Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality


Violet


How does one begin to understand someone who chooses to remain hidden from the untrained eye, yet in a sea of people demand they must be seen?


The curly haired guy from the party was standing outside of the English teacher's door just looking for trouble. His eyebrows would knit together in a frown each time he saw someone he didn't like enter the room, which seemed to be every male or female in the entire school. I had to force myself not to make eye contact with him as I walked through the doors to take a seat in the front row. I transferred here for my studies, not for him. In all my years of schooling, I had never seen a group of students so eager to sit in the back of the classroom.


This has to be pitfall number one of European exceptionalism.


“Hello everyone. Welcome to the Pitfalls of European Exceptionalism. For those of you who don't already know me, my name is Professor Fletcher, and I will be your teacher for this semester long course,” A man in his late forties stood up from his desk to say. He was a silver fox with hair that wasn't completely black or gray. Professor Fletcher succeeded in capturing my attention as well as another's.

“Ah, Mr. Styles. How nice of you to finally join us. Please come in. Why don't you take a seat in the front of the room today?”


Styles? How original.


All eyes, including my own, wandered to the man as he trudged down the steps to sit in the chair directly behind me. I wonder what kept him outside of the room for so long. He was, in fact, on time so why not make it known? It took an abrupt cough and a rude glare to make me realize that I was still ogling him like an idiot. I felt my cheeks redden as I smiled sheepishly, readjusting myself so that I was facing the teacher once again.


“Prepare yourselves students, for this is a class where you may see things your parents spent their whole lives trying to shelter you from and hear things your mind may not want to register. Now can someone…” He trailed off, opening an Expo marker to write on the board, “tell me which famous poet recited these lines?”


Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.


“William Shakespeare,” I muttered without hesitation.

“Someone just said it. Was that you Ms. Rivers? Can you say his name louder so the rest of the class can hear you?” The teacher smiled at me encouragingly.

“William Shakespeare, arguably the greatest Renaissance author of his time, said those lines in Macbeth,” I said a bit louder this time.

“Excellent job, Ms. Rivers. Speaking of Macbeth, students, if you look under your chair, you should find a copy of an edited version of the play. I want you to open up to the first page and read the Introduction. Be ready to discuss it with the class,” He instructed to everyone before capping the marker closed and sitting back down at his desk.


I dipped my head down low enough to check underneath my chair, but all I could see was the grout in between the tiles. These floors desperately need a shine. I sat upright again and raised my hand before informing my teacher that I didn't have a copy of the book.


“Bloody hell. Harry, It appears that Ms. Rivers doesn't have a copy of the play. I'd like you to share with her for today's class until I can get her one from the school,” Professor Fletcher told the green eyed boy who just nodded before taking out the book himself.


I heaved a sigh and turned around to see a grimace growing across the man's face as I moved my stuff to sit next to him.


Note-to-self: He looks like he has just woken up from the worst hangover of his life.


“Here…” Harry rubbed his eyes while handing me the book, “I've read this play too many times to count.”

“You a fan of Shakespeare?” I asked him while opening the text and glossing over the words.

“He's alright, I guess. I'm more of an Edgar Allan Poe kinda guy,” He casually replied.

“Interesting. His work is really dark,” I said whilst flicking to the next page of the summary.

“Like Macbeth, right? In my opinion, Shakespeare's reality is just sugar coated. Edgar Allan Poe's words reveal the true horrors within our world. Like I said before love, this place is corrupt,” Harry reminded me.

“Thanks for sharing this with me,” I finished reading. I disregarded his cynicism and handed him back the play.


I had already grown weary of him telling me how screwed up this world was as if I didn't know it already. It drove my mother to the brink of insanity. There was no point in dwelling on the fact, but I had a feeling he fed off this kind of malfeasance. It gave him an excuse to complain about things.


“Why, anything for you, little red…” Harry said with a lopsided smirk.


That smile of his caused knots to form in the pit of my stomach. Something about the look he gave me was also so unsettling, but I didn't have the slightest idea why.


He stares at me with such an intensity that I wonder if he can see past the holes of the wall protecting my soul. Every fiber in my body is telling me that I should go to great lengths to stay away from Harry, but this thing with him feels like a gravitational pull. The laws of relativity forbid me to retreat, for I'm compelled to unravel the convoluted mystery that is Harry Styles.

Notes

Hey guys. Thank you for the 18 votes. I really appreciate it. Your comments have convinced my co-author and I to keep posting/updating this story so take that haters! 4 more votes for another update on Monday?

The line italicized at the very top is from Edgar Allen Poe in case you didn't already know ;)

Please don't stop commenting, voting, or subscribing and enjoy this update.

Love
-M

P.S - You all should check out KaleighStyles57 stories. She's amazing, and she'll be posting the chapters she has written for this story after the next update.