Mark wolf began his high school journey at Campbell County High School. “Quiet, very shy, laidback and liked to be unnoticed,” His description of himself during high school reminds him of his children now in school. Mark stayed that way for the rest of his high school career. Mark tended to stay out of trouble “keeping his nose straight always,” he added. With the exception of the first day of his freshman year he was sent to the principal's office due to his unruly locks being in violation of the dress code.
His feet pounded down onto the blood-stained floor, his stomps ricocheting around the desolate hallway. All around him lights flared and sirens shrieked endlessly, a visual symphony to accompany his impending doom. Shadows encapsulated every part of the room, yet his eyes still darted around, attempting to find any sign of the incoming danger. He sprinted into the confined box of the elevator, the walls around him hugging him close, as if to say he would be safe here. He slammed his hands against the flickering buttons, drops of blood sliding down the metal as he punched it again and again.
His face was ragged with pain. The stains of blood and dirt were all over him. The back of his head had been damaged severely. My arm still throbbing, I checked his pulse. The trees and their shadows danced with delight at all the blood and gore on the ground.
I could see it as the storm clouds rolled in, as the thunder crashed and almost echoed my feelings in the sky. I felt vulnerable to life for the first time that night. As I descended down the stairs to join the rest of the group that was meeting to pay I heard
“But you’ll need a Band-Aid.” I followed her down the hall and into the kitchen and sat at the table that was next to a pair of large French doors. Moonlight filtered through the leaves outside as if through lace, speckling the floor in shadows. She pulled out her medical supplies and began cocooning me in a white tornado until I was wrapped tight as a mummy, with nothing showing but my eyes.
All Gwen Fraser had ever wanted in her life was to be accepted. Born in a family of overachievers, Gwen 's mediocrity was greatly ridiculed every moment of her childhood. She was never as good at ballet as her sister Kelly, or as social as her brother Garret. She was average at studies and with looks that did not turn heads.
The snake was advancing so rapidly it could not halt before it smashed into the enclosure. I leapt off the serpent. A sudden fear washed over me, I just stood there, still. A few minutes later when I recovered from that escapade, I tried to find another corridor or passageway.
My eyes suddenly protruded outwards as they locked onto a wide metal door – with rust covering its burnished doorknob. I assumed that this must’ve been the room for the servants. I reached for the corroded doorknob, only to tragically realise that it wasn’t turning. I felt the vigorous blood being pumped into my brain, as my veins struggled to remain intact.
I kneel down examining what looked like a secret door of sorts. “There is no way I’m opening that,” I think as I slowly lifted myself up from my crouching position and bump into something. But wait, it’s not something, it’s someone! I spin around and feel cold hands grab my wrists. I’ve never screamed louder in my life.
Throughout middle school, I was in a constant struggle from being bullied. These occurrences made me ponder what would happen bullied another; that perhaps the chaos would end. That if I joined them, I wouldn't feel all the hate I was given. It was a battle that could've changed my life, and not for the better. I spent my days huddled in a library, with my books and afternoon tea with the librarian.