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MATURE: Ashley


Oct 15, 2013
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I wrote this over the course of a week in my creative writing class. It was an assignment in which we were supposed to narrate a story from the point of view of a character in the story.
I wrote this story, focused on the life of a young lass named Ashley.
This is unfinished, and will probably never actually be finished.
Due to some of the content, I'll put this as Mature, just in case.

[Fun Fact: I turned this in, and my teacher excused me from the assignment without commenting on the story itself.]


At this point in my life, it is difficult for me to share my experiences with a conscience that isn’t full of guilt. I know that the things that I have done. My life is full of misdeeds, and activities that are considered evil, or in some cases, taboo. These acts range from harming my own flesh with a knife, to use of drugs, to some sexual things that are best left secret for now.Before we go on, let me give you a basic run-down of who I am. At the time that I am writing this out, I am a 24-year old, and, as I always have been, as thin as a twig. It has always baffled me that I am as thin as I am, and as small. From age 12 to now, I’ve grown maybe 3 inches, and I’m only about 1.5 metres tall (Or about 5 feet), and I weigh maybe 50 kilograms (Or about 110 pounds). This should give you an idea of my appearance. I am very thin, very short, and rather pale. My hair ritualistically conflicts with my skin, being as black is the opposite of white. Thankfully, I have short hair, basically a thin bob cut, a messy one. It has also dawned on me that visual deformities attract attention. This is a detail that should be mentioned, as my eyes are ‘different’. I have something known as heterochromia, which makes my eyes have different colours. My left eye is green, while my right eye is a pale blue-grey. It sort of gives me an interesting appearance, which draws people to me.

Moving away from my appearance, let’s focus more on my personality for a bit, before I start describing my life. I started out as a carefree, happy-go-lucky little misfit. I never really fit-in with any of the sub-cultures at my school, which was fine with me. During elementary school, I just sort of kept to myself, writing little poems and drawing silly shapes and patterns when I wasn’t doing classwork. In middle school, there was no real difference, other than the fact that I basically paid no attention at all in class, deciding to instead play my Gameboy. I guess I’ve always been pretty smart, being as I managed to maintain a B+ average through all of middle school, and an A- average through all of high school. Speaking of high school, my sophomore year is when I really started to become a harlot, but it really started around eighth grade, and my freshman year.

A lot of the things that you are about to read may disgust you, they may cause you to think of me as a vile person. I am fully aware of what some people might think, and I don’t care. I’ve changed over the years, so the girl in this story, she is what I used to be. Granted, I am still the girl that partook in the events; this is not the way that I act anymore. If you are one of the people who thinks that everyone clings to their past, just set this aside, and have a good life.

Let’s start off in 1997, the year I turned 9-years old.
First of all, let me say that I am not going to get into something like ‘I had sex at age 9’. That is not at all what I’m going to get into. It didn’t happen. What I WILL be detailing is my family life, and little events that happened during my childhood.
For most of my life, I lived with my parents, my little sister, Marie, and my cousin, _. My parents were the carefree type, having me when my mother was only 18, and Marie when she was 20.Despite the young age of my parents, they managed to take care of me and my sister very well. We were raised to eat a vegetarian diet, which was fine by me, because I loved vegetables, which is more than I can say for Marie, who pretty much hated vegetables.
Getting back to what I was saying, we’re starting off at age 9, the age I was when my cousin moved in with us. His father was sent to prison for stealing copper or something along those lines, and his mother didn’t have the means to care for him alone. So, my 12-year old cousin moved in with us, and he stayed in our guest room.

I should probably give a quick run-down of the house I’ve lived in almost my entire life. It’s a basic house, with simply a main floor, an upper-floor, and a small basement. The front door leads right into a small corridor, which opens right into the living room. The dining room is basically the same room, as there is no real separation in the rooms, but they are separate rooms. The other exit to the corridor after the front door, directly to the right, is a door into our kitchen, which has another entrance from the dining room. To the left of the entrance corridor, there is another small corridor that leads to our washroom, a couple of closets, and 2 small bedrooms. At the end of the corridor, there is a stair-well that goes to our upper-floor. Thank goodness it’s spacious, or we wouldn’t have been able to get anything upstairs.

The upper-floor has a lot of things, being as it is almost the same size as our ground floor. Right at the entrance, there’s a closet, and immediately to the right is my sister’s room. The corridor then opens into what is essentially another living room, where we have some of our older video game consoles. That room has an entrance to what was my parents’ bedroom, which even has its own washroom. Now that my parents no longer live here, that bedroom is mine. Past that living room area is another corridor, which has a little washroom, and across from that is the room that I used to call my bedroom. The basement is nothing special, so I won’t get into that.

