| She was... |
| She was diminutive, with non-descript brown hair and inconscipuous features on her small, round face. The only remarkable thing about her was her bright red polished nails, filed to nicely rounded shapes. However, there was one thing that stood out about her far more than the nails; her stare. She had a way of staring at you. No, no, that’s wrong. A way of staring through you. One minute you were jotting an inconsiquential message to no one in particular in your first-period English class. The next, the hair on the back of your neck rose and the skin from your scalp made its way down to your toes and met the skin from down there on its way up to your head. |
| Just some random description of a teacher. And of course, this is my original work and copyrighted to my name. |