Introduce myself? To who?
Mar. 18th, 2014 09:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azuredistraughtStudents Full Name: Elliot Lēctus Lockwood
Students Preferred Name: Elliot
Students Date of Birth: October 16
Students Age: 17
Students Grade Level: 12th Grade
Students Gender: Male
Students Hair Color: Black
Students Eye Color: Brown
Students Vision: They used to think I needed glasses, but I still saw them.
Students Area of Study: Painting
Students Family: Father and Mother. Grandmother would visit me some times.
Students Background:
I grew up around both my parents. We were close as a family, big on holidays, and family nights. You know, the works. Like all families though, we had our hiccups. The first major one happened when I was six. Saying it out loud, it sounds silly, but to us it was a problem. When I was alone, especially if it was night, I had started to see things. And hear things. Your standard monster in the closet type of thing. All kids go through it at one point. You left your favorite toy in the basement. No one to go down there with you this time. So you slowly descend the stairs. Grab the toy and RUN right back up. That is, if you took the time to go down there in the first place. You knew the basement was empty, and you laugh at yourself for running. But in that moment... when you were walking down those stairs... you were just terrified. That sort of thing, but worse.
My parents just thought that it was the standard child fear of the dark, so that wasn't the important part. The important part was the fire. It was a small fire, but it could have easily turned into something much worse. My parents were out taking the dog out for a walk when they saw the smoke coming from the base meant window. Of course they rushed in, and found me in the corner of the room crying my eyes out, clutching the stupid stuffed bear I had gone back down to retrieve. The fire was easily put out, but what scared them the most were the shattered windows. A fire of that small magnitude couldn't have done that. And the glass was on the inside. Someone broke in.
They thought it was someone. I saw the something that had done it though. So when were were making the police report, and when I told them what I had seen... well they didn't take me seriously. Thought that I had gone into shock. Gave me a blanket. They suggested a student guidance counselor, and went on their way, trying to find the non-existent arsonist. Father didn't give up on me though, I was their only real lead. He told me to draw what I had seen. Over and over again. And I did, and he would always just smile and thank me. I knew it wasn't the answer he was looking for, but it was the truth. That was the thing I had seen.
That was the hiccup. Mother had just wanted to be done with the issue, and father wouldn't let it slip. There might have been more, but I was young, so I never really saw the arguments. I saw how much it was hurting mommy and daddy, so I stopped drawing. And eventually the memory drifted off into obscurity. We had even moved to help the memory fade.
Everything else was like a dream. Happy end.
I wish. I had almost forgotten the incident, which was easy to do. I hadn't seen anything like that since. I still got the feeling of dread around the dark... but who didn't? So, when I turned twelve, and the exact same thing had happened again... Well, this time it wasn't a hiccup. It was an uproar.
I had started to see the things again. The dark things. Except this time they didn't go away. This time they came closer. This time... they hurt. Nothing big, or terrible. Just small scratches. Cuts here and there. The occasional small bruise. Needless to say they believed me just about as much as they had the first time. I started sketching them again, and with that, the haunted looks came back to my parents' faces. It wasn't something they wanted to hear about ever again. But I tried to show them what was happening to me... and they thought it was self inflicted.
That was the joy of all joys. I had gotten the easy ticket back to the student counselor again. They wanted me to talk, but no one really listened. Even my friends thought I was crazy.
But as I said, it happened again. There was another fire. Of course the fire that burned down our apartment building started in the basement storage units. Where I had been. No broken glass down there though, which planted me as the prime suspect. Not that I cared at that moment. The things I saw that day terrified me like nothing else could. I witnessed something horrific. And I stuck to my story once again. As per usual, no one listens to the 'depressed' 'cutting' pre-teen.
After the fire I was put into the hospital... I spent a lot of time there. I had grown used to all the white. I tried not to associate with many of the other patients there, or the doctors. They wouldn't listen to me either.
I passed my time there by sketching and drawing the things I kept seeing. One of the nurses had even bought me a set of paint. That was how I was allowed to come to Connors. They had seen one of the artworks I had showcased in the hospital. I was surprised they liked it, since the things I usually paint are a little more on the dark side.
