Outcasts

Chapter 1- Candidus (Dazzling White)

There has to be an outcast somewhere. Where ever you go, every place you visit and look around there's someone that doesn't fit in. People are always going on about how it's great to be different, or if they want to sound impressive- unique. Well there's a fine line between unique and odd. Many don't know what it's like to be abused in front of an intimidating crowd. They have never known and will not dare to find out how it feels to break down in an endless flood of tears, and that river just to be spat in. And still they join in the torment.

I know what it feels like; I have conversed with that pain and stared it in the face. Its piercing eyes penetrated my skull and drowned my thoughts with a monotonous chant with no words. But words or not, I still hear what its saying. 'Failure...Failure...Failure..." And my feeble defence is only a small sand barrier which is no use. Sand cannot stop a rushing tide of fear.

I can't fit in anywhere. The muggle's shunt me out; they're unnerved by my weird characteristics. I know too much of the wizarding world to just live a muggle way of life. But a squib can't be a witch, no school would teach me. It's just a secret I can't grasp; no matter how much I reach into the sky, those stars that look so close evade me.

I thought I'd find my refuge in Diagon Alley, but the bricks won't part without a wands soft touch. I tried everything, I hit them with all my might, I cursed at them with muggle swear words. I even shoved another brick at it once, and in my maddening moments I began to think of explosives. And not only do I have to cope with my deadly emotions, but the muggle onlookers. Many have tried to fathom why I vent my anger on an open space; many have mistaken it for mental illness- may be it is. Maybe that's why I'm a squib, maybe it's so I don't massacre the world with my infamous destruction. But squibs can cause as much destruction as spilt milk on a pavement. Maybe I'll be like the milk and just give off a funny smell after the time. Wherever I walk everyone will hold their nose and point. The muggle's will just think I'm strange but the magic folk, they know who I am. They're the ones that hold their noses even more firmly as if trying to suppress more than a foul smell. And there's always the little brats walking along that think my condition is contagious, I long so much for a wand then, so much for a curse to shut their gaping mouths and pathless eyes.

Now all around me are padded walls and muggles wearing white coats. Maybe they know my secret too. Perhaps they sterilise they're uniform where my stray hand has brushed the silky fabric; maybe I am contagious...Just like a disease...

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please take the time to review!