Insight

Not suprisingly enough, another conversation I get caught up in a good deal-creation versus evolution.  I can understand the challenge it may pose to other peoples beliefs.  We need to accept a good deal about the world around us for our own sanity.  Without some explanation, any explanation for what we see day to day we would not be able to function.  In such a regard, saying that a Volcano is active due to a troll fueling a fire is as valid as any scientific explanation.  There were sciences in biblical times that in generations past could have been considered religious (irrigation,faming techniques, writing).  The difference is that science is a tool.  That we need a belief to understand the world around us, should be irrelevant to that.

Truthfully a number of people who accept say the big bang and evolution know very little about the subject.  They may as well functionally believe in creation or in a giant turtle with the world floating on its back.  However, many people do need to understand why they can’t take antibiotics all the time or why certain diseases persist in society.  On the news regularly we hear about mutations to avian flu and how it can harm us all.  People should know how to understand that news.

Accepting evolution need not be believing that we have all evolved from a single celled organism.  No one has to accept the whole of a theory or that which remains to be proven.  We know that evolution occurs in the short term.  In lab experiements with short lived insects or bacteria and viruses.

When a child asks why am I here, why is the universe here-they are asking a quesiton quite distinct from why several forms of the same virus can exist.  The answer should follow suit.  In such a regard a religious answer serves much better than a scientific one.  We have an innate drive to acknowledge the world around us.

The main point of why I think the debate over creation and evolution is mute is because evolution is a tool, God is not.  Evolution is as much a tool as a ruler or a compass or a scientific formula.  We use it to accomplish a specific end purpose and it is only concerned with such.  God is accepted for a wide variety of situations with no specific goal in mind (except perhaps to save someones everlasting soul).  When people wish to teach God, or Intelligent Design in a classroom, to me that are minimizing God down to that of a calculator.  Something to be used rather than believed in.    

I have the displeasure of running into too many racists via chat rooms on the net.  The saving grace is thankfully there are anti-white racists as well, normally believing in some Nation of Islam beliefs.  I hear a wide range of beliefs, thankfully most racists are idiots who can barely spell the word.  What disturbs me is when I come across one who actually is coherent.  They normally seem to believe in Eugenics and define race along strict parameters, a common phrase I hear is survival of the fittest (unfortunately being egotistical they have a very loose definition of fittest).  Rarely do I hear a racist, remotely intelligent or otherwise, who would submit to a superior person.

Survival of the fittest and eugenics go hand and hand.  I am opposed to the idea for several reasons.  The fittest human beings in my opinion are those who can make others more fit.  Otherwise why do we have invention and language?  If I’m being chased by a lion, I’d rather have a gun than superior genes.  If the assertion is true, then the least fit would be those who are incapable of making others more fit.  This would definately ring true with racists, who must believe they are unable to help others rise up.  A belief in superiority, though egotistical and ethnocentric is not necessarily racism.  Stating that they are incapable of improving the lot of their fellow man and believing that society should act upon it is.

Eugenicists would have society become more insect than either animal or man.  We would be a hive, constantly revolving around the status quo.  We would assume that we would know what is best for mankind and we would be forever limited by that.  A misconception (in my opinion), that I hear eugenicists assert is that we would make ‘all people’ better in the long run.  Two problems with this is 1.) who would do the dirty work (unless you have communist overtones) and 2.) can people be good at all things at all times?  If eugenics was an accepted philosophy on a state level it would seem to me that we would begin to ‘breed’ good workers.  We would breed people to be good police officers, firemen, actors and leaders.  Furthermore I believe that at some point all truely communist nations would have to accept eugenics, complete governmental control would need to maintain stable populations of specific workforces.  There cannot be several too few librarians or too many teachers.  They would eventually have to take account for deaths and births in a population.  They would eventually have to tell people to breed if the population dropped too rapidly.  Telling who to breed as a specific rather than just a random draft would only be a small step away.  I also disagree that we could make the ‘perfect’ people (unlike any race or person/family line who exists today).  I believe, which I will get into in a later post, that the great distinction between man and other animal is the creation of the ‘beta’ male.  The ability for society to divide labor up amongst their population.  It may simply be for a look-out, a hunter, a teacher, etc-but at some point humans seperated off and began to divide tasks and authority up.  This would work contrary to the idea that man can be all things at once.  Though if we did perfect genetic engineering, perhaps we could make superior people, however several problems remain.  One would be that something similar to imbreeding would occur if we began to push one gene or allele above all others in our society.  Nature evolved relatively equal but different genes, it is highly unlikely that there would be one ‘best’ for eyesight (as an example).  The main problem goes again to how we can decide what is best.  In prior posts I have asserted that individuals in our society are AS important as groups because individuals drive society forward.  The group is not superior nor more intelligent than one person, in fact the larger the group typically the dumber the individuals in a group become  (in larger groups people tend to be less productive because probably they do not feel their work has merit, the larger the group the less individual responsibility and the less any one person will act to help another).  We would forever be limited to what level of intelligence the group was at if we had total control over our development, there could be no random variables allowed in a society that required total domination by itself.  Random variables however are what drives our growth, in my opinion the most free system is the most redundant and adaptive.  Insects survive due to sheer numbers and that they are persistent.  They do not survive because smaller populations are more adaptive to changes in the environment, which is a power granted to humanity.

Finally (for now), race is a very loose term.  Race is hardly scientific as many genes cross along what society labels racial lines.  In the 20’s in america many people who are white today would not have been considered white then.  Hitler broke ‘white’ down into something like 40 different profiles based on purely physical appearance.  Many people who would believe in Nazism seem incapable of understanding that they themselves would have been given a menial role in society.  Only a few ‘types’ of white (as defined by Hitler’s government) would have been allowed into leadership roles.  Merit was not an issue.  Even if someone was able to have the society they desired, eventually other issues would come up.  The man with the freckles would be the minority, or the person with straight hair.  Race is defined predominantly by social opinion.  Any society that would require such a belief would never stop finding slight differences within the group.  We may as well define people with a crooked nose, curly hair, or outie belly buttons as being a race, because that would be about as scientific as that which we use today.  Too many people confuse a label with a science.  One case in point from an article I read in, I believe it was discover, was discussing sickle-cell amenia-which is as pervasive in the Mediterranean as it is in Africa.  The genetic coding for the condition was a benefit to both locales, there was no ‘racial’ barrier as defined by society, only one defined by a need (preventing mosquito born illness).

I get into a number of conversations on terrorism with people holding a variety of different opinions.  Common opinions that are more accepting of terrorism are 1.) that people have no choice and when backed into the wall they can respond with what tools are available to them.  2.) they justify it based on previous actions by democratic nations, such as the U.S. bombing hiroshima and nagasaki.  3.) they have a semantic disagreement and believe that terrorism is not properly defined and would apply to any attack that results in civilian casualities.  4.) more rare, but people believe that all civilians in a nation count as valid targets.  I especially here this belief when applied to Israel, normally justified because of mandatory military service which they take to mean all citizens are valid targets because they will be or have been drafted to serve in a military role.

