I am so sad.no one reads this..;__;
OK, anyway, what last happened: Malik was sucked into the soul room after trying on the earrings and facing the police. ENJOY!
I was in a room, a weird one with hieroglyphs scrawled in sloping letters all over the air, which I read to myself, not understanding the words but the meanings came to me easily. These were memories. Ancient ones, from a farmer in Ancient Egypt, with a wife named Tea, working in the First Dynasty under the pharaoh Yami, his demigod.
From the ringing silence hanging over my surroundings and I, there was the faint echo of an explosion, as if I were far away from a battle field, but close enough to be engulfed by its bloody sounds. The sound rebounded along the thick walls of this dark room, going on and on, getting softer and softer..
I wanted to get out; this place was starting to scare me. It's too dark, to soft, as if I'm all alone and no one can hear me or see me, as if I can sink through the thick floor into nothingness, where I'll stay sinking until I die of starvation. How'd I get here? What is going on? Where did my room and the police go? I'm beginning to panic, the syndrome must be wearing off - I'm myself again, thinking like I used to, forgetting about the lust for power I've been experiencing lately. What is this place? How'd I get here? Is this a dream? When would I wake up? What just happened? Questions whirled through my mind, making me dizzy with confusion. There is only one solid thing in this room, the hieroglyphs, and I grab onto them as if they were the only thing that could keep me alive. Maybe they are.
The army was getting closer and closer to my little city state in Egypt - Yami, the pharaoh, had sent his soldiers to crush our small revolt. My friends and I were hungry, we needed food and clothing, I read, claming down somewhat as I read the beautiful writing designs. The hieroglyphs pass over my gaze as they are on a treadmill, standing still when I look away, and moving when I watch, so that I may read them and understand.
We had rebelled, I continued, trying to get food and water that was not infested with mud and strange bugs. My wife is sick now from drinking it, she can't run or walk much, she just lays there on the papyrus matt, staring at the ceiling. I can't bear to see her like this, she's only suffering because of Pharaoh. He doesn't listen to us, so we thought we could make him listen. My wife agreed with me on this before she lost her voice. Her sweet, ringing voice like splashing water of purity, like ringing bells and exotic birds from Mesopotamia.
There was a sick and twisted laugh that sounded surprisingly like my own from outside. Another explosion quickly followed, and inhuman, terrified screams. Panicked, I read on, faster this time, desperately trying to drown out the wicked sounds.
It was only to be a small revolt, just to make him notice us. We were peaceful and obeyed, trying to stand out and make him notice us for once. This wasn't good enough for Pharaoh, though. Any revolt to him is a personal threat to Egypt. That's why we have to run now and to defend our small city state from the armies of dozens of others. I have to stay and defend, because my wife cannot run, and I will not leave her behind, even if it means my own life.
"Time to come out," the voiceless presence whispered in my ear. I hadn't noticed it approach this time, and started. "I took care of your little problem for you, as a favor for releasing me, you may say. And your little wish has been granted, and will be as long as we're one."
My wish? What wish? Who the hell is this? What is it? This thing surrounding me was so close, as if we really were one, but it had so much dark power, it felt like I was sitting in a kind of thick liquid that muffled my breathing and stilled my voice. I looked wildly around, realizing I was indeed having trouble breathing, but only darkness pressed against my eyes. Oh crap, this is one hell of a weird dream.
And I was waking up. The tunnel opened again, sucking me through. Ahead of me there was a light, looking like my room. There were half closed eyelids covering the scene, with huge white things standing in my way. They were my eyes; I was zooming toward MY EYES. This has NEVER happened to me in a dream before! I watched the eyes come closer and closer, faster and faster as the suction pulling me increased until..
I'm standing in my room, my limbs are mine to control, my senses are finally back to me. I'm awake.
Or am I? There is fire on various objects of my room, dying out as I watch. Smoke hovers by the caved in ceiling, mixing with dust from the ruins of the roof. There are bullet holes all around me, piercing the few fragments of walls still standing. Through wooden supports I see the next room and the hallway, the pouring grey sky outside and dozens of upturned police cars being pounded with rain. The floor around me is about the only thing left untouched, the blue carpeting lying unruffled. Other than that, there basically is no floor.