This year will be my first and last here at Connors. I'm just glad to finally be out of the hospital.
Students Preferred Name: Elliot
Students Date of Birth: October 16
Students Age: 17
Students Grade Level: 12th Grade
Students Gender: Male
Students Hair Color: Black
Students Eye Color: Brown
Students Vision: They used to think I needed glasses, but I still saw them.
Students Area of Study: Painting
Students Family: Father and Mother. Grandmother would visit me some times.
Students Background:
I grew up around both my parents. We were close as a family, big on holidays, and family nights. You know, the works. Like all families though, we had our hiccups. The first major one happened when I was six. Saying it out loud, it sounds silly, but to us it was a problem. When I was alone, especially if it was night, I had started to see things. And hear things. Your standard monster in the closet type of thing. All kids go through it at one point. You left your favorite toy in the basement. No one to go down there with you this time. So you slowly descend the stairs. Grab the toy and RUN right back up. That is, if you took the time to go down there in the first place. You knew the basement was empty, and you laugh at yourself for running. But in that moment... when you were walking down those stairs... you were just terrified. That sort of thing, but worse.
My parents just thought that it was the standard child fear of the dark, so that wasn't the important part. The important part was the fire. It was a small fire, but it could have easily turned into something much worse. My parents were out taking the dog out for a walk when they saw the smoke coming from the base meant window. Of course they rushed in, and found me in the corner of the room crying my eyes out, clutching the stupid stuffed bear I had gone back down to retrieve. The fire was easily put out, but what scared them the most were the shattered windows. A fire of that small magnitude couldn't have done that. And the glass was on the inside. Someone broke in.
They thought it was someone. I saw the something that had done it though. So when were were making the police report, and when I told them what I had seen... well they didn't take me seriously. Thought that I had gone into shock. Gave me a blanket. They suggested a student guidance counselor, and went on their way, trying to find the non-existent arsonist. Father didn't give up on me though, I was their only real lead. He told me to draw what I had seen. Over and over again. And I did, and he would always just smile and thank me. I knew it wasn't the answer he was looking for, but it was the truth. That was the thing I had seen.
That was the hiccup. Mother had just wanted to be done with the issue, and father wouldn't let it slip. There might have been more, but I was young, so I never really saw the arguments. I saw how much it was hurting mommy and daddy, so I stopped drawing. And eventually the memory drifted off into obscurity. We had even moved to help the memory fade.
Everything else was like a dream. Happy end.
I wish. I had almost forgotten the incident, which was easy to do. I hadn't seen anything like that since. I still got the feeling of dread around the dark... but who didn't? So, when I turned twelve, and the exact same thing had happened again... Well, this time it wasn't a hiccup. It was an uproar.
I had started to see the things again. The dark things. Except this time they didn't go away. This time they came closer. This time... they hurt. Nothing big, or terrible. Just small scratches. Cuts here and there. The occasional small bruise. Needless to say they believed me just about as much as they had the first time. I started sketching them again, and with that, the haunted looks came back to my parents' faces. It wasn't something they wanted to hear about ever again. But I tried to show them what was happening to me... and they thought it was self inflicted.
That was the joy of all joys. I had gotten the easy ticket back to the student counselor again. They wanted me to talk, but no one really listened. Even my friends thought I was crazy.
But as I said, it happened again. There was another fire. Of course the fire that burned down our apartment building started in the basement storage units. Where I had been. No broken glass down there though, which planted me as the prime suspect. Not that I cared at that moment. The things I saw that day terrified me like nothing else could. I witnessed something horrific. And I stuck to my story once again. As per usual, no one listens to the 'depressed' 'cutting' pre-teen.
After the fire I was put into the hospital... I spent a lot of time there. I had grown used to all the white. I tried not to associate with many of the other patients there, or the doctors. They wouldn't listen to me either.
I passed my time there by sketching and drawing the things I kept seeing. One of the nurses had even bought me a set of paint. That was how I was allowed to come to Connors. They had seen one of the artworks I had showcased in the hospital. I was surprised they liked it, since the things I usually paint are a little more on the dark side.
This year will be my first and last here at Connors. I'm just glad to finally be out of the hospital.
