A childhood tale - Original writing School life at Sainte-Anne was a painful experience for me. My teacher was a terrifyingly tall woman with scarlet claws several inches long. The facial expressions she usually displayed in my presence suggested that her dearest wish was to gouge my eyes out with these weapons. The other students had avoided me after I bit a boy named Ashton while trying to take my toy mouse and the teachers had classified me as disruptive. After a period of bewilderment where they kept taking my scissors and patting me on the head, I realized that I was also considered mentally disabled. Later, I was told it was because on the first word of my entrance exam, I spelled “street” with a “W.” As the students all watched me from the corners, I resorted to the only resource I had left: books. The teachers had the impression that I couldn't read a word and therefore thought I was up to something. That’s when the confiscations began. My parents didn't want to believe that the teachers were taking my books, so thinking I was losing them or maybe selling them, they refused to give them back to me. There was nothing left for me to do but dig up the school flower beds. However, the final straw for me was the disappearance of one of our class hymnals. No one knew where it had gone and no one saw it again, although I had deep suspicions, including Ashton and Abonfire, about its own making. The teacher's attention was drawn to the wayward book, only after she handed them out and found herself without one. His sharp eyes scanned the room and fell on my small form holding my treasure. In a short but violent battle, my prize was snatched from me and all I was left with was the snap of "You can't even read!" to console me. As the meeting room around me filled with the chorus of my comrades, I stood there silently, letting my insides burn with rage at the