As to the first belief, that terrorism is the tool of the weak.  I believe this could not be further from the truth.  Terrorism has most often been used by those in power to keep control.  Whether it is placing the ‘trouble-makers’ up on a cross, their head on a pike, burning them at the stake, or killing whole families of the people who were in power before-the tool is used to squash rebellion, not bring about real social change.  If terrorism was only the tool of last resort, why then has it been used most commonly by those already in power?

To the second belief, all peoples have done something of which they could be ashamed of in their past.  Society grows and advances, as does our idealogy of human rights and law.  Would being in a developing country excuse rape or murder because they don’t have the same standard of law that we do in democratic states?  There are activities that we engage in today that will eventually be viewed as wrong, maybe not necessarily legally but definately socially.  It may be as simple as how we greet one another, or how we handle disagreements.  We cannot use the justification that because we have behaved criminally in the past other people can also behave criminally.  If a convict is harmed he deserves as much justice as the rest of the nation.

For the third belief, that terrorism is not properly defined and therefore would include collatoral damage as in a bombing raid-there is some measure of truth to this.  The task of defining terrorism as an internationally accept standard for law has been a difficult one.  Personally, I am of the mind that terrorism is any action that is meant to force some form of change upon a civilian population by real bodily injury and threat of bodily injury upon that population.  Collatoral damage and harm to civilians is definately offensive to anyones sense of humanity, and should be a criminal offense at an international level, I merely believe that it should fall under a seperate category.  Terrorism should be considered the direct targeting of civilians.  I am more than  happy to criminalize behavior that puts civilians at inappropriate risk, as would be carpet bombing a city to get at a handful of people-just not defined under terrorism.  Another semantics argument I rarely get into is that terrorism includes any form of pressure or distress, and some people go so far as to include that into threat of prison.  As a common usage of the term terrorism that may be appropriate, however the importance is in defining an actual international definition of terrorism for a criminal offense.  There are many cases where a legal definition does not match a social convention.  The definition of insanity as a mental disorder is rarely even included in modern dictionaries now, as it has become a purely legal term.

4.) The argument that ex military personal or possibly one day will become military personal are valid targets is rediculous.  It would be similar to killing whole families of a ruling class to prevent them from ever again claiming power.  It is more similar to the U.S. imprisioning people with genetic predispositions to some criminal activities.  Laws are not retroactive in our country for a similar reason, we cannot criminalize a behavior and go after people who engaged in that activity in the past.  We also imploy a statute of limitations on many forms of criminal activities, for at least one reason-that the purpose of law is to protect society now.  In war time it is not appropriate to target people who may have once been a threat.  Would it be fair for us to target Bathists(sp?) merely because they used to be a threat and serve with Saddam in Iraq?  Someone must be a threat now to qualify as a target in wartime.  I would personally like the evidence of the threat to be valid enough to stand up in a court of law if it were possible to take them into custody, however this often could not be possible, yet the idea should still stand.  Civilians are no more valid targets, even if they used to serve in the military or may soon serve in the military-then would any random person on the street.  The road that belief leads down follows the beliefs of some of the greatest evils of the world, including racism,genocide and eugenics. 

Here’s some lyrics to a song I’m working on.  It’s mostly for practice, I want to get back into writing songs rather than just fiddling around on guitar.  If I ever get a version of the music with my voice such that my voice doesn’t piss me off I’ll probably post it online.  I’ve been using audacity to record myself with, great free software.  Unfortunately I can’t sing and audacity doesn’t help with that.

Glancing Around

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I can’t seem to

get rid of my picture of you

I just walk along

waiting for a break in the song

People change faces every day

but i still can’t find a way

to see your face again

in the crowds, in the clouds

every morning through every night

I can’t get this feeling quite right

all I can manage to do

is chase it down in dream sight

just another sad tale

wondered about under icy hail

seeking shelter from the falling ice

from inside the crystal ship looked nice

it’s all figments of imagination

i’ll stand up and change the station

rations for an uncreative mind

just another stop now go sign

lead me on out of here

i’ve had more to drink than I can bare

why she keeps looking at me

what is it that she can see

laid out in a long look

soul stretches like a well worn book

maybe there’s a shade of you here

but i just don’t want to stare

back at home, back to rest

I have too many prayers to confess

prayers of yesterday, days to come

if I sleep too long I’ll surely come undone

I’ve been a fan of computer based education for years now.  It has begun to emerge as online classes, and there are a host of education games for kids to play-but it doesn’t seem to be as much as it could be.  I’ve even been tempted to try to get some form of psych/compsci/edu degree, but feel it is too much of a gamble at my age.

There are several principal benefits to CBE as I see it.  1.) No longer limited by geography, we can gear educational techniques to smaller populations in our society.  In a school with a few hundred students, it would not be economical nor very feasible to coach education to one specific student.  However, when sampling a population of a few hundred million, there may be several thousand or more students similar to him/her and warrant such an endeavor.  2.) as an extension to premise one, rooting out learning difficulties would be much easier.  We could compare students with other students who had similar difficulties and have since moved on.  We could also extrapolate which problems the current student ‘will’ face based on how the similar students fared.  Specific learning programs could be generated to solve those problems before they occur.  3.) During the CBE course how students peform can be recorded.  Later during review sessions (or before an exam) the ’software’ could remember what the student had gotten wrong before and focus specifically on those issues.  4.) as an extension to 3 the software could be used as reviews later on down the road to upgrade their class credit or merely for self benefit.  5.) the course content can always be kept up to date with current events.  It may also be possible that as an extension to 4, people could take a condensed version of a modern version of a course where changes may have occured-such as new technologies or theories.  6.) a Computer Based Education system can be much cheaper to export to nations without adequate education, the infrastructure would not be nearly as intensive as school systems are today.  This is already in effect in part with donated used computer systems to developing nations.  It is much more cost effective and students can get access to information comparable with what developed nations students receive.  The education requirement on the teachers part is minimal, the cost of maintaining dozens of books is offset-in fact some text books are released for free via the internet.  7.) CBE systems can make use of video, audio, and games for a student rather than just straight text.  It can be far more interactive and therefore entertaining.  8.) The most important aspect to CBE in my opinion, is that subjects can be divided up into individual units rather than full semesters.  Students can progress at their own rate.  There is no need to lump it all together into one 4 month class.  Also, if done properly the full information could be available through the CBE program.  Students could follow ‘links’ to gain further knowledge that may not be a requirement of that specific class, but can go towards the credit for a future course.  9.) The feedback can be instant.  Each time using the CBE program, the student can see how much of the subject he/she has learned.  One of the most addictive components to games and online games, is seeing a "you have gotten better at" or "you have leveled up".  With the online classes I’ve taken through the university, often weekly quizzes will give my grade back after completing it.  I don’t need to wait a week for a returned test, of several months for a grade, of even several years for a degree.  I see that my work has went towards something immediately.  There is a reward factor to it.  Too often I get into cycles will I find my work is wasted.  Having that instant feed back keeps me going.

