Laurel's Writing (Multiple Unfinished Pieces)

[WickedOreo]

I've been making stories since second grade, and I've come a long way. I haven't written recently due to me currently working on an idea, but I have several unfinished stories I want to post out there for everyone to read and laugh at. Please laugh, I mean it. Without further ado, I'll be posting each with a little preface at the beginning explaining my thought process at the time and my age.

[WickedOreo]

Wow, this piece is really old. The first version of this was written the date the prologue took place, which was around the summer of 2007, or my 5^th/6^th grade year in school. I was quite an avid writer at this piece, having written a story about the recent introduction of the Cube World electronic toy thing in fourth grade (and then ditching the idea because I thought it was copyright infringement to write the story, which it probably was- the people in the cubes would kidnap the real people and hold them for ransom- what a great idea not). The original story went on for about ten pages depicting me as a sixteen year-old (whoa omg so ttly my age right now :'D) and my insane life. I added many allusions from the RPG Golden Sun, Yu-Gi-Oh, you name it. Having a very apparent 'obsession' with the idea of psychology and telepathy and mind control, that's what I usually wrote about in this time period. My ASD has significantly abated in this way since then, but my writing still shows my personality well.
I had written a 4-part series to this, where the second one was about me being kidnapped by the evil Isosceles, and the others that I can't remember. I don't have these stories anymore, unfortunately. I had revised what I put in spoiler tags below back in 7^th grade, but I never finished because I thought the story was too based on me, which is true. I saved it in hopes of saving memories. This story has many grammatical errors and shows a lack of emotion because I'm still trying to make my empathy a bit better than what it is, so please bear with my past self. D:

Oh, and the character Dunsworth was inspired from Dunsworth from the Fairly Odd Parents. Derek Brown was the inspiration of Derren Brown, who is a psychologist/magician/mastermind/whatever in Britain and had his television shows air over here in the U.S. long ago. Yes, I loved my British people. xD

Tenatative Title: Goodbye, Because I Will Never See You Again: show

Prologue
July 16, 2007, 7:24 P.M
It was getting dark out. The sun was setting on a beautiful day filled with opportunities. There were a lot of gulls soaring throughout the sky, living their carefree lives. I stared into the setting sun.
            Most of yesterday, it was raining. I kind of figured that it would rain on a day like this, considering that it was summer. The clouds were bubbling like a boiling pot of water. Lightning laced the sky like spider silk. It seemed like a day for chess. 
            By the end of yesterday, the waves were frothing with foam and twenty feet surges still from the storm, and it seemed like I beat everyone at chess. I strolled casually to the starboard of the boat to stare at the undulating waves.
            For a while, I just stared at the hypnotic waves, having nothing else to do. Then, someone taps me on my shoulder. I turned around to find a young gentleman before me.
            He was a tall, handsome, young person with brown eyes and seemingly flawless. He wore a black dress shirt and tie with baggy black pants as well. His voice, well, his voice, it’s kind of hard to explain.  
“If I did scare you, I’m terribly sorry”. Who was this guy? How did I not see him in the boat? What’s his name? What does he… “Are you okay?” The man asked, interrupting my thoughts. 
“I’m fine”, I replied back. “I was just thinking”. I was more than just thinking.
“May I inquire what you were thinking about?” he asked.
“My, my. You have a different way of putting things, sir. If you must know, I was thinking about many things, things that you wouldn’t want to immerse yourself in,” I answered back.
“I guess so. My name is Dunsworth, psychologist, MED, if you are wondering. What’s yours?” This is strange. Nobody introduces himself or herself this early when they meet me. I decide to go along with the conversation.
“My name is Laurana Bohannon, 16 years of age.”

                                                               Chapter 1


            “So, Laurana, why did you decide to be a psychologist and hypnotist”? Dunsworth asked. We were in my room on the boat still, having a conversation over some tea. Well, I had water, since I kept having bad experiences with tea. Five years ago, scalded tongue. Eight years ago, spilt all over my outfit. Ten years ago, stolen. Now you know why.
             “You know middle school?”
“Yeah.”
“Well when I was 12, I was unusually smart for my age. Now that led to many things. First, people called me mental and a demon. Then they started getting fun out of me getting angry and started to physically harming me, to make me tell on the counselor at school and then called me a snitch.”
I must’ve ranted on and on for hours on end because when I finally finished half my life, it was around eleven p.m. And the strangest thing was that it seemed like 20 or so minutes. I guess that’s what psychotherapy does to you. Maybe somewhere around the beginning of my long “life” conversation, Dunsworth grabbed his notebook and started jotting things down (which I didn’t notice until the end). “Don’t tell me you’re evaluating my mentality, Dunsworth,” I said at the end of my side of my story.
“No! Go on, Laurana. You have a very… ahh… interesting look upon your life.”
Like I said earlier, Dunsworth has a very interesting way of putting things. I’m starting to think that he is plain feeling sorry for me or that he is trying to research for some project and I just was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Then he would go tell his buddies at the coffee shop all about me. Probably the second one. That’s great. Now I can tell everyone how ‘very’ exciting my life is.
“Now", I continued, “I’ve already told my theory about why I’m like this (and for your information, I think it’s related to being left-handed) and that you replied: ‘oh pish-posh. It’s all in your head. If you want to be a psychologist, you must first learn the basics.’”
“And those basics are?” Dunsworth asked.
“Number one: Just about everything you think, do, or act is in your head. Number two: No two minds are alike. Number three: Anything is possible, if you put your mind to it. Been there, done that”, I said in a monotonous tone.
“Quite frankly, I was getting very absorbed in this conversation. I was hoping that you could tell me more about your life. Yours is… quite interesting, like I said. I guess I will be on my way now, you ruined all the fun here.” His voice sounded disappointed, like I just hurt his feelings (sounded like I did.).
Something clicked in my head. It was like I felt guilty that I made Dunsworth unhappy, an unnatural feeling even to me. “Oh fine, I concede defeat”, I said, not being able to hide my sudden guilt before Dunsworth noticed. My emotions were part of it, too. They always get the best of me.
“I noticed that you are unhappy as well. I wish you weren’t. You seem much peppier when you aren’t unhappy. And the strange part when you’re mad, you eyes turn a darker shade of hazel.”
“Thanks for noticing but-“Something caught in my throat. My head started to spin, as with the room. Then I pass out, with no recollection of what even happened to me.
When I came to, I was in a bed, with a light on, and a note on the bed stand. The room was unfamiliar. And I felt unusually hungry. I picked up the note and read it. It said:


