Author: WolfynWynter PM
Short story I write for English. It doesn't really have any swearing, or anything like that, but, the theme is more mature, kind of . . . And I don't think I chose the genres very well, but there wasn't any other that actually suited.Rated: Fiction T - English - Suspense/Mystery - Words: 543 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 02-15-12 - Status: Complete - id: 2997580
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Short story I wrote for English It was supposed to be a one-minute story, but it elongated itself, I swear I didn't mean to! Feedback, please?
She slouched in the hard straight-backed wooden seat, arms crossed, staring pointedly at a spot on the ceiling. The principal cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. He attention shifted to him, and, suddenly uncomfortable, he shifted in his seat, awkwardly.
"You were the last person to see Danielle, correct?" he finally said.
Her skin prickled. Silence.
"We need you to tell us where she was heading too when you parted."
She was bursting, her skin was splitting, peeling off the muscle and tendons like an easy-peel orange, her world was being torn apart before crashing together again, only to repeat the same process. Chokingly, she opened her mouth and everything she knew about Danielle and that night came pouring out of her mouth, like a dam had broken inside of her, torrential and tangled, like entwined threads of yarn.
The principal was still staring at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. Secrets and little hidden slivers of ice-cold truth like shards of a broken mirror rustled under her skin; writhing, twisting, seeking escape. Her mouth was a thin, white, unforgiving line. She looked down at her hands, clinically examining the black truths moving under her fingernails, down her hands, and up her arms.
"Do you . . . have any idea of where she might be? We need to know."
There they were; stark black against her pale, fair skin. There were living tattoos, imprinted on her, in her, forever now. Whispering and murmuring encouragement, harsh threat, coaxing, always coaxing. They were rushing up fast, growing deeper, blacker, expanding, rushing to the surface, creeping up her skin. They were going to come bursting out of her skin at any minute. She was drowning, drowning, drowning in a sea of black, dark, stunted secrets- secrets waiting patiently to devour her.
Her pearly skin was a blank canvas. The principal rubbed at his temples. She lifted her gaze and stared straight ahead, looking past him, through him. After a moment's unbroken silence, she opened her mouth. The principal leaned forward, a dog reaching for a bone. She hesitated.
"Can I- Can I leave now?"
Leaning against the cool, hard wood of the principal's door, she pressed her cheek into it, feeling feverish. She closed her eyes, memories flickering under her eyelids, Danielle's scream ricocheting around her head, haunting her. A banshee's scream; almost a wail. It couldn't be helped. It wasn't her fault. His dad was influential, he was powerful, revered, after all. Even if he was caught, arrested, put where he was supposed to be, he wouldn't stay in trouble for long. He'd come back, his record lily-white, and she would be where Danielle was- nowhere. Her family would be on the streets, too; he' completely ruin them.
She opened her eyes and he smiled, white teeth glaring at her in a macabre attempt at friendliness- a shark's smile, a crocodile's smile.
"You didn't say anything, like we agreed, right?"
Feeling sick, she nodded.