"Oh my God," I whisper in horror. There are some ashes lying inside police clothes, being dispersed by the raging wind and rain. Lightning flashes behind me, above me - the ceiling is gone - and lights up more of the scene.
But I don't look. I've noticed a particular tingling sensation in my hands, arms, shoulders, neck..ears. It feels like it's burning with magic so fierce I could cause an explosion.
It appears I already have.
Yugi sat at his desk, watching Malik, his one and only friend, staring into space. He seemed different, almost as if something horrible had happened to him. Yugi had tried asking what the matter was, but to no avail. Malik would only stare forward, looking like he was seeing something that only he could see.
There was a sense around Yugi's friend that called for attention, a sense of power and pain, memories and evil. It was really eerie. Malik no longer looked dorky with his long hair and skinny limbs; he looked cool and majestic, even in school uniform. His new earrings really helped with that. They dangled from his earlobes, sharp dagger - like gold, matching his complexion perfectly, even if they did clash with his clothes.
Malik was acting strangely today, not talking to Yugi or paying any attention in class. He was acting like he'd been traumatized. But the weirdest thing was what had happened in the cafeteria.
Malik had passed the food, wandering up towards the kitchen doors. When he had come out again, there were several cooks following him like dreary- eyed puppies following their master. But they weren't following him, exactly. Yugi had seen another person, like a twin of Malik, walking beside him. But this teen seemed different.more cruel and disturbed, looking twisted and ugly. He had different clothes on, too. Huge golden jewelry dangling from his neck, a staff of some kind clutched in his long, pale fingers, and gold-tinted white pants. His feet were bare, as well as his nicely shaped chest. When he turned around, though, Yugi had gasped. There, covering Malik's twin from shoulder to shoulder, neck to small back, had been a huge black tattoo with thousands of small designs that Yugi recognized and was somehow able to read when he held his vibrating puzzle.
He had wanted to approach this man, but couldn't move from his seat for some reason. It was like a pair of hands was holding him down. "Leave it be," a soothing voice much like his own, but deeper, had said. "Watch." Confused, Yugi did as the voice said, sensing he could trust it.
Malik and his twin passed the tables, the many cooks following. No one seemed to notice, as if this weren't really happening, or the cooks always left there job to crawl after a student and his weird looking twin. But as Yugi watched, Malik's 'twin' was not only passing by tables, but passing through them! Not around but through. He walked through a bench of kids, all of whom never noticed a thing! A few, however, shivered and pulled on a jacket, but that was it. Their talking heads disappeared on one side of the ghost and reappeared on the other, as if sinking through a thick kind of cream.
Yugi just sat there, watching with wide eyes as Malik and his ghost strode through the open doorway and out into the yard, the trail of cooks following.
He'd felt like screaming and running from the haunted school - he hated anything to do with ghosts and spirits and scary things like that. But a sort of calm immediately passed through him like a soothing breeze, replacing the fear with anger. Pure, unreasonable anger and hatred toward Malik and the ghost, Marik. Marik didn't deserve to be here! I'd worked hard to save everyone, and stupid High Priest had TRICKED ME! He'll pay for that, I swear.. Yugi had suddenly thought. He remembered each word vividly, they were not his own, yet in a way he understood the feelings behind such hateful words. He hadn't even known the ghost's name was Marik. And what's with the who high priest thing?
But where had these thoughts come from? They'd abruptly stopped, just like people did when they realize they were talking about something secret out loud. There was a sort of silent waiting coming from inside the puzzle, it seemed, as if afraid little Yugi found out something vital.
It was getting freaky. First Malik's ghost, and now his own. It seemed to have something to do with the puzzle. Yugi'd worked so hard on it, he didn't want to damage the necklace, but if it was haunted.... A sort of fear crept up his spine at the thought of destroying the puzzle, as if that one action could destroy him and everything he'd worked so hard to create. But what had he created? Nothing so amazing as to be mentioned.
"Yugi?" "What?" he answered automatically.
The teacher looked at Yugi, and then at the door. "If you can't yet pay attention in high school, I suggest you go outside and get yourself acquainted with the times. You, too, Malik. You haven't been paying attention the entire class."
"Have, too," Malik mumbled, standing up with Yugi.