Dear Most Interesting Laurana,
It seems that you are awake again, if you are reading this. It is July 18th, 2009 when I have written this letter. As you probably know, you are not in your room on the boat. You are in my house because I have decided to let you stay over my house until you go find a hotel that you like, or until you go back to the United States. 
I am currently out of town. Until I come back, you are entitled to grab the plate in my fridge to have as a meal. Until I see you again, best wishes.
        -Dunsworth
          Scrawled on the bottom was another message.
                                    P.S. Can you go to the herb shop across the street and by me some mint and basil? I’m running low and will be appreciative if you would get some. Money’s on the table and your luggage is also under the bed, if you’re wondering.
            Under the note was five Euros. He’s nice enough to call me Interesting. But for me to do his shopping? What is he thinking? I thought. Maybe he’s going to surprise me there. Or did he go off to tell his buddies the news about me? I chuckled at the thought. “Maybe I have more information about me for you Dunsworth”, I shouted, emphasizing ‘information about me’.
            I went downstairs, to find the rooms spacious and gorgeously set as if to welcome guests (I am one so I can at least assume that). The kitchen was next to the dining room, which was parallel to the living room and parlor.
            The kitchen was welcoming like the others rooms. When I opened the fridge, I saw many things, including milk, cheese, drinks, and other various products. On the top self, there was a plate containing some food with an index card saying “For you, Laurana”. I grabbed the plate and sat at the table, quickly stomaching my food before heading out to do Dunsworth’s errand.
            After showering and changing I headed out. Oh my! The houses were very old fashioned! And the people! So nice, so Victorian-looking, so… So many sights, smells, emotions, and sounds it overwhelmed me entirely.
            Okay, so I’m walking up and down the street with eyes following me around probably wondering: “Why is that girl walking up and down the street?” or something like that. Finally I find the store like five feet from the house (Come on! It’s a home for crying out loud! I can’t tell the difference! And the only hint was a microscopic sign that said: Chip’s Ingredient Shop: All you spices here! Guaranteed fresh or you money back!)
            So I walked up to the door and knocked. A young man opens the door and says, “Why hello young lady! I’m guessing you’re here to buy some herbs here, am I correct?” “Yeah. I need some basil and mint please. And I hope my five Euros cover it sir,” I answered back.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your spices. Would you care for a toffee miss?” Sorry sir, but you are too nice for me, but I sure love toffee. So I took it, and quickly swallowed it. Very delicious. A tinge of coffee, caramel, and some good old teeth-rotting sugar. “You change is one euro,” Chip said
“Okay”, was my simple reply. Jeez this guy pays a lot for just some mint and basil, I thought. I would’ve gotten this for $2.99 in America. And that would just be over 3 Euros. I don’t know. Darn recession. Someone needs to make time machines, or memory erasers of sorts. Possibly mental telepathy. Of course that has to be me. Lazy people. But it’s a good idea to pick on me, since I have the superior brains. You can’t complain with that now.
            A few minutes past by quickly. Then, a ringing noise fills my ears. I also start to feel dizzy (again, for the second time in a week) and then, blackness. Pure, silent, unwavering blackness. No feeling or sounds, just the occasional yelp or scream. But that was probably just me in my mind.
                                       ...Sometime in the very near future...
            The darkness lifts. Light fills my eyes as details flood into my eyes. A car? Different scenery? Questions fill my head as I try to make sense of what happened. As more and more questions are being trapped in my mind, the driver spoke to me. “I think you should check the newspaper next to you, Laurana. Things will make sense. And by the way, it’s the nineteenth of July.”
“Nineteenth?! Geez! What happened? How do you know my name?! What’s-“
”Laurana, just read the paper. That’s all I ask of you. Is that too hard for you?” She sounded impatient. Touché driver. You’re good. I thought. So I grabbed the newspaper and started reading. It said: 
15 YEAR-OLD STEALS FERRARI!


            By Luda Crous Storryes
            15-year-old Laurana Bohannon steals a 1967 black Ferrari owned by a 42 year old man by the name of Hans Charleston last Tuesday. “ Blimey! That was my favourite Ferrari. That’s my 137 hundred thousand dollar Ferrari for goodness sake!” Charleston said. At the crime scene, there was a license card on the ground near Charleston’s garage. “I never known anyone by the name of Laurana B,” Hans said.
            Investigators found the abandoned vehicle parked at a nearby parking lot on Thursday afternoon on the intersection of Pine and Main Street.
            “The chase was very coordinated, like she wasn’t a juvenile, but an older adult”, Chief Officer Nick “Nickels” Anderson said. “We’ve searched all the driving schools across the country but haven’t found evidence that proves that she went illegally to driving school.” As soon as she went to court, she disappeared as soon as she was proven guilty. What is this technology? Anyone who sees the video agrees the tape was not fiddled with. So how is this possible? More on this tonight on the news.
            I was shocked. I did not do that! Those framers! They cannot lie about me! I- I’ll sue! This is an outrage! Then I started to become furious at those people. All these emotions started flooding through me, trying to figure out what’s going on. “I know. Come on, what are they, nitwits?” she asked, still keeping her eyes on the road. I shifted myself into a leaning position. 
“H-h-how in the world did you know what I was thinking”?! I said incredulously.
“I’ll explain that in a moment. But first, I need to find a certain place. And it’s Lauren, by the way.”
“Well, Lauren, it’s Laurana, although you already know for some reason.”
We were at a red light. There weren’t many cars waiting to go by, but there was a desolate area adjacent to the intersection. Finally the red light turned to green. 
“Aha! There it is!” Lauren exclaimed.
She pulled in the vacant lot of the desolate place. There was paper flying around and maybe one or two cars were parked but further away. All the buildings were condemned because of the hazards this once here mall harbored.
            Lauren had turned the engine off. She undid her seatbelt and motioned me to do the same. I undid my belt too as she started to walk toward the building. “Come on!” She quickly whispered.
            We quickly hastened to a fast walk. I couldn’t catch up to her fast enough so I was lagging behind a bit. I glanced at the sky. The sky was turning a ghastly gray- a sign it was going to rain shortly. The wind started to pick up and the light was rapidly dimming. I checked the time. It was around 6:57 at night. By now I would be making dinner, enjoying some peace to myself with Dunsworth if he was here.
            Cars buzzed around the intersection nearby, ringing throughout my ears making them tingle slightly. As Lauren and I neared the abandoned mall, I spotted a piece of paper jutting out from some shards of glass near a window. A sudden gust charged throughout the lot, causing the paper to be aloft. Probably just an ordinary piece of paper, I thought.
            A few minutes later, we come to an alley between two buildings. Lauren checked around. No one was here except us. “Psst. I have something to tell you, but you must keep it secret, okay?” I nodded. 
“Okay. I am Lauren. No need to know my last name until the time is right. I am part of a group called SPACE, or Special People against Certain Evils. We are people that-“ 
“Wait. So I’m considered bad or dangerous to people? And I-“
“Shush. I’m almost done with my explanation, young Laurana.” Pushy. I don’t listen to pushy people, I thought. Anyways, she was in the middle of saying, “You see, Derek has this ability of mind control, as to which he misuses this power to get what people want.”
“Who is Derek? Chip? What the-”
“Yes. Trust me.”
“You sure?” I asked questionably.
“Correct. Derek is Chip, for the last time.”
“People know about this and nobody tells about it?” I asked, with millions of questions in my head.
“Will you stop interrupting me, Laurana? Please? I’m in the middle of something that you should know right now, or else you will not survive even one minute of this situation. Anyways, loads of people know about this, but are afraid they are going to lose their minds to Brown. And when people are used for his deeds, the victim gains a power. It could be any power, ranging for flying, pyrokinesis, and even invisibility. I was granted with telepathy, which I’ve discovered that many people gain this power due to the similarity of the power used. Most people don’t make the first few days of this power manifesting, because most people are killed due to their unique abilities. But we saved you in time. You will probably have this power for life, just to let you know. Now,” she said breathlessly, “any questions?”
So no wonder why she knew what I was thinking about back in the car. I should’ve recognized that at once! What if I had telepathy? What havoc could I cause with this power? What if- Lauren interrupted my thoughts. “I said do you have any questions?” she asked again.
“O-Oh. No, not really”, I replied back.
“Fine. Just remember this, you’re safe now.” She made a fist and punched me so hard, she knocked me out. But all I knew is that I plunged into darkness. And the strange thing is, there wasn’t any pain.
            In the past…
                        Somewhere a figure looms amongst the crowds…
                        A person not really known by others…
                        A creepy person to some and an outcast to most…
                        A person waits, for his destiny, yet to come…
            Here is his story so far…
             I spent hours, prying through the thoughts of others, trying to find what I need, with no avail. I was in the middle of a dank, hidden alley, with two buildings looming over me. My horse was quietly resting on the ground. People were walking past here, minding their own business. It was sunny out, somewhat warm outside. All I had on were my ragged clothes. This would have never happened if that crazy dude had never had laid eyes on me! The path to my destiny would be much easier if he would not have disturbed my peaceful life. If I had been more agile… Maybe he might’ve been easier to defeat… If only if… I thought for some time.
            Some neighborhood kids were playing catch with a baseball in the yard of a house nearby. The thoughts of kids were much more interesting than others. I walked to them calmly. They abruptly stopped and stared at me when I went near them.
“OMG what’s this guy doing here”? A kid asked. They all dropped their baseball bats and mitts.
“Let’s run away, he’s creeping me out”, said another. They nodded. Then they all turned tail and ran, flanking so that they could have a better chance of not being caught. These kids are smart! I thought.
            I wasn’t doing anything to make them say that. Those kids always judge a book by a cover. Why? I’ll never know. I quietly slinked back to where I was and fed my horse an apple. 
A black, sleek car passed by. Quick random thoughts flickered past me, emanating from the car. Is Laurana going to be all right? Did Brown go in too far? Did… And another, maybe female, I couldn’t tell because they were getting further away. Was it who the driver was thinking about, this Laurana person? I thought.
Then, another couple of thoughts, mostly unclear. …Should’ve listened to me…something wrong... The rest were just random words, getting more difficult to hear, until they just stopped altogether. Hmm… I thought. Looks like another attack by Brown. Should I follow them? Will I be taken in as prisoner, or welcomed as a guest? With no other good decision, I decide to head out to find those people. “Come on, Artemis,” I said to my horse, climbed on her, and rode off into the twilight sky.
Dunsworth’s Perceptive
All was going so well. We had Derek cornered until he slipped from our grasp! We were so close to capturing him! All our planning for naught! I sighed. How were we ever going to catch this guy? I thought.
            I went to the kitchen to make myself some herbal tea. I heard on a commercial that herbal tea relives stress dramatically. I take a sip. It was very refreshing. They were right, herbal tea does loosen nerves. First time they were right. I sat at the counter near the fridge. Things were too complicated to solve. Maybe if I came up with a plan to capture Brown, then maybe things will settle down. So I thought. For a very long time. So if we use her as bait, and we all attack his mind… no, no, no. That won’t work. We need to work with his mind, exploiting his weakness, then go in for the capture. That still won’t work. Wait! He’s trying to befuddle me with this nonsense so that he can manipulate us with things that are bothering me. Humph. Maybe this guy is smart after all. Not even knowing I’m planning to capture him right now while he knows that I’m going to be way over my head in this dilemma is pretty ingenious alone. I put my head on the counter. I was starting to get a headache.
I wanted to just get things over with and die already. The stress was starting to affect my health to the point where I was in bed for much in the day coughing and having migraines constantly. My cell phone began to vibrate. I took it out of my pocket and checked the number. Finally it’s her! I thought.
“Hello. Do you have our target?” I asked.
“Affirmative. We have Laurana in custody”. That, for once, actually worked out quite well. I shuffled back into my bed and surprisingly fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow.
 
