Stalker Diaries, R.J McIntosh [fox in socks read aloud TXT] 📗

was receiving even more so the attention I was receiving. He loved when his plans went well and detested when things didn't go the way he wanted. A child with too much power in his hand is what described him the best. I ignored them, finding relief in the sound of Mr. Jacob rough voice as he began telling us a story about how he found his wife. Quite an anti-climactic tale really. They met when they grabbed the same book while studying in some college and started to date one another which led to his proposal with a bagel and a happily ever after for them. Then it was time for the personal greeting, the part in which you state your name and age and say something interesting about yourself.

"Let's start with you up front. Your name is?" Mr. Jacob asked, a boy with flaming red hair took the stand, his entire face was pierced.

Whatever piercing one could possibly have he had it as he introduced himself as Dylan Chestnut in front of them all. Standing up like a fool as they watched me, begging for me to make myself look like an imbecile so they wouldn't have to. Watching the next person, my eyes widened to see an upright Stephen glancing back at me as he introduced himself to his new minions, his words fell from his lips like honey, but stung like stingers.

"My name is Stephen McCarthy, I'm 16, and I enjoy reading." he spoke.

Reading? He never read a single book in his life! I knew because all the books he checked out from the library he'd leave them in his lockers to collect dust. "Reading" was only for show. In fact he despised literature as he found it too time consuming, nor did he have enough brain cells to comprehend the meaning of the words within. He knew nothing of the power of words, so how in the hell did he know that they would hurt me so much? So much that I felt suffocated everywhere I went. So much that I'd want to kill myself cause of them, but not enough to actually do it. I hate him. I hate him so much that I'd burn him to the stake, but I was the one burning. He sat nice and cool in his chair while I sat drenched in oil awaiting that one match to set me ablaze. They would say, no more Charles at last. And I would be happy to, to finally be gone from this place. Happy. So very happy.

"Son in the back. Son. Son!" Mr. Jacob hollered in front of the room, pointing his old disfigured finger in my direction. Huh? Was it my turn? I pushed out of my seat, my legs falling over one another causing me to fall flat on my bottom. My fall set out a chain reaction of giggles with a few snorters as I stood up, all eyes were on me now.

"Umm." I hesitated, my voice not wanting to come out. I knew what to say, but when it came down to it, nothing. The air was no longer in my lungs. I opened my mouth, and as expected, nothing came. I tried once again and the same results followed.

"Charles." I finally managed after 2 minutes of embarrassing silence. Mr. Jacob looked relieved to know that he hadn't been placed with a special child. Who would blame him?

Having found my voice, I spoke." My name is Charles Smith, I'm 16 and I'm ..."

"Good at cutting myself." a feminine voice hollered, catching Mr. Jacob's attention. My heart stopped. Another voice joined in the mix.

“Gay.” It said, this time coming from a boy.

“Who said that?” Mr. Jacob asked, searching for the culprit, he’d never find. I wanted him to stop.

His help would only make things worse. Utterly speechless, I gasped for air, their probing eyes stabbed holes into my body. I didn’t like this, not a single bit. It was quite obvious that I was having a seizure, my asthma acting up again due to all the pressure placed upon me by the devils around me.

“Inhaler. Need my inhaler.” I squealed, opening the middle pocket of my bag pack to pull out a tiny blue inhaler. I force the open end into my mouth and breathe in the horrid smelling medication. I calmed down, the world now becoming a strange place of dancing blurs and flashing lights.

“What is it Charles?” a beautiful pink ember dragon asked, sipping tea from fine china.

A talking dragon? That’s new. I felt the need to respond, but the sound of yelling voices entered my head followed by something of a chuckle in the background. What was going on? I didn’t understand, but I could hear a loud thud, a wave of cold running across my delicate cheeks. The cold then transformed into a pitch black darkness, and I was done, passed out on the dirty tile floor. Well, wonder what dreams I’ll have.

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Publication Date: 04-22-2015

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