N
nyljoeluvene
Guest
...first-- unedited- chapter? ? Chapter One
~Catherine~
The morning of September the first brought with it a torrential amount of rain. The sound of the pellets pounding against my window frame woke me up unusually early. My window was still black, the light in my room nonexistent.
I wallowed in my bed for a couple of more minutes, irritated because of the unceremonious interruption. I would need my rest for the day, as a way of preparation for the grueling eight-hour session that lay ahead.
I flipped over from side to side of my bed, fruitlessly searching for a comfortable position. I closed my eyes only to pop them open again to see the obscure scenery of my room that was no different from the veil of my eyelids. I gave a disgruntled sigh—both one of defeat and impatience—and ceased with fidgeting about.
I lay still on my back, which had been the last position I had tested before coinciding with defeat. I stared up at what I knew to be the ceiling; my eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark. I listened to the disjointed rhythm of the rain hitting and rebounding off my window, and to the conjoined snoring of Mother and Father from across the hallway. Aside from these noises, everything else was unpleasantly still—both inside and outside.
I frowned as the rain fell down harder, threatening to break through my window and flood the house. What horrible weather, I thought to myself. It was still summer wasn’t it? I couldn’t be sure of the answer to that but felt that it was more summer than it was autumn.
The past two months had been unseasonably rainy. Most summers brought droughts and scorching hot sunny days with them, but this one seemed utterly determined to be different—in an outlandish way—from the rest.
Not that the weather bothered me, of course—sunny or otherwise. Most of my days were spend inside the confines of these four walls, constantly reading, constantly writing. The only time I left my room was to take care of human nature’s consequentials, or to run some errand for Mother when Father was too busy to attend to it.
I guess the saying that Texas weather is unpredictable applied to all of the state, which unfortunately included the small, uncharted towns that no one cared for. I don’t think that it would be an exaggeration to say that the population of Coryeal was hovering somewhere around the three-triple-zero mark. The census of my high school class was only about one hundred people as it had stood last year. Everyone in town sent their kid to the same high school—Llama Vista High.
I had been born and raised in this depressingly small town, never once stepping out beyond its minute limits, a constant figure to its population. Everyone on the street knew each other—and had probably went to grade school and high school together as well—and were openly sociable. The sight of a backyard barbecue was a common sight to see on a Saturday afternoon, not that the current weather had allowed for any kind of outdoor activities.
My parents had also been brought up here, high school sweethearts since the ninth grade, their education reached as far as a community college. After going through the necessity of getting married they had explored outside the boundaries of Coryeal, but had come back groveling half a year later claiming that the city lights were not for them.
My parents’ situation was not something bizarre—though maybe to me. The majority of people from their generation had followed the same pattern, sometimes coming back within a week, too deeply routed in Coryeal to leave it.
I was sure not to make the same mistake as them.
Because I hated Coryeal, hated it with every ounce of strength capable of my seventeen-year-old body. What was so special about living forever in a small town, besides nothing? The mental image of me, ancient and crinkled, sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of some small house with an equally withered old woman with a few gaping holes in her teeth flashed across my mind. I shivered although it was comfortably warm beneath my layered blankets.
I shook my head from side to side, trying to erase the improbable, yet possible, picture from my head. Stop being so stupid, I demanded of myself. You’re not going to end up here.
I, eventually, calmed myself down, but was left feeling like an idiot afterwards. How stupid of me to doubt my escape. I already knew the one—and only—key that was capable of getting me out of here: an education.
My grades were flawless. The last grade that I had made that wasn’t an A had been…never. I knew that perfect grades were the only way that I could get out of here, and I didn’t have to worry about that. School was too easy, not even the—I chuckled lightly before thinking the word—“Advanced Placement” classes were a challenge, far too easy if anything. I imagined that whatever college I went to would be pretty much the same, Ivy Leagues excluded, if I was ever fortunate to get into one that is.
