Ducksworth
Nameless Hero
Lunamaria Hawke
Vlad Tepes
Mas Bagus
AuthorialTheory
Stryder BC
Obscene Symphony@Luna Amore
Maybe next time she decided to speak out against a teacher, she'll make sure to choose her words more carefully....that or have Natalia duct tape her big mouth shut before Harley decided to make a complete fool of herself.
With every word of Miss Maede thrown back at her, Harley sunk lower and lower into her chair as pale as a ghost and drenched in sweat like she had just run a marathon. Oh man, she must have definitely looked like an idiot in front of everyone, even the cute blonde beside her.
Quivering in absolute embarassment and dumbfoundness at the end of her tongue lashing, the cowgirl uttered quietly a solitary, "Uuuhmm....y-yes ma'am. Sorry 'bout that." and averted her eyes down at the desk.
Harley Jane Whitfield, you officially have gone from class hero to class zero! Ugh! What the hell was I thinkin' goin' toe to toe with Miss Braniac here?! She's downright scary too! Kinda like if Walter White and O-ren Ishii had a baby!
Not long after, Mr. Felton has returned to school and was walking down the hall to his classroom. Thankfully, the checkup at the doctor's office had gone well, and everything was okay with his wife and their son soon to be born. The movers were almost done moving their furniture from Seattle all the way to New York aa well. Thankfully nothing was broken either. He was strolling down the hall blissfully, humming a tune by The Strokes, when he noticed the sickly looking boy and his sister in the hallway. Odd, seeing how everyone should be in class. With a concerned and considerate smile, he approached them. "Sam, Amelia. What are you two doing out of class? Is everything okay?" The kid looked like he was burning up and should've been home in bed.
m.youtube.com/watch?v=K_PQ4fRQ5Kc
She must've passed out or something, as she tended to do after a good high. Helena awoke still lying on her bed, still dressed in her clothes from the day before, the same ratty T-shirt and leather jacket. The joint she had smoked was still clenched between her fingers but no longer burned, neither did her room snell like cheap marijuana. In fact, it smelled like...bacon? And...pancakes?
Dad? Fuck...lazy ass can barely cook ramen, and I doubt step-bitch would cook him a nice, wholesome breakfast. So who was cooking downstairs? And also... who was playing music downstairs? Helena got up out of her bed, listening closely.
Fleetwood Mac? This...this was mom's favorite song? How fucking high am I?
And then...she heard the woman singing along...
No, it couldn't have been real, she thought. She had to have still been baked out of her mind. Throwing her beanie over her messy red hair, she slowly crept into the hall and tiptoed downstairs. Something was definitely fucked up with her she assumed, but upon reaching the kitchen...
There she was...standing at the stove cooking breakfast, wearing that tacky floral apron of hers.
Mom...?
Helena's heart felt like it stopped and the world paused with it. Her mouth hung agape, barely uttering a word. She could feel the warmth of tears in her eyes, but quickly ahe wiped them away, snapping out of her trance.
No... It's not real, Helena. It's just a dream...
"Honey? Is that you?" Her mother turned around, holding in her hand a sizzling pan of bacon. The smell, it was so intoxicating to Helena. She couldn't remember when was the last time her mom ever cooked for her and her dad. She smiled warmly to Helena, like a ray of pure sunshine. "Oh, there you are sleepyhead! Come on, your breakfast is getting cold."
Helena hesitated for a moment, then slowly she made her way into the kitchen, sitting down at the small table. She looked around while her mother continued cooking breakfast and singing to herself.
What the fuck is going on? There's like...no alcohol anywhere! And the kitchen's the cleanest I've ever seen! It's like dad never even touched the bottle!
"Hey...mom?" Helena stammered. "Where's dad?"
"Hmm?" Her mother replied slipping a few pieces of bacon onto a plate of warm, fluffy butter pecan pancakes. "Oh! He had to leave out on a call early this morning. Something about a fire over on Henderson Street. I hope everything's okay."
Helena went white. Dad still has his job at the fire station? Fuck...it is a dream...
Her lips contorted downward into a frown, her eyes dull and heavy. She sighed, lowering her head to the table as her mother walked over with her breakfast.
"Your favorite." She said with a grin setting the plate down gently in front of Helena. Then her mother sat across from her, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Remember when you were little and you always helped me make breakfast for daddy in the morning? You always wanted to make the pancakes, but you could never get the shape right."
"Y-yeah..." Helena replied in a sad whisper. "Damn things always kept sticking to the pan... You had to help me scrape 'em off..."
"Helena?" Her mother frowned. "Sweetie, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
A ghost... Yeah, she did. Helena looked up at her mother, meeting those soft blue eyes with her dark brown on the verge of tears.
m.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6mkYz4mx0
"You...you are a ghost..." Said Helena. "You're not real... It's just a dream...
