the other creatures I don’t know about. Oh, and the souls working off their purgatory sentences.
The bus stop was mostly empty, save for the homeless man that I would see from time to time. Most of the time. And a pigeon that seemed to find its way down here.
This was where the souls showed up when they died. Then a bus would come and haul them off to wherever they belonged.
“Morning,” I said to the man on the bench.
“Is it?” his eyebrow went up.
“Where I’m from,” I told him. The sky here was forever purple and cast nearly no light. It was always nighttime here.
“Ah, well have a nice day at school, Aurora,” he nodded and pulled out a handful of bird food, tossing some to the ground for the bird.
I’d never told the man my name—or him, me—but he’s known as long as I can remember. He was always nice to me.
“Thank you,” I smiled. “See you later.” I focused on the woods and I was gone.
I walked through the trees and saw the cars speeding into the parking lot, some barely not hitting people. And that…was why I didn’t drive. Pointless and dangerous. Though it would take a lot to kill me.
I already had my school schedule, so I made my way to first hour. Math, to start with. Lucky me.
We were far enough into the new year that the teachers had actually started giving us real work to do. The first week was a breeze. No one tried talking to me and I could sleepwalk through the day. But not now.
The first three classes of the day made me want to drop out of school. It was so boring. I don’t know how people do this. Or how they tack on college. If I had four more years of this I might just go ahead and start living in the forests of Canada. It was a better option. I bet I could live among the bears.
I walked into History and was more than a little happy when I remembered that I had a table all to myself. The room was set up so people sat in twos. But I was the safe one. There was one other empty table in the back corner of the room. Sometimes when I got bored I imagined that two ghosts sat there and yelled snarky things at the teacher, Waldorf and Statler style.
Class started and I let my eyes glaze over as I started daydreaming about what I could be doing with my time. Like reading, watching TV, eating chocolate, purposely giving myself splinters. Any and all of those things would be better than listening to Mr. Dixon ramble on about the Second World War.
I was staring down at my textbook when I heard the door open. I didn’t look up at it. Unless a man with cookies was on the other side, I couldn’t care less.
But the room went silent. I heard footsteps and a piece of paper crinkle like it was exchanging hands.
“Late on your first day, Mr. Wyatt?” Mr. Dixon sighed. “What ever for?”
“Well McDonald’s doesn’t stop serving breakfast until ten-thirty,” I heard in an English accent. “So I figured I had some time.”
I heard a sigh from the teacher and almost-moans from some of the girls. Then I heard. “Go pick out your seat.”
I kept my eyes focused on the page in my book as I prayed to my father that he’d do me a solid and have this guy pick the table in the back. But when I heard the metal chair scrape the floor beside me, I knew I didn’t mean a thing to The Devil. But I shouldn’t be surprised.
I heard the boy sit down and I held back a groan over how shitty my luck is. Could he not see the giant ‘bad news’ sign I might as well be wearing?
The teacher continued with his speech and I focused on not just leaving the room. Even if I wanted to, I’d have to crawl under the table to do it. That, or squish up against the back of the guy next to me.
“Excuse me.” I heard too close to my ear. “Don’t suppose I could borrow a pencil?”
I laughed through my nose. Who the Hell doesn’t bring a pencil on their first day?
I looked over at his side of the table. He hadn’t brought a thing with him. Not a backpack, a book. Nothing. So I dug in my
The bus stop was mostly empty, save for the homeless man that I would see from time to time. Most of the time. And a pigeon that seemed to find its way down here.
This was where the souls showed up when they died. Then a bus would come and haul them off to wherever they belonged.
“Morning,” I said to the man on the bench.
“Is it?” his eyebrow went up.
“Where I’m from,” I told him. The sky here was forever purple and cast nearly no light. It was always nighttime here.
“Ah, well have a nice day at school, Aurora,” he nodded and pulled out a handful of bird food, tossing some to the ground for the bird.
I’d never told the man my name—or him, me—but he’s known as long as I can remember. He was always nice to me.
“Thank you,” I smiled. “See you later.” I focused on the woods and I was gone.
I walked through the trees and saw the cars speeding into the parking lot, some barely not hitting people. And that…was why I didn’t drive. Pointless and dangerous. Though it would take a lot to kill me.
I already had my school schedule, so I made my way to first hour. Math, to start with. Lucky me.
We were far enough into the new year that the teachers had actually started giving us real work to do. The first week was a breeze. No one tried talking to me and I could sleepwalk through the day. But not now.
The first three classes of the day made me want to drop out of school. It was so boring. I don’t know how people do this. Or how they tack on college. If I had four more years of this I might just go ahead and start living in the forests of Canada. It was a better option. I bet I could live among the bears.
I walked into History and was more than a little happy when I remembered that I had a table all to myself. The room was set up so people sat in twos. But I was the safe one. There was one other empty table in the back corner of the room. Sometimes when I got bored I imagined that two ghosts sat there and yelled snarky things at the teacher, Waldorf and Statler style.
Class started and I let my eyes glaze over as I started daydreaming about what I could be doing with my time. Like reading, watching TV, eating chocolate, purposely giving myself splinters. Any and all of those things would be better than listening to Mr. Dixon ramble on about the Second World War.
I was staring down at my textbook when I heard the door open. I didn’t look up at it. Unless a man with cookies was on the other side, I couldn’t care less.
But the room went silent. I heard footsteps and a piece of paper crinkle like it was exchanging hands.
“Late on your first day, Mr. Wyatt?” Mr. Dixon sighed. “What ever for?”
“Well McDonald’s doesn’t stop serving breakfast until ten-thirty,” I heard in an English accent. “So I figured I had some time.”
I heard a sigh from the teacher and almost-moans from some of the girls. Then I heard. “Go pick out your seat.”
I kept my eyes focused on the page in my book as I prayed to my father that he’d do me a solid and have this guy pick the table in the back. But when I heard the metal chair scrape the floor beside me, I knew I didn’t mean a thing to The Devil. But I shouldn’t be surprised.
I heard the boy sit down and I held back a groan over how shitty my luck is. Could he not see the giant ‘bad news’ sign I might as well be wearing?
The teacher continued with his speech and I focused on not just leaving the room. Even if I wanted to, I’d have to crawl under the table to do it. That, or squish up against the back of the guy next to me.
“Excuse me.” I heard too close to my ear. “Don’t suppose I could borrow a pencil?”
I laughed through my nose. Who the Hell doesn’t bring a pencil on their first day?
I looked over at his side of the table. He hadn’t brought a thing with him. Not a backpack, a book. Nothing. So I dug in my
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