|Class 10 Delinquent School: Voice of Running Wind
Author: SwedenB.ox PM
The Wind is a holy Spirit that Runs over the barren land, unchanged, fast with pride. The Wind is crying now for the history that will repeat. They run, so that they can live. But the road home is so far away...Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Supernatural/Tragedy - Chapters: 15 - Words: 16,572 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 11-07-12 - Published: 08-08-12 - id: 3048789
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: SO this is the name list and their country. I will update on more characters as the story progresses.
Van and Wolfgang Osterreich: Germany
Jesper Teo: Sweden
Matthias Soren: Denmark
Kai Nikulai: Finland
Ole Hanson: Norway
Emil Ari: Iceland
The people from the Nordic countries made up the Nordic Five. Based loosely off Hetalia, but yeah I intended for a group in the first place. For Asian people whose surname is Teo(like me): yes, you got it, Teo is also a Swedish name. I looked it up...(wait. Teacher did say something about not trusting some websites?!)
On with the story, sorry for the drabble above.
She flung her bag on her new desk in her new home for the period of time she would be staying her. What a tough day, no wonder they had so many past teachers! She heard rumors that one of the teachers ended up in a mental asylum. She shook her head. No no, she would not end up like that, she was special after all, she was lucky!
However, she knew nothing of its cause.
She carried on teaching and screaming at the children to behave, only for them to pull more pranks, pay less attention, until the day she took the time to reflect.
On the second week, as she flung her bag onto the desk(again), she thought back on her childhood. She had always been the practical joker of the class, and hated it whenever the teacher shouted at her to SHUT UP! She chuckled as her pouting little mug appeared in her memory. All of a sudden, she was directed back to Class 10. What if that was how they felt when she screamed? Wronged, confined, not allowed to have fun?
With sudden inspiration, she jumped back on her feet. She pulled a paper and pen from her bag, and started devising 'strategies'.
'Ok, so Wolfgang will climb the windows and throw me a paper ball... I should stand here so I can catch iiiiiit... No no! I need to streeeetch-'
The next day, as she opened the door to the classroom, the same scene repeated itself, like it did for the past few days, as though it were a scene on a tape stuck on replay. Albino on the window, blonde pulling the albino's pants, Asians clustered around fighting over a toy panda. 5 pale Nordics throwing glowing chickens at each other. Now, that was a strange scene, for the glaring Swedish kid was playing with them as well.
And, obviously, as usual, a paper ball would come whizzing by, and she would grab it, and scream at Wolfgang. Turns out that he was expecting that, for he was grinning as stupidly as ever and narrowing his eyes. However, what she did next shocked him so much that he fell off the window onto poor Van.
" Nice shot. Here, you get it back." She throws the ball back to Wolfgang, sprawled on the floor atop his twin. He catches it with red eyes wide, before muttering a 'thanks' and scrambling to his feet. As he did so, Van got up with the slightest hint of fire in his eyes. He is going to beat Wolfgang up for that.
The whole class was silent in front of her. She was smiling, amused at how a change in response would trigger such shock from the class of forty. They were gaping(though Jesper still glared), as though she was a rare animal, which in this case, was partly true. Here was a teacher, who screamed and screamed like the other previous teachers, now smiling at them as though they were the best students in town. Ah, scratch that, there was no town here. But never mind, that doesn't change the fact that she was different.
A whole day of class went by quickly, with the class much more well behaved than usual. Looks like they not only appreciate being called by name, they also appreciated freedom. Sure, there were pranks and all, but they paid more attention, perhaps to scrutinize this queer teacher for any weird tricks up her sleeve. But nevertheless, in their hearts, in silent prayer, they hoped that if this was a dream, they would continue dreaming. Somehow, she felt it, the burning desire for her to continue this. The silent prayer for them to be themselves, not like the good students who have lost their personalities to compensate for their immense knowledge and hard work.
She chuckled to herself as she let herself submerge in the roaring and laughing of the class. Normally, she would have frowned, perplexed, anxiety wrinkles creasing her high forehead. Today was different. Somehow, in a strange way, there was an unexplainable joy in watching them prank each other, watching them throw stationery and glowing chickens.