                                                                  Chapter 2  
                                                            Laurana’s Perceptive
     Sometime later, I found myself lying on suede couch. It was warm, welcoming room with a chandelier hanging above me. Someone whispered, but I couldn’t decipher it. I got up. Two people were looking at me, with smiles. It was Lauren and Dunsworth. Now that I could see her, I could see what she looked like. She was a thin, tall person, with not that muscle, and bony cheeks. Her face sort of sagged and looked tired. Her eyes were blue and they seemed bright. Her hair was dirty blond, long, and looked clean and taken care of. “So”, Dunsworth said, “Who wants to explain this whole mess to Laurana? Any takers? No? Blimey. Well, this is a royal mess. I’m not a good explainer.” 
            Dunsworth is in this too? Why hasn’t he told me this earlier? Or is there something else going on?
“Go ahead, Dunsworth, she’s already too confused as it is. Or are you scared?”
“Can you not use your telepathy when I’m in a middle of figuring things out, Lauren?” I asked, sitting up, surveying my surroundings.
The place appeared to be quite quaint, with spacious rooms and candle light in the room. I figured I was in the living room. There was noise coming from somewhere, but I couldn’t trace the cause of it. 
“What Dunsworth does not want to say”, (I thought I saw a glimmer of anger in his eyes for a split second there) “is that he, in a way planned this. And before you say anything, Laurana, he did this for a purpose. He was very careful in his plan”- Lauren began to say.
“No I was not!” Dunsworth shouted. “You already know Lauren! I was very rash in my plan. She is not alright; she is a total mess, psychologically!” Tears started to stream down his cheeks. And then, the whole atmosphere got very oppressive, all of a sudden, and I feel like I’m about to cry as well.
“Uh, Dunsworth needs a little time alone for a while, Laurana. Please go, Dunsworth, you are affecting us all.”
“How is he affecting us-“
“His power”.
“She’s got a point you know,” Dunsworth managed to say, walking into another room.
“You see, he can affect the atmosphere of emotion around him, so you know what he feels like if it gets out of control. He can also sense them, even though he tunes them out a lot.”
“Creepy”, I said, even though the atmosphere was getting light again.
“Its gets better.”
“How?”
“I can breathe fire”, Dunsworth said from the adjacent room.
“Really”? I shouted back.
“No, but I wish I could”.
“Then what can you also do?” I asked
“Well I can identify anything that’s wrong with you by just a glance”.
“Also creepy. No wonder why you said something was wrong with me psychologically,” I said.
“And I can erase people’s memories,” he said, coming back into the room.
“Creepy still”.
            The room started to get cheery again, stating that Dunsworth had calmed down enough to control his ability. “And how do I know you can erase people’s memories?” I asked, questioning his truthfulness.
“Let me demonstrate for you if you question how truthful I am. What precious memory should I erase, hmm?”
“Well, I don’t know. Can you bring them back, I suppose?”
“I guess, Laurana. I’ve never tried it before, but judging from my calculations, I should work.
“Then let’s try something I will never forget, like my name, for example.”
“Be warned, Laurana, this will be lodged in your long term memory. Are you certain you want that there?”
“I’m sure. Just one thing, Dunsworth.” I stood up.
“Yes”? He asked.
“Don’t go overboard with that ability of yours, if it exists”.
He chuckled.
“I won’t. Promise.”
“Okay”, I said meekly.
            So Dunsworth walks over to me, hesitated, but placed his hands over my temples. Nothing happened for a second, but then, a question. An airy question, nothing huge, pops into my head. “Whose was I?” For the longest time, I knew who I was. Then, Poof! All was gone! I could feel it was somewhere, somewhere, in my empty head. Only thing it was just out of my reach. “Was I Jane, or Bella, Mary?” “Anna, Jose, Terri?” If Dunsworth can see me right now, I was pretty sure he saw me with my jaw agape.
Then I got this feeling, a nagging feeling. I was alone. I was lonelier than ever. I even got the hunch that I was beginning to tear up a little. I felt that I couldn’t speak to express my feelings to the public. For once, I felt utterly lost and helpless, vulnerable and exposed. I mean, I could see everything clearly just, I was lost within myself.
            A mental claw of sorts then starts to seemingly grab me out of the state that I was in. Thank goodness it did, anywhere would be fine except here. I was getting desperate. Dunsworth was not lying. He made his point. Slowly, letter-by-letter, my name comes to me, until I fully remember who I am. I am Laurana, once again (Yes! I am somebody again!!!)
“Blimey, Laurana, you had us all worried. Well, just Lauren. I knew you were fine, but she didn’t even, though I told her multiple times,” Dunsworth said.
“Did not! You only told me ‘Trust me, I’ve seen this expression before when I did this. She will be alright.’ And that wasn’t much at all.”
“Well excuse me, miss wants to ruin my fun! I know what I know, and you should trust me, before I alter your memory!”
“Guys, guys, quit it for five minutes and tell me the rest of the story before you bicker again,” I beseeched.
            Silence. Both Lauren and Dunsworth looked at each other, like nobody has told them to stop bickering before. “Anyways, Laurana, as I was saying”, he turned around. “It seemed you were “out” for a while, only it wasn’t.”
“Then how long was I in my state? It seemed like forever.”
“To be truthful, it was actually a minute or so.”
“Are you kidding me, Dunsworth?” I asked, in shock. I checked the clock. 5:43. Exactly a minute after my dilemma happened. “What have you done to me?” I said, getting fearful of Dunsworth.
“Well, I didn’t mean to do it, but I altered your sense of time a little-“
“A little?” I said. “A little?!”
“Fine. A lot. Blimey you’re pushy.”
“Enough with the chit-chat. More of the reason you brought me into this mess.”
“Okay, so that’s how you want it, Laurana,” Lauren said snidely.
            Shifting in my seat, anxious to hear what was going to be said, I hear the very words I dreaded to hear.
“Laurana, the reason you’re here is because we need your help. Brown is becoming more and more powerful by the day, and he is excelling our power quicker than ever. You have shown tremendous strength in the past few days, as Dunsworth has told me.”
“That’s why I was out of town, Laurana.” Dunsworth calmly said.
“Then why did I experience those blackouts?” I curiously asked.
“Anesthesia, Laurana, anesthesia.”
“How did you deliver the anesthesia to me without knowing?” I asked, getting antsy on the couch.
“Let’s say that my power can be very sneaky at times.”
“So that’s why I saw black every time! That’s why!”
“We’ve told you enough today, Laurana, you must be famished, am I correct?” Lauren asked.
“Thank you for noticing Lauren, I’ve been waiting for a while for that to register in you. Let’s eat, I’ve starved”.
            Not this was way out of my league; it was beginning to dawn on me that this wouldn’t be cake work for me. It would be a while before I found out my true potential.
 
