"They say that life is like a river; flowing freely and effortlessly down a path with no visible end. While it is really nothing more than a metaphor, it is one that seems to hold a deeper truth."
"Life, just like a river, is capable of many things. A river sharpens every stone of which it touches. Life deepens every bond of which it holds dear. "
" However, this is about neither life nor river, but rather the fish swimming to find a new tomorrow. Yes, that too is just another metaphor, but just like the one that came before it, this new metaphor holds a deeper truth. You see, without the river, there would be no life, and without life, there would be no fish. And, uh.. "
I paused, looking at all of the young faces in the classroom, each shining a bored expression toward the front of the class. Towards me.
This was supposed to be my day off. I had planned on spending today at home with my family, perhaps watching a movie or two on Netflix. Instead, I was stuck teaching a philosophy course to a room full of idiots. And no, I'm not using that term lightly. The students in this class were truly moronic, preferring to spend their days skipping class, playing mindless video games, or watching pornography on their computers. Two of which they enjoyed doing while in class itself.
To say that I didn't want to be here would be one hell of an understatement. These kids were only seventh graders, and yet they act like total punks. They turn everything into some kind of sexual joke that only they see the humour in. To make matters worse, I'm fairly certain that most of them are sexually active. Seriously, this entire school system, perhaps even society as a whole, is fucked up beyond repair. I'm not even allowed to voice my concerns with the school board, given the bullshit policy of essentially ignoring your students needs. As long as I sat in the front of the class, reading or demonstrating the various lessons for the day, the board was happy. The students have no obligation to learn a damn thing, and as long as they stay within a certain distance of their desk, they can do damn near anything they want. They can bring gaming machines and laptop computers, and watch videos or listen to music.
So, you can imagine my delight when the final bell decided to ring, signifying the end of the school day, which meant peace and silence within a soon to be empty classroom.
After all of the students had left for the day, I took a quick glance around the classroom. Noticing that a couple of papers were sitting on top of an empty desk, I made my way over to them, thinking they were related to the class that just ended.
Upon picking up the stack of papers, five used condoms decided to fall out from between the pages, making a slight mess of white on the floor below. Unfortunately, one of the condoms managed to land on my left foot, which was bare given the no shoe policy that the school enforced in all classes. To make matters even worse, the sperm was still fairly warm, indicating that it was only recently produced.
While walking over to my desk in search of something to clean up the disgusting mess, one of my students decided to enter back into the classroom. She stood near the doorway for a good while, her gaze cycling between my angry form and the mess on the floor. After a few short moments of silence, she decided to speak up.
"If I'm interrupting your personal time, I could always come back later."
Smirking up at me with her playful eyes of purple, this young child began to make her way further into my classroom, ignoring my anger.
Stepping over the mess of both paper and semen on the floor, she slowly, almost elegantly, walked to the end of the classroom, before sitting on top of an old wooden desk.
"Do you know who I am, Mr. Finn?" She asked while adjusting her position to something more comfortable, her eyes focusing in on mine with a raw intensity. Or perhaps it was a sense of curiosity?
Looking at her more closely, it became clear that she was not a student from my class. She also seemed to be dressed in formal clothing, which was another indicator that she was not from my class, or perhaps even this school. Every student I've seen thus far wore inappropriate pieces of clothing, with girls wearing practically nothing, and boys wearing clothes two sizes too large.
This girl, on the other hand, was wearing an elegant white shirt that seemed to reflect light, even though there was very little light in the room to reflect, giving her an unusual - almost unnatural - glow.
Her pants shared similar properties to the shirt, though while the shirt was just a plain white t, her pants had what appeared to be the design of a sun on each leg.
Her eyes were a bright shade of purple, which I would have considered to be odd if not for the fact that half of the girls attending my class wore decorative contact lenses. However, her eyes had a more natural colour, either indicating that they were high quality lenses, or that her eyes were truly purple.
Honestly, she looked almost like an angel. A young 12 year old angel that had somehow managed to sneak her way into my school of hell.
I sighed heavily, my anger having been replaced by curiosity.
"I can't say as though I do. You're not a part of my class, are you?"
"No, I'm afraid I'm not. I'm actually not even a member of this school. To be honest with you, I come from a very far away land." She said, smile having never left her face.
"A far away land, you say? Do you mind if I ask why you're here, miss-"
"Celestia."
"Celestia? Such a peculiar name. Anyway, Miss Celestia, how did you get here? Are your parents waiting for you nearby?"
"Would you believe me if I said magic?"
With a chuckle, I shook my head. "Magic only exists in fairy tales."
At this, the smile on her face seemed to beam with delight.
"Well then, welcome to a fairy tale, Mr. Finn."
Author's Note:
Continuing this story is currently up for debate. If you like it, let me know.
Also, I know it's fairly short, and poorly written. If you guys want me to continue this, I may go back and edit the chapter so it contains a bit more of a solid and clear direction.