Disturbing Story
I wanted to make a bit of a disturbing story to go behind the avatar. Enjoy!
There's this... girl. She sits in the back of the class everyday, scribbling away in her little notebook with her bunny plushie lying on the desk. I've never seen her face as she always is looking down focused on that notebook of hers. I can't even tell what color her skin is, since she wears clothes that cover her entire body and her long white-blonde hair blankets across her face. But here's the thing: I never see anyone mention her. Her name is never called during attendance, she's never called on during class discussions, she's never gone and presented a science project... nothing. One day during lunch, I slyly slithered in the topic when talking to my closest friends. I said, while we were talking about funny-looking and odd students in out class, "Yeah and what about that girl that sits in the back?" "Which one?" "You know, the one with the platinum white-blonde hair?" "Sylvia?" My sister, who constantly bleaches her hair. "No. The one with the really long white-blonde hair. The one with the bunny plushie." "Bunny plushie? There's no one that carries a bunny plushie in our class." I looked around. That's odd, I've never seen the girl without the bunny. "I thought there was. I'll point her out next class." And so I did. But as soon as I took my eyes off of her for a few seconds, she disappeared. "Where...?" I said. I squinted and rubbed my eyes. She really did disappear. "She was right there. I thought--" "Whatever, kid. You need some more sleep," my friend said. The plushie and book were sitting on the desk still. I walked slowly to the back and decided to look into the book. The first few pages were covered in scribbles. Literally scribbles. Then afterwards the rest of the pages were covered in one specific name "Leonard Gavin Jackson." Page after page, the name was just plastered all over. The name was so familiar. The next day, I saw the girl in the back again, head down, writing furiously in that notebook. I tapped my friends shoulder quickly to show the girl. She hadn't disappeared! "Look!" Isaid, "There she is, the girl with the white blonde hair!" But my friend said, "Sylvia? Yeah, your sister, I know her. I don't see any other girl. Are you alright?" "Yeah, I just... need more sleep" I said. I was baffled. She was right there! Why did my friend not see her? I went to ask my sister and said, "Do you see anyone over there?" "Yeah, James and Kenneth, why?" "No reason, thanks," I said. She raised a brow and turned back to her desk to a drawing of an old man. It looked a bit like Grandpa. Grandpa.... Leonard. Gavin. Jackson. My heart jumped. I cautiously walked over to where the girl sat. I never noticed how much she glowed. She's glowing! Glowing. Glowing? I whispered, "Excuse me, Miss?" Her furious writing slowed until it came to a stop. She put down her pencil, still looking into the notebook. I slowly kneeled, and tried to see her face. That hair, did not allow. "Miss?..." She didn't move. "...Grandma?" She moved slightly. "Grandma.... Jeane?" I heard what sounded like a gasp. Her head raised to reveal glasses covering nothing. She had no eyes. No face. Somehow, though, it did not faze me. She reached out and touched my face, to which I smiled. "Ian..." I heard a warbled voice say. I nodded and whispered, "Ian's son... Jeremy." "You look... just like... your father," the same warbled voice said. "Grandma. You are a great woman and very beautiful. Grandpa misses you. He still loves you. Dad loves you. And... I love you. Our family loves you, even if you weren't here for us. We forgive you." She stood, holding her plushie and her notebook and I stood as she gestured me to do so. Even though I didn't feel anything, she touched my face and kissed my forehead. "Tell everyone... that I love them... my grandson," she said. I nodded. She started to disappear. In 1969, Jeane Parker and Leonard Jackson met. Jeane had crushed on him for a few months before Leonard caught her scribbling his name all in her notebook and decided to start a relationship. In 1971, when my Grandma was about 15, she gave birth to my dad. Ian Andrew Parker. At the time, Grandpa was around 17. He was the best father, that is, until when he went to college two years later. He abandoned Grandma and dad and even told Grandma that she was a terrible mother and said some awful, awful things to her and did some things even worse to her. At the same time, she was dealing with a broken home, an alcoholic mother and a traveling father. Along with that, she would get ridiculed for carrying a teddy bear and teased for her long white-blonde hair. She was called stupid, slut, ugly and a terrible person. Finally, she snapped when she found out she was pregnant again by Grandpa. She couldn't take any more of the stress and committed suicide before it became any worse. My dad was only 3. According to Grandpa, her last words were, "I'm pregnant again. I can't take it anymore. Take care of Ian for me." After that, it was a big story in the newspapers. Grandpa refused to say anything except that she was a great person and wished he had been there for her more. He promptly went to take anger management classes, quit drugs and took care of dad as Grandma had asked of him. He never found love after Grandma Jeane. He says he still loves her.... Later on, I asked mom and dad if we could go to Grandma's grave. Grandpa, Sylvia and little baby Jeane came with us. Grandpa laid out what he remembered as her favorite flowers, Sylvia drew a picture of baby Jeane and put the picture in the bouquet and I set down a little bunny plushie. I never saw that girl in the back of the class again. May she rest in peace.