                                                  Chapter Three
                                                Dunsworth’s Perceptive
            A fresh start. A new morning. Sunlight fills my eyes. Time for a new day.
            Slowly, ever so slowly, I crawl out of bed, waiting what was to come. I went downstairs to find that there was sizzling bacon that wafted throughout the kitchen. I peeked in the living room to find that Lauren got up to investigate who was about to steal her bacon. 
“Oh, Dunsworth, it’s just you. Why don’t you wait in the living room with Laurana while I cook the poached eggs for us?” She asked.
“Okay, fine with me”, I said, grabbing my daily coffee.
            Ever since Laurana has invaded my house, she has lightened up my environment tem fold. My headaches have gone for the past day or two (which is quite a surprise to me) with her in my presence. It makes me think if she was going to inhabit the same power as I do.
            I walked into the living room, and sat next to Laurana.
“Why hello there Dunsworth! How fare thee morning?”
“Please, Laurana, not in the morning, I haven't had my coffee yet.”
“Anyways, how is it going for you?” She asked.
“Fine, fine. I have a question for you. Do you feel any different than you’re used to lately?”
“In a way, yes. I’ve been livelier than usual, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No, no, that’s fine, Laurana.”
            No it was not fine. Her power was beginning to manifest. Pretty soon we’ll need to train her. And then defeat Derek. But for now, we wait.
            Laurana was beginning to show signs of manifestation already, too. The carefree personality and the mental effect on her were the most apparent. She was unconsciously being eaten alive by stress. Stress from her ability. And Laurana didn’t notice. She thought this was all fine. Too bad if I tell her this, she will push it off.
            Lauren came back with breakfast. The smell was invigorating, like it was getting me ready for the day. Lauren handed Laurana the plate of eggs and asked, “Hey Laurana, how did you like the bacon?”
Laurana replied: “Just like my mother cooked them. Crisp, not too much fat or grease. Perfect,” she simply said. We dug in. It was divine. The egg melted in my mouth and the bacon crumbled once I grabbed it.
            After breakfast, I put away my dish in the sink. I heard Lauren speaking to Laurana about something; they spoke in a hushed voice. Whatever they were talking about, I doubt I’ll ever know. Lauren was so secretive. Too bad I didn’t have telepathy, like Lauren had. I wanted desperately know what those two girls thought about. Especially Laurana. She has an aura of sorts around her.
            Lauren came into the kitchen when I turned off the sink. She grabbed me on the arm and quickly said, “Dunsworth, let’s go. Hurry! That sale is going to end on those clothes today at Macy’s!” Before I could speak, she whisked me out the door and into the car.
“Bye Laurana! We’ll see you in an hour or so! Don’t destroy our house before we get home!” She shouted.
“Okay! I’ll go do something interesting while you guys are gone doing shopping!” Laurana shouted back.
            We drove off. For a while, there was silence. I gazed out into the window. There were many sights outside that interested me, but I had no time to visit. I have a mission: defeat Derek. But we still haven’t figured a plan out yet. And Laurana was still going through the developmental phases. What were we going to do? She would be unstable, causing mass havoc, and possibly countless deaths.
            Sometime later, Lauren finally spoke to me. She turned to face me from the street for a second and said, “Please don’t think of Derek right now. I have a spitting headache and I don’t need more stress to add to my headache, thank you very much.”
 I sat up. “Not right now, Lauren. Leave my thoughts alone. Now why have you dragged me here?”
She thrummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I can listen to what you think of if I want to. Anyways, back to the subject. I have sufficient evidence that Laurana will gain her ability sometime between tonight and tomorrow. We best are prepared so as soon as I turn around, we get back home and keep watch of her until then. Then we get her into a comatose state until next week. Do you have the equipment?”
“I have two questions. How do you know all of this? And you dragged me for just that?” I asked.
“Laurana says she keeps spacing out. And when I try to snap her out of it, she does not respond. Then she says when she is awake that she does not recall me trying to wake her up. And no, we are here to discuss this and to speak to each other about different things. Our friendship is waning.”
“Blimey,” I breathed. “You’re observant”.
“Thanks. And to answer your question, yes, I’ll show you my ability, only if you show me yours.”
I smiled. “Sure thing, Lauren. One thing. I prefer if you leaved my thoughts alone. I have… ahh… personal things I wish to not share at the moment.”
She giggled. “You’re not fun Dunsworth. You dull, lifeless person. I will know everything, if it means by force, Bordeau. I will find out.” We laughed.
                                                Lauren’s Perceptive
            Dunsworth was so immature around me. No wonder why times flies when you’re around him. But when you get him mad, wow he is so emotional.
A few minutes after talking, my ability starts to slip out of my control. By the thousand, every thought from every person in the vicinity I hear at the same time. Including Dunsworth’s. …How come every stupid thing makes a big difference in the world? I could not control the agony. How come this happened? I am usually in control of my ability. And then, another thought. About Laurana. In our home. Who is she? What’s wrong with her? Is it this, Laurana girl I heard about? Wait, he thought. I’m getting some kind of interference here. Must be someone… I heard no more.
Who was this person? And why did they know about Laurana? De he/she intend harm upon her? Does Dunsworth know about this? Too many questions to answer. I needed answers.
            About a block from the house, I started getting tunnel vision. The thoughts were getting dimmer and dimmer. I sensed Dunsworth lunge out of his seat to help me.
“What’s wrong, Lauren. Lauren?” I could not respond. It was like my mouth was glued shut. My head fell down to the steering wheel. The car began to swerve out of control.
“It’s going to be okay, Lauren. Just relax, and let me figure what’s wrong with you. Let me drive…” He threw me over the backseat and began to drive. I'm glad I know a talented person.
A few minutes later, I feel Dunsworth place his hands around my temples, just like he did with Laurana earlier and quietly said, “Trust me on this, Lauren. I got this figured out. You’ll be fine as soon as we get to the house.” Then, total darkness and silence. I was conscious, but unable to discern my surroundings. It was like a pitch black room, with nothing else in there. I felt calm, and my power crept back to its original self.
My eyes fluttered open. A bright light. Darkness gone, but still very calm. I retained full control of my power. But there was silence in the car. Dunsworth was peering down upon me and blinked. “Good morning, sunshine. How are we feeling now?” He asked. I sat up. We were at the house.
“Odd. How’d we get here so quickly? I wondered.
“Well, I kind of had to cut off all senses and emotions temporarily to get you to settle down. But that doesn’t matter at the moment. You’re fine, and we need to see Laurana."
“Laurana!” I remembered that she needed help. “We need to get in. Now,” I said, brushing myself off.
            Laurana was possibly in danger. We rushed to the door to find it was ajar. Inside, I find a guy kneeling near Laurana, who was passed out on the couch. The man turned around. "Who are you people?” the man asked me.
“I should ask you the same thing. I locked the door before we left. What have you done to her?” I asked. "Tell me everything."
“I- we need to talk. In the kitchen.” The man felt stressed. We calmly walked to the kitchen when Dunsworth lunged for Felix. “Die! You wretched monster!” Felix turned around, put out his hand, and shot an invisible force at him, shooting Dunsworth ten feet into the air, hitting the adjacent wall. The force broke a nearby lamp when Dunsworth hit the wall. He slumped down, unconscious.
“What did you friend expect?” He laughed. “I suggest you not doing the same, lest you want to see the same fate. Now that any distractions are eliminated, have you had contact with a man by the name of Derek Brown?” He continued, composing himself. “How did you know? Have you been near him? You must have. There’s no other possible explanation. I said nothing about Derek and yet you speak of him."
“Then what do you-“he interrupted me.
“As you’ve seen, telekinesis, and another I have discreetly used: telepathy, as you already used on me. But I evolved my power more effectively than you. The name's Felix. Pleasure to meet you.” He offered his hand in truce.
I reluctantly held out my hand in response. We shook firmly, but it was very brief. “Figures,” I said. “Another person altered by Brown. Then how did you find out about us?”
He glanced at me. “… It all started when I was gone to this guy called Chip when I needed some spices for my dinner. He offered me a toffee, and wham! Now I’m here.”
“Do you still have the wrapper still? There might be some information that is crucial,” I asked. “There might have the ingredients used in the toffee on there, and we need that to figure out what he does to people with it.”
“Ah, yes, I think I do. Let me check.”
He reached into his pocket, dug around for a second, and pulled out a brown wrapper. “Is this what you’re looking for, Lauren?” Okay, I know how Dunsworth hates it when I read his mind. It’s a bit unnerving to know someone knows my name via some form of telepathy. I sent a few thoughts of hatred towards him. “Ah, yes, I believe it is. May I see it?” I asked. Felix handed the wrapper to me. It looked normal, but it didn’t feel like it. It said, “Scott’s Original: London’s Handmade Toffee” in bold white print. Nothing wrong about that. But as soon as I flip the wrapper around, a list of ingredients is apparent. I strain to see what the words said: “Ingredients: sugar, milk (pasteurized), BROWN dye 43, onions (caramelized), cactus liquid (made from 100% Peruvian barrel cacti, and fed with anesthesia, which is comprised with products unknown imported from Manchester, England). Effect on consumer: Instant. Use sparingly. Side effects include passing out, headaches and amnesia from the past twenty-four to thirty-six hours, and the occasional life sentence in jail. Questions? Comments? Call us at 1-800-728-SCOTTS or visit us on the web at DEREKScotts/OriginalToffees.com.uk for more information. Calling hours: Monday thru Friday: 7:00 am to 7:00 P.M GST Saturday-Sunday: Closed.
            Hmmm… I sarcastically thought. I wonder who could be behind this? Of course he has to emphasize his name on a wrapper. How naïve. That was a weakness of Derek’s. Sometimes he is so naïve that he forgets that he’s a genius. For example, when he made his umpteenth victim Michael attempt to steal the Mona Lisa (which was real smart of him, when the whole world knows that: A). It’s the most famous painting in the world. B). It’s heavily guarded, so expect to be shot down if you even so breathe on it. C). Well, it’s just plain stupid even thinking about it. You’re suicidal if you do). He’s a really nice guy. Ever since he’s been under Brown’s control, he’s disappeared. Some people say that his remains are near Oxford after being shot by the police. Once, I saw him the day before he evidently died.
It was a brisk, fall day. The leaves were all sorts of colors- emerald, golden yellow, and orange- spiraling downward gracefully. We were walking along the nearby park minding our own business. I was ‘normal’ back then, but Michael was a careful person who I met tending to his gardens. We were close, but no intention of marrying or dating. He always smiled. Then one day, everything changed. My smile left my face that morning.
I was having a nice, serene walk by myself on a rare cloudless sky. The sun was just peeking beyond the horizon, making its presence known. I was in the shadow of the London Bridge, watching the sun rise. But then, that peaceful, blissful grace disintegrated before my very eyes. Walked to the furthest corners of the universe. All because of a few sudden words.
When the first jutting rays of yellow-orange appeared past the bridge, I sensed a presence behind me. "I figured you'd be out here, watching the sun rise. It's very nice today, isn't it?" I turned around, and looked straight into his eyes. I thought I was mistaken, but his eyes weren't full of like as they have always been.
"What's wrong?"

