You're paranoid, they said.
As they always said... ignorant sheeple, surrounding her in this class, metal chairs all facing in one direction, usually with the sheeple they
contained either hypnotized by a bright computer screen, or their attention compelled by the standard brainwash spewing from the teacher's mouth.
she thought, scowling.
It was a deep, profound day, here in school... and, for some odd reason, Sandra found herself feeling more than usual. No particular feelings... just
the sensation of feeling
seemed more intense today... with each glance at the bright sun outside the enormous window, casting a glare over the
small city, sunlight bleeding into the room, with each negative thought that arose in her upon looking at a particular class mate she disliked, upon
each idea that erected in her mind regarding what she could write on her current assignment...
Mr. Knowles had assigned the class to write a full-page essay about modern economy.
Sandra understood certain things about the economy that her teacher refused to grade as "real knowledge."
Only the history and facts presented in the text books of public schools are "real knowledge."
Everyone knows that.
Sandra racked her brain, attempting to formulate a way she could twist this assignment into an apocalyptic survival guide somehow...
The Modern Economy--And How It's Rigged For Collapse
She stared at the letters on the page after she wrote them, wondering just how it would affect Knowles once he read it. The thought of it made her
If there was anything
she cared deeply about--which said a lot, because Sandra was generally a pretty cold and careless person, the way she
saw it--was hammering the conspirator's side of learning into her teacher's mind.
She quite liked Mr. Knowles, despite having engaged in countless arguments and even a few physical confrontations with him. No, she never punched
him... she did once, however, throw a desk across the room at one point the previous year.
Sandra swiped the blood-colored hair from her face, tilting her head, her pencil now tearing her paper up, her hand moving a mile a second. Her hair
was dyed a deep, shining crimson red, with streaks of pitch black, and it was rather short--very short in the back, with two long red-and-black bangs
in the front, parted unevenly. Bordering her pale, slightly round, and perfectly shaped face, it looked flawless. She might even be considered
beautiful, if she didn't always wear such a sour, hateful expression, her oceanic eyes portraying the upmost of a cold, instant dislike of anyone who
dared to meet them, both of them lined with smoky silver-and-black make-up and spider-like black mascara. If her eyes and hair didn't say it all, she
had the black clothes, chains, black nails, spiked collar, and anarchy wristbands to make the message all the more clear; she was not your average
Lost in thought, time was beginning to escape her... and she considered actually writing facts about the current economy on her paper, before turning
it into a doomsday survival guide... how the supposed current pandemic was causing larger cities around the states to declare states of emergency,.
how violent protest have broken out due to the new gun control laws, how many things pointing to an economic collapse have been happening
she thought. I've been waiting forever for the s*** to hit the fan. I'm really starting to think it's never gonna happen, no
matter how bad it gets...
Sandra couldn't have known how wrong she was.
Some time passed...
The bell sounded, and the students all stood, making their way for the door.
Sandra was sure to let all the others clear a path before she stood, then headed for Knowls' desk.
She set her paper on his desk, then quickly turned, hoping to get out of the room before--
"Hold on." Knowles' voice halted her.
Sandra grimaced. Damn it.
"Come here." Knowles told her, waving her towards him.
Sandra faced him, then stood on the opposite side of his desk, looking annoyed.
Knowles handed the paper back to her.
"I''m not accepting this." He told her in a displeased tone.
"Why?" Sandra asked, sounding offended, though she very well knew the answer.
"I told you, no more of this." Knowles said, his hazel eyes fixed on her cerulean ones. He swiped a strand of his stringy brown bangs from his eye
shot, out from under his transparent, egg-shaped glasses. "This isn't what I assigned. This isn't work."
Sandra didn't speak. After a moment, she took the paper from him, her expression grave.
Knowles slid his fingers between one another, his hands placed together in somewhat of a praying position, pressed against his chin, looking down,
leaning forward, his elbows resting on the desk. He was a big guy... not fat, or muscular... just... big. Wearing that thick, formal brown suit, he
looked like a big bear.
"You're going to have to stop this." He said seriously. "You're very intelligent, you just need to follow the guidelines. Do you want to fail this
Sandra shrugged. "I don't care." She told him honestly.
"You need to care." He told her, raising his brows. "You're gonna regret it if you don't graduate."
"No, I won't." Sandra said to him. "I don't care what I do. And I don't care what happens to me."
It was true. Sandra didn't care for a career, or for any job at all, really... she'd most likely end up living alone in a trailer, with a crappy part
time job, and eventually, she'd grow old and die. What was the point in wasting time on an education of lies? Why become part of such a detestable
system, in such a corrupt world? Sandra much preferred to live without purpose...
Living without cares made living so much easier.
The only real skills she had was to debate on online conspiracy forums, get enraged, and steal music players and money from the school's locker
"Why can't you accept anything other than what you want me to write?" Sandra asked.
Knowles' gaze rested on her.
As he watched her, his serious expression seemed to mold into the slightest, faintest expression of compassion, of empathy... staring into her
eyes... What am I gonna do with her?
"I'm not allowed to." Knowles told her honestly. "Now... I've told you before." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "If you
need some extra help with anything, you can stay after class. You and I can talk person to person... you won't be distracted by everyone else..."
"That doesn't matter!"
Sandra declared, frustrated. "I don't need extra time. I NEED a damn school that ain't full of ignorant ******--!"
Knowles hissed. "Stop right there." He held up an index finger, and she silenced.
"You can't. Keep. This. Up." He told her forwardly.
Sandra had enough.
Huffing, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, sending a great, bellowing echo bounding off the walls of the hall.
(That's it for part 1. This is going to be another SHTF story, and I'm turning it into a novel. Enjoy!)
edit on 17-1-2013 by XxNightAngelusxX
because: (no reason given)
edit on 17-1-2013 by XxNightAngelusxX because: (no reason given)
edit on 17-1-2013 by
XxNightAngelusxX because: (no reason given)
edit on 17-1-2013 by XxNightAngelusxX because: (no reason given)
17-1-2013 by XxNightAngelusxX because: (no reason given)