Anyway, _ stayed in one of the guest rooms on the main floor, basically on the opposite side of the house from me. He didn’t come with much, just a suitcase full of his clothes, and a box with some of his stuff: video games, his cassette player, some cassettes, sketchbook, some of his fancy writing utensils, and some other trivial nonsense. He also brought along his guitar, which was the coolest thing about him, in my opinion anyway.
I feel as though describing him is necessary. He was sort of like how a typical teenager looks. He was pretty well built, he had muscles, though not in excess, and he was pretty well sized for his age. He had dark hair, like me, except a bit lighter, and shorter, naturally. He wasn’t pale at all, having a well-formed tan, which really made his eyes stand out, which just drew attention to them.

For a long while, life had a recurring schedule. All of us kids would go to school, my father would go to work, and my mother would do her stuff around the house. When we got home, we had some sort of snack, did our homework, then either played our Nintendo games, or played outside in our back yard. Life was pretty good, and it wasn’t until I was about 14 that I learned that my parents smoked pot. Now, this made me realize why they were always so mellow, and it explained why they raised us the way that they did. To put it simply, my parents were hippies. That is the easiest way to say it. They were vegetarians, they did drugs, and they were always really mellow and all about love and caring. They weren’t overzealous, but they were obvious hippies.

It took me a few years, but I eventually realized that they were trying to push their ideals onto us, their children, and nephew. To be honest, I can say now that I don’t really approve of how my parents raised us, but what’s done is done. Their feeding habits and mellow attitude still linger with me to this day. I’m always pretty relaxed, to the point it might as well be classified as ‘lazy’, and I’ve still never ingested any type of meat. I guess that to some, I’m a hippie at heart, but not in my eyes.

By the time I started to finish grade school, at age 12, making _ 15, and finishing his 3rd year in high school, I had a very small group of friends. Britanny, Michelle, Jasmine, and Claus, were my only REAL friends at that point, though I did have quite a few other acquaintances around from time to time.There was my sister and cousin, of course, but they are family, so I don’t really consider them friends, per se. My friends were all radically different compared to me. Where I was quiet, Jasmine was rather loud. Where I was shy and reluctant, Britanny was outgoing and spunky. Where I was scared and nervous, Michelle had no fear, or reluctance. Claus was the only one that was like me, but totally different. He was quiet, such as I was, but he was always up for anything, having no fear or hesitation. He was a little shy however, at least around strangers, which is not at all what Britanny was like. To this day, I am still close friends with Michelle and Britanny. Claus moved to Alberta, while Jasmine moved somewhere in America, Pennsylvania or something like that.

The ways I went about meeting my little congregation started in a simple manner. I had a class where I sat right next to the outgoing and sociable Britanny, who decided to hop up and make me her friend. Through her, I was introduced to Claus, her childhood friend, and through him, Michelle and Jasmine, the two girls that usually follow a person around who seems deep and sensitive. To be fair, Claus is that type of person, but that’s not why Jasmine and Michelle followed him around like baby ducks. As it turns out, they had quite the history together.

The way that Claus told me the story made it sound like some sort of dramatic movie scene. Talk about overcompensation. As is the truth, according to both Jasmine and Michelle, in 1995, when Jasmine was 7, and Michelle, 6, the 2 girls had no idea of each other’s existence. It was thanks to the gentle giant that is Claus that the two girls met. The circumstances were less than comfortable, but nevertheless, an event that brought the trio together.

As it turns out, Michelle had a bit of a sociopathic father. Michelle only had him in her life, no mother, no siblings, and no other family around. It didn’t help matters that he was a bit of a drunkard, and spent most of his earnings on alcohol. Because of this, Michelle grew up with almost no food at her house. That’s leaving out that fact that her father never really left the house, or his room for that matter. He only left for work, shopping, and going to Michelle’s school for orientation and the like.
Usually, according to Michelle anyway, he would just leave her alone while he went about his business. Whenever he did take her along, she had to experience every second of him spewing angry profanity to whomever upset him in anyway, which could be caused by something as miniscule as having a few too many items while checking out at the market. She had to walk to school by herself for years, and when she got home, sat alone, hungry, with no toys to play with, or anything to entertain herself with. It wasn’t until she turned ten years old that her father had custody of her removed, and she was placed in foster care.

As for Jasmine, she was a fairly sheltered child, ‘sheltered’ being a term I use loosely. To be fair, she did have a pretty good life, having parents who got her toys and fancy clothes and whatever the hell she wanted. But, as that old saying goes, all that glitters is not gold. Her parents had money, this is true, but how they got their money is where the darkness in her life starts to show.

In short, her parents were drug dealers. They grew marijuana in their personal washroom, and also managed to make and sell hallucinogenic drugs, basically ecstasy. They loved their daughter, this much was true, and they didn’t tell her of their misdeeds, I assume to keep her safe, or just because they didn’t want her to get involved in the filthy business. In the end, Jasmine did find out after her house was robbed by some rather violent thugs who beat down her parents in cold blood, and tied her up like a hostage. The robbers got away with all of their drugs, and left the family beaten, restrained, and without any food, water, or help. By means unknown to Jasmine herself, they managed to get free and end up in a hospital. She theorizes that perhaps some family friends may have dropped by and found the crime scene. We don’t really know for sure, being as her mother died from the experience, and her father was sent to prison for selling illegal drugs.
Even up to this point, the two girls didn’t know of each other, being that the loss of Jasmine’s parents happened at around the same time that Michelle was placed into foster care. It shouldn’t be hard to figure out that the girls met while in the foster care’s circulation. This is where Claus enters the picture.

