Hi everyone, slightly later than planned (sorry) but here is my piece for our workshop on 23rd February. This piece was inspired by Jodi Picoults's Nineteen Minutes. It's also a first draft and needs a lot of improvement but enjoy!
Edit: You might have a few questions regarding the piece but I hope that I've made things clear enough.
IMMORTAL
Mother always said I was special but until now, I didn't know how or why. Everything is different now. Everyone knows how special I am.
It all started in high school. Playtime was over, it was time to study hard. I didn't have the time for friends and I saw no reason for anyone else to either. Yet cliques formed and groups merged. It really seemed like no one cared about their education, no one except me. I was always the quiet one, always had my nose in a book, always hated speaking in class. In my opinion, the worst thing a teacher could do was to force a student to speak in class, it was borderline torture. My hands would shake uncontrollably and my heart would beat a thousand times a minute. If I knew I was going to have to speak in class, I'd rehearse what I would say, perfecting my words but when the time came to speak, my words came out a jumbled mess. Again and again I'd make a fool out of myself and everyone would laugh.
This is how my entire high school career went. Everyone knew me but no one knew my name. But I knew all of their names. Every single one of them. I knew every couple, every friendship group and every pair of enemies. I knew who was failing what class and those who cared more then they let on. I knew everything. I had the power to end them all.
When the final exams came around, everyone changed. Panic hung around in their air like a bad smell. The library was always filled with dozens of frantic students, flipping through textbooks hoping to find the answer to all of their problems. Social lives were paused and 'study groups' actually became study groups. People were actually caring about their education, they had finally become a part of my world.
But they were unwelcome in my world.
I wasn't about to let these idiots into my world. They were all so different compared to me. Jocks, musicians, scientists. They didn't fit in with me academically. Socialites, sluts, groupies. I didn't fit in with them socially. So why were our worlds colliding into one? And how was that fair?
It wasn't fair, nothing in life ever is.
So, like the good little student I was, I helped everyone. I colour coded their revision notes, I wrote their revision notes. I answered every last question that was thrown at me. But they still didn't learn my name. They still didn't care about me. And it hurt like hell. But at the same time, that period in time was a real eye opener. I knew exactly what I had to do.
Fast forward three weeks (that's twenty one days for those of you who can't count) to the final exam, English Language. Four questions on a random text and then the freedom to write whatever you wanted, as long as it was fiction and as long as it was good. I breezed through the first four questions, they were easy, too easy but hit a wall when it came to the creative side. I just didn't know what to write. Panic flooded my veins and terrorised my mind. This was the one thing I was good at, why was nothing happening?
And then it hit me. There was a reason no one liked me, I was worthless. They all thought I was expendable, they all thought I was nothing.
Why did they think I was nothing?
Like the flip of a switch, the panic inside me vanished and was soon replaced by an explosion of rage.
I liked the idea of explosions.
An explosion was exactly what I needed to make them see who I really was. But it had to be done right. If I messed up, they wouldn't think any different of me.
I wanted to stop them from thinking at all.
But if I succeeded, I would become immortal.
I wanted to be immortal.
Reaching into my blazer pocket, my fingers closed around a lump of cold metal. It was my father's lighter, given to me shortly after he died, I never went anywhere without it. I'd never used it before but there was a first time for everything. All I had to do was make a few objects catch fire. This exam paper, the jumper of the bitch in front of me, anything that had the potential to explode.
I was stupid, I actually thought a tiny lighter could cause an explosion, I should've paid attention in science class.
Within minutes, several tiny fires had broken out around me and screams began to echo around the hall. For once, I was the centre of attention and people were looking at me. They were noticing me.
They keep telling me that someone died that day. I don't see how, it was just a story, a story the examiners wanted me to write. I was only doing what they wanted. I wrote a good story.
You look at the girl before you, she is a broken mess. Yes, she wrote that story for her exam, yes she fantasised about harming her classmates but no, she doesn't think she killed one of them. She thinks she is innocent, she swears on it. But she did kill one of them, set them on fire. She never fit in and she wanted someone to pay for it, she never did see that it was her choice not to fit in. You sigh, it's going to be difficult explaining this to her but you try.
As predicted, she doesn't listen, instead her eyes glaze over and she seems to fall into a day dream. You see a sudden spark of anger in her eyes but you react seconds too late. She stands and charges at you, scissors in hand. You feel a sudden burst of agony and a warm liquid running down your neck. The last thing you see is the girl, hands covered in blood, shock on her face.
I am immortal.
No comments:
Post a Comment