Ninja Notes: Don't be a bully

Welcome to Ninja Notes.
If you've read my first book then the name of this blog makes sense...somewhat. By the way, this is the first blog I've ever done so I really am flying by the seat of my pants here--please bear with me. Because this is my Goodreads author account I would love to talk about my writing obviously, but I will also talk about fun nerdy stuff because I'm a tattooed nerd and damn proud of it. However, I felt like starting off on a serious note. There is an abundance of problems in the world. A good person doesn't need to look far to find a cause worth standing up for. I have many causes that weigh heavily upon my heart and I do my best to make a positive difference. Today I wanna write about bullying.

I was never a bully, nor was I ever bullied. For the most part I was kind to everyone. That doesn't mean I never witnessed it. Also, even though I wasn't a bully, there was once in my life that I bullied (and or didn't stand up to my friends that were bullying) someone for a short period of time. I am ashamed to admit it. Thankfully, I realized the error of my ways just in time.

The following short story is a paper I wrote when I was in school. In it, I talk very candidly about the error of my ways. I've been out of school for a long time so this paper is old. I haven't doctored or changed it in any way since it was originally written. I did change the name of the person I bullied. By the way, I attended a christian high school in Alabama. Because of this the story has a good bit of religious references. Even if you are not a religious person, I do believe this story will move you.

A LETTER FROM THE GRAVE

A funeral is not the ideal way to kick off a new year. Yet, here I sit helplessly fighting back the water that pools under my eyelids. An ocean wave of anger envelopes me as I hear my classmate’s sobs grow louder than the preachers condolences. They hated her. They never missed an opportunity to make fun of her and bully her. Now they are here wailing as if it was their own mother that had passed. Suddenly the hypocrisy of my anger slaps me in my tear stained cheek. Only a month ago, I was the leader of the pack and its worst offender. But things had changed, hadn't they?
After she was in the ground my friends and I drove home in a silence that was not unlike the high pitched nothing you hear after a bomb goes off. I drove without awareness until I parked in my driveway. I couldn't bring myself to go inside. For some reason the mailbox called to me. Its very structure reminded me of a casket or the mouth of a tomb. As I rolled the stone of the tomb away I observed only one letter resting inside. The envelope read, “To Andrew, From Darcy.” I had just received a letter from a dead girl.
Have you ever seen one of those American Girl Dolls? Built to look like a bona fide southern belle from a different time in history they are equal parts cute and creepy. Darcy looked like one of those dolls with extra stuffing. More predominant than her looks was her personality, she always had to be the center of attention. She was like an American Idol contestant that's so bad you can’t help but laugh. Her attempts to gain our attention were only a catalyst for mockery…and we at Kingrock Christian school were masters of mockery, in-spite of our namesake.
It was the first week of December and the Christmas season was upon us. Darcy had already endured roughly four months of name calling and sitting at the younger classes table for lunch. As anyone knows it is customary to give gifts during the holidays and Darcy is about to give us a gift. The gift is her self-respect on a silver platter. She accomplishes this by coming to school on crutches along with the claim that she broke her leg in a car accident. She bolsters her lie by wrapping her knee with flesh colored bandages. Then with a flair that was truly her own style, she glued two Frankenstein type bolts to either side of her knee and poured copious amounts of fake blood on them. This rare opportunity was too good to pass up. So, like a pack of hungry wolves we swarmed. My best friend pushed her down into a tuft of snow and I stole her crutches. We left her on the ground in front of the building, forcing her to get up and walk into school without her crutches and therefore revealing herself as a liar. With tears in her eyes she did just that.
Being a Christian school we were forced to attend chapel once a month after homeroom. Walking past the scene of the crime, I could still see her imprint in the snow like a fallen snow angel. Inside the sanctuary the preacher droned on as usual. I ignored him as usual. He shouted, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you!” I had heard this before but this time the words cut me as if they were a double-edged sword. A veil was lifted and revelation set in. If the word Christian meant “Christ- like”, and we were a Christian school, then we sure didn’t act like it. So, much like the Grinch or Ebenezer Scrooge, I had an instant change of heart. I asked Darcy for her forgiveness as soon as chapel was over. I told her that I was determined to make this last week before winter break her best week of school ever. She sat at the cool kids lunch table everyday and I even broke her off a piece of my Kit-Kat Bar. There was no more name calling and if there was such a thing as “reindeer games” this Christmas she would have been invited to play, and even picked first if I had anything to do with it. I hugged her, wished her a Merry Christmas, and we parted ways for the break with feelings of jocularity.
In the nick of time is a phrase that would soon be stuck in my head. Sitting in homeroom on the first day back after break, Darcy’s desk was empty. I was probably the only one that had noticed or wondered why. An ominous feeling weighed heavy on me as our teacher walked in with a somber expression.
“Your classmate Darcy has died” she stated as a matter of fact, “she died of a brain aneurysm and the funeral is tomorrow.” That was all I heard.
This is not how I wanted to start off my year, yet here I stand, in shock and awe holding a letter from a girl I just saw put six feet under the ground. Should I read it? All I could remember were the sins I had committed and the tears she had cried because of them. With hands shaking and a voice that matched, I read aloud: “Thank-you for being nice to me. I told God you’re my friend. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.”
- Darcy
A most potent mixture of happiness and sadness worked its way through me. That letter was such a blessing, but it could have just as easily been a curse if I hadn't changed my ways. So my question to you is, If you received a letter from a dead person, what would it say?


This was one of those moments in my life that forced me to grow up. I actually read this in class and many students and a teacher were moved to tears. I knew then that writing could be powerful and cause positive change, even when written by a high school novice.

I will always stand up for those that are smaller or different. If you are in school, please be kind. If you have kids in school, please teach them to be kind. Thanks for reading!
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Published on July 08, 2020 21:07
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