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Description
Days are beginning to blur together now into one mundane mishmash of irrelevant thought and stereotypical teenage girl talk. Barely any homework, which is a relief from the previous years, but it kind of defeats the purpose of high school when you have no social life to speak of and nothing interesting to do once you're home. I started playing this game with myself; how fast can I make these eight hours go by so I can go home, go to sleep early, and wake up to repeat the same mundanaities?
It normally works, except today, the seconds hand on the clock in CP Biology is moving slower than the rate of actual time, and my mind wanders to the concept of time, and how do we even measure time anyway? Was there a scientist thousands of years ago who said 'Well, this thing that shouldn't be able to be measured is called time, and yeah, we're gonna measure it by separating it into columns of sixty so everyone gets confused and misses work because a quarter of an hour is fifteen minutes, not twenty five, and I'm a scientist, so you should listen to me,' -and the bell rings and I am grateful for stage one ADD because it got me through a whole forty-minute lesson on biomes without retaining any information whatsoever. I pick up my backpack and slug it over my shoulder as I push my way through crowded halls of name-brand blondes texting each other, two couples exchanging saliva, a kid blasting some kind of screamo from the speaker on a phone, and jocks who feel the need to do that head-butt-hand-clasp-chest-bump bro code handshake thing while short freshman me would like to have a path without any physical human contact to the bus stop, please.
"Dakota!" I hear a familiar face yell. I spin around to see my friend Flash about twenty feet behind me.
Now, Flash isn't her actual name; her birth name is Kareen. But everyone calls her Flash because of an unfortunate but funny incident that happened earlier in the year. In November she had volunteered to be a photographer for a girl's birthday party, and even though she's incredibly accomplished and very good at what she does, someone thought it would be funny to turn the camera light towards where the photographer stood when she wasn't looking. And, well, you can guess what happens next. We started calling her Flash to joke around and ease the mood while she was undergoing prescription study for vision-correcting lenses, and it just stuck.
"You going home early?" She asks after catching up to me. I shrug.
"No reason to stay. Don't really want my mom to drive me home either, so eh, might as well take the bus." Flash looked down as she pulled an elastic band around a red-and-purple tipped ponytail.
"You wanna crash at my house? It's Friday, my parents shouldn't mind." I chuckled a bit.
"Thanks, but my mom'd be pissed if I stay the night somewhere without checking with her five hundred times." She pulls her hair taut and looks forward.
"Understandable. It's no problem." As we separate I wave bye, and then walk to the one thing associated with school that I find relaxing; a forty minute bus ride.
After climbing into the huge, yellow metal monster, I pull out a lengthy teen romance novel that I swore I would never read but actually ended up enjoying it. I read for a few minutes, feeling my eyes droop a bit before I snapped them back open. Note to self; take a nap when you get home.
~o~
Hello. My name is Kasey. I am here to show you the world.
Don't fight it, love. You'll be getting to know me whether you like it or not.
The mind is a precious thing. I'm going to take care of yours for you. Good care of it...
Dakota, sweeeeetieeee...
I'm here to create you, love.
Resurrection from a decaying body is said to be painful.
But we'll be testing many theories, won't we Dakota, sweetie?
~o~
I don't know how it got to be five thirty, but when I woke up, the sky was darkening and the bus was empty except for me and the driver. I sat up promptly and cleared my throat.
"Excuse me, how many stops have you made?" The driver looked at me through the rearview bus mirror.
"Enough." I sucked in a breath.
"I'm sorry?" My heart was beating incredibly fast. Mom's probably furious with me.
"Can you just take me to Maplebrook?"
"Depends."
"Please? I should really be home." My voice was getting caught in my throat as fear swelled in my gut. I looked around at my surroundings for the first time.
This was not where I lived. Not even close. Miles of open, free-range highway stretched endlessly in front of us as the bus glided at what felt like two hundred miles and hour. I sat frozen as the figure who I thought to be the driver stood up from the driver's seat and began to walk down the aisle.
"Oh yesss, it does depend. Will you be my little exxxxssperiment?" He said. I breathed in sharply, pressing my back hard against the seat.
"May I.... test you?"
Heartbeat, one, two-
"May I...... make you?"
-three, four-
"Yesssss, you should do fine..."
-five, six.
"WAKE UP." I screamed, covering my ears.
~o~
You know that feeling when you're just about to fall asleep, but then your whole body just collectively jumps and you're jarred awake?
Let's just say that lucid dreaming has some flaws.
I've always done it naturally. Almost every time I've slept since I was an infant, I've dreamed lucidly and remembered those dreams.
But they turn from warm daydreams to nightmarish dreamscapes within seconds, and that's why you have to be careful. They don't affect your reality unless you allow them to.
Which is why I'm oversleeping in the morning. So I can dream like a normal person does; watching a movie pre-planned for you by your brain. Three stars. No commercials. Empty theatre.
Nice try, sweetie.