[WickedOreo]

I'm a bit iffy on this story. I had a dream about my science teacher being a serial killer in 7^th grade, and so I wrote a spin-off of it. The result is this work. I wrote at least 10-20 pages of the original story down on paper, but I discontinued it because I felt it disrespectful, creepy, and just not the best idea ever. Similar to the previous story, I finished the previous story in this one, but the science teacher I wrote about had stolen my idea and then went on the rule the world. I was so on crack during the production of this. Lo and behold, welcome to my sick and twisted mind once more.

When Things Don’t Go Right, Call upon Your Unexpected Allies: show

Part One- Beginning of the End
Chapter 1- Welcome To Your Life
Thursday Morning
Just a few more words and… finished! Now to click save, name it, and print. I was all giddy inside. I had just completed my first novel, and was about to send it in an email to my eager publisher, whom I opened up a new window on my computer. With my fingers trembling over the keys I quickly type to Stoneleigh Publications that I finished my novel. All my hard work was done; I grab my freshly printed paper and head out for school.
I’m Laurana, a new author of a fiction book. A young, thirteen year-old writer who thinks she can beat everyone at their own game at least sometime in her life. Smug, yes. Serious about it, yes. You think not? Well get out. I don’t deal with negative people. I am optimistic, and I don't like being told not to.
I am much more than I look. After meeting me, you think I’m so open and whatnot. Well you got your facts down wrong, first off. I’m actually closed up to the outside world, only revealing my other personality. No that does not mean I have Multiple Personality Disorder or all that, it means that if you catch me doing only certain activities, you sometimes see me. The real me. Like when I draw or listen to music. I’m in my own world, and I don’t give a care if you’re dying, I’m going to be in there until I’m done being alone, which will not cease, even if I'm famous. But that's another story on its own, which I will write in my own time.
Looks? I don’t really have any. Freckles, medium-sized dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes. That’s about it. Oh yeah, an abnormal way of living life too. What more could you ask me? I don’t consider myself pretty or beautiful. But I could best you in several activities of my own, such as researching random topics and being a teacher's pet. Hey, I’m not the best in the world, but think about it when you’re in a teenager world. The odds are pretty high I’m at least a top contender.
So now you think I have something like psychosis, yes? Well, sometimes I think I do. I’m sorry to rain on your parade, but I’m not. The only thing that is wrong with me is talking to myself and inanimate objects. But this is about me, not you.
I am somewhat telepathic. Some of you may not know it, but I am going to read other people’s minds at some point in my life. I already have a formula of sorts, which will not be said until I have copyrighted it, and you’d get in serious trouble. I would sue your pants off for that if I could. You must be a legitimate and accomplished telepath to access that information before that even happens. Anyways, that’s pretty much me in a nutshell. The other thoughts are like scribbles to you- unreadable. Just the way I like it, I love to see people fumble over that.
So I thought as I was walking on Federal Street to get to school. Now all I need is a huge grant to cover all the costs, and several thousand followers. The sky was orange, yielding the sun’s rays still. I could see the crumbling sidewalk. To the right of me were bare bushes. To the left was the busy road.
As I walk nearer to the colossal entrance, I begin skipping, unable to contain the joy inside of little me. But even as I felt like a god, I still had this feeling in my gut something was not right.
"Extra! Extra! Laurana is now a full-time author! I repeat! I have completed my novel!" I shouted.
People had taken no notice of me in the hall. They just stared at me for a moment. I then said, "Well you sure don’t care at all, people. I’ll be famous!" Someone in the hall shouted "Who gives an owl’s hoot about that anyways?"
"Who cares that you don’t give an owl’s hoot about anything?" I shouted back. Sure a few people gave me a dirty glance or two, but I felt good shouting that out I unlocked my locker, grabbed my mutilated math folder, and went to class.
"Okay class, take out your notebooks and copy the expression down. Then solve it using the Property of Equality," my math teacher, Ms. Conant said. It was a simplistic that I could solve instantaneously. I heard folders opening- including mine- and closing. In less than a minute, I finished my problem and looked outside. The sky was azure, with a blazing bright sunrise to the east. As I listened to a few birds squabbling and the occasional loud scribble of pencil meeting paper, I could hear the students of Mr. Sullivan’s class laughing at something, probably me.
A few minutes later, Ms. Conant instructs us to put our writing utensils down and to look at the board in front of us. On it was the expression’s answer. Then, Ms. Conant asks us if we got the answer correct. The whole class- including me- raised their hands. With five minutes gone, I think to myself, "Great. Another hour learning nonsense that I’ve known for years."
After a worthless hour of math, I head out with my horde of classmates, talking amongst each other. I quickly put away my folder and headed to art, my next class. On my way to the stairs, my partial friend Sebastian (seriously, he’s the only person I know who I can’t figure out if he’s friend or foe.) started to walk downstairs with me. Unlike a lot of my peer, he’s smart enough to know what I’m saying.
"Hey Sebastian," I casually say walking down with him.
"Laurana, you’re a pest. Leave me alone," he replied. He is such a pain sometimes. I sighed. Every morning he does this. I guess he doesn’t like mornings. Even though he’s in my class, I go off without him.
As soon as I open the door to the first floor, I see the science teacher Mr. Sullivan, in his usual place dispatched by the elevator. I almost always say hi, and if I can, chat. “Yellow, Mr. Sullivan", I waved. What? I can’t say ‘yellow’ in place of hello? You are very strange.
After I said that, a group of people came behind us, their voices echoing in the huge hallway. The last time I saw them, they were up in the classroom, their noses buried in paperwork. Everyone seems to teleport nowadays, and I can’t keep track of them anymore. Especially teachers, as previously known for having an uncanny ability of knowing our thoughts. Unnerving as that may seem, after a couple of months you get the hang of it.
That was the case here when I wanted to talk for a minute with my teacher. "Laurana, you need to go to your class," he stressed.
"But-"I said.
"No excuses. Avance, avance."
"I’m terribly sorry, but your message cannot be deciphered in the Spanish language." We laugh, and I head on my way to art, slowly. The door squeaked and closed. Quickly.
Why did Mr. Sullivan have to know all these foreign languages, anyways? I thought while working on my optical illusion. Why, when I know some language like Dutch or German, my, my, are you going to be befuddled by what I say! Mark my words! I dislike it when people speak in Spanish or whatever- it makes me feel stupid. "So please, I beseech you, don’t speaketh in another language other than English", I shouted out for no reason whatsoever. "Whoops. Did I say that out loud?" I said. Like earlier, a few people stared at me like I was crazy or something.
Sebastian, who sat adjacent to me in class, looked up from his work and said, "Laurana, you have finally gone insane," in a quiet voice, stuttering.
"Yeah, I knew that for quite a while. But do you have sufficient evidence to prove that?" I questioned.
"It’s obvious, you were talking to yourself." He went back to work. Figures. "That I admit. And would you have any proof of that? Are you a mind reader of sorts?" I was sure I stumped him, but yet again, I was wrong. Quite a persistent boy, I say. "Even if I could read minds, yours would be written in scribbles and gobbledygook!" He got me good there. He was right. But I am persistent too.
"It is not, Mr. I-Think-I-Know-Everything-That-Is-Going-On-In-My-Head. You do not know what I think about and how I ‘write’ it in there. You just fail- epically- being as creative as I am. Now, goodbye." I resumed working until a few seconds later, when I look up to find a spitting mad Sebastian, glaring at me with his dark, blue eyes. Sheesh! You don’t have to look right into my soul to get me to know what you’re feeling. I have ears, you know. That’s what happens in a normal conversation between us when I say, "telepathy."
After getting my social studies and English folders out, I rush to my history class before I’m late. Near my destination, I find that my crazy English teacher is already picking on me, and it isn’t 10:30 A.M. yet. "Hey, Mrs. Pitran, do you hear something buzzing in your ear?" Ms. Dodge asks.