There you have it.  The main benefits to computer based education as I see it.  The technology is here now, we just haven’t fully made that leap.  I used to have a few business models.  The problem is having it count as much as a normal school.  I find that if it were done privately rather than on a federal or state level, the program would have to begin as a tutoring system.  With a set payment fee every month to access to the resources.  One resource which would help would be the use of tutors, preferably college students who would have access to a large database to assist students over the internet via some messaging system.  Generating information would have to be paying teachers to create lectures and units of information for a set price rather than through royalties.  The goal would have to be that the information grows over time, rather than being replaced-royalty payments would get in the way of that.  I do not think totally getting rid of school as is would be feasible, the system would have to start off as assisting education as it is now, which is why I suggest a tutoring system.  If developed enough it would serve as a replacement for school for people who need it, but from numerous conversations people don’t feel confident giving their childrens education over to a computer rather than a classroom.  Not to mention school is often considered daycare.  The number one wall I run into is that students would not get the socialization necessary to function in the world.   

Earlier today on Wolf Blitzer(sp), a man was pushing his book, I believe it was called ‘The Earth is Flat’-by Fischer or something similar.  He asserted an opinion that I’m certain is quite common in some political circles.  The opinion was that outsourcing jobs is really no different than advances in robotics or machinery and computers.  He stated that jobs were lost then as well and our economy handled it, as it will today.  The difference, in my opinion, is that advances in technology and manufacture techniques also create jobs in our society.  It may not be as many, but it helps offset the initial loss of jobs. 

Outsourcing jobs is a cheat.  As much a cheat as slavery or child labor.  It seeks to cut corners rather than to develop new ideas to bring down the cost of production.  It’s a cheat on the market, making the bottom line look a little more friendly to investors.  Money pours out of our nation to bring short term gains to the companies in question.  Rather than investing in R&D, they now can get what would have been a long term payoff overnight.

A few months ago, I had the fortune to catch part of a documentary on the technology of Ancient Greek.  It was on discovery or history channel, or one of those cable programs that have slowly been selling out (I don’t enjoy watching people build motorcycles or decorate homes for several hours in a row, where are the aliens?).  The show held an interesting thesis, that if it were not for slavery, the industrial age could have occured in ancient greek.  How different would the face of history appear if this had been so?  The ancient greeks had an early form of the steam engine, though more of a novelty than anything useful.  They also had a complex series of ropes to control stage mechanics in theater very similar to an early form of computer.  The problem, was that slave labor was so much easier to have there was no need to develop technologically and allow an industrial age to emerge.  They had the technology, but not the drive.  And that is what I fear may happen (in part) today.  Rather than developing the skills we have to overcome problems in cost and production, rather than developing at all socially, we are seeking a cheap way out.  The short term gains to outsourcing labor may be enormous, but in the long term it will only hurt us all.  Eventually the economies will balance out and we will be back to where we are now.  We may find in a decade that outsourcing to India has become too expensive and instead choose a cheaper developing country, but eventually we will run out of those as well.

When we spend money in america, it goes back into america.  Employees who work in the U.S., spend money in the U.S..  Even if there is a decrease in jobs due to technology, the money we spend on that technology still exists here.  When exporting jobs, none of the money is truely recapped.  People still spend the same amount, they simply may be able to buy more when they get a new TV for $50.  Someone could argue that being able to buy more stuff equals more jobs, but that would only be true if they were actually spending more money. 

Normally I am pro-Israel in many matters.  I have my hestitations when it comes to incidences that have collatoral damage (launching a cruise missile at an apartment to kill one man but with several others nearby)-I would rather see some joint palestine/israelie task force to go into the buildings and arrest a terrorist.  This latest shooting should have the soldiers involved on probation and a scheduled trial with real consequences. 

Earlier today three Palestine teenagers, around the age of 14-16 were playing soccer and chased the ball into a restricted area.  The Isrealie soldiers claim that they shot warning shots and when the teenagers refused to stop the soldiers then opened fire.  I can understand that they could be perceived as a threat, but the soldiers should have an alternative to ammunition rounds when there could be kids involved.  There are numerous forms of rubber bullets and bean bag bullets that could be used around a settlement area.  The children were not in a prison and were not suspected terrorists.  I believe that Israel should get on the ball and state clearly that charges will be had against the people responsible and if found guilty justice will be done.  In no way would I support a terrorist response to this event, but I think a legal one is necessary and appropriate.

This chapter needs major editing, but I decided to post it mostly as is.  There is a relatively mild description of rape towards the end.

————————————————————————————-

EVOLA CHAPTER 3: MY FIRST JOB :

