The clock hits 6:30, and I'm jolted awake by the blaring of my alarm clock. Startled, I sit up quickly, and slam the alarm clock's "off" button as fast as my tired body with allow. My head aches from the almost sleepless night, and this stupid thing isn't helping in the least. I am exhausted, but am barely keep my eyes open. It takes all of my will power just to sit up, I see something move out of the corner of my eye, to the left. I quickly turn to look, still on edge from last nights dream, but all that it ends up being is the shadow of the boxes next to the bed, cast by the windows opposite of the room from them. I shake my head, get out of bed and trudge my way through my room, passing the boxes, my feel shuffling along the hard-wood floor. I slowly make my way through the doorway and into the hall, stubbing my toe on the door frame on my way out. This day is going to be swell.

I continue down the hall, a feeling like something is watching me, or something is in the shadows keeps bugging me, I keep looking over my shoulder, at movement in my peripheral vision, but there never seems to be anything there, just a shadow. Get a grip I tell myself, keeping a distance from the stairs this time, taking a lesson from how reckless I had been last night, and make my way to the bath room. I look in the mirror and see just how bad I look. My facial hair is finely shaved, I like to keep myself from growing a beard. I just don't think I look right with facial hair, my sideburns are trimmed and even. My head and jaw by no means look broad, but seem at least in the middle, not long or wide, but not short or thin, just in the middle. My brown eyes appear to be forming bags underneath them, and my medium-length, shaggy, light-brown hair has a bad case of bed head. Great. I take off my bed clothes and take a shower. When I finish I put on a fresh pair of clothes, just some blue jeans and a Bright red T-shirt with a fancy graphic of an eagle on the front. I brush my teeth and head down-stairs to the kitchen for breakfast. The kitchen is pretty normal. At a corner, the checkered white and green counters and oak cupboards lining the walls, a gap at one point for a window above the chrome sink. On the countertop, I only have a toaster on there for now, since I wanted a snack after getting everything in there, the cupboards are empty, so I get a bowl and spoon out of the box of plates, bowls and silverware that I left in the kitchen.

Since taking my shower, I feel much more energized, though, still pretty tired. I wish I could just go back to sleep, but the day won't wait for me because I have a bad dream. Life goes on. I eat a bowl of Frosted Flakes and milk, which was my favorite brand when I was a little kid, but is getting old fast, now that I'm seventeen years old. I finish my bowl of cereal, put it and the spoon in the sink. I grab my backpack, full of textbooks, papers and binders, as well as pencils and various other supplies and sling the tan and black one-strapped backpack over my right shoulder. The underside of it is black, along with the strap and borders. I walk outside, and start walking to my school. I start thinking of my 22 year-old brother who lives and takes care of me. I think of how he has to work at his main and part-time jobs so much a barely see him, even on the weekends, on top of having to deal with college. On top of being tired, now I'm feeling down. Perfect.

We used to live farther away from the our schools, but my brother decided that we would be smart to move closer, to 482 Alexandria Boulevard. Which is fine by me. I was getting tired of walking so far and getting up even earlier than I already do, anyways. I have no clue who the street is named after. I've never heard of anybody with the name Alexandria. Maybe they moved away or something. Oh well, who cares. It wasn't difficult finding my way to the school, though, my phone has a Maps application that guides me straight to the school, though I only needed it a short way. I knew this town for the most part, so I don't need the app once I got to a street I recognize. This wasn't that big of a town, anyways, only a few big roads, mostly houses or convenience stores, so it was easy.

At least the scenery looks pretty decent on the way to my school. There are many large, green trees, many people in this town like to keep real good care of there lawns, so there are many colorful flowers and bright green lawns to be seen on the route to my school. The season is spring and it's nice with warm weather here in White Oak, Texas. The weather here can change within a few days, but it's pretty warm for the most part. Luckily, today, there happens to be a light, cool breeze, and the sun is shining, so the temperature evens itself out. The houses are painted various colors, but are generally the same shape and build, the sides on the front to the left and right are brick, but the doorway, back walls and side walls up to the angle of the roof are made of wood. There are a few people out mowing their lawns, or gardening, usually, they are pretty talkative, but today, only some of them waved, others seemed too focused on what they are doing, almost as if they are hypnotized on their gardening, staring straight at what they were working on, not looking at anything else. The people in this town act kind of creepy. I think to myself, passing the ones that seem so entranced by their work that they don't notice me walking by, though they waved yesterday when we moved in, without me even having to walk down the street. I can't really think of much of a reason why this is happening, but I just decide this must be because we had just moved in when they acted that way, and this is how they were normally. Though, I swear I'd catch them staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but they'd seem busy at work when I turned. You're just paranoid. I tell myself. Though, shadows still move sometimes, if I'm not focusing on them directly.

I get to the main road of White Oak. White Oak Road. Creative. On the right hand side of the road, I hit the button on the crossing light and wait for it to change to the walking man. As I wait, I notice a man waiting to cross my side, on the opposite corner of the intersection. I cannot recall ever seeing him before in my life, but he sits there, staring at me like I'm the most interesting thing he's seen all day. I know I'm gorgeous, but... Well, I mean... Anyways, it was creepy. My eyes meet his gaze. He continues staring, unwavering. He wears a black, short-sleeve shirt, with no designs on it, he must be about thirty. His skin appears pale. His gaze, intense. his hair was short and spiked upward in the front, with a five O' clock-shadow. He also wore blue-jeans and light brown-boots. His eyes are blue, just normal blue. Something about his stare sent a chill down my spine. It isn't the color, though. There is something else that's responsible, but I'm just not able to figure it out. What is his problem? I ask myself. As the last vehicle, a large suburban, colored a dull brown, nothing fancy about it in the least, hurries to get through the light before the multiple colors switch to red, it passes between our staring contest. After it passes us, it's almost as if the man's spirit leaves him and comes back. His eyes go wide, and he seems to lose his balance for a moment, stumbling backwards a bit. He then rubs his eyes like someone has shined a bright light into them. The color returns to his skin, a normal, tan color, and he looks up in a daze, as if trying to remember where he was. He sees me looking at him. I quickly look away, and notice the walk signal has turned. I hurry across the street, before reaching the other side and continuing my walk to school, which is right down the street, I glance back at the man. He is walking normally, as if nothing abnormal happened, he shakes his head and keeps walking straight as he reaches the opposite side of the street. I turn right, and hurriedly walk to school. Several students reach the school as I do, though, many kids arrive by car, there are a few that choose to walk here daily. I check my phone and it reads 7:47. Not necessarily "early", but it'll do. Just as long as I'm there before the 8:15 bell, I'm good.

I hurry inside and hope to at least have a normal day at school.