The girls ended up getting bounced from house to house, where, by chance, Jasmine ended up living within a household of caring people who already had a child, but liked to give homes to those who didn’t. This was the home of Claus’ parents, and for a time, Jasmine was Claus’ foster sister. However, her time there was temporary, lasting for but a few months before she was moved to another house. Roughly a year later, Michelle was moved to the same house, and was the next sister of Claus.

Once the girls started their 7th year of school, making Jasmine about twelve, and Michelle rather close to that age, the girls attended the same school. They still didn’t know each other, but they knew Claus, who also attended the same school, though he was a year ahead of them. The two of them found their old brother, and learned that they were both his sisters, and basically became good friends after that, having a quiet behemoth of a brother always watching over them.
Britanny came in as being Claus’s girlfriend, until they split-up during the end of his 2nd year of high school, her 1styear. It would be wrong to say that they aren’t friends anymore, but it would be right to say that there is some sort of resentment or tension between them. I’m not going to say that I don’t understand the resentment, being as Britanny just threw Claus away like a gum wrapper, which caused some rather angry reactions from Claus. I understand it fully, the two of them did some things that were less than respectable, but I do think that the two of them should have moved on sooner than they did. To this day, I still believe that Britanny has some sort of grudge against Claus for some of the things he yelled at her.
Now back to my school, I did happen to start middle school at age 12, which made me a rather old 6th-year student. The main reason being that I was held back for a year due to some moving around. I had to live in Ontario for a year, where I did attend classes, but for some bizarre reason, no real note was made of it, so I had to repeat it the entire year.

I was a veteran of the grade, having already completed it, twice. Needless to say, I breezed through the year with a perfect transcript, all the while still maintaining a good social life with my four good friends. It also turns out that this was the year that marked the new millennium. I was only eleven during the whole New Year’s festivities, which meant I couldn’t really do much. What did I do instead? I read books while my parents were smoking marijuana and drinking beer like it was water.
As I believe the saying goes, ‘Live every day as if it was your last’. That is exactly what my parents did, and apparently, what the 13-year old, almost 14-year old, Claus did at home as well, in the form of, shockingly, reading much like I did. His claim was that if he knew that the world would end, much like those Y2K conspirators, that he wouldn’t make a big deal of it. He would sit back, and wait for his demise. There would be no need to make a big deal out of it. This is one of the reasons that I love Claus, how his lack of emotions at times make him a strangely deep intellectual.

Middle school was strangely uneventful, being as I could simply do all of the work like it was an activity book, and after that, all I did was read. I wasn’t really social, and I didn’t have very many classes with my friends. I only really saw my friends before school and during our lunch hour, and since I lived the entire opposite direction of my friends, I walked home alone. It was really rather depressing, to be alone all the time, but I, somehow, found a way to bite the bullet and pull through.
In time, a rather shocking event managed to make its way into my life. Some days, Claus would actually catch me before I was too far away from the school, and walk me home. This worked out, because his school day ended before mine did, so he had time to meet me at the school and walk with me. His reasoning was simple, and gave me a feeling I had never felt before.

He said that he wanted to get close to me after hearing all that Michelle and Jasmine told him about me, and he really wanted to experience the enigma that is Ashley. To be honest, I was a tad bit mystified by this high-schooler’s sudden interest in me. I wasn’t one of the sexy girls, the preppy girls, or even one of the well-known girls. I was just that awkward, nerdy girl who sat alone, reading books all day. It goes without saying that we did have some interaction prior to this, being as he did actually know who I was, but he never really talked to me, mostly because I was really quiet when around him and the others. I did talk from time to time, and actually get involved, mostly because Britanny made me, but again, I was the reclusive one in the group.

I also had rather minimal amounts of self-esteem, being as I was that little girl who didn’t have anything to flaunt. I wore glasses, I had long, messy hair, I wore rather large, baggy clothes, I had small breasts, and I was just, in general, tiny in all forms. Whenever I wasn’t wearing my coat, I just had a regular tee-shirt on, with no visible ‘mounds’ as some may say. There were time when someone would come up to me, pretend to actually want to talk to me, and pull out a joke that flat-out offended me.

“Hey, Ashley, I just heard this joke that will totally knock you flat.”

“Oh… Really?”

At this point, the person in question looks from my chest, back to my face.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but it seems that you’ve already heard it.”

They then walk away, leaving my self-esteem shattered. I imagine it as a mine shaft caving in, and I’m in the middle, taking all of the destruction. This is why I wore baggy clothes, so that shit like this wouldn’t happen. But never you mind my efforts, it happened, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Please note: The thread is from 11 years ago.
Please take the age of this thread into consideration in writing your reply. Depending on what exactly you wanted to say, you may want to consider if it would be better to post a new thread instead.
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