into the hallway, they all stopped abruptly and stared in awe at this anonymous note. Many were bemused, and a few just laughed and thought it was funny, like some kind of prank. Malik said it was just a rivaling football team; everyone was jealous of Malik’s divine skills and talents.
Finally the world continued on, and the kids rushed to their next classes. The rest of her classes went by smoothly. By the end of the day, the note of the wall was the latest gossip, considered to be some big prank. No one knew who it was that wrote that note on the wall; no one even suspected her.
Finally the last bell rang and she walked home. Upon entering the house the Silent Girl was greeted by no one; no one was home. The house was completely empty. Even her own dog did not greet her at the door. She walked up into her bedroom and locked the door. Everything was exactly as she had left it this morning; bed unmade, clothes and books in disarray. She did her homework quietly. She didn’t bother eating; she just went to sleep.
The next day she sat down in her class as usual. After the students had found their seats the bell rang. For a while, the teacher sat at his desk saying nothing, just staring down at his hands. Finally, suddenly, as if leaving a trance he stood up, walking into the front of the room. He cleared his throat once, and then he did it again.
His voice so quiet, it was almost in a whisper, but it was loud enough to be heard. He informed his students that Malik was dead; he had been killed in a drive by shooting. He was shot through the heart from behind. He said by the time anyone had found him he was long gone.
That afternoon, she walked down the hallway, and there he stood, Malik. His face was pale, but clean. He was dressed in his normal football jacket, looking like he was ready for another ordinary day of school. He looked completely fine, totally unscathed.
She grasped her marker and walked away slowly.
“Wait! Don’t leave me! I’m so confused! How come no one can see me?” he asks, confused and distressed as he gripped a red marker of his own.
She turned around and looked at him deplorably but then gave a small smile.
“You’ll get used to it, trust me.”
