Angels

It started out like any other day. I got up, had my cereal, washed my face, waited for the bus and did my make up in homeroom. Nothing strange really. But that day would change the scope of my life forever. That day would scar me and scare me to my wits end like I had never been scared before. This was the day of the weeping angels.


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It started out normal, like I said.  I woke up at 7:45 am--running late like always--grabbed a bowl of honey bunches of oats and hot tailed it to the bus stop.  I ate the cereal while we waited and while on the bus and threw the disposable cup I had my cereal in away when we got to school. We had Mr. Gongora for homeroom. He was a young guy, probably in his mid twenties, started teaching a few years ago and still didn't take his job too seriously. He was by self-admission an insomniac so the 30minute homeroom hour consisted of him talking to us while drinking a monster energy drink or a protein shake. Occassionaly, we'd have some standardize test questions--probably because they forced him to give it to us. But for the most part, homeroom was left to us for waking up, eating breakfast, doing our make up, or just shooting the shit with Mr. Gongora.   Today, however, Gongora was absent.

There was no sub. No assignments. No notes or news and I could have sworn I saw his car out in the parking lot when we drove in. Now, Mr. Gongora was a cool cat, but he wasn't the type to let us have free time either if he wasn't there. "I was in your shoes once, I remember how terrible we were with substitutes" he would reminisce, "I am NOT giving you the opportunity to do the same."   Smart man. But today, nothing. Not even a single marking on the board that would indicate he was out. 


It took a good 25minutes before a teacher walked in to ask about him and realized that he was out. I had first block--the class right after homeroom--with Gongora so I stayed in the room while the others fled to their rooms.  I opened my book to see where we left off and in there there was an envelope. It looked old. Older than anything in the room at that time. "Rose Mary Sanchez" --my name--was drawn across the front of the envelope.    

I was too curious not to open it so I opened it and found two things: an old letter, antique looking almost and a black and white picture of the school gymnasium's basement, in the corner, circled in red ink, appeared a figure of what looked like a statue with wings, but it was hard to make out.

I examined the picture closely. It defnitely was not a fake and it was as old as the envelope and it had a date stamp: "7-30-1943".  

The summer of 1943 was the one when they shut the school down. They said the "structure was unsafe" for anyone to be in and it was revamped and reopened one school year later.   I took a close look at the letter. It was neatly folded with two folds. I carefully opened the letter up, and began to read it's contents.

"Rose Mary,

You have to get out of the school. You, Erika, Steve, everyone get everyone out. Pull the fire alarm, call in bomb threats, punch the principal something! You have to get out of the school.   This is Mr. Gongora speaking. You were the most level headed student in my class, I thought you should get this.  There's something in that school. It's hard to explain. I was there this morning...but now I'm, well, now I'm dead.  I've left you more letters around the school. I need you to find them. They'll be in your classes and in my teacher-friends' classrooms.  You need to find them.

The picture you ask, well, it's of what got me. It's what killed me. Well, sort of killed me. It sent me back in time--I know, you think this is a lie or a trick--but it can happen. I'm in the basement of the gym trying to get some dodgeballs and then all of a sudden I wake up and it's 1943.  I'm 25 and it's 1943. I'll be dead by the time you read this in 2011.  

There's a statue in that picture, you saw it but you couldn't distinguish what it was. That's because it's got a natural perception filter on it, but now that you know what to look for. Look at the picture again. Try to find a stone angel. "

Weirded out, i grabbed the picture and looked at it one more time. I glanced closely at the corner of the photo and the faint image of a human now was a fully developed Angel figure. It was looking away, it's face in its hands as if it was crying.  I was shocked at the sight! I looked back at the letter and back at the photo. The angel's head was a bit different now. It was titled slightly backward as if trying to peak over it's own shoulder--at me.

I turned to the letter and back to the photo and the angel's arms weren't at it's face anymore.  

"I must be going outside my mind!" I thought to myself. 

I kept reading the letter.  

"I can't really write more in this parcticular letter. Find the rest. Start off in your classes, your teacher. There'll be clues after." the letter \read.

"And one more thing, don't blink! These things are fast. If you see a statue, and it sees you, don't turn away, don't turn your back, and don't even blink. You're life depends on it. Don't blink, don't ever blink.  Find the notes. It's yours--and your schools only shot. You're only shot to survive The Weeping Angels.