There's this... girl. She sits in the back of the class everyday, scribbling away in her little notebook with her bunny plushie lying on the desk. I've never seen her face as she always is looking down focused on that notebook of hers. I can't even tell what color her skin is, since she wears clothes that cover her entire body and her long white-blonde hair blankets across her face. But here's the thing: I never see anyone mention her. Her name is never called during attendance, she's never called on during class discussions, she's never gone and presented a science project... nothing. One day during lunch, I slyly slithered in the topic when talking to my closest friends. I said, while we were talking about funny-looking and odd students in out class, "Yeah and what about that girl that sits in the back?" "Which one?" "You know, the one with the platinum white-blonde hair?" "Sylvia?" My sister, who constantly bleaches her hair. "No. The one with the really long white-blonde hair. The one with the bunny plushie." "Bunny plushie? There's no one that carries a bunny plushie in our class." I looked around. That's odd, I've never seen the girl without the bunny. "I thought there was. I'll point her out next class." And so I did. But as soon as I took my eyes off of her for a few seconds, she disappeared. "Where...?" I said. I squinted and rubbed my eyes. She really did disappear. "She was right there. I thought--" "Whatever, kid. You need some more sleep," my friend said. The plushie and book were sitting on the desk still. I walked slowly to the back and decided to look into the book. The first few pages were covered in scribbles. Literally scribbles. Then afterwards the rest of the pages were covered in one specific name "Leonard Gavin Jackson." Page after page, the name was just plastered all over. The name was so familiar. The next day, I saw the girl in the back again, head down, writing furiously in that notebook. I tapped my friends shoulder quickly to show the girl. She hadn't disappeared! "Look!" Isaid, "There she is, the girl with the white blonde hair!" But my friend said, "Sylvia? Yeah, your sister, I know her. I don't see any other girl. Are you alright?" "Yeah, I just... need more sleep" I said. I was baffled. She was right there! Why did my friend not see her? I went to ask my sister and said, "Do you see anyone over there?" "Yeah, James and Kenneth, why?" "No reason, thanks," I said. She raised a brow and turned back to her desk to a drawing of an old man. It looked a bit like Grandpa. Grandpa.... Leonard. Gavin. Jackson. My heart jumped. I cautiously walked over to where the girl sat. I never noticed how much she glowed. She's glowing! Glowing. Glowing? I whispered, "Excuse me, Miss?" Her furious writing slowed until it came to a stop. She put down her pencil, still looking into the notebook. I slowly kneeled, and tried to see her face. That hair, did not allow. "Miss?..." She didn't move. "...Grandma?" She moved slightly. "Grandma.... Jeane?" I heard what sounded like a gasp. Her head raised to reveal glasses covering nothing. She had no eyes. No face. Somehow, though, it did not faze me. She reached out and touched my face, to which I smiled. "Ian..." I heard a warbled voice say. I nodded and whispered, "Ian's son... Jeremy." "You look... just like... your father," the same warbled voice said. "Grandma. You are a great woman and very beautiful. Grandpa misses you. He still loves you. Dad loves you. And... I love you. Our family loves you, even if you weren't here for us. We forgive you." She stood, holding her plushie and her notebook and I stood as she gestured me to do so. Even though I didn't feel anything, she touched my face and kissed my forehead. "Tell everyone... that I love them... my grandson," she said. I nodded. She started to disappear. In 1969, Jeane Parker and Leonard Jackson met. Jeane had crushed on him for a few months before Leonard caught her scribbling his name all in her notebook and decided to start a relationship. In 1971, when my Grandma was about 15, she gave birth to my dad. Ian Andrew Parker. At the time, Grandpa was around 17. He was the best father, that is, until when he went to college two years later. He abandoned Grandma and dad and even told Grandma that she was a terrible mother and said some awful, awful things to her and did some things even worse to her. At the same time, she was dealing with a broken home, an alcoholic mother and a traveling father. Along with that, she would get ridiculed for carrying a teddy bear and teased for her long white-blonde hair. She was called stupid, slut, ugly and a terrible person. Finally, she snapped when she found out she was pregnant again by Grandpa. She couldn't take any more of the stress and committed suicide before it became any worse. My dad was only 3. According to Grandpa, her last words were, "I'm pregnant again. I can't take it anymore. Take care of Ian for me." After that, it was a big story in the newspapers. Grandpa refused to say anything except that she was a great person and wished he had been there for her more. He promptly went to take anger management classes, quit drugs and took care of dad as Grandma had asked of him. He never found love after Grandma Jeane. He says he still loves her.... Later on, I asked mom and dad if we could go to Grandma's grave. Grandpa, Sylvia and little baby Jeane came with us. Grandpa laid out what he remembered as her favorite flowers, Sylvia drew a picture of baby Jeane and put the picture in the bouquet and I set down a little bunny plushie. I never saw that girl in the back of the class again. May she rest in peace.
