Chapter Two
He awoke with a start. He was alive? Could this be true? He was living and breathing! He became speechless with happiness. But then he realized he wasn’t in the hospital or at home. He wasn’t in any familiar place he had once known. It was pitch black with the only light being focused on himself. Stu’s joy vanished into thin air. He was alone. No one was there, no one could hear his cry, no one could hear him yell for help. He was helpless. He begged for a sound; something that would tell him he was not alone. Then he heard it; the wonderful marching of feet was heading towards him. The shape of many people soon came to view. With a heart once again filled with delight, he ran towards the mob.
“Excuse me, I----” One of the figures came up. “Good, I was wondering----” The figure did not answer but tried to punch Stu in the face. He ducked out of the way, knocking into another figure. “Oh! Hello! Do you----”
“Hmph!” The woman stuck her nose in the air and walked away hotly.
Stu became more confused each time he asked for help. Every person would not answer him with their words but their actions. Were they mute? He considered the possibilities of this. He tried sign language: It failed. Soon, the whole group marched off again, leaving him once more.
Stu was mad. Stu was scared. Stu was just confused. He slowly dropped to the ground, huddling to himself and shaking in utter confusion. Where was he? Where was his dear wife? Where was his home? He wished there was something to guide him. A sign, a signal, a light, anything.
Beep.
Stu’s shaking ceased at once. His hair stood on end when he heard the faint beeping. He turned around to see a distant red light blinking. Overcome with relief, he scrambled to get up. With his heart beating faster, he ran towards the source. Suddenly, he bumped into something that threw him back. After catching his breathe he looked to see what he had slammed into. It was a round, cocoon that held an individual. He took a glimpse of his surroundings to find there was more than one. Each cocoon held a person who was bundled up. The light was still in view view so he continued towards it but he stopped when he saw the human inside the lighted cocoon.
“Cleo?” He gasped.

Well, her given name was Cleotilde which she preferred. She was one of his many ‘stupid’ students at whom he was angry. She was never really stupid or weird; just different.
Cleo had a different perspective about everything. That was what had made him angry earlier today.
During English, he read a poem by the poet Emily Dickinson
called ‘I’m Nobody.’

I 'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there 's a pair of us—don't tell!
They 'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

“Now as you can see Emily had some problems upstairs! You see this poem shouldn’t be qualified as art because well it isn’t and----”
“Mr. VelDeshine?” Cleo raised her hand. “I beg to disagree.”
Stu stopped short for a moment. Cleo was one of his best students and not once did she ever question him. But she sat there, her hand raised and looking self confident with her beautiful face. She was an image of beauty. Her hair was black as a witch’s cat. Her eyes were a sparkling amber brown while her skin was the hue of peanut butter.
“Yes Cleo?” He asked her
“Its Cleotilde,” She corrected him. “I don’t think you can say that this poem shouldn’t be considered art. I quite like it.”
“What?”
“Well she’s just looking from a different perspective. Everyone knows what a frog is just like everyone has seen or heard of a celebrity. Being famous has its cons. For example, you can have crazed fans following you and you can no longer lead a normal life. Sometimes it’s the same with the frog.”
“What?” He said again. “Who put that crap into your head?”
“I did sir.” She answered.
Stu was thunderstruck. One of his star students had given them the stupidest answer he had ever heard. He was the teacher so therefore he was right about everything.
“That answer is wrong Cleo.”
“No, its not. Its my opinion thus I can not be wrong , for I am stating what I am thinking. This is a matter of opinion not history.
“Well I’m sorry to disappoint you but the teacher is always right.” Those were the last things he remembered saying to Cleo. She didn’t falter nor cry nor complain. Cleo just sat there, feeling good about herself.
Now here she was. Curled up in a round cocoon that blinked every so often. He placed his hand on the nest. It was freezing. How could she still be alive? The blinking suddenly was still, emitting a lovely radiant red light. The surface of the ball began to crack slowly. Cleo moved her head and stared eerily with glowing scarlet eyes right at Stu.
(Edited)

---

Return to Violent Vibes
OR
Go to Chapter Three of Violent Vibes