100 cursed games

I sense a sharp object dragging across my arm. I opened my eyes—someone was drawing a needle to my skin. They were creating a symbol. My heart thumped like a hammer. The first contact I made with them, had me petrified. As they lifted their white hair to show me black hollow eyes with a hole as their mouth—I woke up! In my desk…I was the first to get to school before everyone. I never go this early. It was morning and I was sitting at my desk zoning out. It felt unreal. Being in a school all alone, makes you feel eerie. A small itch sensation came on my left arm. When I scratched it, something was drawn up…it was the same symbol I saw in my dream. In red ink. My first thought is to go wash it off. I strolled across the empty halls in the school. a student I’ve never seen before was standing by the wall…I know their recognizable aura. He glanced at me strangely. And walked away. He was wearing a black hoodie with his hood up. His face was covered with hair…he’s the guy from my dream…except, he has a mouth and nose. Was he judging me? I washed and washed the colour away. The ink was strong. However, I managed to slightly rinse it away. After the clock passed, all my friends were here. We all hung out in a group together and talked. As I zone out mid conversation, my friend Luna asks what I’m thinking about. The minute she questioned, I forget.

“I’m just staring into space I guess…I forget.”

“That’s relatable. You seem very distracted. Are you doing okay?”

She wondered, tilting her head. As her arms are crossing. I felt like something weird was going to occur. My dream was leaving a huge insecurity or unstable situation. Possibly something spooky? My guts were open to this feeling. You should never ignore your own feelings. So what can I even do about that though? Nothing. I’m just trying to figure out how to make it through my day. The day is pretty. It was a like a pastel summer. Although, no matter the colour, my body was constantly aching. I was feeling mentally sick. But my misery wasn’t strong enough to make me leave. When it was lunch, Luna gave me some of her cookies. Luna is a dear friend to me. She died her hair dark blue. And her eyes are crimson pink. She always loved astrology. While always wears her sparkly moon earrings and necklace. Her skin was a pretty pale. Me and my friend went to each other’s house. That day after school, I went to her room. She had to get a snack really quick. So she left while I sat in her bed. Her bedroom has relaxing vibes. It feels calm and peaceful. It’s decorated in moon, star, and planet decorations. And she has pretty LED lights. With blue colours. I felt at ease. She came back with another cookie. And had some for me. I rested and we talked.

“Are you feeling okay about the other student?”

She asked, with a hand on her earring.

“No.”

I replied, straight to her.

“Maybe he’s new. Or he’s mentally

unstable.”

Luna assumed. Why should we be judging someone we don’t know yet…i feel that we both have a bad feeling about him. After all…he’s the creepy person I witnessed in my dream. There’s no coincidence. You can only dream about people you’ve seen before…today is the first time I’ve caught his appearance.

“Maybe he’s just socially awkward, or has a bad family”

I wondered. Luna’s eyebrows were in concerned position.

“Why are we assuming things?”

She asked. I had no idea why. Actually, I do. It’s completely strange for him to be here…

“I guess we both just have a super sketchy feeling…”

I declared. I have more questions about him. As the next day came by, i woke up again, feeling finer. As i go to school, the teachers all locked the rooms. And the teacher looked at us all with a very disappointing look. He seemed disturbed. We all stopped chit chatting with our friends and sat down…in silence…He was quiet for five seconds and then grasped onto his pen.

“Our school needs an answer to who writes poems.”

The teacher called. As soon as he answered to us, I could hear the whole class gossiping. The teacher crossed his arms, he continued to open his mouth one more time.

“If nobody answers, we’re gonna all get to work, but we take four students at a time to discuss.”

The teacher answered, looking at his piece of paper.

“Amara, Kiari, Kokora, and Evelyn.”

He shouted. As all the popular girls walked out of the class, We all went to work on our English writing with the substitute teacher helper.

A few minutes passed, they all walked inside, and it was my turn. As he called my name, Jade. And I don’t remember the last guys name. But I also had to go with Luna and Nixie. The teacher started at all of us.

While another guy was with us, he quietly had his hands in his pockets while pacing through the halls. In the room, were three notes in a table, in black writing with red scribbles.

“Do any of you have any clues?”

The teacher asked us seriously.

