Flowers and Ashes~ Chapter One

I sat, looking at the easel before me. Bright reds, greens, oranges, yellows, and pinks stood out like a flower amongst the ashes. Taking a thin tipped brush I dipped it in the black paint and at the bottom of the painting I wrote in tiny, cursive writing, my name. Savannah Alaire. Yes, that is I, Savannah Alaire, a flower amongst the ashes. Yet, it seems to me that very few people appreciate someone that stands out so like a flower surrounded by ashes. In a way it seemed that one time I felt totally at ease with myself was when I had a brush in my hand. Was when I was telling a story with colors and whilst doing so I took myself on a journey to a place far from here. Only when I was done telling my colorful story or I was pulled back from my fantasy did I come back to reality with nothing more then a heavy heart the mere fading memory of my dreams. I usually got angry with myself for letting my dreams make the best of me. I couldn't live in a fairy tale forever; everyone had to face reality. It's not like my life is horrible, as it probably sounds, I have a great, loving family and a few close friends but, lately things have been tough making it tough to face the sun every morning.

School ended with the usual last RIINNGG of the end of the day bell. Savannah picked up her messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Ms. Pascal," she called, "I am just going to leave this out, is that okay?" she asked motioning to her painting. "Sure Hun, have a good evening." Ms. Pascal replied glancing up from her desk to flash Savannah a smile. Savannah smiled back and then slipped out of the room and into the crowded hallways.

A bright spot slipped through the crowd of grays, standing out like a single light bulb in a dark room. The bright spot bobbed in and out of view as it made it's way through the dark and to the light, were it belonged. Every once in a while the light waslost, but it always came back into view.
I was trying to avoid bumping into people as I was jostled by the other students eager to get away from the school building. Maybe I should worry about being the one not getting hit, I thought as someone knocked into me, upsetting the portfolio and books that I had been carrying. I fell to the ground throwing out my arms to catch myself and while doing so watching my portfolio fall to the ground and the papers in it falling out.

Pictures of light slid through the moving darkness getting lost the overwhelming dark. They got trampled by the dark their light slowly diminishing as the dark left its print on them.

I scurried around trying to gather my papers all the while silently cursing my luck. While I was doing so, the hallway seemed to empty leaving only me, on my hands and knees in the vast hallway. Or so I thought. I hate this! I though, no one stops to help, no one cares anymore. "Are these yours?" I heard a voice say above me, surprised I looked up, "Um, yes, thanks a lot." I said reaching up to take my artwork from the boys' hands; he pulled his hand back before I could take them though. "Thanks," I said again, "But can I have them back." I stated more than asked. "These are good," he replied ignoring my comment, "They remind me a bit of the painting in the art room. The colors and theme are pretty alike." "Oh, really, that's interesting." "I take it that you are the girl who painted those, Savannah, is it?" he asked. I was surprised, I had never seen this boy before and he knew my name. "Umm, err, yes, yeah that's me." I said, stuttering and then blushing at how stupid I must sound. There was a bit of an awkward silence were he merely looked me while I acted as though the empty hallway was some fairy cavern. Gathering up my courage I asked in a timid voice, "So, do you like art?" "Oh, I am sort of into it, not much of an artist myself but I do like looking." "Oh, that's cool." Another awkward lapse in the conversation and during which I was thinking that I had said 'oh' an embarrassing amount of times in our short time actually talking to one another.
I glanced at my wrist where my watch was supposed to be, but much to my bemusement there was no watch. Crap. I suppose that I looked really stupid, standing there and staring blankly at my wrist as though it had suddenly started talking to me. I guess that the art boy, as I have come to know him as, seemed to sense that something was wrong so he said, "Do you want to know the time?" "Err, oh yes, thank you." There's that 'oh' again. "It seems as though I might have lost my watch in um, gym or something." I said, trying to make up for my stupidity. He chuckled, he had a nice chuckle, wait, no he was laughing at me! I should not think his laugh was nice! I frowned, "Well, are you going to follow up on that offer of am I going to have to go ask someone else?" I said, slightly impatient he looked at me and then opened his mouth as though he was going to answer, then he closed it.
I watched, confused, as a slight smirk made it's way onto his face. "What? Oh, you mean the offer that I made to drive you home. Right?" "Yes, yes that one." I said before I had the time to process what he said. "Great then, lets go." "Go, go where?" I asked suddenly confused. "To my car, I'm driving you home, remember." I blushed, thinking that I had just agreed to, thinking of what he must think of me, some easy girl or someone who flirts mindlessly. Some of you out there must be thinking, this girl obviously has no experience with guys. And my response to that would be, is it that obvious!?"
Okay, so think of the beginning of my story! I am this-this thing that that no one notices yet stands out like a-a flower in the ashes! I might as well use the simile that I used as the title. Suddenly I was snapped out of my thoughts by the feeling of a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw that art boy was very close to me and I was suddenly painfully aware of his body heat and how handsome he was. He had piercing green eyes that were heavily lidded which gave him a sleepy look; his lashes were long and dark and brushed his cheeks as he looked down at me. His dark brown hair was long, but not long enough to make him look girly and it swept across his forehead; his lips were nicely filled and the bone structure in his face, the high cheekbones, gave him an almost aristocratic air.
"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked, blushing like mad. " I am getting your bag." He replied as though it was the most regular thing in the world, for a teenage boy to carry a girls' bag, and one he barely knows at that, but I noticed that the corner of his lips were quivering. "Oh, you don't need to do that! I can carry it myself, thanks." "No, I insist." "No! I insist that you do not!" "Really there is no need worry yourself. It is no strain to me." "It is no strain to me either!" But it was too late; he already had my bag and was walking down the hallway. I huffed in frustration but had no choice but to bite back a retort, clench my fists and follow him.
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the end for now. Hopefully I will post more in the following days. Tell me what you thik, to be honest that is what motivates me todo more. And as always, CONSTRUCTIVE critisim is nice....sometimesI take other types of critism too but for today, let's be nice >.< thanks a bunch.
MxI