Subtlety of one’s actions
[ Myself and you, not here but not there. I feel blurry, translucent as if my soul was pouring out into the eyes of everyone that sees me. In my throat, warm blood pulsing but no heartbeat. How can I be living but not.... all at the same time? ]
The door opened and slammed shut in a matter of seconds. "Hey, Chloe! Whatcha doing?" my sister asked, energetically hopping towards me, hiding something behind her back.
I glanced, out of curiosity. Another fantasy book with magic. "That looks interesting. On a side note, how about you leave so I can write in PEACE?"
She bounded over behind me and jumped on the bed, but fell down on her stomach. "Aaa! Hahaha-" she completely ignored my statement, and rolled over laughing. "What's that on your desk?" For some reason, she took an interest on what I was doing before starting her new fantasy book.
"Well.... we must be wizards then! I love this already, wizards are so cool!" my sister exclaimed after reading the first sentence. She unknowingly read the wrong tab on my computer.
"Sure, sure we are." I said in a droning tone. She gave me a look. "Okay, fine, I'll write this story about wizards. Now let me be, while I write this story in peace."
She cuddled up behind me, attention shifted to her new fantasy book as she savored the new book scent and the fresh, untattered pages.
Click, click clickity clack. Tick tock tick tock. Vroom vroom, honk honk. Your call is VERY important to us.... Despite being swamped inside a boring life, none of my fellow students seem to suspect what's hidden inside the shadows. Walking through the halls, my friends and I were completely silent in the wave of obnoxious chatter; we talk discreetly, at the level most people aren't even aware of. We carefully use sound and silence hand in hand; a subtle art form few people pay attention to. When you realize how powerful an expression can be, you can turn a glance into a weapon.
School has always been a place of action; there's almost never complete silence. But once there's too many ripples in the pond, you can no longer see past your reflection. After lunch, the bells ring, and stampedes of students rushing to get to class have a slimmer of hope that they'll arrive on time. They're too predictable and never learn; it's like seeing someone make the same mistake even though it's cost them a stream of consequences and hurdles too high up to jump.
During our break, my peers do things that I don't understand. In this old barren building, you can practically feel how it's barely holding together, suppressing the physical torments of the elements that weakened it. Flickering lights, creaky floors, and worn down paint that has seen decades of learning. Barely any light enters through a half-open windowsill, with too many shadowy corners to feel inviting. Despite this, I look left and see two people wasting energy, racing up the aile. As they near the top, one person trips, and his face morphs into a twisted fear as he faceplants into a desk, falling back down-down-down.... allll the way down the stairs. Then I look right, and hear laughter quieting.
Flashes of light stutter before our eyes as heavy footsteps scrape the dusty, creaky floor. A burly figure wearing tattered clothes slams her hand on the chalkboard. She puts her hair behind her ear, revealing her scarred face. She's gone through a lot more then we could ever imagine, which partly shows through her emerald eyes that slightly glisten in tiny specks of moonlight. Every move she makes is filled with precise sparks of authority while my peers are filled with hollow confidence. The group of students is scared stiff but still cruel enough to pick on others; gossiping in whispers throughout the cramped space. It's like a domino effect, right infront of our eyes.
Life is like a puzzle to those not willing to see the alternative perspectives. But to people like us, we play using everything to our advantage. Others are stuck by a pawn that can only go forward, while ours have learned to predict ahead of the game, many turns deep, utilizing all chess peices to their full potential. What sent a shiver down our spines was that for once, we're NOT the ones that caused it. Faced with unpredictability, we were like deer frozen in headlights.
She didn't say a word, yet the tension emitted from the students was high. All the students were laser-focused, as if an ominous spotlight shone on her; a petrifying one-act they'd never see again. Although she seemed very respectable, my instinct told me that she was like a nightmare come true; someone with a dark side waiting to pounce on her unsuspecting prey but right upfront; she has enough power to face it head-on instead of behind.
Over time, our seeds grow into trees. They bloom, flowering over industrialized fences meant to restrain them, and grumbling as they sway from the forces of the sharp-edged wind. We're bringing back the pleasant gifts from the seasons. The Emerald Eye won't be forgotten, and this rebellion will forever scar the chains that were modified to weigh us down. Brace yourself, as a wavering future is inevitable for us, the visionaries of our imagination.
"Okay, I got sidetracked; I'll write you a different story which will have wizards in it," I said to my sister, softly. I hadn't realized how exhausted I was from writing and editing for so long, my eyes were slowly starting to close. No response. Maybe I mumbled, I thought. I repeated my sentence, but still, I was met with silence. I slowly looked back, an ominous feeling thrumming through my veins. I'll never forget who I saw, towering behind me, who changed my life for good.