In the wake of her grandmother's death, Ava returns to Mystic Falls, a town her family had fled when she was young to escape demons hiding in the dark.
With her return, more strange disappearances and deaths spring up. Slowly her nightmares turn to...
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Mrs Saunders with her eccentric dyed-black hair with blue streaks approached me, bouncing on her feet as she did so. She was a thin middle-aged woman who lived and breathed art, taking over the position of art teacher when her father retired.
"Ms. Fitzroy, lovely work as usual..." She started, peering over at my canvas. "...Though it's a little morbid."
Staring at my canvas, I could see why she would say that. The canvas was a combination of red, browns and different shades of yellow used to depict a man's flesh being peeled off, all done in acrylic. I don't know what drove me to paint this. The theme was dreams. Not nightmares. "I'm sorry. I messed up the theme and made it morbid, more of a nightmare than a dream." I apologized.
"Yes, you did."
She peered closer at the sketchpad in my hand, which depicted a plan with whimsical fairies and pixies and compared it to the canvas in front of me.
"Where did she go wrong? Talent is there. Though her focus needs work."
Mrs Saunders stepped back and smiled at me. "No worries."
"I don't know where I went wrong. I really don't." I replied. "And you're right, I need to focus more. It's just that I've been on the edge lately" I added. Looking up, I glanced at her. She looked confused for a second before shifting back to a placid smile.
"I didn't say all of that out loud. How did she-"
I raised my eyebrows at her. The words were there but her lips were not moving at all. My eyes widened at this. I dropped the detail paint brush to the floor. I was in the middle of drying it. "Ms. Fitzroy, are you okay?" She asked, leaning over me in concern. I nodded but kept quiet.
"Poor girl, she still hasn't recovered from finding William's corpse."
Again the words were there but it was like they were in my head because her lips were not moving.
Slowly, I turned my head to the rest of the class. Almost ignoring her, I focused my gaze on them. My classmates still hadn't left. Everyone was still preparing to leave, putting their palettes and paint brushes away, some by the sink washing their hands, some taking off their paint-stained aprons and putting them away.
They were all quiet, no chatter among them, nothing. Everyone wanted to get out, fast. The only sounds were that of the taps, the shuffling easels, chairs and people moving.
My eyes narrowed slightly as I looked at them. All of sudden, a bunch of voices attacked me.
"Great I need to come back and finish this off, maybe she'll assign this as homework..."