I suddenly realized that I could make out the
~Catherine~
The morning of September the first brought with it a torrential amount of rain. The sound of the pellets pounding against my window frame woke me up unusually early. My window was still black, the light in my room nonexistent.
I wallowed in my bed for a couple of more minutes, irritated because of the unceremonious interruption. I would need my rest for the day, as a way of preparation for the grueling eight-hour session that lay ahead.
I flipped over from side to side of my bed, fruitlessly searching for a comfortable position. I closed my eyes only to pop them open again to see the obscure scenery of my room that was no different from the veil of my eyelids. I gave a disgruntled sigh—both one of defeat and impatience—and ceased with fidgeting about.
I lay still on my back, which had been the last position I had tested before coinciding with defeat. I stared up at what I knew to be the ceiling; my eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the dark. I listened to the disjointed rhythm of the rain hitting and rebounding off my window, and to the conjoined snoring of Mother and Father from across the hallway. Aside from these noises, everything else was unpleasantly still—both inside and outside.
I frowned as the rain fell down harder, threatening to break through my window and flood the house. What horrible weather, I thought to myself. It was still summer wasn’t it? I couldn’t be sure of the answer to that but felt that it was more summer than it was autumn.
The past two months had been unseasonably rainy. Most summers brought droughts and scorching hot sunny days with them, but this one seemed utterly determined to be different—in an outlandish way—from the rest.
Not that the weather bothered me, of course—sunny or otherwise. Most of my days were spend inside the confines of these four walls, constantly reading, constantly writing. The only time I left my room was to take care of human nature’s consequentials, or to run some errand for Mother when Father was too busy to attend to it.
I guess the saying that Texas weather is unpredictable applied to all of the state, which unfortunately included the small, uncharted towns that no one cared for. I don’t think that it would be an exaggeration to say that the population of Coryeal was hovering somewhere around the three-triple-zero mark. The census of my high school class was only about one hundred people as it had stood last year. Everyone in town sent their kid to the same high school—Llama Vista High.
I had been born and raised in this depressingly small town, never once stepping out beyond its minute limits, a constant figure to its population. Everyone on the street knew each other—and had probably went to grade school and high school together as well—and were openly sociable. The sight of a backyard barbecue was a common sight to see on a Saturday afternoon, not that the current weather had allowed for any kind of outdoor activities.
My parents had also been brought up here, high school sweethearts since the ninth grade, their education reached as far as a community college. After going through the necessity of getting married they had explored outside the boundaries of Coryeal, but had come back groveling half a year later claiming that the city lights were not for them.
My parents’ situation was not something bizarre—though maybe to me. The majority of people from their generation had followed the same pattern, sometimes coming back within a week, too deeply routed in Coryeal to leave it.
I was sure not to make the same mistake as them.
Because I hated Coryeal, hated it with every ounce of strength capable of my seventeen-year-old body. What was so special about living forever in a small town, besides nothing? The mental image of me, ancient and crinkled, sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of some small house with an equally withered old woman with a few gaping holes in her teeth flashed across my mind. I shivered although it was comfortably warm beneath my layered blankets.
I shook my head from side to side, trying to erase the improbable, yet possible, picture from my head. Stop being so stupid, I demanded of myself. You’re not going to end up here.
I, eventually, calmed myself down, but was left feeling like an idiot afterwards. How stupid of me to doubt my escape. I already knew the one—and only—key that was capable of getting me out of here: an education.
My grades were flawless. The last grade that I had made that wasn’t an A had been…never. I knew that perfect grades were the only way that I could get out of here, and I didn’t have to worry about that. School was too easy, not even the—I chuckled lightly before thinking the word—“Advanced Placement” classes were a challenge, far too easy if anything. I imagined that whatever college I went to would be pretty much the same, Ivy Leagues excluded, if I was ever fortunate to get into one that is.
I suddenly realized that I could make out the