The Calling

Nobody is safe anymore, there's nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, the fate of humankind is set in stone, so how will you protect your soul? ...Not everyone gets The Calling but The Calling will get everyone...

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13. A Kindred Spirit (What is it with spirits?)

7o’clock Monday September 12th.  I was awoken by the frantic bleeping of my alarm clock, groaning I rolled over to turn it off and found myself face to face once again with Kirsty. “JESUS!”  “Don’t be rude young lady,” she warned, dropping a cereal bar, “I’m going out, won’t be back till late, let yourself in, and don’t be too much of a drama queen at school, they’ll think your attention seeking.”  I squint into her face, “Do you have to be THAT close?”  “Rudeness wont get you anywhere!” she spat, throwing my new clock forcefully at my face, it hit just above the eyebrow and shattered. “I’m not buying you another one don’t ask.” And she left.  I stood wearily, wiping my eyes and quickly scoffing my breakfast bar, I was starving and it filled me up giving me the energy I needed to run downstairs and stick some bread in the toaster. I walked back upstairs, staring at the path of dead plants in the garden before deciding what I would wear. In the end, I found myself in front of the mirror applying foundation to cover the new, red, pulsing bulge on my forehead. I was wearing shorts over tight-less legs, a loose, baggy white vest top, and dainty sandals. I didn’t want to look ‘fake’, so I only wore eyeliner and mascara. I heard the toaster go downstairs so zipped up my bag and ran, grabbing the toast and chewing it swiftly as I walked out the door, slamming it behind me and zipping the key in my pocket. Eventually I arrived and stood, in the gateway gaping at how much bigger it was than back up north. I was invisible, stumbling through the wrought iron gates, no one took any notice of me, despite my bright appearance, I was as good as dead. As I wandered towards the reception area, I began to panic, sweat began to dribble down my face, I swiped it away with the back of my hand,                                                                      

                                                                            *****  

“Excuse me?” my confidence failed me and my voice cracked, gulping in some of the cool air blowing in from the large, industrial looking (and rather un necessary) fan in the corner, I tried again, ”Excuse me?” Until then all I could see over the counter was a gently ticking clock, which sent shivers down my spine which I refused to acknowledge, and a large, pristine white bookshelf filled with dozens of bulging folders, each filed neatly with dates and name labels, teachers and pupils, Ofsted reports and planning permission slips. There were books upon books, old and new, loose pieces of paper also, it seemed that the lower down the case you got, the less organised it was. There was a loud creak of a chair, and a young, fresh face arose above the desk, she looked about 25, her blue eyes glistened in the morning brightness and her curly blond hair blew gently behind her shoulders, caught in the path of the fan. “Can I help you?” she asked, smiling concerned, into my lost eyes, I was lost, why had I ever thought this would work? 12 years of this ‘lostness’ at school, why would it be any different now? How many times had I tried to start again? Too many. There can’t have been many schools in the UK who hadn’t had me on as a pupil for at least a week. I couldn’t stop myself, the bruise on my forehead began to throb painfully and my wrist began to burn uncomfortably underneath it’s new bandage, I’m 16 for god’s sake, don’t do this, don’t do this! But I did ‘do this’ and all of a sudden I couldn’t do it anymore, my eyes welled up, my head began to bang and I collapsed onto the itchy, blue sofa chair against the wall beside me. My eyes overflowed and, burying my face in my arms, I wept, waiting for the earth to blow up into oblivion around me.  “Oh honey, what’s wrong?” there was the frantic sound of shuffling and I felt a warm presence beside me, weighing the sofa-chair down next to me. I slowly raised my head and sheepishly wiped at the tears as I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle the flow. I grinned up into her face and tried to laugh it off, she wasn’t buying any of it though, so she picked up my bag from the floor beside me, and supported me onto my feet before guiding me behind the desk and through into a quiet office. As we walked I did a brief check around to check who had seen my babyish venture, there was no one else in the room thank hell.   She shut the door gently behind us and enquired if I was new and needed any help. I told her I was and that I would be fine. She also asked what was wrong about 15 times and refused to be convinced when I said it was just a little overwhelming, but the bell eventually went and she had to give me directions and let me go. “If you have anymore problems just come straight to me.” She frowned, handing me a map. Nodding and smiling, I wandered out of the door, and down the cold steps into my new, now somewhat brighter life. But as I said before, things are not always what they seem.  

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