thank god i'm pretty ((arachne only/me, myself, and i))

Hearing the alarm clock ring, she carelessly slapped her hand on the snooze button and went back to sleep. Arachne pulled a pillow onto her ears hearing the loud noise coming from next door. I never thought it'd be that loud! Hopefully it'll die down, she thought as she woke up yawning. It was obvious that her sleeping schedule is fucked up, but she really didn't care. Arachne jumped off her bed and went downstairs smelling the Tsai tou Vounou that her mother made. She then inhaled the smell thinking to herself glad to be home away from the academy.

She heard her mom yell, "Arachne, το πρωινό είναι έτοιμο! Έρχονται κάτω! " "Μητέρα, είμαι που έρχεται. Απλά δώστε μου ένα λεπτό," she responded with a yawn. Arachne sat down in the dining room with her parents and drank some of her Tsai tou Vounou excited about being able to get used to a new culture since she was so used to Greek culture her whole life. Her English is decent, but it's been improving a lot over the past ten years that she's getting close to being at the border of being fluent.

It was noon and Arachne was laying on her bed writing various poems in her notebook. Smiling, she read the poem she had just wrote to herself:

Roses are dead
Violets die too
If I knew where you lived
You'd be dead too.

It was a gloomy poem, but Arachne didn't care. She put her pen with blood red ink onto her nightstand which was modified with rimestones made for crafts, ribbons, and lace using tacky glue which made it look as if it had a corset on it. Arachne started to sing an old nursery rhyme known as Rose Red to herself as she played with her pillar box red hair that she had dyed using Manic Panic the month prior.

Arachne sat on her bed and started to play around with an old music box she had gotten at a local yard sale by the abandoned church. "La, la, la, la, la," she repetitively sang to herself in a soft voice in the tune of the music box. She then smiled as she got out an old scrapbook she had made when she was 15 for inspiration. Her phone rang and it was an old friend that she had made when she visited Norfolk with her family.

It was an hour later and she woke up from the small nap she took after the phone call. Arachne went off the bed and changed her clothes to a long, flowing black dress with some striped stockings underneath. Satisfied, she went outside and sat in a swing at a nearby park and wrote in her notebook filled with various poems she had written over the year. A young child went up to the girl and asked, "Are you a fairy?" Arachne's eyes widened in surprise and joy and responded, "Yes, I am. Who are you little one? I'm Arachne." She heard the child respond with the name Lily and smiled. Arachne was enjoying being able to talk to little children without people looking at her weirdly.

The next morning, Arachne quickly ran downstairs to see that it was past breakfast. It was obvious that there are those moments where she's unable to hear the alarm clock, so she grabbed a Poptart and went back into her room. Arachne didn't know how she managed to sleep past breakfast considering how she's usually punctual. She sat on her bed with her legs crossed as she finished her Poptart and went off to get inspiration for poems.

The late afternoon then came around. Time sure went by, she thought as she dug through her closet for her pair of "lucky" stockings that her mother gave her. Arachne yawned as she found the pair of stockings  and smiled in joy. It usually took her a long amount of time to find some of her favorite clothing due to her closet being unorganized, but Arachne felt that it really didn't matter as long as she eventually finds it. Walking towards her window, she looked out and saw children playing in the middle of her neighborhood. Arachne then galloped outside wanting to join them. She wasn't much of a stranger to them anymore since they had gotten used to her dark appearance.

There are those moments where you can just simply relax, and she decided to might as well calm down after playing tag and hide and go seek with the neighborhood kids for two hours. Arachne picked a rose from her mother's garden and smelled it; it wasn't as if it was going to cause harm, and she quietly started to sing Rose Red once again as she closely examined the rose as she was sitting on the porch. People have expected her to fit in with other teenagers in Chicago, but she didn't go around like a special snowflake for not being society's norm since that'd be awfully selfish. She then went back upstairs to her room and took a small nap exhausted from all the playing.

A week later, she woke up and realized that it was noon. It was official that she had just been late for a meeting with her poetry club. Rushing, Arachne got on her clothes and ran outside on the sidewalk hoping that they'd understand that time went by awfully quick. Her bodement of what the club would would think about her being late was right in the border of not caring and understanding completely. She waited for the crosswalk to be clear to go on, and she walked to Starbucks real quick to get her caffeine fix since Arachne loves coffee to help get her energized whenever she's in a hurry. Shit, they spelled my name wrong once again, Arachne thought as she took a quick sip of her cappuccino. She quietly started to hum Bohemian Rhapsody as she was getting close to the location of the meeting. Of course, they'd usually say the usual stuff considering her luck of being the newest member of the club. It really wasn't as if people would judge her for something that she couldn't help with on summer break.

Arachne sat on the sidewalk of the garden they usually reserve for the special Poetry Club meetings she is in. She grabbed Khyle's book, read it, and wrote down some advice and tips to give to him. "Sometimes, all you need is second hand inspiration," she then explained to the group grabbing scrapbooks she had made out of her beach tote. Looking around, Arachne made sure none of the popular girls was questioning their choice of how they feel expresses them the most since not everyone has to be a copy of those like Priscilla or Shanique. She sighed as she started to read a few of her recent poems which were eerie and dark, but it worked since she mostly grabs inspiration most would consider freaky. The majority of the time, Arachne would look at Tim Burton's drawings or art from the Victorian era as her inspiration, at other times however, she gets inspiration from the supernatural and fairytales bringing the light into darkness.