"Really. OK, then, what is the fourth root of seventy-two minus the square root of 2,909?"
What an unfair question.
I watched Malik's face change, his stance shift. The ghost I'd seen at lunch seemed to take Malik's place, even if Malik looked relatively the same. All the class looked at him, watching him. He just stood there, glaring at the teacher with menacing eyes. And then - and then he did something no one had ever done to a teacher - he slowly raised his hand until it was easy for everyone to see, and stuck up his middle finger.
There were a few gasps, a few laughs, a few "oooooooooooooh"s, and a few people just sat silently at their desks. The teacher, however, was not amused. His face changed from a normal shade of pale to red, then an attractive shade of bulging purple. A temple went off ticking like a bomb, which is about the best way to describe him right now. He took Malik firmly by the hand and led him outside the class room and most likely to the principal's office to have him expelled.
Yugi was in shock. His own friend had just flicked the teacher off. His one and only friend! And he hadn't even talked to Yugi today, the cooks haven't come back, and Malik didn't seem to be acting at all like Malik.
"He isn't Malik. He's Marik." Something said. The voice came from the puzzle again. Yugi was starting to think he was going insane.
Slowly, he walked to the door, opening it and going to stand outside for his punishment. He sat down on the cold tile floor, leaning up against the wall. 'Well, this is just great. I just lost my best friend, I'm going insane, and something weird is going on with ghosts or spirits of some kind. Of all these things I've lost (safety, sanity, and my best friend) I miss my mind the most.'
Malik stood before the principal, scared beyond all reason. He'd only come back to school because he hadn't known what else to do. His father had apparently died in the explosion, coming home just in time to get the blow, and now Malik was all alone but for the earrings and their inhibiter - anything but a suitable companion. He didn't even know why he was in trouble! Surely not paying attention only called for standing out in the hall!
"Malik, what you did was very inappropriate and unacceptable behavior; we can not have that kind of an example in this school. Respect for your teachers is very important - they work hard to accommodate for you and give you a future. We have called your father and he doesn't appear to be home or at work. You will sit here until we can reach him," the principal, Mrs. Foy, said, gesturing to a chair. "In the meantime, we need you to fill out this form, just sign your name by the ex.'s."
I wanted to tell her my father's dead, but the words got stuck in my throat. So instead I just sat down on the hard chair by her desk and read the documents.
I was being expelled.
I felt like crying. My entire life has just been changed. Oh, God, I'm an orphan with no home, money, or school! It's my entire fault, too. My mother died in childbirth - my fault, I didn't want to come out. My father died at his own home because I murdered him! My own father! I caught the house on fire, too, killing around twenty to forty young and able police people with hopes, dreams, families, and could-be futures! I'm probably number one on the Most Wanted list by now. Me. The little boy who wanted to be a scientist when he grew up. The person who wanted to make a slam dunk for his father and deceased mother, always watching over him with a smile. She's probably turned her head in shame by now.
A tear found its way onto the form, smearing the sharply type written words. Those stupid words condemning me to a failure. I'll never be able to go to school again, the way things are working out. What had I done here? Did they know about what I did at my home? What if.what if they were calling the police? What if the cops would come for me again? What if I killed more people? Panicked, I looked up at the principal, hunched over the paperwork, listening to the radio. Why did she have to be listening to the radio? The news was probably on, considering my luck. Even for commercials for the news. My name and crime would eventually be said on there, and if she didn't already know, she would, soon.
It's all these stupid earrings' fault. I want to take them off, to throw them away and never be bothered again. But whenever I try unclipping them, a burning like nothing I've ever experienced before reddens my hand like a coal in fire. It could burn it right off, for all I know.
Carefully, I slipped the empty form off my lap. Well, it wasn't truly empty, for on the spaces provided for my signature, a bunch of hieroglyphs were written, saying, "You don't want to know my name, little girl." My eyes widened at this, but I didn't do anything. Most likely they wouldn't be able to translate something from the First Dynasty of Egypt, probably would only think it was a bunch of scribbles. But I hadn't even written those! I hadn't done anything wrong! I hadn't done a lot of things.
"Mrs. Foy?" I asked carefully, going to stand in front of her desk. "What..what exactly did I do?"
