The Circle
No matter which path a student walked, the way to the school was sadistically hazardous. Rivers seemed to melt from other places with thick black fluid streaming through them as though it were water. The fluid itself made anyone who touched it insane on contact. These venous streams had wooden bridges of various sizes so they may be walked over and even admired by the student traversing at the safe distance.
The red ground itself past the streams and rivers was dry and arid. Stepping off the bridge the impacting foot would send up a mushroom cloud of crimson dust rising to the knee before dispersing. The ground was like a moon landing of preserved prints until the wind and the storms came, which could be minutes or sometimes even hours.
The school buildings were made of blood brick with dripping black fill. While normally too dark to see the red storms of the sky would ignite and the outside walls would become visible by some miracle of fury.
The structures were humble considering their origins but they served their purpose. They had many different shapes- some normal and rectangular, some underground that possessed gaping mouths with sharp teeth reaching downward with abscesses of tall spikes revealing their location, and others tri-horned towers stretching upwards. The flames in the distance glowed in a way that made eyes expand and made the world epically monumental.
Alexander awoke ready to start his morning journey to school. His parents were busy, they were becoming powerful and hurting others- and of course Alexander was very proud.
He was considered to be an alpha within his peers because of his physical prowess and cruelty, but he didn't often feel like the alpha. He felt that his unease stripped him of every gift he was born with. It was like inheriting a thrown, but with the sole knowledge that it rightfully belonged to someone else. The unease was inward and whenever it was noticed by another that individual was attacked for their keen insight- made to seem ignorant, weak, and pathetic. He was someone afraid of himself for being an imposter, and this shown on his face by an ever-furrowed, blackened brow line.
He stretched out from the dust, reaching towards the sky that was spinning in clouds of black and red. The clouds didn't interest him as much as the thunderous white bolts exploding in an instant and then disappearing. That was the beautiful part, and the part he identified with- the sudden explosion at the end of a short life.
Torn black pants were all that guarded his body. He changed pairs whenever another pair ceased to cover him. His physique was powerful and muscular. His male peers would want more to cover themselves around him as to not be compared to him. It was wonderful to embarrass others. It was wonderful to see them look over and then watch as their eyes anchor downward- it was injustice, it was unfair, and it was empowering.
Alexander crawled before walking, stretching his muscular back and moving forward like a snake growing limbs. The storms were a strobe and his silhouette was broken, caught by slow frames. When it became bright enough his red skin could be seen, scarred like a fight dog. His thick, black claws seeped into the dust. They were claws used to tearing things, used to killing things, scratched and imperfect.
Kacee awoke around the same time. She had her own cave, it was clean and bright. Over her slender, grey body she dressed in clothes that barely covered her. Her skin gave the impression of always being wet, or even sweating. From under a torn black skirt her sexuality could be seen, constantly bleeding forth. Her form was gravitational, extracting lust from her peers and using it to feed her pride. She wanted to fuck, as the others did, but she wanted more for them to fuck her ego- to make it pregnant with self-worship. Her eyes were confident, and the outside of her brow rose with cruel interest as she laughed. She hardly ever laughed from her own sense of humor or entertainment. She laughed at others. She laughed to hurt. She laughed to make pain. She attacked everyone, and laugher was her means of destruction. Her claws were thin, black, and perfectly manicured with a shinny finish.
Alexander and Kacee were usually the first to make it into class. They didn't have any pleasant dialog- they were never known to get along. Kacee sat in a chair in front of Alexander, arching her back to the point that her skirt no longer covered her. He knew what she was doing, beaconing him with bitchy rejection, just so he could again hear that laugh that made him want to rape her as she suffocated.
One by one, students filled the classroom. Their usual heartlessness was a greeting between one another. Horrible insults were their way of breaking the morning ice.
The teacher arrived in a tailored suit, and in some way his dress was a confirmation of cruelty- something the students were taught to respect. There were twelve students in all, half male, half female. The topic of the class was the exploration of individual creativity and difference of both opinion and state of mind.
The fraternization of the students came to a halt with the teachers booming voice.
"You've seen the painting on this wall many times. I want you to tell me the story behind it. Who is this girl?"
The teacher pointed to the painted located behind him. Within a thick, dark frame was a girl in a green forest. She stood off center, surrounded by sparse trees and grasses. Everything around her was vibrant and alive, like sunlight bleeding into a background. She herself was near gray she was so pale. She had long black hair that ran in straight waves. She was partially hiding her face behind it with timid, delicate beauty that was unaware of its own value. She couldn't have been over thirteen years old, and her dress made her look like she was a puritan on the way to church- repressed in a thick, black sheet. On one side of the painting was stretched skin, inked with impressions of Nikki falling onto sharp spikes below. On the other side was brown leather with a depiction of Nikki with black streams emanating from her eyes in all directions.
On top of the painting was the name "Nikki."
"I'm giving you the entire day to consider the question, take your time. Stay as long as you like to re-familiarize yourself with the painting. We'll be going in alphabetical order- Alexander, you'll be first. Tomorrow is your day."
The teacher left the room, and some of the students also left immediately, pleased that they would now have the rest of the day to do whatever they wanted. Alexander stared at the painting. He was already very familiar with it. He had lost himself many times during lectures just starring at it. He believed he already knew the story of Nikki.
Kacee turned around with her brows raised and a smirk that displayed brilliant, white teeth. "This'll be good," she winked in disappeared with a light, hungry growl.
Alexander isolated himself and rehearsed all day. He knew the others wouldn't do the same, but he wanted his story to be better than theirs. He wanted his voice to boom, his words to engrave, and his inflections to be felt rather than heard. He went to his spot to rest in the dust. He considered Nikki again and again. To him, she wasn't a sister, a friend or anything comprehensible. She was a dream of an alien. An embodiment of everything foreign…she was disgusting and human, but something still very close.
The night was long and sleepless. The sleeplessness he felt put him in a better state of mind to convey the story of the girl. The teacher looked into a pile of notes and then up at the class. "Alexander, if you would-" he said, gesturing towards the boy.
Alexander's eyes drifted towards the painting. It was the ink on skin that he couldn't take his eyes away from, and he stood to speak.