2000 School Magazine

original works

NEVER WEAR YELLOW

DARKNESS

Never wear yellow. Yellow is like a beacon screaming "I want attention!' Attention is dangerous. Wear black. Blend in with the asphalt playground, blend into dark corners. Blend in. Always sit at the front of the class. Always. They'11 sit behind you, taunting you, teasing you. But they're more exposed now. Hope that the teacher will see. If she doesn't see, she 11 do nothing. If she does see, she'll still do nothing. Don't bother with the teacher. Sit at the front anyway. Lunchtime. Escape to another planet, to another dimension. Or to the library. Just escape. if they find you, they would have anyway. If they don't find you, can't find you, you're safe. For now. Stay alert all of the time. Don't listen to the footsteps. PIOnk, thud, PIOnk. Stop imagining that you hear them coming. PIOnk, thud, PIOnk. Try to stop imagining that they're coming. PIOnk, thud, PIOnk. Pray that they're not coming. "We've been looking for you. " He's angry. They're all angry. Attempt to disappear between the loopholes in the hairy grey carpet. Shrink to the size of a gnat and vanish, leaving your clothes crumpled in a formless puddle. Eat some sloppy canned spinach and grow rippling muscles. They've found you. Block your ears to the cruelty and stand passive. Don't cry. Blink hard, eyes burning. Don't even think about crying. Remember to breathe. Act as if the words don't hurt you. Make it seem that their verbal missiles simply bounce off your mental wall. Pretend that the wall is made of rough, dense concrete, five metres thick, instead of tissue paper. Endeavour to make them leave you alone forever. Give up fighting. Be so nondescript that they lose interest in you. Be so nondescript that you lose yourself.

Darkness, although sometimes my enemy, is often my friend. it hides, it covers, it conceals; I need to be concealed. Bright light peers through the cracks underneath and between the cupboard doors, fragmenting the darkness Frantically, I push clothes, shoes, blankets, anything, anything at all, to cover the cracks. Anything to prevent the light from touching me, from contaminating me. I despise the harsh, bright light outside; I feel so exposed, so naked, beneath it. I hide in the darkness; I curl up into a little ball, frightened possum, and succumb to it. In the darkness, no one else exists except for one's self. Safe. Secure. I freeze. My heart pounds. I put my hands over my ears, willing the footsteps echoing down the hall, echoing inside my mind, to disappear. I squeeze my eyes shut. I crouch in the corner, leaning against the solid wood of the cupboard so hard that I imagine I hear it splinter. My body is still and rigid, my breathing rapid. The footsteps stifle the hum of the fireflies outside; the footsteps eclipse the comfort of darkness. I press harder than ever against the unwielding wood, willing myself to become a part of it, to become nothing but a piece of oak, unfeeling, unseeing, uncaring. To be able to exist as anything but myself. The footsteps cease. I hear the sharp intake of breath as clearly as though he was in here, right beside me, sharing my darkness. in the ensuing silence, I imagined that he wasn't out there, waiting for me; but the door of the cupboard was wrenched open, and the harsh sound tore apart the silence and ended my dreams. The bright light streamed into the cupboard, exposing me; my darkness had been destroyed and my nightmare had begun. hunto foul! I I Woolcock The Dons WarokerTownsendMemonolWriters Coinp 2000

Sophie Ferns 12 Grimth The Dons WarokerTownsendMem0"o1Writers Coinp 2000

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

,^

o

-,

C

= 01

^ o

^

,e co

,, a 61 In N e o e @

Einino Poutsen 10Mockoy SelfPoit, o11 Pointing