How to ...
Recycle old stories ...

Haha I found this floating around in my USB. Anyway, although I used the name of a real person ( without her permission as well, might I add), the events and personality traits described below are purely fictional.

Marie is better than that. Much better =D

Yeah ... work in progress. Will finish after trials (possible might even have to wait until after HSC -- maybe not, I would probably be tempted to finish it)

*Yet to think of a title*

Rays of sunlight dispersed into the cold and empty classrooms. The constricted corridors emanated with clamorous noises from fresh prey. Marie Zuo. Seventeen. Roll Call : 12F. She was back.

The adrenalin had started to pump. She had discovered a newly heightened sense of viciousness within her. As she approached the cupboard of trophies won by girls whose names she never bothered to inquire the names of, she instinctively checked out her reflection on the bronze awards that she will never make an effort to receive.

However, a mere glimpse at her perfect self was never quite enough for Marie. She reached for her compact mirror and scrutinised at her glistening pout. Unsatisfied, she laboriously applied yet another coat of viscous, pink gunk. Much better. Smugly, she ploughed her way through the sea of shrimpy juniors. Overstatement? I think not. One of them only reached up to the top of her fashionably shortened skirt. At least she was never as short and underdeveloped as them.

Marie was not callow and superficial. Mainly just uninspired and unambitious. Sweeping her freshly cut-and-highlighted-job to the side, she strode down the carpeted path. Was it the path to enlightenment perhaps? Because as we all know, self knowledge must surely prevail from one’s journey. And as we all know, Marie had been “journeying” quite a lot lately. Or maybe, this path leads to enlightenment, or illumination. After all, a neglected site of memory had been retrieved. She finally remembered her way to her locker after six long years of the mundane, yet fulfilling lifestyle she had led in the buildings that surrounded her. The countless bricks and blue framed doors that practically molded her identity.

Plausible as the explanations above were, the true destination of this passageway was, in fact, the principal’s office.

Marie had never been inside the principal’s office before. Her closest approach had always been the patch of distastefully stained carpet in the corridor, half a metre from the ominous aperture containing the shrewd, messed-up, poor excuse for a woman inside. In other words, the principal’s door.

Today, however, was not like any other. It was the first day of her last year at school. Surely she should indulge in a spontaneous sport, inspecting the one room in the whole building that she had never visited before. She knew for a fact that the principal is having coffee with her henchmen. Her two deputies. Probably discussing a plot to overturn the democratic system of the country.

Slowly, she turned the large doorknob. As she did so, she felt a shock of electricity surge through her body. The door seemed to fling open by itself, and revealed a trove of narcissistic portraits of the principal.


.................................................................................

Yeah .. that's it ... for now ...

Oh, what I said above about our principal is not true. She's a kind old soul =/
Sorry if you accidentally stumble across this piece of crap and feel offended.

Posted by Ky .. please don't sue me =D