  The simple 24 hour Diner signs glows warmly in the smog lit sky.  Evola pauses underneath it pulling her trench coat closer to her.  It’s been a week of living on the run.  Mostly sleeping in treehouses and garages she’s been lucky but was almost caught the other evening.  An old man came out while she was in the midst of changing.  If he had seen her wings it would all be over.  Thankfully he was incredibly near sighted and a decent sort.  While his back was turned he asked many uncomfortable questions.  Thinking quickly she lied and told him she was a run away.  After the first home cooked meal in a week Evola promised him she would go home and apologize to her parents.  This brought some heavenly relief to the old man who now knew he was one step closer to heaven and not just by his age. 
  The worn trenchcoat was bought with her last allowance ever from a homeless man.  Spare change bought it three trips through the laundry mat before she would suffer it upon her flesh.  The man was nice enough if a little smelly and knew she was in trouble.  He mentioned a shelter a little ways further into the city that had a  runaway department that would take good care of her.  She thanked him for the advice and filed it away under the hopefully never category, though knowing that when the weather turns she may have no choice.
  So here she is penniless and hungry before this diner staring at the help wanted sign.  ‘It can’t be so bad’ she tells herself while she gathers to enter the restaurant.  Upon entry every eye turns on her appraisingly as the late night crew sips there beers and coffees.  She squeezes past two large men on the bar and with a quick hop plants herself firmly there and stares at her gloved hands.
  "Whatcha’it be darling?"  A waitress seemingly out of nowhere pulls up in front of her leaning over the counter smiling. 
  "I don’t really have any money but I noticed the help wanted sign in the window."  Evola answers honestly.
  "Oh .. a potential fellow employee .. well foods on the house then.  How about a nice hot chocolate and our extra special steak and potatoes?"  The waitress snaps some gum and smiles again.
  "That would be great!"  Evola brightens as she had only done with the old near sighted man for days and manages a very pretty smile.
  "And you guys leave off .. y’all act like you’ve never seen a young girl before!"  The waitress admonishes the diner rats who turn back to their drinks grumbling about service.  "Now you know you’re welcome to find some place else to go at night .. I swear you cost us more then we make." 
  "My name’s Sue."  A bubble bursts between pink lips and a warm hand is extended.
  Evola pauses for a moment unaccustomed to such decent treatment.
  "This is where you tell me your name darling."  Sue smiles again with a quick twinkle in her eye.
  "Oh, yes, Hi .. My names .. Evola"  Her hand reaches out to touch Sue’s and is brought to an energetic shaking motion. 
  "Cool gloves Evola."  Evola’s hands draw back nervous at the comment and suddenly shy while Susan pop’s another bubble.
  "Yea, thankyou."
  "I’ve got to put that order in but I’ll get the manager to come on over and chat with you.  We really need help so I think you’ll definately be hired but … "  Sue pauses conspiricaly and leans close.  "You have to be 16 to work here."  Sue’s bright long lashes close in a wink while Evola absorbs that bit of information.
  "Oh, I see.  Thank you Sue."
  "No prob Evola, it’s a pretty easy job.  I’m going to look forward to working with you."
  Susan leaves with snapping bubbles trailing off to the kitchen.  Evola sits there trying to absorb how lucky she’s just gotten.  ‘Well .. I’m very intelligent .. I can easily be 16 if needs be.  Heck, I’m already pretty good at acting human’.
  Evola feels stare’s at her back but it’s not like the kids in her class.  This time it’s different.  Not quite comfortable, but better then being made fun of.  Finally she gathers the nerves to confront whoevers stairing at all.  A quick turn matches eyes with some old trucker sort with unkept hair.  His mouth lifts with a quirk and suddenly filled with mischievous Evola presents her middle finger to him.  The guy sitting across from the trucker laughs as the trucker type returns to his soup.
  Sue pops out of nowhere laughing.  "I saw that Evola." 
  "I’m sorry Sue."  Evola is suddenly worried that she may have put her job at risk.
  "No, no, don’t be.  That guy is always staring at us like we’re dessert at baskin robbins .. know what I mean?"
"Not really."
  "You’ll fit in fine.  Don’t worry so much.  Here’s you hot chocolate.  I put extra whipped cream in it."  Evola takes the cup in both arms and lifts it to her lips.  Licking off excess foam she looks up at Sue watching her expectently.
  "It’s great!" 
  "Thank’s darling … that makes it all worthwhile don’t cha know?"  Sue turns to the right to see a man dressed conservetively in a simple suit with a clip board approaching them.  "Oh, here comes the boss man now."
  "Hi, Evola is it?"  The man extends his hand in a friendly manner as he pulls an extra stool out from the other side of the bar.
  "Yes.  I saw your sign in the window and want a job."
  "That’s great.  We can always use a helping hand.  My names John Evans.  You can call me Johnny."  He looks down at his clip board and makes some chicken scratch there. 
  "How old are you Evola?"  A pen rests upon some part of the form.
  "I’m 16 Mr. … Johnny."  She tries to uncondition herself from formalities with not a little amount of difficulty. 
  "Hmm "  He mutters while filling in more of the form.
  "I’m out of here .. work to do … you hire this girl Johnny, she even got old Phil to concentrate on his soup rather then the help."  Sue leaves with a laugh while Johnny looks at her appraisingly. 
  "Not bad there.  Most folk are decent but late night we get some real characters in here."  Johnny turns back to the pad.
  "You ever work in a restaurant before?"
  "Nope, but I’ve helped around the kitchen a lot and am good at cleaning."
  "That should be fine then.  We’ll have to start you out bussing tables probably until you get the hang of things.  I don’t see why we couldn’t have you waitressing before too long though.  You’ll have to lose the gloves though."
  "Oh .. "  Evola becomes worried that they’ll find out what a freak she really is.  "I umm .. it’s medical."
  "Hmm .. well maybe we can overlook it then.  Do you live with you parents?" 
  "They .. died .. in an accident.  I don’t like to talk about it."
  "I’m sorry .. then you don’t have a place to stay?  What about relatives?"
  "None that I know of.  My mom, dad, and me pretty much kept to ourselves.  And I didn’t want to stay at the facilities the state would have offered."  Evola tries to read how Johnny is taking all of this.  It seems he’s swallowed it all.
  "I’m so sorry about their death.  I can’t blame you about the facilities though.  I had to spend some time in a orphanage for awhile.  Hated it.  Kids are so mean sometimes."
  "Yes, I don’t get along with many people."
  "Well .. I’m sure we can find you a place to live for awhile.  We take care of our own here.  I know I have an extra room though that might not be very politic.  Why don’t we see if Sue can take you in for awhile.  It seems like you two get along great."
  "Wow.  Thank you so much Johnny."  Evola smiles at the first name basis.  "So does this mean I’ve got the job?"
  "Of course."
  Evola loses herself to joy and reaches across to hug him.
  "Woah there Evola.   I should be the one thanking you.  We really need the help."
  "When do I start?"
  "I wish all of our employees were like you.  How about now.  There’s an apron in the back, Sue’s due off in an hour.  Sooner if you help her clean up.  That is unless you have something else to do?"
  "No, nothing I can think of.  I’ll be happy to."
  "Now Johnny don’t be putting her to work till she finishes this good food I’ve cooked up for her."  Sue says as she places a huge plate down infront of Evola.  "And I heard what you and Johnny were talking about.  Of course I can take you in for a while.  At least until you get on your feet and decide what you want to do in life."
  "Well after dinner then.  You ladies behave yourselves now.  I’ve got to go get this paper work in the computer."  Johnny heads off while Evola begins to devour her plate.
  "Gosh your hungry."  Sue notices while Evola takes a break to rinse her throat with water.
  "Thank you.  So much.  Everything’s seeming so normal now.  Like life can be normal.  I thought it was over."  Evolas eyes pratically tear up and Sue takes a fresh rag to the forming tears.
  "There there hon’, we all need help from time to time.  Just help me clean up after you eat and we’ll make a girls night of it.  How about that’?"
  "Thank you Sue."
  "No, thank you Evola .. I thought I’d be sitting around thinking about my ex asshole again."

  Evola helped Sue clean up that night and many of the following nights while she learned the layout of the place.  Thankfully she was able to wear anything she wanted under the apron so had no trouble covering up her differences.  It was normal, better then normal infact.  Sue and Evola became extreme video watchers and spent nights after work eating popcorn, laughing and crying together (depending on how the t.v. wanted them to feel).  Johnny was great and gave Evola money from his own pocket book before paychecks came and even a bit to Sue to help her take care of Evola.  After a few weeks Johnny got Evola waitressing and she loved it, though that meant Sue and Evola worked alternating nights.  Johnny typically drove or walked Evola to Sue’s place except for one night when he came down with the flu.  The day manager was working and he wasn’t nearly as nice as Johnny was.
  "What’s with that outfit?"  He demanded when he first saw Evola.  Johnny had warned her it would be like this and he said just do her work and don’t pay him any mind.  The day manager was a drifter manager who goes from business to business like tips.  Johnny had been doing the diner for ten years now.
  "Just my look."  Evola answered smartly as she knew what she was doing and knew she didn’t have time for that.
  "Hmmpf.  I don’t think you’re old enough to work here."
  "I’m old enough to know you aren’t in charge of hiring people."
  "Well I’m in charge tonight and if I don’t like your attitude maybe I’ll have a conversation with the owner and we’ll see what Johnny can do about that."
  "Johnny probably knows him better than you do."
  "What was that?"  The managers voice sounded shocked as if no one could ever talk back to him.  Especially a waitress.
  "Nothing .. umm .. I’ve got to take that guys order"  Evola states pointing at the corner booth. 
  "Well, you do that then.  Just remember I’ve got my eye on you."
  "Sure you do"  Fell out of her mouth.
  "What!?"
  "Sure will do boss!"  Evola smiles skipping away to take the order.