Description
Days are beginning to blur together now into one mundane mishmash of irrelevant thought and stereotypical teenage girl talk. Barely any homework, which is a relief from the previous years, but it kind of defeats the purpose of high school when you have no social life to speak of and nothing interesting to do once you're home. I started playing this game with myself; how fast can I make these eight hours go by so I can go home, go to sleep early, and wake up to repeat the same mundanaities?
It normally works, except today, the seconds hand on the clock in CP Biology is moving slower than the rate of actual time, and my mind wanders to the concept of time, and how do we even measure time anyway? Was there a scientist thousands of years ago who said 'Well, this thing that shouldn't be able to be measured is called time, and yeah, we're gonna measure it by separating it into columns of sixty so everyone gets confused and misses work because a quarter of an hour is fifteen minutes, not twenty five, and I'm a scientist, so you should listen to me,' -and the bell rings and I am grateful for stage one ADD because it got me through a whole forty-minute lesson on biomes without retaining any information whatsoever. I pick up my backpack and slug it over my shoulder as I push my way through crowded halls of name-brand blondes texting each other, two couples exchanging saliva, a kid blasting some kind of screamo from the speaker on a phone, and jocks who feel the need to do that head-butt-hand-clasp-chest-bump bro code handshake thing while short freshman me would like to have a path without any physical human contact to the bus stop, please.
"Dakota!" I hear a familiar face yell. I spin around to see my friend Flash about twenty feet behind me.
Now, Flash isn't her actual name; her birth name is Kareen. But everyone calls her Flash because of an unfortunate but funny incident that happened earlier in the year. In November she had volunteered to be a photographer for a girl's birthday party, and even though she's incredibly accomplished and very good at what she does, someone thought it would be funny to turn the camera light towards where the photographer stood when she wasn't looking. And, well, you can guess what happens next. We started calling her Flash to joke around and ease the mood while she was undergoing prescription study for vision-correcting lenses, and it just stuck.
"You going home early?" She asks after catching up to me. I shrug.
"No reason to stay. Don't really want my mom to drive me home either, so eh, might as well take the bus." Flash looked down as she pulled an elastic band around a red-and-purple tipped ponytail.
"You wanna crash at my house? It's Friday, my parents shouldn't mind." I chuckled a bit.
"Thanks, but my mom'd be pissed if I stay the night somewhere without checking with her five hundred times." She pulls her hair taut and looks forward.
"Understandable. It's no problem." As we separate I wave bye, and then walk to the one thing associated with school that I find relaxing; a forty minute bus ride.
After climbing into the huge, yellow metal monster, I pull out a lengthy teen romance novel that I swore I would never read but actually ended up enjoying it. I read for a few minutes, feeling my eyes droop a bit before I snapped them back open. Note to self; take a nap when you get home.
~o~
Hello. My name is Kasey. I am here to show you the world.
Don't fight it, love. You'll be getting to know me whether you like it or not.
The mind is a precious thing. I'm going to take care of yours for you. Good care of it...
Dakota, sweeeeetieeee...
I'm here to create you, love.
Resurrection from a decaying body is said to be painful.
But we'll be testing many theories, won't we Dakota, sweetie?
~o~
I don't know how it got to be five thirty, but when I woke up, the sky was darkening and the bus was empty except for me and the driver. I sat up promptly and cleared my throat.
"Excuse me, how many stops have you made?" The driver looked at me through the rearview bus mirror.
"Enough." I sucked in a breath.
"I'm sorry?" My heart was beating incredibly fast. Mom's probably furious with me.
"Can you just take me to Maplebrook?"
"Depends."
"Please? I should really be home." My voice was getting caught in my throat as fear swelled in my gut. I looked around at my surroundings for the first time.
This was not where I lived. Not even close. Miles of open, free-range highway stretched endlessly in front of us as the bus glided at what felt like two hundred miles and hour. I sat frozen as the figure who I thought to be the driver stood up from the driver's seat and began to walk down the aisle.
"Oh yesss, it does depend. Will you be my little exxxxssperiment?" He said. I breathed in sharply, pressing my back hard against the seat.
"May I.... test you?"
Heartbeat, one, two-
"May I...... make you?"
-three, four-
"Yesssss, you should do fine..."
-five, six.
"WAKE UP." I screamed, covering my ears.
~o~
You know that feeling when you're just about to fall asleep, but then your whole body just collectively jumps and you're jarred awake?
Let's just say that lucid dreaming has some flaws.
I've always done it naturally. Almost every time I've slept since I was an infant, I've dreamed lucidly and remembered those dreams.
But they turn from warm daydreams to nightmarish dreamscapes within seconds, and that's why you have to be careful. They don't affect your reality unless you allow them to.
Which is why I'm oversleeping in the morning. So I can dream like a normal person does; watching a movie pre-planned for you by your brain. Three stars. No commercials. Empty theatre.
Nice try, sweetie.