Valerie walked up the path, silently contemplating the creulty of the world. The wind wispered through her dirty blonde hair, her hazel eyes remaining wide in spite of the breeze. They watered slightly as she picked up her pace, the spring morning was unforgiving, the sea air bitingly chill. She wished that her school uniform came with a longer skirt, but the pleats only extended a little past her knees.
She stood tall, about five and a half feet, average for a fifteen-year-old girl. Her brownish hair was shoulder-length, having recently been cut. Her hazel eyes required glasses, which she refused to wear. She sent several wire-rimmed specs to various deaths before her parents gave up and let her go on with her squinting. She was curvy, but her body frame was hardly noticable. Her school uniform was fashioned in her school colors of navy, grey and white. Her white button-down top was made of cotton, her school's mascot, the silver fox, embroidered on the front in the upper-left corner. Her navy tie was loose and her shirt untucked, a little less the the Blue-Valley Cove High standard of excellence. Her black-buckled shoes were shiny, but spattered with mud from the morning's hike. and her socks were made of material that was bearly thicker than panty-hose. They were white, and pulled up to thier highest extent. They were supossed to be folded down, but Valerie had pulled them up to help protect her bare legs from the morning's bitter cold.
Her mood was miserable. On her back, a pack was slung, hastily, over one shoulder. She had written her name in fabric paint prior to her freshman year, but almost two years of steady use had rubbed the letters cleanly off. Her right hand shielded her brunette eyes from the wind, and her left hand held a case. It was black and about eighteen inches long, five wide, and two thick. She held it by a black handle. Inside, separated into it's three joints, a flute was tucked carefully away. It was beautifully engraved and made of pure and finest silver.
She was on her way to school. It was on the other side of the cove. Technically, she was in a different school district, so the buses didn't run in her nieghborhood. So, she was to be found, irritable and cold, walking around the cove, early on a monday morning. Valerie picked up her pace to avoid the splash of the oncoming traffic in a nearby puddle made from the spray of the sea.
She glanced nevously over her shoulder. She had the strangest feeling she was being watched. Normally, she would attribute this sudden lurking suspiscion to her acute paraniod schizophrenia. She wasn't diagnosed schizophrenic, but she knew she had something because she always thought that people were talking about her, plotting against her, or suspecting her of some random act of mischief. She had done some reading on the subject and was sure she was at least acutly schizophrenic.
However, there were some strange things going on in the cove of late. People would dissapear, thier bodies, torn and mutilated, would be found in the forests that surround the cove a few days later. The police were baffled. It appeared that all the murders were done with bare hands, too, because they could never find a murder weapon. There were no eye-witness accounts, so it didn't appear to be the random work of a lunatic, either. The murderer was a professional, who knew how to not get caught. Who, possible, slaughtered indescriminatly for pleasure or profit. However paranoid Valerie might be, there was no axe murderer behind her. She was, after all, crossing a traffic bridge on the way to school, and nowhere near the incriminating forest.
She had let her thoughts carry her all the way to Blue-Valley Cove High School. She walked up the sloping drive as the five-munite bell began to ring. She'd never make it to her locker and to her first class on time from here. Running through the doors, the sound of upperclassmen chatting during passing period filled her ears, the sight of the blue, grey, and white uniforms filled her eyes. She ran around the corner, ignoring a teacher's reproach. Skipping her locker, she decided to save herself the tardy and come to class unprepared. She skidded through the band room door as the bell rang, and she shut it behind her, throwing her pack on the floor and opening her flute case as she went.
Kitani Memori Community Member 
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