Just Puberty [FICTION]
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Just Puberty [FICTION]
by Lady Morrighan Sun Mar 15, 2015 4:58 am
Puberty is that awkward stage in our life cycle where we grow pimples and experience all kinds of strange and wild emotions as we transition from being a child to an adult. We grow curious about ourselves and explore our bodies. It affects us all in different ways. Some of us grow attractive. Others do not. Unfortunately for me, I was one of the ones who didn't become more attractive until afterwards. I always had dry skin, but when I was a teenager that was the absolute driest of my life. I was thirteen, going on fourteen, when I noticed that more often than not, I was picking at the skin on my finger tips, peeling it back in large flakes, revealing the moist skin beneath. My desk after class was usually surrounded by the discarded skin. I didn't make friends easily because of this, as many of them thought I was just the weird pale kid who sat in the back row, picking off his finger tips slowly.
I ate alone during lunch, partially because it was less awkward, and partially because it was easier to run away from the class bullies when you only have to worry about yourself. They often beat me up, leaving me with several bruises that I had to explain away with weak explanations like falling from a tree. This did begin to irritate me the longer it went on, however, and I could feel the rage boiling inside my veins. I began to eat less too, and my skin began to turn a dull shade of grey. I was becoming mildly concerned when I noticed it about three weeks after my 14th birthday. I asked my parents about it, and they looked to each other and smiled, saying, "It's just puberty. Every kid goes through it."
Except I didn't feel that I looked like every other kid. In fact, most of their skins had begun to appear healthier than my own, usually turning a coppery or slightly darker tone, and none of it falling off anywhere. I picked at my fingertips more, hoping that it would just stop already and that I could look like everybody else. Except it never did, and my skin always grew drier as the school year progressed. I found that it wasn't just my fingertips that were itching to peel anymore. Strangely enough, it had spread throughout my entire body, and I would get these weird itches. I'd often find myself rubbing my back against the rough bark of the trees in the schoolyard while I attempted to eat my food and/or avoid my tormentors.
In the end, however, I found myself too irritated at everything, and I snapped on my tormentors. In a fit of rage, I punched their leader in the nose, causing the skin on my knuckles to crack as well as breaking his nose. I remember vividly the bright red blood on top of my dull gray skin. I was sent home, my hands covered in bandages. My parents gave me a stern discussion about hitting others and then sent me to my room. I stayed there for the rest of the night, scratching at my back and legs, feeling the loose skin peeling and shedding from it. It was disgusting and I felt gross.
When I went back to school the next day, my hands were still in bandages, and everybody looked at me from the corners of their eyes, wondering if I was going to snap again. I found myself annoyed by this, but went about my business until third period when I was asked to report to the nurse's office to get my bandages changed. I could feel that the skin beneath them had cracked even more, so I warned the nurse. She smiled comfortingly at me, and prepared more bandages to replace the dirty ones. She slowly began to undo my bandages, chatting to me about her son who also attended the school, though he was older than me. She was very excited because he was about to graduate and go to the local college. I pretended to listen, but really wanted to get back to class as soon as possible. I felt my face begin to itch, and thought to myself uh-oh, here comes trouble. I began to rub my cheek against my shoulder and let out a soft sigh of relief at the feeling it brought. The nurse had her eyes closed as she described how her son had looked with his girlfriend during homecoming last year, so much so that at first she didn't realize that she had finally pulled off the last layer of bandages. When she did, she smiled and looked down at my hands, already ready to re-wrap them.
She froze, her face contorting into terror as she looked down at my hands. I followed her gaze down to my hands and saw that where my skin had previously been, was nothing but dark gray scales.
I ate alone during lunch, partially because it was less awkward, and partially because it was easier to run away from the class bullies when you only have to worry about yourself. They often beat me up, leaving me with several bruises that I had to explain away with weak explanations like falling from a tree. This did begin to irritate me the longer it went on, however, and I could feel the rage boiling inside my veins. I began to eat less too, and my skin began to turn a dull shade of grey. I was becoming mildly concerned when I noticed it about three weeks after my 14th birthday. I asked my parents about it, and they looked to each other and smiled, saying, "It's just puberty. Every kid goes through it."
Except I didn't feel that I looked like every other kid. In fact, most of their skins had begun to appear healthier than my own, usually turning a coppery or slightly darker tone, and none of it falling off anywhere. I picked at my fingertips more, hoping that it would just stop already and that I could look like everybody else. Except it never did, and my skin always grew drier as the school year progressed. I found that it wasn't just my fingertips that were itching to peel anymore. Strangely enough, it had spread throughout my entire body, and I would get these weird itches. I'd often find myself rubbing my back against the rough bark of the trees in the schoolyard while I attempted to eat my food and/or avoid my tormentors.
In the end, however, I found myself too irritated at everything, and I snapped on my tormentors. In a fit of rage, I punched their leader in the nose, causing the skin on my knuckles to crack as well as breaking his nose. I remember vividly the bright red blood on top of my dull gray skin. I was sent home, my hands covered in bandages. My parents gave me a stern discussion about hitting others and then sent me to my room. I stayed there for the rest of the night, scratching at my back and legs, feeling the loose skin peeling and shedding from it. It was disgusting and I felt gross.
When I went back to school the next day, my hands were still in bandages, and everybody looked at me from the corners of their eyes, wondering if I was going to snap again. I found myself annoyed by this, but went about my business until third period when I was asked to report to the nurse's office to get my bandages changed. I could feel that the skin beneath them had cracked even more, so I warned the nurse. She smiled comfortingly at me, and prepared more bandages to replace the dirty ones. She slowly began to undo my bandages, chatting to me about her son who also attended the school, though he was older than me. She was very excited because he was about to graduate and go to the local college. I pretended to listen, but really wanted to get back to class as soon as possible. I felt my face begin to itch, and thought to myself uh-oh, here comes trouble. I began to rub my cheek against my shoulder and let out a soft sigh of relief at the feeling it brought. The nurse had her eyes closed as she described how her son had looked with his girlfriend during homecoming last year, so much so that at first she didn't realize that she had finally pulled off the last layer of bandages. When she did, she smiled and looked down at my hands, already ready to re-wrap them.
She froze, her face contorting into terror as she looked down at my hands. I followed her gaze down to my hands and saw that where my skin had previously been, was nothing but dark gray scales.
A quick note about this story, I, the author, have this problem with my fingertips. Every few months, they usually begin to peel. I think it's typically during the end of winter, but I don't keep an accurate record of this. This story is inspired, loosely by this condition of mine, because I actually started writing it when this morning when I started to do my peel. I'm curious to know what you folks think about it. Thanks!
Last edited by Lady Morrighan on Fri May 29, 2015 4:06 am; edited 1 time in total
Lady Morrighan- Posts : 84
Join date : 2015-03-01
Age : 30
Location : Probably not here
Re: Just Puberty [FICTION]
by Mr One Wed Apr 01, 2015 5:39 pm
Quite interesting indeed. Reminds me of some others stories that began like this.
Mr One- Posts : 83
Join date : 2015-03-08
Re: Just Puberty [FICTION]
by Lady Morrighan Fri May 29, 2015 4:06 am
Thanks. That's actually most of it. There were things I wanted to do. Never did.
Lady Morrighan- Posts : 84
Join date : 2015-03-01
Age : 30
Location : Probably not here
Re: Just Puberty [FICTION]
by Mr One Fri May 29, 2015 4:24 pm
Np ^.^ Shame though :/ I'd certainly read more ^_^
Mr One- Posts : 83
Join date : 2015-03-08
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