Luna was going to ask him a question.

“I don’t know who in this class writes poems, but may I ask what happened?”

“Someone’s been writing poems and it’s not appropriate for the school”

They say. Luna asked another question, sitting formally.

“What are the poems about?”

“It turns out that someone writes poems about death, or really disturbing stuff. It’s not just that, but also leaving them on the ground. It’s not just a tattle tale. But it’s been getting annoying, and someone needs to confess. To also writing death threats.”

He explained. As I was sitting, Nixie plentifully spins her chair a little, like she wasn’t in a serious situation.

“Yesterday, we got a complaint from kokora, the principal, and Axel about the threats from their locker.”

“What did kokora say when she was discussing?”

Luna questions. I had an idea for us all. I have planned for the teacher to check out bags or pockets for it all.

“How about we all check the bags, lockers, and pockets for evidence”

I say. The teacher thought that was a great idea. So we all had to stand up and snoop everyone’s pockets. We all searched, and it was_______who wrote them…i still couldn’t remember his name. Once the teacher found out, he sent him to the office. Death threats and disturbing poems. The threats are the worst thing for him. I sense that he had something going on about that. My bad feeling about him was right. And I guess that’s it. My guts feel free. Maybe he really is mentally unstable. A week later, he was back. However, I feel slightly terrible. I saw a bunch of people frowning at him and make fun of him. I couldn’t tell if he was sad. I really do feel bad, even for forgetting his name…so in class I decided to talk to him during any chance I could. At a group project, he was sitting at his desk. Alone. Drawing in his notebook. I wondered to go towards him. Even though I feel nervous about talking to people, I’m willing to say someone thing…

“Are you doing okay lately?”

I questioned, awkwardly. He then gave me a menacing smile. He weirded me out. I felt negative vibes towards him. Though, don’t want to be rude.

“Yes, I’m doing better than okay, I feel happy! Happy, happy, happy…”

I think he wanted something from me. I gave a concerned expression.

“So I really hope you’re okay. Cause I saw you getting picked on here. And I don’t want you to feel sad in any way.”

I replied, Turning my head to him as he grinned.

“If you like to write poems, just try making it peaceful instead…or write friendship letters to people instead of death threats…”

When I explained, he nodded his head and gave me a piece of paper.

“Write your name. I want to see what your writing is like…”

He smiled and slowly brought the paper towards me. I wrote my name. Jade, On his piece of paper. He grabbed a pen and drew a weird symbol on it. It looked like the one from his piece of paper. He opened it, and it was probably another poem he wrote himself.

“There…a poem for you. And it has your name on it so nobody can steal it…”

I think the symbol was for the poem…except, it’s the one from my arm…I suspect that guy to be the one who drew on my arm in red ink. It all makes some sense now…When it was time to go to our desks, I opened the poem.

If you had 100 mosquitos, would having 100 fly swatters help? Or would it just make things stay the same? Having 100 fly swatters will have to lose you too much money. And you won’t have food to eat like honey. You go broke. Because a stranger of yours tells you to buy some weapons. Too much bad ideas for too many hard decisions. Be careful for mosquitos, and be trustful of your plans. Be sure those mosquitos are friendly. And even if you see them gently, you should never trust a wild beast, or they could have you as their feast. Be careful what you wish for, and be dare full of your choice. Never trust a natural living thing that you’ve never seen. Each swat to a fly, equals one death for each. 100 swats equals 100 deaths. A wish in reverse. It’s fun to hit fly’s, every single try, is worth a shot. What a fun little game. Never trust a fly.

(S)emag eht yalp t’nod

I was taking some time to think about what the poem meant. This isn’t about the mosquitos…But I can’t lay my finger on what this really is. Perhaps it hints to never trust a stranger. I honestly think it’s very cheesy. Also, not that good. As the hours pass by, even a shower wouldn’t make the blurry pen fade away. Not even slightly. It won’t go away. It was getting dark so I decided to go to bed. After my shower, I brushed my teeth. Then changed into pyjamas. The night was longing. I woke up multiple times in the middle of the night. After I woke up—i was stuck somewhere…It appeared unrealistic. Where it was a room. Blocked with no doors, no windows, no escape. And a few of my classmates were there with me. It wasn’t a real place…