"Don't give me that, Malik. You know perfectly well what you did."
Sure I do. I wanted to lie that I had been taking pills for a certain illness, but she'd just call the doctor to verify. So instead, all I could do was pretend to go to the bathroom and make a run for it before she found out. If she didn't know already.
"I -uh..need to go to the bathroom. Could you excuse me please?"
She nodded, switching stations on the radio. So apparently she doesn't know, otherwise she wouldn't let me out of her sight.
As I was turning to walk out the door, however, the words blaring from the radio caught my immediate attention, and I stopped, turning back and freezing with fear at the content.
"This is Laura Bardewyck for the Domino News on DCN, or 98.5 a.m. We have an urgent message of a cereal killer on the loose, roaming the streets of the city" - (Oh yeah, make me sound like a crazed demon)- "If you see a young Malik Ishtar of 5 ft nine, with long white hair, blue eyes, a pale complexion, and golden earrings like spears hanging down to his shoulders - this is very important - immediately call your local emergency center AFTER you have run for safety. We don't know how, but he is able to kill at least 40 people with one blow from his hands. He killed his father, blew up his house and several police cars, and 35 cops all heavily armed."
I stood there in front of Mrs. Foy's desk, watching her stare at me with wide, frightened eyes. She slowly reached for the intercom and pressed the 'on' button, watching me all the while like a cat watches a dog. I just stood there, frozen to the spot. What now? If people came after me, they would be killed, I could tell from the tingling sensation in my ears, moving down my shoulders and into my hands, which burned so fiercely with magic that I could easily cause an explosion.
She said something into the microphone that sounded like "Code Red, do not panic.."
I heard footsteps running down the hall, a few frightened screams, even. From the teachers. And some roars from the cooks. Why the cooks? Why were they roaring like that?
"I call them my Rare Hunters. Very handy when you are in trouble," that hateful voice that ruined my life said. "They'll obey us no matter what, so if you do not wish to burn this shack to the ground, I suggest you use them as your shields. Don't worry, they don't notice when they die."
I felt chills crawl up my spine at these words. What was that supposed to mean?
I looked away from the inner voice, focusing the room in view. The teacher was no longer here, and I could hear the now - familiar sounds of sirens. Much farther away this time, though. I could still make a run for it.
I ran towards the door, pushing through it and out into the hall. The students and teachers were to my right, being harassed by the growling cooks with pots and pans, being pushed back away from me and cornered in the far wall. A few people noticed my entrance, pointing and screaming at me. I felt myself smile at them maliciously, waving before running the other way.
.Smacking into a heavily armed police man. His shield was held out, and along with a huge gun. Seeing a gun pointing directly at you, ready to take your life at any given second, is like watching the ground loom nearer and nearer as you fall from a particularly high building. The man looked like a sinister black robber to me, increasing the cold fear clutching at my heart. Apparently I hadn't been paying close enough attention to the sirens.
This was too much, two police encounters in two days. If life continued this way I would not last very long, I could tell. Apparently I'm not the type to be a cereal killer or a burglar. At least they can last more that one day, I thought, referring to the cop show criminals.
I was roughly pushed onto the cold tile floor, hands wrenched behind my back. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a cold metal surface shaped like a hole pressing roughly against the back of my head. Oh my God. They were just going to kill me. No questions, no hope. I couldn't be rescued now, I'd killed everyone I've ever loved and cared for, ruined a friendship with my only friend, and am about to be blasted to smithereens by a policeman. I had a good run, anyway.
I tensed my shoulders and turned my head to the side. I was ready. It wouldn't hurt long, I'm sure. All this wasn't my fault, so my mother and father would forgive me and we'd become a family again in a much better place than this cold Earth.
Finally, after what seemed like decades, the gunshot resounded through the hall like a cannon, bursting through my mind and body.
~~~~~~~~~~^___^~~~~~~~~~
~BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!~ CLIFFY! And this is NOT the end.
Audience groans.
Now, IF YOU REVEIWED THIS PLLEEEEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSSSEEEEEEE REVIEW I NEED REVIEWS! EVEN IF YOU HATED IT! I ALWAYS LEAVE A REVIEW! ALWAYS!