That’s my know-it-all teacher for you. She thinks she had a doctorate in psychology and whatnot, but she’s bluffing. So my mom and I came up with this name for her- just for laughs- saying that her name was Dr. Dodge, Chrysler, Outty, and that she got her doctorate from Brown Motors (A local auto shop where we live). But she’s more of a pain in the brain, I say. If you may pardon my bad joke.
On the other hand, while the three of us were laughing our heads off, I suddenly become serious and ask my English teacher a question. "Why do you always pick on me?"
"I don’t pick on you, honey. Ms. Dodge loves all of her students," Ms. Dodge said. Heh. I caught her using third-person on herself again. Way to go. More fun for me to pick out her errors. "And by the way, I know that was a grammatical mistake right there. But it is the truth." And here we go with the telepathic teachers again. I told you they can pick information right out of your head. "Whatever," I say, and walk off.
Okay. So I have a telepathic English teacher and Science teacher? I don’t know the world I’m in currently. Before you know it, there will people who can live your life, which is not fun. No one messes with me- I have… purposes in life no one must follow except me.
After getting a quick drink from the water fountain, I pick my head up and started heading for class when the science teacher pops up in front of me. "Great. You can teleport now? Oh no. What fun it is to almost scare me half to death, Mr. Sullivan. After being picked on by Ms. Dodge, too."
"But it’s fun…" His voice trailed off. Getting angry, I give him a shrill stare for a minute, which made me remember earlier, when Sebastian gave me a cold shoulder. "Well then. You best better go to your class then. You’re late."
"You’re scared of me, I can tell. I’m just in a bad mood already, and you sort of made it worse. I thought today was going to be better than I thought. Could we… possibly talk about this during lunch or something?" I asked.
"Make that recess for five minutes or so, and you’ve got yourself a deal," he replied, walking in the opposite direction of me. I smiled to myself. This was going to be quite interesting, I thought. Wonder what he’ll say about my novel. Nobody cares at the moment.
Another wasteful hour as well for social studies. Just some stupid review about Mesopotamia for a test tomorrow. Why, I could ace that test with my eyes closed. One question on my study guide said, "Who created the first set of laws?" Way too easy. It was Hammurabi from the empire Babylon. Why did I have to do this again? I’m not stupid, for the last time.
I felt so smart after class, it wasn’t funny. I can’t describe the feeling, but I knew that I stood a chance playing Millionaire in that particular moment. L.A class was at least more suitable for my level-kind of. First thing we do in class is those analogies, which was simplistic too. Let’s just say that I know too many words and Latin roots for my age. First question: dainty is to fragile as to bilingual is to:
Are you kidding me? I could answer that in fifth grade! Bi means two and lingual means languages so bilingual means many languages. This is cake work. I was tempted to tell Ms. Dodge, but then I’d probably get yelled at for saying I’m smarter than anyone else in school, which seems true. I’m sorry, but you’re not telepathic enough to know what my real weaknesses and strengths are, Ms. Dodge. So you think I’m not social and have stupid fears, eh? I’ll prove to you that I’m more intellectual than you think, trust me. And less naïve as a matter-of-fact. I will not back down on that fact.
After analogies, we continued writing essay after essay. Next month was MCAS, and we were pushed so hard it might as well be a meager open response now. The number of essays we did already was startling. I got writer’s cramp so much that I took breaks every five minutes of so. The pain was unbearable. Maybe I should stop gripping the pencil too hard or I’ll be forced to become ambidextrous.
When recess approached, and I became so bored that I could feel nothing at all, until, the words came out of her mouth I regained feeling-and the world coming into sight again: "Class is over. Get ready for recess." As soon as the last word came out of Ms. Dodge’s mouth the world class ran for the door. I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door. "Ms. Dodge I’m going to be in Mr. Sullivan’s room, so you can go off without me." My words reached nothing but the brick walls nearby.
Patiently sitting at the first black table in my science teacher’s rooms, thinking to myself about how I can have telepathy, I had a pencil and paper in front of me, when several ideas just seemed to pop out of nowhere. My hand flew on the paper, writing words and equations like it had a life of its own. It reminded of me when I have music pounding in my ears, I get into a different reality and my mind seems to grab theories and whatnot out of thin air. This was the case, only without music. After what seemed like a couple seconds Beethoven’s music softly repeated itself in my head.
When my pencil began slowing down, and eventually stopping altogether, I looked at the paper, full of stuff. On one side was how to replicate telepathy, which on that paper seemed totally possible. On the other side were random ideas for my next novel. "Laurana? Are you alright?"
"How’d you get here so fast, Mr. Sullivan? I was here for only a couple of minutes," I wondered. Sometimes I don’t have the answer to questions. "I should ask you where’d you go? Look at the time." He motioned up on the wall above the door. "What? Five minutes had past? It was only one or two, I swear!" For some reason I knew that explanation wasn’t going to be detailed enough for him when he reads that paper I held in my hands. "I-I can’t explain, seriously. I’ve no recollection of this."
"Well there’s no harm in this, Laurana. Now, what did you want to talk about on this gorgeous day?" Well aren’t you curious today. "Well, actually, I finished my first novel today, and I already emailed my publisher about it. I showed you that rough copy, did I not?"
"And I loved it. But that doesn’t explain why you were agitated. Or the fact I had to yell at you when you were writing this, this highly advanced equation. Let me see that for a moment." I gave him the paper. He was the always the interested in telepathy, but not as much as me. He studied my paper with great pleasure, muttering to himself on several occasions. "Why this is amazing! I’ve never seen this much thought put on an 8 inch by 10 inch paper before. I am certain that you’ll be the first to create synthetic and mental telepathy."
Why does everyone ask that? It’s called research! No one these days does that in school. No wonder why half of them can’t afford collage. Mr. Sullivan grabbed a chair from nearby and sat on the opposite side of the table from me. "I… have a lot of free time on my hands, so I look up random things. Got that trait from my mom. I can recite all of them, too. They are the Alpha, Beta, Delta, Gamma, and Theta states of mind. All of them of Greek origins. Actually all part of the Greek alphabet. Do you need any more information concerning that topic?" Man I felt so monotonous after saying that.
"No not really, but you got to go to lunch now. I’ll see you later in science."
"Alright," I replied. "Au revoir." Goodbye. And I headed off to lunch. It was 12:42 in the afternoon.
Today was fried chicken-a rarity in school. Most of the twelve and thirteen year olds were in the line already, and I was in the back. And I was starving to death as well. Chatter around the large room added to it to, strangely. I was beginning to get a headache as well too. All from the streaming light outside. Just what I need, sun. Well that ruined my afternoon.
Right at the bell, 3:45, I stalled as usual, not wanting to leave school. But I had soccer practice, and I went to the changing rooms.
I've been playing soccer only for a year, but I had the position of goalie. Eh, I was the bomb at it too. I got hurt a lot, too. But it was fun, too. Yelling out random words at the top of my lungs, boy, those were the days. But people were avoiding me more often, so I quit yelling.
As I put on my black and yellow shirt on, I accidently hit the huge bruise on my thigh. "Ouch!" I squealed! The pain throbbed and pulsated for several seconds, and the slowly diminished. When I put on my shorts, I limped out of the locker room to Beacon Field.
Pain wasn't a big factor anymore. I've gotten used to it by now. More emotional than anything, actually. I wanted to cry on a couple of occasions, but I held it in, afraid to show my soft side. That's why I purposely hurt myself; it's to help me with my stressful life. Don't get me wrong. I don't cut myself. Just get a bruise or two, nothing serious. Only lasts a day, but hey, I'm getting immune to the pains of life now.