I'll wake up, and...everything will still be the same...
You'll be dead, and...I'll be alone...Just like always..." She shoved the plate aside, burying her face into the table. Tears streamed down her face, soaking into the wood.
Her mother stood and walked over to her, sadness in her eyes as she saw her daughter falling to pieces before her. She pulled Helena up from the table and wrapped her in a hug. Helena's face was now buried in her shoulder as her baby girl wept.
"Helena..." Her voice was sweet and quiet. "You will never be alone, honey. Even though I'm gone, I'm still watching over you always. I wish I could be here for you now, because I know how much it hurts."
"I hate it, mom!" Helena's voice was muffled somewhat by her mother's shoulder. "I hate it so fucking much! I wish you were here! My life...it's just... I wish I wouldn't wake up! I wish I would just stay here with you! Where everything isn't so fucked up!"
"But sweetie," Her mother said lifting Helena's head up. "I'm sorry, but you can't.
Believe it or not, there are people out there who still need you. Your father for instance. Don't be mad at him. I know he's...not who he used to be, but you have to realize he's hurting just like you, and though you may fight like cats and dogs now, he still loves you, Helena."
"Yeah...I guess." Helena sniffled.
Her mother smiled. "Oh, and what about that little girl you were talking with in the hallway at school?"
"Amelia?" Said Helena. "What about her?"
"Don't you think she could use a friend?" Her mother asked sincerely
"Y-yeah, but..." Helena muttered. "She's already got one, and she's a total bitch."
"Well, why don't you be her friend too?" Her mother suggested with a soft grin. "She could use a friend like you."
"Pft! Yeah, whatever." Helena let out a small snicker. "A druggie with anger issues.
Perfect friend material."
"But you're more than that, Helena." Her mother replied. "I know deep down, somewhere beneath all the...well...scary clothes and music..." She paused for a brief chuckle. "There's still that sweet little girl who would be anyone's friend. I know the real you, Helena. The real you...that never went away."
"Mom..." Helena slipped from her mother's arms. Slowly her mother began to fade from her vision along with the kitchen and everything else.
She awoke hours later still in her messy bed, her stereo still on full blast, and a lit joint still smouldering between her fingers...and her room smelling of dirty laundry and cheap dope.
It was back to reality for Helena, unfortunately.
The "real" me... What the hell does she mean?
Maybe next time she decided to speak out against a teacher, she'll make sure to choose her words more carefully....that or have Natalia duct tape her big mouth shut before Harley decided to make a complete fool of herself.
With every word of Miss Maede thrown back at her, Harley sunk lower and lower into her chair as pale as a ghost and drenched in sweat like she had just run a marathon. Oh man, she must have definitely looked like an idiot in front of everyone, even the cute blonde beside her.
Quivering in absolute embarassment and dumbfoundness at the end of her tongue lashing, the cowgirl uttered quietly a solitary, "Uuuhmm....y-yes ma'am. Sorry 'bout that." and averted her eyes down at the desk.
Harley Jane Whitfield, you officially have gone from class hero to class zero! Ugh! What the hell was I thinkin' goin' toe to toe with Miss Braniac here?! She's downright scary too! Kinda like if Walter White and O-ren Ishii had a baby!
Not long after, Mr. Felton has returned to school and was walking down the hall to his classroom. Thankfully, the checkup at the doctor's office had gone well, and everything was okay with his wife and their son soon to be born. The movers were almost done moving their furniture from Seattle all the way to New York aa well. Thankfully nothing was broken either. He was strolling down the hall blissfully, humming a tune by The Strokes, when he noticed the sickly looking boy and his sister in the hallway. Odd, seeing how everyone should be in class. With a concerned and considerate smile, he approached them. "Sam, Amelia. What are you two doing out of class? Is everything okay?" The kid looked like he was burning up and should've been home in bed.
m.youtube.com/watch?v=K_PQ4fRQ5Kc
She must've passed out or something, as she tended to do after a good high. Helena awoke still lying on her bed, still dressed in her clothes from the day before, the same ratty T-shirt and leather jacket. The joint she had smoked was still clenched between her fingers but no longer burned, neither did her room snell like cheap marijuana. In fact, it smelled like...bacon? And...pancakes?
Dad? Fuck...lazy ass can barely cook ramen, and I doubt step-bitch would cook him a nice, wholesome breakfast. So who was cooking downstairs? And also... who was playing music downstairs? Helena got up out of her bed, listening closely.
Fleetwood Mac? This...this was mom's favorite song? How fucking high am I?
And then...she heard the woman singing along...