*sniffle*
Pwease?
| | | | | | \/
OK, anyway, what last happened: Malik was sucked into the soul room after trying on the earrings and facing the police. ENJOY!
I was in a room, a weird one with hieroglyphs scrawled in sloping letters all over the air, which I read to myself, not understanding the words but the meanings came to me easily. These were memories. Ancient ones, from a farmer in Ancient Egypt, with a wife named Tea, working in the First Dynasty under the pharaoh Yami, his demigod.
From the ringing silence hanging over my surroundings and I, there was the faint echo of an explosion, as if I were far away from a battle field, but close enough to be engulfed by its bloody sounds. The sound rebounded along the thick walls of this dark room, going on and on, getting softer and softer..
I wanted to get out; this place was starting to scare me. It's too dark, to soft, as if I'm all alone and no one can hear me or see me, as if I can sink through the thick floor into nothingness, where I'll stay sinking until I die of starvation. How'd I get here? What is going on? Where did my room and the police go? I'm beginning to panic, the syndrome must be wearing off - I'm myself again, thinking like I used to, forgetting about the lust for power I've been experiencing lately. What is this place? How'd I get here? Is this a dream? When would I wake up? What just happened? Questions whirled through my mind, making me dizzy with confusion. There is only one solid thing in this room, the hieroglyphs, and I grab onto them as if they were the only thing that could keep me alive. Maybe they are.
The army was getting closer and closer to my little city state in Egypt - Yami, the pharaoh, had sent his soldiers to crush our small revolt. My friends and I were hungry, we needed food and clothing, I read, claming down somewhat as I read the beautiful writing designs. The hieroglyphs pass over my gaze as they are on a treadmill, standing still when I look away, and moving when I watch, so that I may read them and understand.
We had rebelled, I continued, trying to get food and water that was not infested with mud and strange bugs. My wife is sick now from drinking it, she can't run or walk much, she just lays there on the papyrus matt, staring at the ceiling. I can't bear to see her like this, she's only suffering because of Pharaoh. He doesn't listen to us, so we thought we could make him listen. My wife agreed with me on this before she lost her voice. Her sweet, ringing voice like splashing water of purity, like ringing bells and exotic birds from Mesopotamia.
There was a sick and twisted laugh that sounded surprisingly like my own from outside. Another explosion quickly followed, and inhuman, terrified screams. Panicked, I read on, faster this time, desperately trying to drown out the wicked sounds.
It was only to be a small revolt, just to make him notice us. We were peaceful and obeyed, trying to stand out and make him notice us for once. This wasn't good enough for Pharaoh, though. Any revolt to him is a personal threat to Egypt. That's why we have to run now and to defend our small city state from the armies of dozens of others. I have to stay and defend, because my wife cannot run, and I will not leave her behind, even if it means my own life.
"Time to come out," the voiceless presence whispered in my ear. I hadn't noticed it approach this time, and started. "I took care of your little problem for you, as a favor for releasing me, you may say. And your little wish has been granted, and will be as long as we're one."
My wish? What wish? Who the hell is this? What is it? This thing surrounding me was so close, as if we really were one, but it had so much dark power, it felt like I was sitting in a kind of thick liquid that muffled my breathing and stilled my voice. I looked wildly around, realizing I was indeed having trouble breathing, but only darkness pressed against my eyes. Oh crap, this is one hell of a weird dream.
And I was waking up. The tunnel opened again, sucking me through. Ahead of me there was a light, looking like my room. There were half closed eyelids covering the scene, with huge white things standing in my way. They were my eyes; I was zooming toward MY EYES. This has NEVER happened to me in a dream before! I watched the eyes come closer and closer, faster and faster as the suction pulling me increased until..
I'm standing in my room, my limbs are mine to control, my senses are finally back to me. I'm awake.
Or am I? There is fire on various objects of my room, dying out as I watch. Smoke hovers by the caved in ceiling, mixing with dust from the ruins of the roof. There are bullet holes all around me, piercing the few fragments of walls still standing. Through wooden supports I see the next room and the hallway, the pouring grey sky outside and dozens of upturned police cars being pounded with rain. The floor around me is about the only thing left untouched, the blue carpeting lying unruffled. Other than that, there basically is no floor.
