Before I begin I just wanted to say a few words to those of you who actually read what I write. I'm sorry I haven't continued anything in a... long time, and I won't give excuses, I'll just give you the story. Thanks for reading.
Her eyes opened quickly. She glared up at the familiar ceiling, the out-of-date fan covered in cat hair and dust, and she sighed in an aggravated fashion.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream, she screamed in her head, How is that even possible?!?! She couldn't try to comprehend that it was only a dream, she didn't want to think of it that way. It was too real, too vivid and bright. Everything about it had screamed truth and non-fiction. If she even attempted to tell herself it was not that way she would surely break down and cry, which was something she couldn't afford to do today. There was too much going on, not enough time for her petty tears. She would simply just have to sort this out another time. Just not now.
She flew through her morning rituals; brushing her teeth, cleaning her face, preparing her hair, applying make-up in all the right places on her nearly flawless face. She didn't think it was flawless, not even close, but to most of the people she'd come in contact with it was. Her face was delicate, yet had a strange edginess to it that made her appear almost unapproachable. She wanted to be that way, she wanted to look down right bitchy if it meant boys would stop talking to her as if she were empty-headed and easily swooned. Though her jaw and nose were thin and fierce, they were soft and rounded off ever so slightly. Her cheeks, permanently rosy in color, and forever speckled in golden-brown freckles, were high set and softer than peaches. Her skin the same texture and color of ivory silk, was nearly translucent in some light. So think and breakable looking. Her lips, almost always set in a grimace, were full on both the top and bottom halves, and they, too, were soft, even softer than the rest of her skin. All of this was framed by a dark shade of black. Her hair was silky as well, and as black as the blackest coffee, as were her perfectly shaped eyebrows. They were not too thick or too thin, and they were just as expressive as her gold-blue eyes.
It was true that no one else had heard of her eyes before, because no one else had them. So rare that you couldn't even call them hazel. Her eyes stayed blue on the outer are of the iris and gold on the inner, but if her emotions fluctuated to one extreme or the other then the color changed entirely. If she were in a high state of emotion they were as gold as the honey, but if she were in the lowest of feeling they were as dark as oceans.
She glanced at herself in the mirror one last time before she flicked the light off, and she frowned. It would be another day of boys trying to grope her and girls trying to ruin her. Enemies as far as the
eye could see. Even so, she somehow preferred it this way.
School was in most ways the equivalent of hell. Or at least that's how she felt.
Going from class to class, learning about things that she understood too quickly, according to her teachers. It wasn't her fault that she was smarter than most of the teachers at the private school.
Enemies all around, she thought to herself.
The walk to school wasn't long, and most days she would have enjoyed it. If it weren't for the fact that she passed the church on her route. The same church from her dream. It was right next door to the school, no real way to avoid it. Everyone passed by it to get to school, because it was a part of the campus.
A Catholic private school, definitely the equivalent of hell. Most teenage boys thought that a Catholic private school would be the perfect place to get a girl who was innocent, virgin, and above all extremely sexy in a little school-girl uniform, which is the reason of enrollment for most of the male-half of the student body.
She wasn't here because she wanted to be, that was for sure.
She took a long hard look at the church before she went on to her morning classes. Maybe, she thought, I'll go after school and check to make sure it was just a dream...
© 2008 Tarin Prichard
Friday, December 12, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Girl, Part I
It became very clear to her that if she continued to wait anymore it would only make it feel worse when she finally went through with it. Not that she was eager to get it done, but she knew that she needed to. How, she thought, could she do it?
Of course it would be easy, saying something usually was easy, especially when you weren't looking at the person. This wasn't hard, she told herself, it was like breathing or eating something that was overly delicious.
She sighed.
"Go ahead, tell me your sins, my child," the priest said from the other side of the confession booth. She hated doing this. She already knew that God knew what she'd done, but why should she have to admit it to a stranger who would be able to figure out who she was instantly? And then, after all of it, have to sit in the front pew every Sunday and have him look at her in such a way that made her feel like she was lesser than a piece of dirt.