No, it couldn't have been real, she thought. She had to have still been baked out of her mind. Throwing her beanie over her messy red hair, she slowly crept into the hall and tiptoed downstairs. Something was definitely fucked up with her she assumed, but upon reaching the kitchen...
There she was...standing at the stove cooking breakfast, wearing that tacky floral apron of hers.
Mom...?
Helena's heart felt like it stopped and the world paused with it. Her mouth hung agape, barely uttering a word. She could feel the warmth of tears in her eyes, but quickly ahe wiped them away, snapping out of her trance.
No... It's not real, Helena. It's just a dream...
"Honey? Is that you?" Her mother turned around, holding in her hand a sizzling pan of bacon. The smell, it was so intoxicating to Helena. She couldn't remember when was the last time her mom ever cooked for her and her dad. She smiled warmly to Helena, like a ray of pure sunshine. "Oh, there you are sleepyhead! Come on, your breakfast is getting cold."
Helena hesitated for a moment, then slowly she made her way into the kitchen, sitting down at the small table. She looked around while her mother continued cooking breakfast and singing to herself.
What the fuck is going on? There's like...no alcohol anywhere! And the kitchen's the cleanest I've ever seen! It's like dad never even touched the bottle!
"Hey...mom?" Helena stammered. "Where's dad?"
"Hmm?" Her mother replied slipping a few pieces of bacon onto a plate of warm, fluffy butter pecan pancakes. "Oh! He had to leave out on a call early this morning. Something about a fire over on Henderson Street. I hope everything's okay."
Helena went white. Dad still has his job at the fire station? Fuck...it is a dream...
Her lips contorted downward into a frown, her eyes dull and heavy. She sighed, lowering her head to the table as her mother walked over with her breakfast.
"Your favorite." She said with a grin setting the plate down gently in front of Helena. Then her mother sat across from her, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Remember when you were little and you always helped me make breakfast for daddy in the morning? You always wanted to make the pancakes, but you could never get the shape right."
"Y-yeah..." Helena replied in a sad whisper. "Damn things always kept sticking to the pan... You had to help me scrape 'em off..."
"Helena?" Her mother frowned. "Sweetie, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
A ghost... Yeah, she did. Helena looked up at her mother, meeting those soft blue eyes with her dark brown on the verge of tears.
m.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6mkYz4mx0
"You...you are a ghost..." Said Helena. "You're not real... It's just a dream...
I'll wake up, and...everything will still be the same...
You'll be dead, and...I'll be alone...Just like always..." She shoved the plate aside, burying her face into the table. Tears streamed down her face, soaking into the wood.
Her mother stood and walked over to her, sadness in her eyes as she saw her daughter falling to pieces before her. She pulled Helena up from the table and wrapped her in a hug. Helena's face was now buried in her shoulder as her baby girl wept.
"Helena..." Her voice was sweet and quiet. "You will never be alone, honey. Even though I'm gone, I'm still watching over you always. I wish I could be here for you now, because I know how much it hurts."
"I hate it, mom!" Helena's voice was muffled somewhat by her mother's shoulder. "I hate it so fucking much! I wish you were here! My life...it's just... I wish I wouldn't wake up! I wish I would just stay here with you! Where everything isn't so fucked up!"
"But sweetie," Her mother said lifting Helena's head up. "I'm sorry, but you can't.
Believe it or not, there are people out there who still need you. Your father for instance. Don't be mad at him. I know he's...not who he used to be, but you have to realize he's hurting just like you, and though you may fight like cats and dogs now, he still loves you, Helena."
"Yeah...I guess." Helena sniffled.
Her mother smiled. "Oh, and what about that little girl you were talking with in the hallway at school?"
"Amelia?" Said Helena. "What about her?"
"Don't you think she could use a friend?" Her mother asked sincerely
"Y-yeah, but..." Helena muttered. "She's already got one, and she's a total bitch."
"Well, why don't you be her friend too?" Her mother suggested with a soft grin. "She could use a friend like you."
"Pft! Yeah, whatever." Helena let out a small snicker. "A druggie with anger issues.
Perfect friend material."
"But you're more than that, Helena." Her mother replied. "I know deep down, somewhere beneath all the...well...scary clothes and music..." She paused for a brief chuckle. "There's still that sweet little girl who would be anyone's friend. I know the real you, Helena. The real you...that never went away."
"Mom..." Helena slipped from her mother's arms. Slowly her mother began to fade from her vision along with the kitchen and everything else.
She awoke hours later still in her messy bed, her stereo still on full blast, and a lit joint still smouldering between her fingers...and her room smelling of dirty laundry and cheap dope.
It was back to reality for Helena, unfortunately.
The "real" me... What the hell does she mean?
