~this story did not start with once upon a time or there was a princess. If that's what you are looking for then.
The night gradually faded, its darkness slipping away like a retreating veil, unveiling the blinding sun. Its radiant beams sliced through the room, too dazzling, too bright, disturbing someone's fragile slumber.
"This damn light!" Gift muttered under her breath, pulling the duvet over her head as though it could shield her from the world. Moments later, her mother, Elena, entered the room, carrying a laundry basket filled to the brim with clothes.
"Wake up! Shower! Get dressed! And go to school-NOW!" Elena commanded gently, her voice sweet but firm. Gift groaned, her body still half-asleep as she dragged herself out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom like a zombie.
Once inside, she sank into the warm embrace of the bathtub, barely conscious. She might have drifted back into sleep if it weren't for the urgent banging on the bathroom door.
Her heart spiked, thumping in her chest like a wild drumbeat. As though caught in the act of something far worse than just laziness, she snapped awake, panic cutting through the haze. She knew what would happen if her mother found her asleep in the tub instead of getting ready for school.
With frantic haste, Gift undressed, her heart pounding so loudly she could hear it in her ears. In seconds, she was naked, wrapping a towel around her body, splashing cold water on her face to force her mind into alertness, before opening the door with a feigned nonchalance.
"Yes, ma'am," she said, trying her best to sound as though she'd been actively preparing the entire time.
"Drop your dirty clothes outside the door," her mother instructed before walking away.
Gift exhaled in relief, feeling like she had narrowly escaped a much worse fate.
After a rushed bath, Gift searched for her toothbrush, but of course, no toothpaste could be found.
"Ma! No toothpaste!" she yelled out, emerging from the bathroom, still wrapped in her towel, making her way downstairs.
"Go check Dad's room," Elena called over her shoulder, as she continued folding laundry.
"Where's Dad anyway?" Gift asked, now rifling through her father's room.
"Probably out hunting with the boys," Elena replied casually, not looking up from her task.
"He's out hunting? Really?" Gift asked, glancing at the toothpaste in her hand, as though it might hold the key to unlocking some new mystery.
"Yep. HUNTING," Elena said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You know, because he's a hunter."
Gift narrowed her eyes. "Laugh. You better laugh, Gift, or else," Elena warned, her gaze turning playful yet stern.
"Eh-eh... eheheh, I get it, alright," Gift stammered, forcing a smile. 'I definitely get it, mother,' she thought, 'but I still have to laugh at this dry joke.' She chuckled awkwardly and quickly scampered up the stairs to escape further punishment.
Once dressed and having finally put the toothpaste crisis behind her, she made her way downstairs for breakfast.
"Bye, Mom," Gift waved as she trudged toward the door, her backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
"Ma?" Gift answered, recognizing her mother's ringtone.
"Oh, just calling to ask if you need a ride," Elena's voice chirped through the phone.
Gift blinked, taken aback. "You're asking now?" She bit back the sarcasm, but the irritation was clear.
"No, I'm good. I still have an hour before school starts. I'll just walk," she replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
"Alright, then. Bye, baby," Elena said, her voice trailing off, just as the sound of something crashing echoed through the phone.
"Ma?" Gift asked, her voice laced with concern.
"What broke? Was it that mug you hate? Did you purposely smash it?"
Elena's voice stiffened, and for a moment, Gift could hear the tense silence on the other end of the line.
"You heard nothing. You know nothing, understand, Baba?" Elena's tone was playful but tinged with warning.
A chill ran down Gift's spine. "I understand, I understand!" she quickly agreed, nodding as if her mother could see her through the phone. "So, uh... does that mean I shouldn't tell you that Dad donated your favorite spaghetti gown... and most of your Jasper jewelry when you went away?"
There was a loud, indignant scream from the other end. "HE DID WHAT?!"
"Bye, Mama," Gift quickly said, trying to flee the conversation before it escalated further.
"CHIKA! You knew about it and said nothing?! You and your father-"
Gift hung up, her mind whirling with the knowledge that she had just thrown another card into her collection of family blackmail material.
As she made her way to school, the walk felt like an eternity-long and monotonous, leaving her plenty of time to think about her life, the strange events that had unfolded, and the gnawing feeling that something was missing.