  "So stranger what’ll it be?"  Evola smiles at the guy with long hair and a rather dusty look to him sitting all by himself.
  "How about you and a side order kiss hotty?"  The guy asks almost sending Evola into a panic.  She’s dealt with rough guys before but this one seems oddly disenchanting. 
  "I think I’m a little young for you .. how about some food?"
  "I like em’ young."
  "Well how about some veal then?"
  "I’ll take steak … very rare.  And some red wine."
  Evola cringes as she writes the order down and thinks about telling this guy where he can shove his steak.  Glancing around she sees the manager true to his word keeping an eye on her.  ‘God I’m surround by freaks’ she thinks as she struggles to keep calm.
  "Coming right up .."  gulp .. "Sir."
  "You could call me dad cutie."
  ‘Erg .. what a disgusting vile monster.’ Evola tries to calm the need to vomit.  "No I think even Sir is stretching it."  Of course at this moment the manager notices something amiss and walks over to the table.
  "You have to forgive Evola here.  She’s a bit slow at times and is still new to the job"  The manager apologizes to the customer and fiercely tells Evola not to fuck up. 
  Evola manages to make it to the kitchen and places the order in.  She complains to the cook who tells her to keep her cool and Johnny will be back in tomorrow.
  With the delivered wine comes a pert pat on her behind.
  "Cool it mister."  Evola tries to say rationally.
  "Didn’t you hear your boss young thing.  He said to be on your best behavior.  Now how about a kiss."  He pulls her into his lap and the stench of beer and god knows what else rushes her nostrils. 
  "Ergh .. let me go"  Evola pushes back and stands up brushing her dress down trying to get his touch off of her.
  "Wow, strong too!"  The stranger grins showing missing teeth and not too little perversion in his eyes. 
  Evola goes up to the day shift manager and tries to appeal to him. 
  "I can’t serve him.  He’s a freak!"  She pleads trying to get help of some kind.
  "You can and you will if you value your job.  Waitresses have to deal with all types and if you’re as old as you say you are this shouldn’t be any more difficult then those parties your type go to!" 
  ‘gods I’m surrounded by them!’ Evola thinks to herself praying for the night to just be over and done with.  She has to pass the guy’s table in order to fill up some coffee mugs on the other side of the restaurant.  On the way the pervert stands up, wraps his hands firmly around her and shoves his toungue in her mouth.
  Without thinking the coffee goes flying at him shattering against his head with a loud crack.  Black stains rush down his off white shirt which he screaming from the heat rips off.
  "You bitch.  You’ll pay for that."
  The manager runs up trying to console the guy.  "I’m sorry sir, don’t worry the foods on us."
  "How dare you treat me like this!  I’m not going to stay here another moment.  I’m never eating here again."
  Evola is somewhere between tears and anger.  How can this manager be so dense?  What else was I supposed to do?  Evola runs to the back while everyone in the restaurant is watching trying to figure out whats going on.  One of the regulars tries to tell Evola he saw it all and doesn’t blame her a bit but she doesn’t have time for it.  ‘I can’t lose this job.  I’ll be back where I started out from!’  She’s in the back with the kitchen staff hovering around her unsure of what to do when the manager comes in.
  "That’s just great Evola.  He left.  Probably will tell all of his friends never to eat here again."
  "What friends!?  He was shoving his toungue down my throat!"  Evola begins to find some self dignity and flares at her manager.
  "I think you better just leave." 
  "Wait, no .. what if he’s waiting for me?  I don’t want to leave yet."
  "Now listen, you’ve completely over reacted.  I don’t want you to be here.  I don’t want to see you.  You’ll be lucky if you’re still working here come tomorrow.  I’m going to be sure to let the owner know exactly what happened here tonight.  Now go home."
  Evola looks around pleadingly but though sympathy is all around everyone is afraid of losing their jobs.  Many of these people don’t have anywhere else to go and live pay check to pay check.
  Bracing herself she heads out the front door and into the night.
 
  ‘Just another few blocks, I’m almost home’.  Evola steps quick knowing she’s being followed but not seeing anyone.  Half way across an intersection a sedan with its brights on jets infront of her and blocks her crossing. 
  "hey there honey, I’m sorry about earlier.  I forgive you.  How about a lift home to make up for our misunderstanding?"  It’s the guy from the restaurant, looking even drunker then before.
  "no .. that’s okay .. I like to walk."
  "I didn’t get you fired did I?  I wouldn’t want to think that.  I mean .. sure you misbehaved but … "
  "no, it’s going to be okay.  I just want to be alone for awhile is all."
  The guy gets out of his car and she sees his hand in his pocket.  Without thinking she starts to walk faster.  Forgetting destination and just trying to get away.  She hopes he won’t just leave his car there.  Unfortunately she isn’t favored in that way.
  "Come on honey, I just want to talk."  Evola’s running now.  Running away from the world.  Running away from anything she can think of.  Just running.  Unfortunate again she ends up in a blind alley way.
  "So, no where to go now huh?"  The guys hand is still in his pocket and the electric street light shows half his face smiling and the other half in darkness.
  "Stay away from me.  Don’t make me mad!"
  "I like girls that get mad."
  "You won’t.  You won’t like it.  Bad things happen when I get angry."
  "That’s just what I’m counting on."  Another foot step closer and Evola’s eyes roll back in her head.  The extra eye opens and she sees herself forced down on trash bags with a gun pressed to her head.  She’s being raped and the guy is grunting and slobering all over her.  In reality she’s breathing heavy and her nails curled into fists penetrate the gloves twice drawling blood.  A breeze picks up and the stranger pushes a piece of paper out of his face.
  "Now how about that kiss honey?  We can make it .. well almost nice."  He laughs with curled lips but Evola’s looking past it.  Blankly and partially drugged like the stranger likes his women.
  In the distant added dimension she sees herself being raped faster with those weird trailing tears running down her face.  The guy is breathing heavy and she tries to turn away but this added dimension of unreal time won’t let her.
  The guy is about to cum.  His face grimaces and there’s a click of the gun.  <Bang> Rings out loudly in the night and Evola is forced to see a large gaping hole in her head.  The guy stands over her body and laughs as he releases the rest of his cartridge into the sky.
  "NO!"  Evola screams breaking the hazy space and returning to the now.
  "Darling you don’t have the right to say no."  He steps towards her again but the wind presses against him.
  "What the fuck?" 
  "I told " .. pant "YOU!" … pause .. "DON’T MAKE ME MAD!"  Her palms are gushing blood now and she holds them up towards him in an effort to push him back with her mind.  Light erupts from her fluids cascading towards him as if they were ghostly tentacles wrapping around his throat and choking him. 
  "Bitch.  I’ll get you."  He manages to choke out with eyes bulging.  The gun is removed from his pocket and shakingly points towards her.  The rush of the bullet matches the sound aimed directly at her forehead.  The bullet stops as wave after wave of atmospheric distortion captures it like a fast ball in slow motion entering a catchers mit. 
  "No .. I’ll get you!"  Evola yells at him as the bullet explodes sending shrapnel dust flying everywhere for a moment.  She’s given up on fighting the feeling that has taken her twice before.  This time she embraces it.  The dark isn’t so bad when she doesn’t fight it.  She sees this time as if she’s seeing every body cell, every motion in space.  She feels the rush of death take upon this man.  She hears his screams as if they were food.  And she hungers for them.  Each yelp of pain an appetizer as her teeth close around his kneck chewing and gnawing.  Her nails dig into his testicles bringing warm pain to what had been trapped there.  She feels the changes this time as a pain seperate from herself.  It’s not her pain.  Or his pain.  Pain is just that.  Pain.  And she hungers for it even when it comes from herself.  A twist of her nails and his manhood is as stolen as it was from the moment he tried to force himself upon her.  She feels herself change into something more then she was before.  Her wings glitter with new found talons that wrap the body closer then any lover could be if she had ever had one.  Her nails grow even more directly into his flesh.  Her third eye pictures him on fire from the inside out and it begins to happen.  She feels his blood boil through her nails and she loves it.  It’s feeding her.  Her teeth lovingly caress against his kneck resting there as they grow into him.  He seizes as life returns to whereever it was that it came from.  She feels part of herself trying to follow.  Trying to capture it and bring it into herself.  Then it’s over. 
  The afterward pain is still there but not so much this time.  It feels more like breathing.  Like waking up after sleeping on the wrong side of the bed then anything else.  Picking up some not so dirty napkins and papers that must have been loosed from a garbage bag she wipes herself up as much as possible and covers up her new changes.  Nothing really that new.  Just the teeth really.  And there’s a little more to the hazy space she knows.  She wraps her trench coat to her and walks off into the night knowing she can’t return to Sue’s place like this.  They’ll be questions as soon as they find the body and she can’t risk that.  Evola’s become oddly mature for her years and now must find something else to do with her life.  She raids his wallet for cash and heads for some unlit corner to call home … even if just for the night.   
         

