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multipersonaltyguy-blog · 8 years ago

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Departed part 2

Chris

He took a quick glance at his phone, hoping his teacher didn't notice. 11:54. Six minutes until recess. Ugh, why couldn't they just leave already, I mean, it's just five minutes, and Miss Brown had stopped talking anyways...

"Where'd Miss Brown go?" He heard his best friend, Tyler, say. He looked up. No Miss Brown. He looked at where she had been standing just a second ago as the chalk dropped to the floor mid-word.

"What the hell?" some girl said from the back.

"She was just there, and then she was.. not," Tyler said, pointing at where she was when she disappeared.

"Come on, Ty, we'll notify the teachers down the hall," Chris said quickly, got up and walked over to the door. Tyler hesitated a bit before joining him.

Harpsfield High School was surprisingly big for such a small town. It wasn't really a high school, though, everyone went there, 1-12th grade, but there were still lots of empty lockers in the hallway. It was very modern, only four years old, opened just a week before the big fire at the old school. All the classrooms had glass walls and doors, they had designer chairs and desks, Smartboards in all the classrooms except for Chris' class who hadn't replaced the good old blackboard yet.

Chris looked into the other classrooms from the hallway. In one of them, the class was so engulfed in their work that they hadn't even noticed. In another, people were just as freaked out as Chris's class. A 6th grader came out of the auditorium and hesitated a bit before asking.

"Are you teachers?"

"No, have you seen any?" Tyler replied.

"No, he just- Mr. McCall-"

"-poofed?" Chris finished.

"Yes. He poofed," the girl said.

"Okay, uh, have you tried calling someone?"

"Yeah, the phones doesn't work, not even the police," she said, this time with a hint of fear in her voice. "The police always works!"

"W-what if the other teachers are gone too? Like, what if they're all gone?" Tyler said, trying to shake off the thought of aliens.

"I don't know, but anyways, we'll get through this together. It's probably just a prank, and she's gonna pop up any moment now." Chris shivered.

"B-but what if it's not a prank, what if aliens have abducted the teachers to experiment on them?"

"First of all, aliens don't exist, and if they had, they wouldn't be able to reach the Earth, and second, why would they want the teachers and not this awesomeness?" he said, pointing at himself. "We should find Zack, anyways."

Zack was his twin brother. They were really good friends even though they were very different. Chris was the laid back sprezzatura type while Zack was the socially awkward nerd type of guy. He knew that if he didn't find him he would get some sort of a nervous breakdown and if Tyler was right and no one was there, that could be pretty bad.

"Hey, Tyler! we need to get to my brother before you-know-what, where's his classroom?"

"I think it's down the hallway to the right through the cantina then to the left."

"..you mean to classroom number fourteen."

"Yup, but that's too simple!"

"You are one weird individual."

"I know, I know, but if the aliens are here, we better get going," he said, and started walking.

"Come on, it's not aliens, you'd have spotted the UFOs by now."

"What if they are coming from underground, or maybe they have blended in with the humans and are just now attacking? Have you ever thought of that?"

"Shut up, let's go," Chris said and quickened his pace.

They arrived at his classroom a minute or so later, having navigated through the whole confusing school.

"Chris!" Zack shouted and came out.

"Are you okay little brother?" Chris said and smiled.

"Eight minutes, Chris! Eight minutes!"

"Still, I'm older than you numbnuts," he said, but then his smile faded. "Are you okay?"

"Where are the teachers?"

"Abducted by aliens" Tyler said before Chris could say anything.

"Shut up, Ty," Chris snapped. "We don't know, have you tried calling mom?"

"Yeah, no reception, you?"

"I'll try calling her now," he said and fished his phone from the pocket of his hoodie.

"Fuck, I don't have any signal either," he said, almost dropping his phone because of sweaty palms and general stress. "What now?"

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multipersonaltyguy-blog · 8 years ago

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Departed part 1

Wiktoria

She looked up at the burning sun. She had been out here for two months now. Not alone, of course, her father was there with her, but he had gone to town for some grocery shopping early this morning and hadn't come back yet. They moved out of Harpsfield for a reason, and she knew she couldn't go back before her dad decided she was all right again.

It all started when she was about seven years old, in second grade. She ran after the bus as usual because she didn't like the school bus, and arrived at school five minutes before first period. She didn't have any friends at school, everyone else was, well, morons in her mind. They were all so dumb, running around doing dumb, dumb things. Other people just saw her as a loner, and usually left her be, but this time some bully named Elliott obviously wanted to be "funny" in front of his friends and asked her about her shoes. She had worn the same pair of sneakers every day for three years, and even though they were getting a bit tight, she didn't want to get new ones because these were the ones she had gotten as a birthday present from her mother the last time they celebrated a birthday at home. She knew very well about her mothers' addiction but chose not to think about it much. When someone asked her about her mother, she just said she went away because of her job.

She told him the shoes were her favorite, and just because they looked a bit shabby and the left sole was duct taped on didn't mean she was poor, and he responded with a comment on how she ran after the bus instead of paying for a bus card like normal people and that's when it happened. It was like something snapped in her head. One moment she was being annoyed by a couple of morons and an idiot, the next her fist was all scratched up and bloody and Elliott laid unconscious on the ground with his arm bent in a way that arms shouldn't be bent, blood trickling down his forehead and bruises appearing on his face.

The second time it went too far. She had never really liked school. She got in trouble a lot. Most of her classmates were either afraid of or hated her, and the teachers weren't exactly fond of her either. Mr. Douglass, her science teacher, caught her playing with a pair of scissors and not paying attention to class, so he told her to read a paragraph of their text out loud.