"Oh my God," I whisper in horror. There are some ashes lying inside police clothes, being dispersed by the raging wind and rain. Lightning flashes behind me, above me - the ceiling is gone - and lights up more of the scene.
But I don't look. I've noticed a particular tingling sensation in my hands, arms, shoulders, neck..ears. It feels like it's burning with magic so fierce I could cause an explosion.
It appears I already have.
Yugi sat at his desk, watching Malik, his one and only friend, staring into space. He seemed different, almost as if something horrible had happened to him. Yugi had tried asking what the matter was, but to no avail. Malik would only stare forward, looking like he was seeing something that only he could see.
There was a sense around Yugi's friend that called for attention, a sense of power and pain, memories and evil. It was really eerie. Malik no longer looked dorky with his long hair and skinny limbs; he looked cool and majestic, even in school uniform. His new earrings really helped with that. They dangled from his earlobes, sharp dagger - like gold, matching his complexion perfectly, even if they did clash with his clothes.
Malik was acting strangely today, not talking to Yugi or paying any attention in class. He was acting like he'd been traumatized. But the weirdest thing was what had happened in the cafeteria.
Malik had passed the food, wandering up towards the kitchen doors. When he had come out again, there were several cooks following him like dreary- eyed puppies following their master. But they weren't following him, exactly. Yugi had seen another person, like a twin of Malik, walking beside him. But this teen seemed different.more cruel and disturbed, looking twisted and ugly. He had different clothes on, too. Huge golden jewelry dangling from his neck, a staff of some kind clutched in his long, pale fingers, and gold-tinted white pants. His feet were bare, as well as his nicely shaped chest. When he turned around, though, Yugi had gasped. There, covering Malik's twin from shoulder to shoulder, neck to small back, had been a huge black tattoo with thousands of small designs that Yugi recognized and was somehow able to read when he held his vibrating puzzle.
He had wanted to approach this man, but couldn't move from his seat for some reason. It was like a pair of hands was holding him down. "Leave it be," a soothing voice much like his own, but deeper, had said. "Watch." Confused, Yugi did as the voice said, sensing he could trust it.
Malik and his twin passed the tables, the many cooks following. No one seemed to notice, as if this weren't really happening, or the cooks always left there job to crawl after a student and his weird looking twin. But as Yugi watched, Malik's 'twin' was not only passing by tables, but passing through them! Not around but through. He walked through a bench of kids, all of whom never noticed a thing! A few, however, shivered and pulled on a jacket, but that was it. Their talking heads disappeared on one side of the ghost and reappeared on the other, as if sinking through a thick kind of cream.
Yugi just sat there, watching with wide eyes as Malik and his ghost strode through the open doorway and out into the yard, the trail of cooks following.
He'd felt like screaming and running from the haunted school - he hated anything to do with ghosts and spirits and scary things like that. But a sort of calm immediately passed through him like a soothing breeze, replacing the fear with anger. Pure, unreasonable anger and hatred toward Malik and the ghost, Marik. Marik didn't deserve to be here! I'd worked hard to save everyone, and stupid High Priest had TRICKED ME! He'll pay for that, I swear.. Yugi had suddenly thought. He remembered each word vividly, they were not his own, yet in a way he understood the feelings behind such hateful words. He hadn't even known the ghost's name was Marik. And what's with the who high priest thing?
But where had these thoughts come from? They'd abruptly stopped, just like people did when they realize they were talking about something secret out loud. There was a sort of silent waiting coming from inside the puzzle, it seemed, as if afraid little Yugi found out something vital.
It was getting freaky. First Malik's ghost, and now his own. It seemed to have something to do with the puzzle. Yugi'd worked so hard on it, he didn't want to damage the necklace, but if it was haunted.... A sort of fear crept up his spine at the thought of destroying the puzzle, as if that one action could destroy him and everything he'd worked so hard to create. But what had he created? Nothing so amazing as to be mentioned.
"Yugi?" "What?" he answered automatically.
The teacher looked at Yugi, and then at the door. "If you can't yet pay attention in high school, I suggest you go outside and get yourself acquainted with the times. You, too, Malik. You haven't been paying attention the entire class."
"Have, too," Malik mumbled, standing up with Yugi.