EVOLA CHAPTER 2 : WHERE DID I COME FROM :

  "Evola is that you?"  Her mother calls as the door slams shut behind her.  ‘Damnit my parents are home.’  Footfalls take each step on the staircase in pairs and triples as she makes for her room. 
  "Yes Mom.  I’ll be down in a few."  Evola’s voice scratches as she chokes on the words.  ‘God, it’s all so normal.  It’s like nothing has happened except I’m dressed for a snow storm and sweating like … only I’m not sweating.  I should be but it’s like the warmth doesn’t bother me.’
  "Did school let out early?  Is something wrong?"  The mothers voice penetrates before Evola has a chance to shut the door on her and the rest of the world.
  "No mom.  I just haven’t been feeling well.  I’ll be down in just a little bit.  Just give me a chance to get out of my school clothes."
  Before the door closes she has a chance to hear her mom talking downstairs as mumors.  ‘Damn, my dad’s home too?  This is going to be harder then I thought.’
  Evola’s door slams shut behind her at almost the exact moment it takes her stereo to blare on.  She has never believed in an off switch because so long as music is playing in her room she thinks she’ll hear it in some form or another wherever she may be.  The deep base manages to sooth her nerves while she begins to let them unwind.  It’s almost too much as she clutches her stomach to quell cramps.  ‘I thought I had it under control.’  She falls against her bed in a ball trying not to sob uncontrollably.
  A knocking at her door interrupts her seizures. 
  "I’ll be down in a minute!"  Evola’s voice pitches over the stereo.  A soft okay honey answers her.  The interruption throws her self pity off and she’s able to make it in control of herself to the vanity.  ‘I’ve got to get down there before the school realizes I’m not amongst the dead.’
  Luckily for Evola she’s always been a sort of … interesting shopper.  Unique clothes adorn her walk in closet.  More often then not these were never worn.  It was more of a hobby really.  There would definately be something in here that could hide her changes.  Even if it did look a little bit humerous.
  A deep purple crushed velvet jacket is haphazardously thrown over her back.  Long pink opera gloves are pulled tight allowing her finger prints to show for just a moment.  Make up is a careful job fitting in with the music blaring on the speaker system.  Long lines coat her eyes a deep blue with jet black eye liner providing a contrast that hopefully takes notice away from the red centers to her eyes.
  This is all done within minutes and after spinning around once Evola thinks to herself that it turned out pretty well.  Now there’s only one piece left.  A few weeks ago she had picked up a sticker package she had seen that looked quite interesting.  One especially stood out as a glittering star.  With a bit of nail polish adhesive she plants the star perfectly ontop of the mark on her forehead.  A few bits of trailing lines with ink to fit it in a little bit better and it’s done.  Now she looks perfectly normal if not overly modern.
  "Now to deal with my parents.  Maybe I should just say I skipped school today?  What do you think Fedd Tedd?"  She directs the question to the federal agent teddy bear resting on the corner of her bed.  There’s no answer as usual but still a sense of peace comes over her.
  A quick walk down the stairs and a left turn leaves Evola in the family room.  They’re  drinking tea and eating waffers.  In mid bite her mom looks up in near horror at what Evola’s wearing.  Her mom beings into a "What are you wearing?" when her dad interrupts with "Don’t you look interesting today?"  He picks her up and spins her around a few times till Evola laughs aloud. 
  "Dad stop it.  I’m getting to big for it.  You’re going to hurt your back again."  Evola manages to say while regaining her balance.
  "Now you know my little girl could never hurt me."  He pauses to offer her a cup of tea which she takes gracefully.  "Now what’s this about you getting out early from school today?" 
  "It’s nothing really."  She tries to think quick.  In a few moments she decides that the less she says the more they’ll just assume she skipped part of it.  "The teacher wasn’t feeling well and let us off early."
  "Well isn’t that convient-sugar?"  His legs uncross and cross the other way.
  "Yes please."  Her cup is held shakingly across the table and two lumps are placed with quick splashes into her cup.
  "Now Evola, you’re not telling us something."  Her father gazes into her eyes expectedly.
  Flash.  A quick image of a very small case and struggling to breathe.  Weird faced doctors in white clothes hover around her like vultures.  Her pulse picks up and she digs her covered nails into her legs until it hurts.
  "Evola?  Did something strange or different happen at school today?"  His voice carries infinite patience.
  "No, why… why are you asking so many questions?"  Her voice cracks choking out the lie.  ‘He know’s , he know’s’, she thinks to herself.  ‘How?  How could he know?’
  Blink.  Now there’s tubes running into her body from all over some cold hard metal surface.  There’s a strange electrical noise measuring god know’s what.  She hurts all over.
  "Arghhh"  The crash of her tea upon the carpet breaks her vision.  Evola’s hunches over holding herself into a ball.  ‘Just breathe, breathe’ she attempts to pacify herself. 
  Her mother rushes to clean up the mess muttering something about nerves.  Always the house wife.  More of a maid really then a mother at times.
Flash.  Her parents in lab coats.  The pills she has to eat every day at lunch.  Her fear of the water and their knowing laugh. 
  "Oh my god!"  Her mom explains looking up at her.  "Your foreheads glowing."  Evola unvoluntairly raises her hand to her sticker star and it feels red hot.  Glancing up she can see the red reflection in the palm of her glove.
  "No, not now."  Evola tells herself outloud.
  "What can’t happen now?"  Her mother asks innocently.
  "I think we all know what Evola means dear."  The father speaks rationally while heading over to the telephone.
  "Ohhhh … so soon?"  The mother sits besides Evola and puts her arm around her.  "Hush darling, it’ll all get better soon."
  "What will?  What’s going on?"  She looks up at her mother searching for some comfort, some answer.  This search is broken when she glances hard at her father on the phone.
  "It has happened."  Click.  The phone is placed back in the cradle.
  Images of the person on the other side of the phone waving to armed security personal.  There’s a holding tank on the third floor of this facility.  One of them is doctoring a large needle.  Pictures of her parents hang in the office under different names.  They’re doctors.  They’re not parents.
  "What are you doing!  Who did you call!"  She demands as an unsteady wind picks up in the room casting papers all over.
  "Honey, it’s only your doctor.  Calm down."  Her father waves his hand’s in front of him in an attempt to placate her.
  "You’re lying.  You’re full of SHIT!"  The wind picks up and a weird buzzing can be heard in the background kind of like static.  Darkness descends over the house and the lights begin to blink on and off.
  "Why do you think we’re lying dear?"  Her so called mother is slowly crawling towards the hallway while her father keeps trying to engage her in conversation.
  "I saw it!  I saw it all!  You’re calling .. "  the front of the building is hazy at best and she has to squint her eyes in the day dream to make it out at all.  "You’re calling Dr. Thompson … at BioSim.  "
  The truth of it startled her ex father so much he took a full step back.  Her model mom gives up on crawling and begins wailing there on the floor.  "Now how do you know that?" 
  "You know how I know that!  You made me!  You made me into a monster!!!"  Shattering glass rings across the room as the last few notes shrill out into the night.  "You’ve ruined me!!!  You’ve lied to me!!!  It’s your fault I killed everyone in my class!!"
  "Oh god, no."  The fake mom begins to sob at that thought. 
  "You killed them … all?"
  "Yes .. and it’s  … " pause .. "Your " another pause … "FAULT!"  A ring of fire erupts upward from her body for a moment coating her in smoke when everything goes black again.  She can’t see.  Can’t think except for a quick bright pain in her abdonmen.  ‘No .. not again!’  Evola tries to fight.  Tries to calm it to no relief.  Everythings black and visionairy. 
  Eventually she awakens as before. 
  "No!!!"  She yells at nothing in particular. 
  They’re dead.  Very, very dead.  Maybe they weren’t really her parents.  Maybe they were just conducting experiments.  They were still the only family she has ever known.  Glimpses of vacations and friday evenings at the pizza parlar fill her mind as her eyes fill with tears.  In between these memories a stinging pain erupts from her forehead.  Focusing on it the pain opens up fully behind the star she had stuck there.
  An eye opens .. smaller and different from the normal two.  It’s a pupil with no white.  A twinkle lays there as complex as any diamond.  Once again everything takes on an extra dimension. 
  It’s as if the room has a warm hazy glow.  Twirls of color collect and escape as if a dense fog is consuming the room.  In a distant corner she can see a black unmarked van.  Capturing her attention a bunch of armed people erupt from both sides and rush towards what can only be her house.  They wait for Dr. Thompson to follow them as they secure the perimeter.  He looks down at a old wind up watch securing his wrist.  The time reads 6:17 pm.  Not bad gentlemen she sees him say.  Her third eye closes with a sharp pain. 
  Shaking off the receeding headache she looks at the wall.  The clock there reads 6:13.  ‘Fuck!, that’s not much time.’  Evola begins to pace frantically.  Trying to get some sense of what to do now.  She realizes she’ll probably need a few things.  Stopping by the kitchen on the way to her bedroom she grabs whatever is lying on the counter.  In her room she rushes to and fro throwing whatever can fit into her backpack and grabbing her favorite purse.  There’s a knock at the door.  ‘Shit.  Not now.  Not yet.  How will I get out of here?’
  "Evola …?  Bob … ?  Cathrine?  It’s Dr. Thompson.  Is anybody home?" 
  ‘Fuck!’  She can hear them coming into the house.  Way too many footsteps to run past.  On the verge of giving up her body clenches while she stares out her window thinking of jumping.  The lumps at her back sport wings now.  She can feel them pressed uncomfortably against her back.  In one motion she rips her jacket off and holds her breath as they tear through her tee-shirt.  "Argh" she yells as quiet as possible.  One of the people downstairs makes noise as he uncovers the corpses of her almost parents.  Another steps foot upon the staircase.
  ‘Okay Evola, it’s now or never .. let’s just hope these wings work’  She tells herself while wrapping her jacket around her mid section.  Holding onto her bags she dives from the window and flys out into the night.

