The School

This is a twisted tale written in 1st person about a girl's personal experiences. This isn't actually tue obviously.

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3. the dissapearance

I do not cope well with guilt and secrets as my bill for the 5 pychariatrists I have will tell you. For days I acted normal, eating, sleeping, talking as usual. Then I cracked. I stopped eating as the gnawing pain in my stomach put me off. I stopped sleeping as the guilt didn't let me close my eyes and the paranoia I experienced? Let me tell you. Spinning around every few moments in case a freaky girl tries to kill you makes you dizzy. My friends would laugh at me and call me paranoid. I sighed and sat don on one of the metal benches and lapped up the sun.

"RRIIIIIINNNNNG!" Was the first sound I heard. I jolted awake and checked my schedule. I vaguely remember it being double math. Instead, I decided to drop in on Clarissa as she was off ill. When I came to her dormitory, the door was ajar. Out of concern and curiousity. I pushed the door forward. It was EMPTY!

Clarissa's bed had been unslept in and none of her things touched. I ran out into the corridor and searched for a teacher frantically By the time I'd found a member of staff They all already knew of Clarissa's dissapearance and I took a statement (sounds a bit policey doesn't it?) Then was hurried off to my last session of history. I quietly as I could, opened the door and feeling very concious; sat down in my seat.

"Miss Jones?" asked a steely voice. "Why are you late"

"Um.....errr" was all I could I manage. I could feel my ears heating up in embarrament. "I-I had to take a statement for s-something....... Sorry!" I added as an afterthought.

"Hmm" replied Mrs Clarkson "sit down" Then did the half-smiley thing people do. All I could read out of that was: Yay! I don't have detention! Anyway back to the lesson.  Mrs Clarkson started yacking on about victorians;

"Bla-blah-blah-great age of discovery-blah-blah-homework", I straightened up and started listening then. I already had three detentions for un-done homework and I wasn't about to give up my friday either.

"Class! for homework, write a paper on the victorians, a poster, an essay whatever your choice!" Explained  Mrs Clarkson. Then Sadie-a girl who is obsessed with comics- shot her hand up.

"Yes Sadie?" she asked wearily

"Can we do a comic on about Victorians" Mrs Clarkson heaved a big sigh. This was a one-sided battle she would never win.

"Alright" she replied

As soon as the end of school bell rang; I dashed to the library to get homework out of the way. I ran my fingers along the spines of the books: The middle ages; the georgians; the victorians. I pulled the heavy leatherbound out. It was full of family portraits and records. I flicked through endless pages until one page caught my eye In the picture; a curt mother was standing with a little girl. A little girl with long black plaits. Blank dreamy eyes.  A shin-length balck smock. A white starched pinifore and long curly doll-like lashes. That girl, it couldn't have been. But oh.........It was. That little Victorian girl. Was Marianne.......

 

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