"Really. OK, then, what is the fourth root of seventy-two minus the square root of 2,909?"
What an unfair question.
I watched Malik's face change, his stance shift. The ghost I'd seen at lunch seemed to take Malik's place, even if Malik looked relatively the same. All the class looked at him, watching him. He just stood there, glaring at the teacher with menacing eyes. And then - and then he did something no one had ever done to a teacher - he slowly raised his hand until it was easy for everyone to see, and stuck up his middle finger.
There were a few gasps, a few laughs, a few "oooooooooooooh"s, and a few people just sat silently at their desks. The teacher, however, was not amused. His face changed from a normal shade of pale to red, then an attractive shade of bulging purple. A temple went off ticking like a bomb, which is about the best way to describe him right now. He took Malik firmly by the hand and led him outside the class room and most likely to the principal's office to have him expelled.
Yugi was in shock. His own friend had just flicked the teacher off. His one and only friend! And he hadn't even talked to Yugi today, the cooks haven't come back, and Malik didn't seem to be acting at all like Malik.
"He isn't Malik. He's Marik." Something said. The voice came from the puzzle again. Yugi was starting to think he was going insane.
Slowly, he walked to the door, opening it and going to stand outside for his punishment. He sat down on the cold tile floor, leaning up against the wall. 'Well, this is just great. I just lost my best friend, I'm going insane, and something weird is going on with ghosts or spirits of some kind. Of all these things I've lost (safety, sanity, and my best friend) I miss my mind the most.'
Malik stood before the principal, scared beyond all reason. He'd only come back to school because he hadn't known what else to do. His father had apparently died in the explosion, coming home just in time to get the blow, and now Malik was all alone but for the earrings and their inhibiter - anything but a suitable companion. He didn't even know why he was in trouble! Surely not paying attention only called for standing out in the hall!
"Malik, what you did was very inappropriate and unacceptable behavior; we can not have that kind of an example in this school. Respect for your teachers is very important - they work hard to accommodate for you and give you a future. We have called your father and he doesn't appear to be home or at work. You will sit here until we can reach him," the principal, Mrs. Foy, said, gesturing to a chair. "In the meantime, we need you to fill out this form, just sign your name by the ex.'s."
I wanted to tell her my father's dead, but the words got stuck in my throat. So instead I just sat down on the hard chair by her desk and read the documents.
I was being expelled.
I felt like crying. My entire life has just been changed. Oh, God, I'm an orphan with no home, money, or school! It's my entire fault, too. My mother died in childbirth - my fault, I didn't want to come out. My father died at his own home because I murdered him! My own father! I caught the house on fire, too, killing around twenty to forty young and able police people with hopes, dreams, families, and could-be futures! I'm probably number one on the Most Wanted list by now. Me. The little boy who wanted to be a scientist when he grew up. The person who wanted to make a slam dunk for his father and deceased mother, always watching over him with a smile. She's probably turned her head in shame by now.
A tear found its way onto the form, smearing the sharply type written words. Those stupid words condemning me to a failure. I'll never be able to go to school again, the way things are working out. What had I done here? Did they know about what I did at my home? What if.what if they were calling the police? What if the cops would come for me again? What if I killed more people? Panicked, I looked up at the principal, hunched over the paperwork, listening to the radio. Why did she have to be listening to the radio? The news was probably on, considering my luck. Even for commercials for the news. My name and crime would eventually be said on there, and if she didn't already know, she would, soon.
It's all these stupid earrings' fault. I want to take them off, to throw them away and never be bothered again. But whenever I try unclipping them, a burning like nothing I've ever experienced before reddens my hand like a coal in fire. It could burn it right off, for all I know.
Carefully, I slipped the empty form off my lap. Well, it wasn't truly empty, for on the spaces provided for my signature, a bunch of hieroglyphs were written, saying, "You don't want to know my name, little girl." My eyes widened at this, but I didn't do anything. Most likely they wouldn't be able to translate something from the First Dynasty of Egypt, probably would only think it was a bunch of scribbles. But I hadn't even written those! I hadn't done anything wrong! I hadn't done a lot of things.
"Mrs. Foy?" I asked carefully, going to stand in front of her desk. "What..what exactly did I do?"