"Bradypus Variegatus ranges from Honduras in the north, through southern Central America. In South America, it ranges from Colombia into western and southern Venezuela, and south into Ecuador, eastern Peru and Bolivia, into Brazil and northern Argentina where it is now considered to be extirminat- extipat- externap- exterpaped-"

"Okay, that's enough, darling, please stop, we never know if your dumbness is contagious," he said. That was a mistake.

The next morning, Mr. Douglass' car was a complete wreck. All tires including the reserve were flat, the windows were broken, the doors were dented as if someone had tried to break them open, and the word "extirpated" was written across the hood of the Bentley with black spray paint.

Mr. Douglass himself was in an even worse condition. Actually, they were surprised to see that he survived for so long. He had severe burns on his face, neck and upper back and his ears and eyelids were gone. He had twenty-five surgeries before he died of sepsis.

Needless to say, they took her out of school, and she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and anger issues. She was home schooled for two months, sitting at home most of the day, going out in the garden to read for a few hours in the afternoon, but wasn't allowed to leave their property. The street they lived in wasn't a busy one, there were about ten houses, all made of the same tan material, all decorated with tons of annexes and extensions, all with red roofs and concrete porches, some had trees in their yard, others only had a few flowers and a bike rack, some had big backyards with inflatable pools, and some only had a green, well-kept lawn. One of their neighbors had a BBQ corner right by their driveway where they grilled every Friday, and Wiktoria loved sitting by the fence to smell the wonderful smell of half cooked meat and smoke.

A cousin of one of her neighbors leaned over her fence one day and asked her to come and play soccer with them. Of course, it was years since anyone her age had seriously asked her that, and she really did want to play a bit. It's not like she and her dad played a lot of soccer together or anything else for that matter. No one knows for sure exactly what happened because she can't really recall it herself, but she thinks it started with the second goal. Keeper on the ground. The score was 2-0 to the opposite team. The other team was passing the high fives while Wiktoria's team caught their breaths.

"It's not fair! You're two players more than us!" Brendan, on Wiktoria's team, exclaimed.

"It's not fair!" a girl from the other team whom she couldn't remember the name of mimicked in a sing-song voice.

"You shut up!" Wiktoria said, not really meaning to, but she wasn't fond of bad winners, and she certainly didn't like cheaters.

"What's that, Douglass? Don't you like the game?" the other girl said, pouting at her.

"My name isn't Douglass," she answered, but it didn't come out as threatening as she meant it to, so she raised her voice and repeated; "My name is not Douglass!" while clenching her fists.

"Hey, calm down, we're just joking, Douglass!" some other guy named either Jake or Jack said sarcastically, pushing her away from the other girl.

It took a few moments to realize where she was. She almost forgot. It felt like something she read in a book. Like something that happened to some imaginary characters in a fictional story, not something so real as what it was. She noticed her knees first. They were scraped up a little, but she didn't mind. She was sitting on Jake/Jack. Her hair was in her face, in her eyes and mouth. She would have brushed it away with her hand, but her hands were firmly pressed against his neck, strangling him. She heard him gasp for air. Then, she tasted something salty. Tears, she was crying. Screaming, she heard that now. The knuckles on her right hand hurt. She had punched him in the face, knocked him over and was strangling him, screaming like a maniac, crying her face off, and they were all staring in horror, not knowing what to do.

"Freak!" the girl shouted at her and ran. Some other kids followed her lead and fled. Parents came running out of their homes to pull Wiktoria away. The boy, whatever his name, came out of it just fine and was left with only the shock and a bruised neck. Wiktoria, though, got in deep trouble and her dad finally decided they should move out of town to this little cabin in the woods about two and a half mile from Harpsfield. She continued her homeschooling, but this time without neighbors. Her dad said it was for her own best, but she knew she was a danger to anyone around her. She didn't mind being alone, she wasn't the kinda person who got lonely quickly, but she didn't like being restricted like that.

This day was nice, though. Her dad wasn't home yet, so she assumed he had some motor trouble or something. Maybe he just met some old friends and decided to have a drink. Either way, she was alone now, which meant she could sit and read in peace. She loved reading in peace, but for some reason, it didn't really feel peaceful this time. Like she had forgotten something important and it was really, really bothering her. It was bothering her so much that she didn't even realize she had scratched up her wrist before a drop of blood fell on her Kindle.

Why had she scratched on her wrist? She never does that. That's weird. She looked at the wound. It wasn't really a wound, it was just a bit scratched, but it bled a bit. Then she noticed the thick, dark skin she had tried to scratch away. It was sort of like a patch of unnaturally thick, surprisingly tan, velvety skin on her wrist. It was about five inches across, except for the parts she had scratched away, and she came to the conclusion that she had noticed earlier but dismissed it as her hands being dirty.

Why did she even notice now? Was that relevant? Where's her Kindle? Wasn't that on her lap just a minute ago? She looked around her. It's not on the ground, what's going on? Was someone here? She stood up and looked around her. No one. Not a sound. That must be what was bothering her so much, it's too silent. No wind in the trees. No birds chirping. Nothing. It was so silent she could hear her heartbeat.

Du-dup. Du-dup. Du-dup.

Funny sound, that.

Du-dup. Du-dup. Du-dup.

Where are the birds?

Du-dup. Du-dup. Du-dup.

Something's wrong.

Du-dup. Du-dup. Du-dup.

Something's very wrong.

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