Carelli's Monologue

The familiar aroma of coffee fills the air as I enter the not so common area. I feel very bewildered in the labyrinth of hallways searching for my classroom just like I had stepped into corn maze as a child. At last, I locate the secluded room tucked away inside the massive building. Even though the number on the door matches the number on my schedule I am still second guessing if I am in the right place. The door opened up as students poured out. Finally, I took my seat at the back, trying my hardest to sit down unnoticed. My hands were shaking as I wrote the class name at the top of my paper. After what seemed like ages the professor proceeded to

has spent a lot of time perfecting her looks for all places and occasions, as

Coppo di Stefano Buonaiuti, he provides first hand documentation of the effect of the Black Plague in Florence, Italy. The muse for his inspiration to record his testimony on the matter, just three decades later, was a matter to sway the Italian embassies when his political career ran into a predicament the time. The Black Plague challenged the very core of morals and the faith in God. In his testimony, he describes thousands of people having cases of cold feet on their own family members and abandoning them as shown in the quotes from his document, “Sons abandoning fathers, husbands wives, wives husbands, one brother the other, one sister the other.”.

    The air stung the Virtuoso's skin, but the night was perfect for his opening act. He began his preparation with an artist's delight and touch. Placing bombs designed as flowers and preparing his "paint brush". The cool touch of steel left his hand as he pocketed the pistol and began to move. "Tonight will be a night of beauty and splendor" he quietly mused to himself as he prepared to move. He sat waiting in anticipation for the puppets to dance. Someone stepped on a bomb and the play had begun.

Baroness Portella was at least twenty years my senior, maybe several years older than ma mére, but there was nothing motherly about the woman, she was exactly like the red-haired vixen that seduced me, only older. She was quite lovely. Her skin was luminous, her eyes, mysterious. They were a deeper hue of the same emerald green color the vixens were- but the Baronesses’ eyes were wise with wisdom - I could tell she was shrewd- used to getting whatever or whomever she wanted.

The cold water rushed down Emily's hands. There was a slight breeze coming in from the windows that gave her a little chill. Emily looked at all the writing on the wall. The walls were so dirty that you would have never have known that they used to be blue. Everything was run down here in west high, especially these bathrooms on the second floor. Whenever someone heard the school name, bullying would come to their mind. Poor Adam, he always got bullied for having these bright blue shoes. Just as Emily grabbed a paper towel, an alarm started to ring! ring ring! Lockdown lockdown, lock the door, stay away from the windows, this is not a drill! Yelled principle Winston on the loud speaker. Was this really happening Emily thought. It was probably

“Get back here now Priscilla!!!” she screamed. I turned the corner when I suddenly realized I didn’t know where to go. I haven’t walked out of class ever in my life but this wasn’t my first time getting yelled at or in trouble by a teacher, trust me. The sound of her deep shallow voice is all I can hear in my mind right now. This is going to be the 2nd call this week my parents will receive from my school. “What did I tell you about acting up at school, Pris?” she asks. “I’m really trying mom, I promise I won’t be that sarcastic anymore” I tell her. I recall this conversation like it was two days ago. Wait it was two days ago..

“It’s big like a cave. It full of noise and echoes. I don’t like the gym. It’s confusing and fussy. Everyone is very busy all of the time and when you’re not busy, they give you more work. It’s all work, work, work. Mrs. C’s room is great. That’s where I go for sensory breaks. I have the bean bags, the stimmy toys, all of that. It’s quiet in there, I can tell train stories. Have you heard of the [slips into a Scottish accent] twins, Donald and

Maya sat at her desk at school, flipping through the pages of her notebook, trying to find notes for her huge upcoming test. She finds a page about Language Arts and how to properly write essays and begins to study the page. As she was studying her Language Arts notes, a beep comes from the speaker above her, on the ceiling. Maya looks up from her paper,

Brooklyn woke up to the sound of the bullhorn that woke her up every morning as long as she could remember. She tumbled out of bed and slipped on her school clothes. She slid her backpack onto her shoulders and trudged out the door. She could hear the other kids groaning and grumbling about going to school again. She had the same thoughts, but never had the courage to say them out loud. Brooklyn entered the kitchen and met up with her only friend, Emma. Emma had shiny black hair that fell around her shoulders. They grabbed their pre-made food and sat down.

