Most people listen to music when they walk to school. They try to drown out everyday life with over excessive amounts of Taylor Swift. People who like Taylor Swifts' obvious lack of talent are not to be trusted. Then again, you shouldn't trust anybody.
I was distracted by an flock of ravens by the roadside. The unkindness of ravens were feeding on a maliciously torn up deer, probably got hit by a car sometime last night. the hyperextended head of that innocent deer stared at me with its dead eyes, as the ravens feasted on its decaying meat.
In some folklore, ravens are a symbol of death. If a raven was seen around your house while you were giving birth, they would kill it, for fear it would cause the death of the child. Its also generally known as a bad omen and a name you give your child if your trying too hard to be cool.
the unkindness paid no attention to me as I witnessed their feasting. I almost wished I was a raven, so I could peck peoples eyes out if they were mildly annoying. I sometimes imagine myself doing that, what it would be like to feel the soft orbs pop into my claws, to feel the blood...
I left the creatures to their maggot infested meal, not looking back as the smell of rotting corpse left my nostrils. Those ravens live a happy life around here, fat and happy on the mangled deer that show up at 3 in the morning. Funny how, a happy life for them is feeding on the misery of others.
I found school to be irrelevant, I was already above everyone in my grade and the grade above me and everyone knew it. I was the most clever, no one could ever top me.
I showed up for Mrs. Porters class so she would tell my mom I showed up to school. I wasn't planning on spending the entire day with these imbecilic wastoids. I couldn't stand the overwhelming feeling of the seemingly contagious acne crawling on my skin and infecting my pores.
I watched the rain outside the window intently, counting the seconds till the class was over and I could leave this tiresome place. I heard a whisper say something about me being emo and wallowing in my sadness and I chuckled slightly.
Emo is short for emotional. Emo is someone who listens to My chemical romance and cries when someone makes fun of their eyeliner. Emo is not me.
Wallowing in my sadness? they must be joking.
"Probably planning on shooting up the school." I heard another whisper.
I mimicked a smile, which I knew looked unnatural, and sickly, and I stated,
"Do I look like a guy with a plan?"
The horror on their face should've made me feel joy. Maybe even terrified that I would say such a thing to a person. I made a finger gun and slowly pointed it at them and jerked it back as if it was firing.
Images of their bloody faces and dying screams echoed though my mind.
I sighed and put my chin down a top of my crossed arms on the desk.
I still felt...