We did the usual-stretching out, running a lap across the field, dribbling. All the same. After that they shot some balls at me. I got half of them, several I missed. Oh well. It's not the end of the world.
When I got home, I was lethargic beyond belief. Boy, it was hectic. I must've collected another ten bruises today. A new record. So much for being safe. I slouched onto my bed, bored to death. Nothing was on TV, and I felt too tired to do anything during that particular moment. So I lay on my bed, recalling the day's events. Swishing thoughts around, I write in my journal for a little while.
February 2nd, 2010
I'm beginning to have second thoughts about giving Mr. Sullivan my formula for telepathy. I mean, that was rightfully mine. But the... pencil seemed to control my mind. Is that even possible? Is anything possible nowadays? And my writing was messy and disorganized. So this isn't my fault. Or maybe the school is haunted... I wonder. Or is it like my drawing sessions? I have a strong urge to get something down on paper immediately. Was that free association writing? So many questions revolve my overworked brain, it's not funny.
School was okay today. Nothing too hard. What irks me to high heavens is Sebastian. He thinks I have psychosis or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. What a dunderhead. It takes one to know one, after all. I will show him that telepathy exists, and he will thank me just for even acknowledging him. Just ignore him now, and all will be fine. I hope.
My theories keep piling up. Must remind myself to write a list for myself to share in the future. Maybe publish it someday? Then become the most famous person next to Albert Einstein and win the Nobel Prize? Or stick to myself, immersing poor little me in the fields of psychology and genetics? Only time will tell.
-Laurana Bohannon
I gently closed my journal and slid it in its hiding place, in my wooden desk. The world was too mysterious, and there were many things to solve in life still. Some many thoughts to think, so many activities to do. Usually around this time I came up with questions like these at random.
Beep! You have one new email! Said my computer in an artificial male voice. It shocked me when the distraction disrupted my pondering. But then I realized that it might be my publisher emailing me back. After seeing hopping on my chair and lighting quick fingers glide over the touch pad on the computer, you knew I was absorbing the email. My Yehaw had 1 new email in the inbox.
I stared at the depressing email with disgust, mouth agape. Who in the right mind would go though such measures just to get my book? Who even had the guts to break in? I was filled with sorrow at the thought. At least I still have my life. That I can't complain about. I was too shocked to even shed a tear or scream. It was like my sleepiness numbed all feeling. Shuffling to my bed, I hurriedly put on my headphones and turned my small Mp3 player on.
I quickly dashed through my songs to find my favorite- The Logical Song by SuperTramp. It reminds me that I'm still sane. For now. It can calm me down in an instant. Put it this way: Music is potent. Essential to keeping my emotions in check, even, it's that powerful.
As I lie down, the anger and frustration worming their way in my mind, tears welled up in my eyes, but I could not cry. I was trying to keep my soft side out of my life, but sometimes it just had to come out. At least no one was there at the time.
I tried to go to sleep with the TV on, droning my thoughts out. I was watching Dirty Jobs on the Discovery Channel. It made me absorb all the new science information, thus making me forget what happened. I seem to have an innate talent to suddenly understand any science or language arts word you throw at me. One time Ms. Dodge was teaching us about myths, legends, and fables and the word allusion came up. I only saw the definition for a minute, but in that minute, I remembered that it's basically mentioning a well-known object in a novel. I was quite familiar with the technique.
Finally, the TV was starting to work its magic on me. Ever so slowly, I began to close my eyes. I tried to not fight it, just to lift me away from Earth. I felt the graceful touch of sleep place a blanket of peace over my head. Then I floated out of my stressful life.
Chapter 2- Temporary Relief
Friday Morning
Unfortunately, the peace was short. I woke up in the morning, feeling refreshed for only a minute. Then my memory came back. Oh yeah. My book was stolen. Well that ruined my day already, and not even a minute into the day.
I go back to sleep, to escape the dread once again. And I was still tired, it was five in the morning, and it was still dark.
...A human-like figure hung in the distance, motionless. It was obscured by a blinding yellow light that only illuminated a few feet from its source. Its head was drooping, and it was breathing in a controlled rhythm. A voice emanated from it, hollow and low-pitched. "I am here to help. My name is-" It never finished its sentence. "What? What?!" My echoey question wasn't answered. I kept asking the same question, as the figure began to fade away, its head turning to me.
I shot up, covered in sweat. It was vivid. How did that happen? I never have nightmares anymore. Unless it's from my book. But I'll have to get used to it. No one is going to find the culprit. Or the motive, for that matter.
While reliving the dream, I got dressed and ready for school. I put on a simple black shirt and some blue denim jeans, and left my hair untouched. It straightens itself out. I packed some number two pencils, pens, and my notebooks for class and headed out.
Math was a pain, more review, social studies was okay, and L.A, boy I felt like I was in kindergarten again. I did not need review for any of this. I don't care if the MCAS comes up in a week or two. It was recess now, and the sky didn't look that good. I walked filled with melancholy across the wall to the stairs next to the elevator when Mr. Sullivan walks next to me, asking, "I've seen you all day like this, head down. You never are. What's the matter?" I picked my head up.
"I can't really explain. Yesterday sorta shocked my soul out of me. I-I"-
"Hold that thought. I have to deliver some papers in the main office. Meet me in my room, it's unlocked."
"Okay", I replied bleakly.
I quietly slipped in his room, grabbed a nearby pencil that was left behind, a piece of copy paper, and began drawing again. As soon as the writing utensil hit the white paper, that same sensation washed over me like yesterday. I was seriously convinced that something paranormal wanted me for something, possibly devious.
"What is happening?" Mr. Sullivan burst after several minutes.
"Huh? What? I did the same thing yesterday. I think something supernatural is happening. I drew these illustrations, and I didn't even think of it." I began getting panicky.
"First off, calm down. You're hyperventilating. Second of all, I know what the cause of this is. I forgot that I had this music on that kind of draws you into the alpha state of mind. And you know what that is, correct?" Another easy question due to my smarts.
"Yes. Why did you do that in the first place anyways? I've could've fainted, you know. I could lose too my oxygen. “He shrugged, averting his eyes at me.”I... I don't really know, actually. I got this from a company called proTech, and now whenever I listen to the music, I space out as I start to relax, even if I don't listen to it. Something's amiss in this."
"Then how come it's not affecting me? I feel no different than yesterday, except the feelings of depression and anger." I got up. "I think that it was actually self-induced, anyways. I always tend to space out. This would be no different, and I was aware of my surroundings."
"I don't know. I'm going to give them a call during lunch. In the meantime, write me a note if you feel anything abnormal. I want this case solved," He went to his desk, writing. I walked over there, and said, “Haven’t you thought it's a little odd that you keep spacing out? Have you considered that this... music- is hypnotizing you, and you're being subjected to subliminal messages?"
"No,actually. I never thought of that. I'm glad you're such a science freak, Laurana." I slightly blushed. "Thank you. I always thought myself as one of those. I get it from my mother. See you next class!" I skipped out of the room, my spirits brightened somewhat more.
Recess was a bore again. I didn't want to go on the structures again, or chat with my friends. The skies were darkening, and beginning to splash drops of water in my face. People were crowing under the building overlaps. We were all sweating due to the increasing humidity. But then it was time to go in, as the whistle sounded in the distance. I ran inside, afraid to get pounded by the rain. As soon as we huddled in the cafeteria, it started pouring. Hard.
At least science was interesting to me. I was the first in the hallway, but I still rushed to get my notebook before mobs of people came and made me late. Afterward, I calmly walked to class.
As usual, it was humid and over eighty degrees Fahrenheit.

