Sheep Go YOU FREAK!
Preface/Chapter One:-Hobbits and Sheep
Preface
Normal...what's the appeal?? Every damn day of my life I've been told I should be more normal, but what they won't tell me is why.
Why should I?
I'm Bea, I'm 14 and I'm a freak. What I want to know is what's wrong with that? I don't mean I go round killing people, I just mean I say random things and I'm a bit weird.
I have a passion for decent music...so what?
I like horror movies...so what?
I don’t care about fashion...so what?
But I get hurt everyday by the Sheep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter One:-Hobbits and Sheep
The Sheep started out as an insult, but as my popularity crashed below zero, The Sheep became the name of the most exclusive gang at Craclesburg School. Only for the popular. Only for the mainstream.
Thing is...I like to think for myself. I hate not being able to do what I want; following the crowd. There's a group of people who want to punish people for being different-The Sheep.
I started calling them that as they ARE sheep, always following the crowd, completely unable to think for themselves.
"Oh My Go-o-od!! Have you SEEN what they're talking about in OK?" A phrase I have frequently heard. They don't even notice the blasphemy. They're more bothered about Jordan and Peter's divorce. But, I know about politics, I know my Tory from my Labour. I find it fascinating! My school wasn’t always like this, we weren’t all segregated into cliques. We were the anomaly among secondary schools and teenagers in general. You were friends with who you wanted, but you weren’t forced to pass an initiation test to get in. All you had to do was be a decent person. But then She came along.
I walked through the corridor, keeping my head down. It was suicidal to make eye contact with someone. I walked to my locker, grabbing my books and ignoring the hate messages stuffed inside. I glanced at my picture, still there from Year 7, and tears sprung to my eyes. We were so young back then, we had so much more potential! Why must it always end in heartbreak? Why must it always end in fear? I stroked the picture, before slamming shut my locker and heading out into the grounds to read and bide time until I could leave.
I couldn’t just walk out of this place with the rest of the crowds, oh no, The Sheep would never allow that. I always read under my tree for a while, or if the weather was horrid, I would move into the Library.
"Oh, hi, Beatrice" Hannah (AKA Mother Ewe) started, with poison, "what's that you're reading?"
"The Hobbit." I told her with a sigh, it was easier to not resist. I held onto my precious book with pride. It was the best smelling book I owned. You may not be able to judge a book by its cover, but you can by its smell!
"That sounds like something out of Lord of the Rings." Jane, my ex-best friend commented. I just sighed, I mean, Jane used to have brains, but she gave them up for popularity. She had SEEN the extended edition of LOTR for goodness sake!
"So glad I have brains." I muttered. Hannah heard me and slapped me.
"We are too bothered with our looks than with your petty comments"
"You're too bothered with your looks full stop." I retaliated.
She slapped me again; they all starting punching and slapping me, digging their nails in wherever possible, leaving footmarks elsewhere, before leaving me under the tree, alone.
"YOU FREAK!" They yelled back at me as I dissolved into tears. The emotional and physical pain was too much for me. My chest heaved as I felt for broken limbs. The worst pain was on my arms-naturally they hit worst where it wouldn’t show. Blood was staining my top.
What had I ever done to deserve it all?
Normal...what's the appeal?? Every damn day of my life I've been told I should be more normal, but what they won't tell me is why.
Why should I?
I'm Bea, I'm 14 and I'm a freak. What I want to know is what's wrong with that? I don't mean I go round killing people, I just mean I say random things and I'm a bit weird.
I have a passion for decent music...so what?
I like horror movies...so what?
I don’t care about fashion...so what?
But I get hurt everyday by the Sheep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter One:-Hobbits and Sheep
The Sheep started out as an insult, but as my popularity crashed below zero, The Sheep became the name of the most exclusive gang at Craclesburg School. Only for the popular. Only for the mainstream.
Thing is...I like to think for myself. I hate not being able to do what I want; following the crowd. There's a group of people who want to punish people for being different-The Sheep.
I started calling them that as they ARE sheep, always following the crowd, completely unable to think for themselves.
"Oh My Go-o-od!! Have you SEEN what they're talking about in OK?" A phrase I have frequently heard. They don't even notice the blasphemy. They're more bothered about Jordan and Peter's divorce. But, I know about politics, I know my Tory from my Labour. I find it fascinating! My school wasn’t always like this, we weren’t all segregated into cliques. We were the anomaly among secondary schools and teenagers in general. You were friends with who you wanted, but you weren’t forced to pass an initiation test to get in. All you had to do was be a decent person. But then She came along.
I walked through the corridor, keeping my head down. It was suicidal to make eye contact with someone. I walked to my locker, grabbing my books and ignoring the hate messages stuffed inside. I glanced at my picture, still there from Year 7, and tears sprung to my eyes. We were so young back then, we had so much more potential! Why must it always end in heartbreak? Why must it always end in fear? I stroked the picture, before slamming shut my locker and heading out into the grounds to read and bide time until I could leave.
I couldn’t just walk out of this place with the rest of the crowds, oh no, The Sheep would never allow that. I always read under my tree for a while, or if the weather was horrid, I would move into the Library.
"Oh, hi, Beatrice" Hannah (AKA Mother Ewe) started, with poison, "what's that you're reading?"
"The Hobbit." I told her with a sigh, it was easier to not resist. I held onto my precious book with pride. It was the best smelling book I owned. You may not be able to judge a book by its cover, but you can by its smell!
"That sounds like something out of Lord of the Rings." Jane, my ex-best friend commented. I just sighed, I mean, Jane used to have brains, but she gave them up for popularity. She had SEEN the extended edition of LOTR for goodness sake!
"So glad I have brains." I muttered. Hannah heard me and slapped me.
"We are too bothered with our looks than with your petty comments"
"You're too bothered with your looks full stop." I retaliated.
She slapped me again; they all starting punching and slapping me, digging their nails in wherever possible, leaving footmarks elsewhere, before leaving me under the tree, alone.
"YOU FREAK!" They yelled back at me as I dissolved into tears. The emotional and physical pain was too much for me. My chest heaved as I felt for broken limbs. The worst pain was on my arms-naturally they hit worst where it wouldn’t show. Blood was staining my top.
What had I ever done to deserve it all?