This is chapter 1 of I believe 6 that I wrote sometime in 2001 at a coffee house at Lake Anne Reston.  It was meant to be an outline for a graphic novel starring an unsual little girl.

———————————————————————————-

EVOLA CHAPTER 1 : GROWING UP :

A boring generic classroom sets the stage for so many of life’s little missadventures. An ill-washed blackboard carries the quick scratch of homework solutions both correct and wrong as all eyes pretend to be focused. Half burnt flashing lighting sends a good portion of these zombies to choice kick back eye doctors. One kid knocks over the key to the bathroom while working on a healthy arthritis. Klink, klink, silence then back to work. The key is attached to a 15 pound triangle that makes kids marked like mad cows or troublesome cats. And of course there’s a watchdog over the whole system incase anything falls through the senseless loops and bumps. A long red nail lightly scratches a crooked nose pushing horn rimmed old glasses to a stop right infront of dull eyes. Everyone knows this slight ritual to proceed some form of punishment or humilation. More often then not this is directed towards Evola.

"Evola .. ", A quickly wrapped bun is all that is seen as the teacher non-chalantly examines papers that are more likely then not devoid of meaning. There’s a well chewed pencil holding the bun together with a few quick twists. She turn’s towards the back corner of the classroom … close to the door. "Did you forget your homework again?"

‘God I hate her’, think’s Miss Peterson to herself. ‘What is it about her? All that special treatment? Evaluations on a weekly basis. I hate special treatment. Nobody else in the class has preferential treatment. And those stupid medications letting her off for lunch half an hour early every day. And so prim and perfect. I could deal okay if she looked sick. If she just once fell over and had to get to the hospitol. But no, I have all this extra work to do and she just sits there every day like a perfect little angel.’

"Evola, are you listening to me?" The class snickers as Evola looks up from another one of her doodles. Blond hair flailed in front of her face and a simple smile answers the classes amusement.

"Are you drawing in class again? Bring it here for the whole class to see." Miss Peterson crashes her nails against her desk without any sense of rhythm impatient for Evola to get her ass up to the front of the class. Evola paused for a few moments trying to think of some way out of this situation but of course there is none. No one can blame her for trying though … if the other students took some time to think about it.

