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Firstly, this is not a fanfic. This is a story I decided to post here that I based on my dreams. Don't be fooled by the beginning; the freaky stuff is on the way.
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Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scribble. The collective resonance of pencil upon paper, grinding away the hours as well as lead, filled the classroom almost like the threatening buzzing of hornets. Well, not quite like that. The buzzing of hornets suggested danger, it suggested adrenaline and excitement. Pens were images of boredom, their grating sound one of dull repetition.
A multitude of heads hung over the rows of wooden desks, each one hiding a face full of pure resentment for the dreary position. The humming of pens was becoming rhythmic, becoming a beat. It was almost alive, almost a sentient thing that previously dwelled dormant, bogged down in the mind. It was the song of progress.
Mr. Elson liked the song of progress. It was the sign of a good, respectable class in their final year, each one working with utmost silence, save for the sound of good old progress. This was what made his day, when it became clear that he was doing his job properly, sculpting and twisting these young creatures who raged with the power of their hormones and turning them into efficient parts of the great social machine. A clean, sparkling and glorious machine that ran like clockwork.
Order. It was his calling.
Scribble.
But what’s this? Chaos in his classroom, his domain. A violent storm amongst still seas. There’s always one harbinger of chaos in every class, always at least one that simply cannot stop themselves in the ruination of both order and their own future, spiralling downwards in a self-destructive circle. Mr. Elson, being the corporate machine that he was, hated them, he loathed them with a burning passion. These were thoughtless insects, disrupting the lives of others as they hovered annoyingly and went about their insignificant ways. They were the leeches of mankind, creatures that would never amount to anything or do anything of great consequence, besides perhaps hindering others.
Clothed in a sharp, efficient grey suit, the blonde haired and harsh-faced teacher rose from his seat of power like a government official about to issue a death penalty.
Scribble.
He paced the gum-clean floor, eyes staring across busy desks like those of a predator animal, a sinister vulture looking for a creature to pick upon. And like any good scavenger, it found one.
Hart. Ridiculous name for a ridiculous boy, a boy who thought piercings and black clothes were cool. Gabriel Hart, a pathetic specimen. He was smart, yes, but not in the correct way. He questioned things, corrected things. He argued, he talked back and worst of all, he was always, always right. It made Mr. Elson sick. This young man was worthless, he was a disruption destined to be a nobody. Any good teacher will tell that a smart student is far harder to teach in an orderly fashion than a stupid one.
He even appeared outrageous. Silvery white hair, he wore it long and straight in a terribly feminine fashion. Bloody girly kid. Mr. Elson had never questioned whether Gabriel died his hair or not, and frankly it didn’t matter because he would disapprove either way, but young Hart was in fact a curious albino. He was obsessed with black, it was because of all that moronic rock music, and he wore only that shade. Made him look even paler than he was. Dark leather, a jacket to be exact, and jeans to match. At least the boy wore a shirt, even if it was black. But the chains, the teacher hated them. They hung and looped across his clothes like a web of silver, the numerous rings and piercings such as one in the web of his fingers and left ear complimenting them with their metallic glint. Queer kid, he needed to lean some social values. He was thin too, with a rather lithe and lean build that made it even easier for Mr. Elson to hate him as the teacher’s body began to succumb to age.
Unthinkable to Mr. Elson was that this misguided young fool could be popular if he wanted. He had fair, angular features not far from being angelic, and somehow his pale skin seemed almost radiant.
“Hart!â€
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Last edited by Fellguarde on Thu Jun 09, 2005 3:35 am, edited 3 times in total.
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And that's my *only* crit.
(Updates Tu!)