Writtien during the first quarter of 12th grade
“An encounter with evil”
He stared at it. It stared back at him. His eye twitched. It snorted and shuffled it’s feet. “Moose!” he shouted suddenly, pointing at the giant creature in front of him. Startled by the finger that had nearly been jammed up its’ nose, the thing side stepped away. His eye twitched again. “I can see it, Moose. Ohhh don’t you think your disguise is clever. But I know, Moose, I know.” He paused, mostly for effect. “YOU WILL NOT CONSUME MY HEADMEATS, YOU WRETCHED BEAST!!!”
“Toby?” called a mother’s voice. He suddenly looked guilty. “Toby, where are you? You better not be harassing the wildlife again! Toby, get back here!”
“This time, Moose, you escape,” the five year old said, his eye twitching again. “But next time, you won’t be so lucky.” He picked up his toy laser gun, and ran back to the campsite.
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Dennis coughed as another cloud of dust flew into his face. He closed his blue eyes tightly and shook his head, his shaggy black hair swishing from side to side. The dust passed and he once again looked jealously up at the floating castle. It gleamed in the sunlight, sparkling clean and white. Dennis just knew there wasn’t any dust up there.
After that factory exploded and the grass and the trees were replaced by dust and cacti, the line between the rich and the poor became even more defined. The rich had those castles built, and the poor…well….
“Fuck you!” Dennis shouted at the hovercraft as it zipped off to the pearly city. It, of course, didn’t hear him. He kicked a pebble. It didn’t make him feel better.
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There are just so many people in this school. I look at so many of them and just sort of think, “Hey, you look interesting.” I’ll start to wonder what they’re like. They’re usually male, though. I don’t know, for some reason I don’t seem to get along with girls anymore. They scare me too much with their beauty. Girls make me self conscious, which is weird because I’m pretty straight. I’m backwards. But anyway. I’ll imagine them in their rooms, listening to music or playing it. Sometimes I’ll decide they read a lot, or they play and instrument or they write really well. I never really end up talking with these people, usually I’m to scared to. In my daydreams they’re all so distinct and creative and beautiful. I’m scared that if I talked to them they won’t be the way I imagine them to me. I don’t want that. I want to look at them and see the person I created for them, the person who’s my best friend. Which isn’t fair of course, I should probably give whoever they are a change to be who they really are, and not the made up person in my head.
I wonder if this is unhealthy.