Trapped
Dark hallways,
Abandoned,
Empty classrooms,
Chairs strewn about at random.
Monsters lurk where I can’t see,
Figments of my mind,
I want to flee,
But I’m held by what I left behind.
Mental powers,
I could destroy whatever I wished,
They came to take me away,
But I ran and was not missed.
I fled as far as I could,
To the only place that felt familiar,
To this old abandoned school,
To live the half-life of a killer.
I killed him,
The one who came that day,
He was dead with the click of a trigger,
He came to take me away.
So I must stay here,
In this old abandoned prison,
Thinking about the normal life I left behind,
Trapped in this school by my own admission.
Backpack Boy
I swung a bag over my shoulder. My mother always said I was going to have back problems from the damn thing, but it was trustworthy, and I liked it.
It was basically the only thing I liked about school. The backpack. It had lasted throughout my entire school career. It was useful. And it’s big enough to hold all of my shit.
The thing I hated most about school was the people. Not just the students. The teachers and staff, too. Everyone here seemed to regard me with dismissive comments and disappointment. It seemed so unfair. I got good grades. I was in clubs. But everyone still gave me a wide berth in the halls. Even club members.
Call me antisocial. But I think I’m more anti-society. The people aren’t bad. It’s what they’ve been raised to believe that’s the problem.
Right. That’s why they stare. That’s why they hate me.
I’m gay.
I think the first boy I had a crush on was probably Adam Jackson. He was a geek who loved a lot of the same music and games as me. Everyone called him AJ. I wish I had chosen my crush wiser. I finally worked up the courage to tell him, and not only did he reject me, but he told the entire fucking school.
Now? I’ve learned to hate every person in the school, and the way they judge me. All but one, and he is my current crush. His name is Sean. He is biologically female. So no wonder he’s actually okay with me. I doubt he sees me the way I do him. He’s got loads of friends. They don’t know he’s trans. Only I do. Maybe that means I’m special. I don’t think so. I’m just similar.
And I hate Spanish class. For two reasons. One, the teacher and the students are homophobes. Two, it’s boring. I wish I had the same Spanish teacher as Sean. His teacher is awesome. She’s super nice and lets them listen to music in class. So. Freaking. Jealous.
But, I’m not in Sean’s spanish class. I’m in Mr. Owens’s.
And he’s an asshole.
"Jacob Asher?" A boy across the room raises his hand. Did I forget to mention that Mr. Owens had the voice of Siri. It sounds like a machine. He speaks so fucking blandly that it's just awful.
"Michael Barret?"
*UNFINISHED*
Stripes
Stripes.
She averted her eyes when they brought him out to visit with her. She knew what she would see.
Stripes.
They hadn't given him the orange one, but rather the black and white one, covered with lines, dark, light, dark, light. Ugly.
She had the thought that maybe she was the only one who saw the world in color, knew that it wasn't just made up of the shades on his outfit. Black, white. Good guys, bad guys.
Stripes.
Her eyes found his feet and worked their way up, slowly taking in his uniform, the shiny jail number pinned to his shirt.
Stripes.
She looked away before reaching his face. She couldn't handle those pale brown eyes, scruffy beard, handsome face.Wasted.