Evola begins the long walk to the teachers desk. Cluttered but somehow eriely organized. With each step she tries to figure out why this ritual occurs so often in school. Perhaps it’s conditioning for high school walks to the firing line. The thought brings a smile to Evola’s face which is quickly brought down.

"If I were you Evola I wouldn’t be amused by your situation. Now let’s see what is more important to work on then your school work." Evola’s heart becomes trapped halfway in her throat as a rosy hue covers her face. She tries to hold the paper slightly back debating the outcome of a flat out ‘fuck off bitch, this is my work’ but decides against it.

"Oh look class … we’re all in the picture. I think Evola thinks she’s better then the rest of us." Evola’s face becomes an even deeper shade as the class stares at her picture, some in horror, some snickering. The whole room is dipicted as a bunch of migits with Evola towering above them all. The teachers hair is down covering her naked body with that stupid gnarled pencil shoved through her breast. If the teacher experienced a moment of panic she has yet to show it.

"Now Evola why don’t you go sit in ‘your’ corner with ‘your’ dunce cap on and think about what this says about your personality. Maybe you’ll see the light to your ways and decide that you’re not better then the rest of us after all."

Again with the break away laughter as Evola takes to her second desk like a fish in water. Bright eyes and slobering pig laughs attack her back as she attempts to find comfort in the exactness of intersecting walls. Her heart begins to resume normal beating but the thought of what’s going on behind her sends it frantically searching for breath again.

"Don’t forget about the cap Miss Evola." The teacher returns to work allowing the students a few minutes of laughter before she silences them with a half raised hand. Evola attempts to gather her hair up under the cap but her hair keeps falling back down again. Finally she gives up and balances it precariously on top thinking to herself she’s some well paid model in a very sick picture show. Each movement runs the risk of sending the cap tumbling to the floor and Evola sits perfectly still. ‘Only three hours to go until days end’, she tells herself over and over again. Unknown minutes or hours pass within this half trance. Some kid makes a crack and the room lights with laughter again. It could have been anything but somehow Evola knows it’s directed at her.

‘What have I done to deserve this? I can do those stupid problems in my sleep. It’s not my fault everyone else is slower then me. And so what if I think I’m better then everyone else in the class? I don’t poke fun at the other students. I don’t make noise. All I do is sit here in class every day and work on my art. So what if I’m not exactly doing what the teacher wants … at least I’m not bothering anyone.’ Evola stirs trying not to look at the clock directly behind her and thirty feet back. She almost loses the dunce cap but catches it with the side of her right hand. Somebody snickers.

‘God I hate these people. It makes me so mad. Why does everyone treat me like some kind of monster? I’m just a 13 year old girl. Living in some suburbian town. I don’t deserve this. I’m better looking then most of the girls in the class. When I bother to do my work I always get a high mark. And the teacher? What have I ever done to her?’

"And then Evola <whisper whisper>" Someone spoke and half the back row erupts in laughter, one student going so far to fall out of his desk.

"David!" The fallen student stops in mid chuckle.

‘Yes, Miss Peterson?"

"Get back to work!"

"Yes Miss Peterson!"

‘I can’t stand these people. What’s that funny feeling?’ For Evola the room begins to spin and each breath brings a kind of stillness. Slow, deliberate. Voices begin to trail into long time. Minutes pass in what should be seconds. ‘Should I mention something to the teacher?’ Evola contemplates that thought in this unreal time. ‘No, she’ll just say something to make the other kids laugh at me. It’ll pass.’ Only it doesn’t. Before long everything goes quick black with brief glimmers of light passing through reality as sun through a prism.

‘This must be what light looks like to a plant?’ Evola manages to think before everything goes quiet, even her own thoughts. Silence, scream, silence, flash, silence, silence, something warm, silence, something cold, chill’s. ‘I’m shaking, why am I shaking?’ Evola thinks to herself still blind.

Evola begins to blink while the now normal light stings her eyes. ‘What’s happened? Why is it so quiet?’

"Help, somebody help I can’t see!" She’s given up on the laughter that is sure to follow. Her stomach feels sick and a numb pain is leftover in her temples from whatever it was that just happened. No laughter comes.

"Please, laugh at me. Just let me know I’m not alone!" Her hand begins to have feeling and she wipes against her eyes removing some form of strange membrane. She accidentily scratches herself and grimaces with the pain of it. Vision begins to return and she looks directly at her teacher, immediately trying to grab at the dunce cap that should be on her head.

At the desk sits her teacher bloody and mutilated. The dunce cap Miss Peterson forced on Evola shall now forever reside on the teachers head. A bit of eraser caps the cap and a trickle of red runs down the side and falls drop drop upon the floor. If this wasn’t horrible enough every student is dead. Some with broken knecks. Some with their whole head ripped off. Some in mid scream with missing midsections. A river of blood is slowly finding it’s way towards the seat in the corner.

"Oh my god!" Screams Evola getting up to stand on the chair. Then came the stench. With one violent upheaval Evola loses her lunch and even dinner from the night before. The wave of nausea passes and Evola has a chance to look down at herself. She’s covered in blood. She must have killed them. Her nails have become half again as long as they were before and a strange webbing coats the inbetweens of her fingers. Slightly scaley but oddly soothing as she runs her nails against it. ‘How did I do this? What can I do now?’

Fear of getting caught creeps into her mind as she makes her way dizzily to the bathrooms down the hall. Everythings a blur but she knows one thing now. She has to get away from here before she get’s caught. Evola doesn’t know for sure what will happen but she does know it won’t be good. Each step is long and deliberate as she prays nobody should happen upon her until she gets a chance to clean up. When she reaches the bathroom door she realizes she has forgotten the key. ‘Damnit!’ Evola’s about to turn back to her classroom to get the key when a sudden sureity overcomes her. Her foot comes up with a surge of adrenaline and slams against the handle sending spinters rushing like the door was made of glass. ‘How the hell did I do that? What’s wrong with me?’

She enters the bathroom stealthily and turns the sink on full dipping her face right into it. A whole roll of towel goes into bathing the scent and stain of death from her flesh. After becoming clean she looks herself over in the mirror. ‘Why am I so different now?’ There’s a strange mark on her upper forhead. She debates passing it as a zit but there’s no way. It’s too bright, too perfect. Her hands are easily solved with mittens. Sun glasses are required of her now bright green eyes with a deep pitch of red at their epicenters. ‘There’s something on my back.’ Evola reaches back and finds two odd bumps like extra shoulder blades back there. ‘Is it like a lizard? Shielding? I’m such a freak!’ She begins to cry but even her tears carry the taint of weirdness in them. Trailing greenish red stains across her cheek like mascara only now unholily natural. A glance at the clock tells her the school day is close to over. ‘I’ve got to get out of here!’ She pulls her thick jacket on tight to hide the ridges of her back and pulls a wool cap down far over her forehead hiding the strange mark there. It’s a bit warm for the fall but it’s the best she can do. Her hair dances immediately straight down infront of her face resting on the thick dark sunglasses as she makes her way home. Hoping to god she can find out just what happened and get out of this without completely turning her life upside down she reaches her front doorstep before the school day officially ends.

EVOLA CHAPTER 2 : WHERE DID I COME FROM