[WickedOreo]

I'm actually liking the idea of this. Written in 8^th grade, I was reaching the tail end of my 'obsession' phase and into the real world. It was to be a spoof of a futuristic setting when I am an adult. My lab partner, Theron, was supposed to be the love of my life and everything I could hope for in a partner (and then we find out sometime later that Clayton turns out to be that man... at least in a later time). We are the nerds, and our mortal enemy are the geeks. There is a war between the two. I have more of it written on paper, but I will probably end up rewriting this. If you'd like, I can write out the entire thing in verbatim.

Telepathy and Me: show

"8:06 P.M. Nightfall. I am deprived of sleep, and my stomach screams for nourishment. My recent experiments were fruitless, which was to be expected. Who knew that you had to use trial and error to make it a success? Well, I guess I knew that, but I kinda thought it would be a little easier to create mental telepathy, pardon the joke. I think this last attempt might've killed a few of my brain cells. Oh well. I'll go find out in a bit.
“I have seen to come across a breakthrough. If you electrically enhance your brain's synapses, you can hear other's thoughts-- to a degree. But it's highly dangerous, unstable, and can potentially kill. I nearly slid off my chair, laughing uncontrollably when I tried this endeavor. When my lab assistant Ian's thoughts popped into my head momentarily, the sentences were not complete, and he could somehow sense what was going on. Our goal is to create undetectable mental telepathy that harms neither the consumer nor the victim, so this was somewhat of a failure. What he was thinking of was extremely embarrassing, and went along the lines of, "...She is so hot... I miss my old girlfriend....” I sensed some big emotional scene about to happen afterward. He almost asphyxiated me when he found out I was reading his mind. He needs to chill and not think about girls. Even I have lost my interest in having a husband, and women are more in tune with their emotions. Love is like the color black- it always ends abruptly and painfully. At least his secret is safe from the others, for now. I might decide to blackmail him in the future; it all depends on how evil I feel.
"Yup, about time to complete this. Ian is rushing me to finish this audio diary so that he can have a word with me. Doesn't sound too good. I think he's mad at me. Wonder why. Ha-ha. Today is June 27, 2050, 8:07 P.M., diary 270AB. Goodnight." Pressing the red button on the side of the recorder, I shut off the tape, and put it in my desk. Ian walked briskly towards my desk, to create a conversation.
Ian is a young man, only thirty-two years old. His chocolate brown hair is cut short, but is bushy, and is surprisingly kept under control. He also has hazel eyes, like I do, and those freckles that seem to multiply. His fair skin seems to magnify these features.
Usually, he dresses the same way I do: a white lab coat that's practically a dress, black pants, and black shoes, which kill your feet. Sometimes, we get a little rambunctious and decide to invert or even tie-dye the uniform. Our assistants usually are scared to not follow our schedule. Ian and I are the lead researchers, so what we say goes, as we rule with an iron fist. On a side note, we also found out iron is stronger than diamond by a long shot. So if you decide one boring day to break the rules, you’ll get to be experimented on for the week, which is a topic to discuss at a later time. As a result, we hang the uniform choice and rules up on our doors for all to see.
"This is why I love this job,” I said to Ian, "because I can get to make you mad everyday." He slowly sipped his coffee, as if savoring the flavor.
"Like earlier, when you heard about how I have a weakness for girls", he replied.
I tried to suppress my laugh, but a small chuckle escaped.
"Do I have to burn all those ‘Celebwatch’ videos and America's Hottest Woman Scientists’ magazines, in which I was featured fifty times in? I know you like me, face it." I got him good. Ian frowned. "I was saving those for, y'know, time capsules, for the time machine we'll make in the future?" He placed the coffee on my desk.
"Whatever. You should come with me to the Experiment Room. We need to get your head examined. You've gone loopy. Come." I flicked my coat to the back, and headed out of the Testing Room, into the hallway.