She hated doing this.
"Okay, look," she said in a rush, "I'm only here because I was told that I had to confess to a priest, though I don't see a point because I already know that God knows what I did."
He breathed quietly for a moment, though to her it was almost like he was right in her ear, panting loudly. "If you feel there is no need then you don't have to be here."
"Usually you are supposed to tell me that I should tell you anyway, right?" she only then realized that the voice of the man sitting next to her wasn't the priest she thought. This voice was younger and more charming than Father Gregor.
"Well, yes, but you seem to have everything all figured out, so why make you do something you feel uncomfortable with?" He sounded almost bemused.
"Are you really a priest?" she arched her eyebrow.
"Yes. Do I not sound like one to you?"
"No, you sound like someone who has a brain."
He laughed, "I sure hope I have a brain, I'm too broke to visit Kansas."
She laughed with him now, "That was pretty funny ."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They sat in silence for a moment, until the bell in the cathedral tower began to ring out in a loud, intimidating voice. She tried to peak through the screen to get a better look at the priest she was talking to. She could make out dark hair, very, very dark hair.
"Why are you staring at me?" you could hear the smile he wore on his face in his voice.
"I'm trying to figure out what you look like. There's got to be a face to go with the brain."
"There is, but it's not worth trying to glare a hole into the screen to see it."
"If I step out of the booth will you step out too?"
"I suppose," he chuckled. "Are you really so curious to see what I look like?"
"A little," she admitted sheepishly.
He laughed again, "All right, on the count of three."
"One," she said in barely a whisper.
"Two," he laughed.
"Three," they said at the same time. They both opened the doors and turned to face each other...
© 2008 Tarin Prichard
Of course it would be easy, saying something usually was easy, especially when you weren't looking at the person. This wasn't hard, she told herself, it was like breathing or eating something that was overly delicious.
She sighed.
"Go ahead, tell me your sins, my child," the priest said from the other side of the confession booth. She hated doing this. She already knew that God knew what she'd done, but why should she have to admit it to a stranger who would be able to figure out who she was instantly? And then, after all of it, have to sit in the front pew every Sunday and have him look at her in such a way that made her feel like she was lesser than a piece of dirt.
She hated doing this.
"Okay, look," she said in a rush, "I'm only here because I was told that I had to confess to a priest, though I don't see a point because I already know that God knows what I did."
He breathed quietly for a moment, though to her it was almost like he was right in her ear, panting loudly. "If you feel there is no need then you don't have to be here."
"Usually you are supposed to tell me that I should tell you anyway, right?" she only then realized that the voice of the man sitting next to her wasn't the priest she thought. This voice was younger and more charming than Father Gregor.
"Well, yes, but you seem to have everything all figured out, so why make you do something you feel uncomfortable with?" He sounded almost bemused.
"Are you really a priest?" she arched her eyebrow.
"Yes. Do I not sound like one to you?"
"No, you sound like someone who has a brain."
He laughed, "I sure hope I have a brain, I'm too broke to visit Kansas."
She laughed with him now, "That was pretty funny ."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They sat in silence for a moment, until the bell in the cathedral tower began to ring out in a loud, intimidating voice. She tried to peak through the screen to get a better look at the priest she was talking to. She could make out dark hair, very, very dark hair.
"Why are you staring at me?" you could hear the smile he wore on his face in his voice.
"I'm trying to figure out what you look like. There's got to be a face to go with the brain."
"There is, but it's not worth trying to glare a hole into the screen to see it."
"If I step out of the booth will you step out too?"
"I suppose," he chuckled. "Are you really so curious to see what I look like?"
"A little," she admitted sheepishly.
He laughed again, "All right, on the count of three."
"One," she said in barely a whisper.
"Two," he laughed.
"Three," they said at the same time. They both opened the doors and turned to face each other...
© 2008 Tarin Prichard
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