Finding the Entrance
Alright, I'm BACK! This is the first chapter in a while, so…Here it is! –Lightningpoint
I carefully tip-toed around the blue sedan, terrified if THEY would see me. It was a cool Friday, with leaves of fantastic colors floated around, making everything so beautiful. I peeked around the side. No sign of them. I looked towards my house. I lived close to Johnson T. High School. I was only 140 feet from my target. My back-pack slipped across my shoulders, when I started getting out from behind the car."WHERE YOU GOING WEASEL?" A nasty voice cackled from behind me. Terrified, a whirled around to see the ugly face's of the evil gang that goes around dunking kids in the toilet. EXPECIALLY Freshmens. SMALL freshmens. I am average size! Errr…..Maybe…Kinda…..Ish. The biggest boy walked out of the clique, he wore a Yankees cap, baggie clothing, and he had an ugly nose ring. "Looked like WEASELS gonna go meet her old friend, the storage room", he said booking my binder. They locked my in a storage room once. It was dark, musty, and I wasn't found until the janitor found me that night. Why did I have to go through this? Everybody hates me thought. But THIS is my time to stand up for my-self. "You….You…..G-Guys…Shouldn't…Do…T-This." I stuttered out. "Oh," said the a girl with bright pink highlights. "Looks like you'll see the TOILETS." She said in a sing-song voice. They erupted in laughter. Oh, I HATE laughter. Why did they make me come to this? My lips twisted with anger. "Weasel, Weasel, looked like she got ran over." The clique sang. A single tear ran down my face. "Awwww! Da wittle weasel cwying? Does wittle weasel wanna tishue?" The spat. The little tear turned to two. To three. I picked up my binder, and ran. I just ran. I couldn't stop Weasel, weasel, looked like she got ran over. I didn't care if they were still there, I just ran. Past Maple street. Past Chesterfield Street. Weasel ,Weasel looks like she got ran ove r.I couldn't see, my vision was bleared with tears. I finally got to the usual land-mark : Wealeson's 2320. Our mailbox. I grabbed the knob, now REALLY sobbing, and I took off to my room. "Honey, what's the matter?" My mom called. "M-Mom. J-Just…." I never finished. I threw myself on my bed, and sobbed. Nobody liked my since I moved. Nobody likes me here. I turned on the t-v. Just to see if I would just shut up already. I saw something called Whisperer. And…Black.