This Thing For Writers Craft?

My Artifact Story

Today is the twenty-first of September. It’s a Wednesday, and it’s been raining like hell since last night. The streets are rivers and cars are the boats. Any man would be crazy to walk in this weather. These are the thoughts running through my head as my shirt gets hydrated. I start to consider turning back and heading home. I forget why I'm walking, and then I remember. I’m walking somewhere I really don’t want to go, school.

People are always asking me, “Gordon, why do you hate school so much,” and the truth is, I don’t really have a reason, I just don’t. Maybe it’s the fake friendships that litter the hallways, or maybe it’s the way everyone goes home and gets drunk because they’re teenagers. Maybe it’s the actual school itself, or maybe it’s just a combination. Either way, it doesn’t really matter, because in the end, I still don’t like it.

As I approach the school, I enter this stupid parking lot. It’s filled with a bunch of low budget cars I’d be too scared to drive. The saddest part is, no matter how ugly or bad a car is, girls still date the guy because of it. They just want the car. Personally, I wish they were more like this with relationships- not caring about appearances and whatnot. Still, I guarantee that, no matter what I rode to school, girls still wouldn’t talk to me. I could ride a freakin’ horse and I assure you they still wouldn’t give me the time
of day. Girls are inane like that.

Anyway, as I’m walking towards the front of the school this douche-bag accelerates right beside me and suddenly it’s like I just went for a swim. I’m more soaked then a fish in water. Due to my non-aggressive behavior, I let him have his fun. This is how I start my day.

As I slide the doors open on the school, I’m greeted by a nice, sub-zero chill. I forgot it was still summer. I honestly feel my shirt harden. I begin to make my way up a flight of stairs towards my locker, even though I don’t need anything from it. I’ve always figured, if I look like I’m busy, people will just leave me alone. I’m pretty sad and pathetic if you ask me. I open my locker up, and I see some pictures I put up in my locker to make myself look like less of a reject. I have a picture of my grandparents, and one of a random group of people I ‘googled’. I assume people will think they’re my friends. I honestly don’t know a single one of them. Gosh I’m pathetic.

Let me give you a better understanding of me as a person. I don’t really have any friends. I pretend I do so people won’t think I’m so uninteresting and lame. For instance, on Facebook, I actually created a bunch of accounts and added them as friends, just so I looked less lousy. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Man, he must get pretty lonely,” and you’re right, I do get pretty lonesome. But being the clever intellectual I am, I found a quick-fix. Whenever I’m feeling down or alone, I go see the latest funny movie. I’ll sit in a chair right in the center of the theatre, and I’ll wait for people to laugh, and I’ll laugh along with them. It makes me feel accepted and conformed, which is nice for a change.

Either way, I’m still friendless, so this makes every class I have extremely awkward. I walk into my first period class, and its geography. The teacher is a bit on the belligerent side if you ask me. He has this innate urge to yell at everyone whenever we breathe. It’s kind of scary to tell you the truth. The worst part is that I have to sit at the front of the classroom, all by myself praying that the teacher decides to pass me by. Luckily for me, he usually does. He’s one of those teachers that wanders around the classroom while teaching. This usually leaves me out of his sights. It’s still depressing to hear him rag on someone else though. In fact, just last week he cussed out this quiet girl who never really does anything, made me feel real horrible.

However, today I guess must be wearing something eye catching, because he starts to lay into me pretty hard. He accuses me of smiling at something, and gets real red in the face. He starts blabbering on about how geography is no laughing matter. He starts criticizing me; he points out every stupid flaw in my face, like how my eyebrows are slightly connected. He even noticed the zit or two on my jaw.
I felt pretty damn miserable from this, and I’m not sure why, so I just up and leave. I was done with this school. I go home early. My parents don’t get home till five or six, so I’m safe in that aspect, but it’s not like they’d care anyway if I was home from school early. To be honest with you, they probably wouldn’t even notice. I go up to my room and I hop onto my bed.

I really need to do something about all of this garbage at school, so I start searching around. I see some crap lying around, like a guitar, and a Nintendo. None of that is really going to help me though, maybe nothing will.

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I awaken to the sound of my father yelling at my mother. It eventually gets drowned by the rain. I hate rain. I roll out of bed and drag myself into the bathroom. I debate shaving my excuse for a moustache, but I leave it. I ponder showering, but I don’t really see the point. I’m just going to smell like rain anyway. I grab this little gizmo lying in my room, and check to make sure it’s loaded. I stuff it into my backpack. I’m going to need it today.

I leave my house without eating or saying a word to my parents. Once again, I get soaked, chilled, and ridiculed, but this time I’m prepared. As the teacher makes fun of my “prepubescent facial fuzz” I reach into my backpack, and start tinkering with the gadget I’d brought from home. I pull it out for a minute, and click its gray surface, just to make sure it’s working.

I wait. The teacher continues his rant. Now he’s moved onto insulting my semi-average grades in school. I show little to no interest, so he decides to attack some girl behind me. He gives her the same speech as he gave me, minus the moustache part. This really pisses me off, so once again, I get up, and exit the classroom, but this time, someone follows me. Her sobbing echoes down the hallway, and my heart.

I open the door to the office and proceed quietly to the principal’s room without as much as a passing nod to the secretary. I open the door without any regard to the principal’s privacy, and I pull the silver object out of my backpack. It’s pointed at him. He looks at me in disbelief, and I click the trigger. Suddenly a voice starts. My geography teacher’s screaming penetrates the principal’s ears. I leave the tape recorder on his desk, and I exit the office.

That girl who followed me is just sitting there sobbing. She’s fiddling with this bracelet she’s wearing. I sit down next to her and mumble, “What are you crying for?” She gives me this weird look like I’m retarded or something, so I ask again.

She starts slobbering some words at me. “He c-completely embarrassed me in front of everyone.” She begins to stutter and eventually becomes inarticulate.

“You’re pretty dumb you know.” The rain keeps falling. “I mean, well, you don’t really have anything to be sad about.” Her face becomes extremely perplexed, but I continue talking nonetheless. “I mean, you’ve got no reason to be sad at all. It’s not like anything he said was true. You’re beautiful, you’ve got friends, and you don’t have a horrible moustache. Honestly, you’re pretty dumb.” She looks at me, and gives me a hoot. Her hand graces her slobbering, wet face, and she gives me a hug. And finally, the rain stops falling.