"Don't give me that, Malik. You know perfectly well what you did."
Sure I do. I wanted to lie that I had been taking pills for a certain illness, but she'd just call the doctor to verify. So instead, all I could do was pretend to go to the bathroom and make a run for it before she found out. If she didn't know already.
"I -uh..need to go to the bathroom. Could you excuse me please?"
She nodded, switching stations on the radio. So apparently she doesn't know, otherwise she wouldn't let me out of her sight.
As I was turning to walk out the door, however, the words blaring from the radio caught my immediate attention, and I stopped, turning back and freezing with fear at the content.
"This is Laura Bardewyck for the Domino News on DCN, or 98.5 a.m. We have an urgent message of a cereal killer on the loose, roaming the streets of the city" - (Oh yeah, make me sound like a crazed demon)- "If you see a young Malik Ishtar of 5 ft nine, with long white hair, blue eyes, a pale complexion, and golden earrings like spears hanging down to his shoulders - this is very important - immediately call your local emergency center AFTER you have run for safety. We don't know how, but he is able to kill at least 40 people with one blow from his hands. He killed his father, blew up his house and several police cars, and 35 cops all heavily armed."
I stood there in front of Mrs. Foy's desk, watching her stare at me with wide, frightened eyes. She slowly reached for the intercom and pressed the 'on' button, watching me all the while like a cat watches a dog. I just stood there, frozen to the spot. What now? If people came after me, they would be killed, I could tell from the tingling sensation in my ears, moving down my shoulders and into my hands, which burned so fiercely with magic that I could easily cause an explosion.
She said something into the microphone that sounded like "Code Red, do not panic.."
I heard footsteps running down the hall, a few frightened screams, even. From the teachers. And some roars from the cooks. Why the cooks? Why were they roaring like that?
"I call them my Rare Hunters. Very handy when you are in trouble," that hateful voice that ruined my life said. "They'll obey us no matter what, so if you do not wish to burn this shack to the ground, I suggest you use them as your shields. Don't worry, they don't notice when they die."
I felt chills crawl up my spine at these words. What was that supposed to mean?
I looked away from the inner voice, focusing the room in view. The teacher was no longer here, and I could hear the now - familiar sounds of sirens. Much farther away this time, though. I could still make a run for it.
I ran towards the door, pushing through it and out into the hall. The students and teachers were to my right, being harassed by the growling cooks with pots and pans, being pushed back away from me and cornered in the far wall. A few people noticed my entrance, pointing and screaming at me. I felt myself smile at them maliciously, waving before running the other way.
.Smacking into a heavily armed police man. His shield was held out, and along with a huge gun. Seeing a gun pointing directly at you, ready to take your life at any given second, is like watching the ground loom nearer and nearer as you fall from a particularly high building. The man looked like a sinister black robber to me, increasing the cold fear clutching at my heart. Apparently I hadn't been paying close enough attention to the sirens.
This was too much, two police encounters in two days. If life continued this way I would not last very long, I could tell. Apparently I'm not the type to be a cereal killer or a burglar. At least they can last more that one day, I thought, referring to the cop show criminals.
I was roughly pushed onto the cold tile floor, hands wrenched behind my back. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a cold metal surface shaped like a hole pressing roughly against the back of my head. Oh my God. They were just going to kill me. No questions, no hope. I couldn't be rescued now, I'd killed everyone I've ever loved and cared for, ruined a friendship with my only friend, and am about to be blasted to smithereens by a policeman. I had a good run, anyway.
I tensed my shoulders and turned my head to the side. I was ready. It wouldn't hurt long, I'm sure. All this wasn't my fault, so my mother and father would forgive me and we'd become a family again in a much better place than this cold Earth.
Finally, after what seemed like decades, the gunshot resounded through the hall like a cannon, bursting through my mind and body.
~~~~~~~~~~^___^~~~~~~~~~
~BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!~ CLIFFY! And this is NOT the end.
Audience groans.
Now, IF YOU REVEIWED THIS PLLEEEEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSSSEEEEEEE REVIEW I NEED REVIEWS! EVEN IF YOU HATED IT! I ALWAYS LEAVE A REVIEW! ALWAYS!
*sniffle*
Pwease?
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