A bell rung and sent the kids to class. While on his way to homeroom, Victor practiced scowling. When he arrived to class, emergency cards were handed out and a bulletin was given for the students to give to their parents. Even though the principal was talking over the intercom, Victor had his mind on Teresa. “”This is my lucky year” he thought, “She’s more than likely in my French, Science and English class.”” Ding, ding. The bell sounded and sent the students to their classes. Teresa remained talking to the teacher. Victor decided to linger around as

Meanwhile, my teacher blabbered on and on all about the dull classroom expectations that never prevail towards the end of any school year. The blabbering continued until footsteps were heard entering into the class. I looked at the entrance’s general vicinity and I saw no one other than Adelaine walk inside. I heard her softly apologise to our teacher for being late and she soon seated

I’ll walk.” He said, walking past her and out the door, glaring at the bright green grass and pretty flowers lining the driveway. The school was a couple of blocks away, and they were crazy to think that Castiel would Want to ride with Don every morning to school. He’d rather hang himself. So He turned to the direction he knew the school to be in and started on his walk. The neighborhood was nice, sun shining, birds chirping. Castiel was infuriated. He shoved earbuds into his ears and blasted music, mean mugging anyone that dared to get within ten feet of him. When the school came into view he could only laugh. What the fuck did he expect? There was no fences, or dogs, or even a police car in sight. This place was going to be so fucking boring. He did admit that the school looked nice, what with the trees shading the nice green lawn, bushes groomed perfectly and lining the three story tall brick building with white trim. The students surrounding the entrance gave him weird looks as he ascended the stairs to enter, but he was used to that. Some glared, some stared, some girls even giggled and leaned over to gush to their friends. At that he cracked a smile. They have no fucking clue. The inside was nice, with large, diamond shaped slate grey tiles and pristine white walls. Posters were spaced around the place, and bulletin boards advertising things like ‘drugs destroy dream’ and ‘speak up, bullying is wrong’. She shivered and located the front office, asking a middle aged woman if he could have a schedule. She dismissed him to sit in one of the cushioned blue chairs while she searched the computer for his information. A few minutes later she motioned for him to come get the newly printed off papers and urged him to get to class before he was too late. His first class was U.S. History 11, room 312 with Mr.Claren. He sighed and walked up the three flights of stairs, locating room 312 and memorizing it. By the time he was able to find it the late bell had

I finally found the classroom after asking a few other students where to go. I smiled knowing that I would love French, but not knowing if I would love the teacher. Mrs.Groom was her name as it was put up on the promethean board for all to see. I let my eyes wander around the room to see if I knew anyone. My eyes landed upon my red-head friend Kristyn. As she talked with another girl I didn't know the name of, I found a seat closet to her without technically sitting on top of her. French class went by in a rush, I didn't speak much because, I was nervous. The knot in my stomach had seemed to grow larger and tighter as the day progressed. The bell rang dismissing us and most students jumped at the chance to get out, but I had to stop pull out my schedule and look at it. I groaned inwardly as I saw that I had English I next. I picked up my stuff and walked out saying au reviour to Mrs.Groom. Due to the fact the English was not one of my stronger subjects, I wondered how I would do in it this year. Walking into the class, I take in the sights of the people sitting around the room. I noticed that I knew 9 people in this class. I smiled knowing that their were some people that I knew in here. I sat down in a seat wondering who my teacher was. I never bothered to look and see the name on the teacher on my schedule, but instead looked upon the board. Mrs.Goodwin was typed in black letter on the board. My thoughts immediately went to what her appearance was and what she sounded like. I was so deep into my own world I hadn't noticed that the door had been shut. I took in Mrs.Goodwin's appearance, she had dirty blonde hair that reached a little past her shoulders and her smile made her brown eyes pop. I smiles as she began to talk about expectations and what we would being doing/learning this year in her

When Roxy entered kindergarten, she became very fond of her teacher, Mrs. Smith, who often found flowers scattered on her desk upon arriving to school. Mrs. Smith nominated Roxy for the “Outstanding Student of the Year” award at her kindergarten graduation, and Roxy’s parents were so proud of her that they