ahhhh justshutthedoor
a story i started in comeplete unknowingness
By: meghan murphy
this is a prologue of....i dont know what. i just started writing it. out of nowhere.
tell me if you like it...
"So," I say, throwing a small pebble at the schools street sign. It bounces of and lands in the grass, the sulking gloominess of Chester high in the background, slowly emptying of the student body, one identical uniform after the other. I straighten out my legs, scratching my converse against the sand, my blue jeans slowly pulling away from my sweaty legs. I lean back with my palms on the grass and turn to Decklan. "When did you go to school here?"
She gives a sideways glare at me with her beautiful green, decaying eyes. "I didn't," she replies, her English accent swirling around my brain. "I was an exchange student. I was supposed to leave for home about two months, one week and three days from my first day."
"Ah," I say, shaking my head. "I'm guessing you never got around to doing that..."
She nods.
"That sucks," I reply, a little less sympathetic than I had planned.
"Yeah," she sighs, glancing upwards. She puts a piece of her black, stringy hair behind her ears, and stretches her legs out like mine making sure her red, pleated skirt is flattened, leaning back on the grass like I am.
"Do you ever plan on trying to visit them...at all?" I ask, leaning forwards as I pull some grass out of the ground and start to fiddle with it.
"It's not like I really can," she laughs, disheartedly, looking up at me. "You know that."
I notice that she is looking at me straight in the eyes. No one I knew had ever done that. Not in any conversation I ever had with anyone did I ever meet someone who looked right in your eyes. Decklan did. It was creepy, though, her stare. Her eyes were a beautiful silver green, but were still very haunting, as if they knew too much. Her skin was extremely pale, and her hair was stringy and unbrushed, yet it kept itself so well. Her black make up was very dark and shadowy 'round her eyes, and it pushed the color in her eyes out ever more so. She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning. But sometimes, whenever I would drift off in thoughts of her beauty, I would scare myself, because as beautiful as she was, her appearance was frightening.
"How did--" I start, in question.
"Don't even ask," Decklan interrupts. "You dont want to know."
"Do you even know what I was gonna ask you?" I question, leaning back on the grass again, this time just a little closer. But not too close...
"Of course," she replies, giving me her sly stare. "I can always tell when people are going to ask me that."
"So, I'm not the only one, eh?" I prod, laughing.
Decklan laughs too. .."No, Tristan, you're actually the second. Adrian was the first, but he ended up killing himself anyway."
"Well, you must see him more often now," I say, pulling out more grass.
"Nope." She says, simply.
There was a short pause. "Did you tell him?" I ask.
"No," she sighs. "He asked me more than once, too."
"Id like to know," I say, glancing at the ground. "I know I don't know you all too well andI know that it might be...I dunno, personal or...difficult to talk about. But I really, really would like to know."
She looks at me, with that looks she uses when she's thinking. I can tell its a different look but it looks almost the same as all the other looks she has. Beautiful and hypnotizing, yet chilling and scary. She raises one eyebrow and smiles, as she sits forward up on the curb. I sit up too.
She glanced at the ground. "Tristan?" she asks.
"Yeah?" I reply.
"Do you want to know how I died?"