Fahrenheit 451: Clarisse's Past

Chapter 1.

All I could see was the clouds doing their work of blocking the sun, while the wind with the help of the cold breeze was pushing all of my papers away from me. It was probably going to rain, so to save more time, I picked all of the papers covered with leaves and ran to the place where I called home.

As always at the same time, the same man with black hair, fiery smile and with smell of kerosene is seen around my neighborhood. I feel curiosity for the fireman. I can't figure out the why, but something about him is really impacting and that something is calling me. When I opened the door of my fresh and white house, the same conversation was heard.

"Clarisse needs help," — my mother was telling somebody, probably my father — "she's never home, and when she's here, she only comes for food or sleep."

"Should we take her to a psychologist?" — clearing his throat, my Father replies.

"No, what she needs are people to talk to."

"I'm home!" — I come into their conversation and greet my parents loudly.

"We need to talk to you, Clarisse." — Mom ignores my greeting.

With my right hand carrying my backpack and with my left my binder, I run with all of my strength to my room.

"Clari-"

I throw my backpack and binder to the ground and I lie down on my cold bed. This is not happening again. My parents do not understand me. My teachers do not understand me. My classmates do not understand me. I'm simply not like the others, and what I like is not even allowed in the place I live in. Reading books is not allowed, but I own them. I own books. Books have texture, pores, features, and many details that can only be found there; good writers. Society now in days doesn't like that, and they instead spend their time doing nothing but watch TV.

The alarm goes on and wakes me up. When did I fall asleep? I change my clothing to my school uniform and do my morning routine. I grab my backpack and the book hidden inside my binder and go outside. The floor is wet, probably because of the rain of yesterday. I walk to school that it is not far away.

The same faces were seen and while they looked at me awkwardly, I smiled at them. My first period was history and while I was getting there, Alyssa was taking her books out of her locker.

"Hi, Alyssa!" — I said with happiness. My smile faded away when she just walks to the classroom; maybe she did not hear me.

In History class, Mr. Lügner was telling us about the first English fireman who influenced the burning of books: Benjamin Franklin. Lies. Everything I am being taught is not true, according to the books I have read. While Mr. Lügner was explaining about 1790s history, I looked outside the window and boys of the same grade as I were breaking windows, bullying people and wrecking cars. Why do people are violent? Violence is not leading them to anywhere. The nightmare ends and art is next.

"Hey, nerd girl," — a tall guy with glasses calls me — "Watch your back."

I do not know what he was talking about so I just ignore him and continue walking.

I always ditch art classes because the teacher all she does is talk about her husband. The sky does not look as cloudy as yesterday; now the sun rays were escaping little by little through the clouds. The place I always go beneath the trees waited for me and as I was closer to the spot, my book was more visible. People were coming by every time because the basketball and soccer courts were around my hiding place. I think I was so concentrated in those amazing words containing in the magical book because I did not hear what the person in front of me was saying.

"Anti-social," — I raised my head — "Are you listening to me or are you deaf?"

I acted so fast I did not look like a human. I hid the book inside my backpack and they could not see it because a soft blanket was covering most of my body.

"You're ditching classrooms, what's up with you?"

"It is not of your business, so do not bother." — I said with a confident voice.

What happened next cannot be explained with words. The boy grabbed my backpack violently, probably left a bruise on my hand while trying to stop him and took my book.

"You're not that quite at all, you know?" — He passed his fingers through his greasy hair — "Getting in problems you are."

"What do you want?" — I was so angry I felt my face becoming more red and red.

"I don't know, you should probably go to the street and some person can run over you and you dead," — He was really imagining the scene because his smile became bigger — "You would make us a favor."

I could not be at school anymore. I had to run. I ran so fast I did not notice I had already arrived at my neighborhood and that my white dress had become darker. I was lonely until I smelled the kerosene across me. The fireman.

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Hi guys, this short story is my version of what happens before the famous book Fahrenheit 451. I know this has A LOT of mistakes but I just wanted to share with you people my perspective. To understand more this short story, I would recommend reading Fahrenheit 451 because I used many references from there. 

**Lügner means liar in german, that's why the teacher is named like that.

Thank you guys xx.

Ig: anaporrasx