Homework. That never ending flow of unreasonable productivity.

700th Writer Of Things So I come back after however many months and I'm ranked at 700th?. That's a good place to start, I guess.

Sick Days. Lying in bed, My head still spinning, Can't get up, Gravity is winning. Fall back down, Admit to defeat, Trying not to get sick all over the sheets. Wake up later, about half four, sick days suck, you can't help being bored. Not that I'd rather be on school, Where stuff happens, And kids are cruel, Teachers scream When I daydream. They pile on the homework, a never ending flow, I think I prefer being sick, Or not bothering to go.

I Am Night. 2 So it's been about a month since I posted the first part of I am night. Thanks for all the feedback and keep it coming. Here's part 2. Chapter two: Call me night. "You, must be Zara. Zara Collins?." His voice was strong but sharp at the same time. He smiled politely, revealing rows of clean, white, unusually sharp teeth. His moustache bristled as he spoke. "I... Yes." She was quite mesmerised by this curious stranger. Who was he?.. The moment she set eyes on him something buried at the very back of her mind rustled, if ever so slightly. He nodded slowly, then reached a pale long-fingered hand into his trouser pocket. Pulling out a simple black notebook and a silver fountain pen he began to write. He paused, and looked at Zara. He cleared his throat. "Please excuse my rudeness. My name is Johann, but most people call me night. He extended a hand to Zara. His long fingers ended with sharp, neatly trimmed nails. She shook it timidly, unsure of what to do next. Night cleared his throat. "You're uncle is Samuel Collins?.." Zara looked down. "Yes..". "Hm..Just want I wanted to hear." He half-smiled, once again revealing snow-white teeth. Zara's gaze turned towards his eyes, hidden by the glasses, she wondered what colour they were.. "I have a note for your uncle Zara." He produced a red envelope and handed it to her carefully. "You will deliver it for me, yes?.." She nodded. "Good. I expect we'll be seeing each other quite soon. Don't lock the window." And with that, he climbed back into the passenger seat of the Mercedes, rolled up the black window and drove away, leaving nothing but cloud of dirt and a very confused Zara behind him.

I Am Night. 1 Zara stood silently at the gate to the compound. It was Tuesday, and raining heavily. She brushed a strand of chestnut hair from her pale face and sighed. Zara was 14 years old, pale skinned, with freckles and dark brown eyes. She was Nothing special, or so she thought. She didn't like this area of town. It made her feel uncomfortable and slightly scared. Rusty barbed wire was strung sloppily across the top of the gate to the compound, sharp, hazardous and not to be reckoned with. She pulled the hood of her tattered jacket over her face, plunging her features into darkness. She hated waiting for whatever jerk her uncle had hired to do his dirty work, which was very dirty at that, too. Suddenly, a black '02 Mercedes, with a cracked wing mirror and darkened windows swung noisily into view, complete with tyres screeching and the exhaust spewing fumes everywhere.. "Finally.." Zara grumbled, by this time she was cold and hungry, which had led to a bad case of grumpiness. Without further ado, the passenger door clicked open, and a tall, broad man stepped briskly out. Zara was quite surprised, as she was used to, and expected, slobs and sleaze bags, but not this man. He had black tinted sunglasses, a sharp, newly ironed grey suit. His face was oval shaped and deathly pale. His handlebar moustache was neatly trimmed, his thick black hair had next to no gel in it, and even though it was a windy night, not a single strand of black hair was out of place. He was of average height, With a red silk handkerchief in his suit pocket. He looked like some sort of strange biker-gentleman hybrid. This man was certainly different. Zara narrowed her eyes. This couldn't be one of her uncles employees.. Could it?. He was dressed better than her uncle did himself. And he had high standards. The man paused to fix a silver cuff link in the shape of a key on his jacket, then turned his steely gaze towards her. He began to speak. End of chapter one.