When she was seven, she had always felt different. Her classmates at Churchill Middle School spoke in tongues she didn't recognize, their words slipping through the air in strange, foreign melodies. Sometimes it sounded like Russian or German; on better days, it sounded like Spanish or Latin. When they were angry, the words turned sharp and harsh like Mandarin or Cantonese. Even the teacher's absence didn't help-their voices would morph into something unrecognizable, like Hangul or Tagalog.
And yet, Gift found that she could understand the strange languages. Not all of it, but when it was directed at her, she knew exactly what was being said. The insults, the gossip, the hurtful words-they all echoed inside her head, sharp and clear.
When she told her mother, Elena had explained it away as something simple: "You've been in the same school since kindergarten. You're just bilingual... maybe multilingual."
But that explanation never quite made sense. Why could she only understand when it was about her? And how could she comprehend these languages with no formal training? The confusion never stopped nagging at her.
After they moved from Churchill to another town, the voices grew louder. It was as if the silence of the new neighborhood was the only thing that could calm her, making her question her sanity. But even here, in the quiet town of Newborn, things weren't perfect. The shadows... there were more of them now. Too many shadows.
Her childhood had been peppered with strange experiences: she'd nearly drowned at the beach when she forgot she couldn't swim, only to be enrolled in a swimming class immediately afterward. There were countless other "near-death" moments that her mother seemed to catalog, always finding new things to worry about. At last count, there were 700 things on the list, with 200 checked off as "survived."
After the long, uneventful walk, she finally arrived at school. The hallway was a chaotic sea of teenagers, blocking her path as she tried to make her way to her locker.
Despite the crowded hallway, she navigated through the bodies like a force of nature, shoving aside the group with a kind of quiet determination. When she finally reached her locker, she stood before it, a black hole of a locker, a swirling vortex that looked as though it could consume the world.
Her locker was a 4D masterpiece of darkness, its eerie illusion of spinning and growing drawing the curiosity of every student around her. The lockers surrounding hers were painted in cheerful colors, but hers was different-mysterious, dark, and foreboding. Jonathan, one of her classmates, started a rumor about the locker: it led to another dimension, a dimension that claimed the lives of those who dared to touch it.
And so, the story grew. By the time Gift was in her third year of high school, the tale had evolved into something more sinister. A freshman, Hanna, had vanished after touching the locker.
Gift had requested a new locker, fearful that the rumors had somehow cursed hers. But the truth was different. Noah, the boy whose family had gone bankrupt, wasn't affected by her locker; the real cause was an employee who had sold confidential blueprints. Hanna, the freshman, had disappeared for an entirely different reason-she'd become pregnant by a senior, and her parents had withdrawn her admission.
Despite the rumors, Gift's locker had become a legend, a strange and unexplainable part of her school's folklore. Even now, as she passed through the hall, students maintained a five-foot distance from it, the air around it thick with whispered superstition.
Gift couldn't help but smile to herself. Despite the fear and rumors, she had become a part of the school's history.
-------(short clip)
My classmate Jonathan made a story about the locker that leads to another world that kills people.
And that stupid story got passed down like a freaking heirloom as we move to a higher class the story becomes more horrifying and scary and now my cute locker is now a portal to another dimension.
Even the dark lords will sign up to not enter.
And if any new student touch it bad things will happen to them.
As if on cue a new student was forced to touch my locker if he wants to join the gamers.
And he did a week after his family went bankrupt and I got scared of my own locker that i painted.
When we were in our third year second semester in high school a freshman disappeared after touching my locker.
I didn't want the locker anymore so I went to our administrative office to request for a change of locker because of the rumours about it.
Noah the boy that his family went bankrupt was not because of my locker but an employee sold their blueprints for their upcoming project.
Hanna the freshman that disappeared was not because of my locker but because she got pregnant for her senior and her parents withdraw her admission later.
'like girlllllll what the heck '
So my locker was still making history even when it's just normal.
'How boring'
But damn I was scared shitless because I thought my locker was cussed.
We still tell the rumours to other freshmen. that was the stay away from my locker story.
All the hall was crowded except my locker, they made like a circle around and they are at least 5 feet away from my locker. I'm truly blessed.
(Short clip)
Elena - where are there ? Did he really donated my stuff and it TOOK ME 1 FULL YEAR JUST TO SMACH ONE UGLY MUG BETTER NOT COME BACK THIS HOUSE OR ELSE