Spirits of the Sunset -Prologue-
"They're dead, hun."
The portly woman wearing too much make-up kept trying to make me understand, as if I didn't the first time she ushered me into the door.
"Your parents were murdered," she continued as I sat there staring blankly forward. I should have known. The councelor doesn't talk to anyone that isn't completely screwed up. She was the kind of woman that would rather brood in her office, hiding away from the world that would ultimately hurt her. Only when something happened to something else that was worse that what she'd been through did she even bother peeking her head out with morbid curiousity. You wouldn't know it from her conservative pink jumpsuit, the Avon jewelry and the sunny posters of Garfield teaching life's lessons in a sarcastic tone on her wall.
"If there's anything you want to talk about, I'll be here." She seemed to relish in my catatonic state because anyone else would've hugged me or at least did something except smile at me from behind a desk. All works out because I didn't want anyone to touch me. Well, who am I kidding? I wanted to be held and rocked by my mother and told that no, the wicked lady was only kidding to get her rocks off.
I was in seventh grade, surely they were kidding. They had to be. My parents weren't dead.
Then the principal clicked in on her red , red heels that reminded me of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, minus the sequins. Going up from them, the recognition ended. Principal Louis was a light caramel colour, the kind you pour on ice cream after a long day out in the sun. Her face was as round as a moon pie, with eyes as dark and deep as wells. She wasn't a big lady, only when she practically engulfed my lanky frame did I actually notice how big she was. Be careful what you wish for... I think one of her jade elephant pendants was poking me in the eye, causing me to cry and well, all went downhill from there.
The portly woman wearing too much make-up kept trying to make me understand, as if I didn't the first time she ushered me into the door.
"Your parents were murdered," she continued as I sat there staring blankly forward. I should have known. The councelor doesn't talk to anyone that isn't completely screwed up. She was the kind of woman that would rather brood in her office, hiding away from the world that would ultimately hurt her. Only when something happened to something else that was worse that what she'd been through did she even bother peeking her head out with morbid curiousity. You wouldn't know it from her conservative pink jumpsuit, the Avon jewelry and the sunny posters of Garfield teaching life's lessons in a sarcastic tone on her wall.
"If there's anything you want to talk about, I'll be here." She seemed to relish in my catatonic state because anyone else would've hugged me or at least did something except smile at me from behind a desk. All works out because I didn't want anyone to touch me. Well, who am I kidding? I wanted to be held and rocked by my mother and told that no, the wicked lady was only kidding to get her rocks off.
I was in seventh grade, surely they were kidding. They had to be. My parents weren't dead.
Then the principal clicked in on her red , red heels that reminded me of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, minus the sequins. Going up from them, the recognition ended. Principal Louis was a light caramel colour, the kind you pour on ice cream after a long day out in the sun. Her face was as round as a moon pie, with eyes as dark and deep as wells. She wasn't a big lady, only when she practically engulfed my lanky frame did I actually notice how big she was. Be careful what you wish for... I think one of her jade elephant pendants was poking me in the eye, causing me to cry and well, all went downhill from there.