Author's Note: Before I begin the story I should probably explain the
circumstances under which it was conceived. I had been experiencing the
most dreadful case of "writer's" block over the past few days and it got so
bad that I eventually turned to my mother for an idea for a story (yes I
was that desperate). Predictably, she told me to write about school. Thus
this craptacular story was born. It really is quite awful and it probably
isn't worth your time to read. I'm only posting it to make myself look more
prolific. ^_^ hehe, yeah, I'm pathetic. Enjoy!
The vestibules of hell stand open before me and with trepidation I
cross the threshold. Where are the fire and brimstones that I anticipated?
Only a single corridor stretches before me as pale lights shine overhead
like the white stripes on a highway. A moist heat suffuses over my body and
envelops me utterly. I recognize the source of this oppressive jungle
miasma. Flesh that sweats and grinds, generating heat through friction. It
makes a hideous sucking sound like greasy dishwater struggling down a
The howling of the damned assail me from all directions. They howl and
shriek in laughter, inane anecdotes and self-congratulatory yap spouting
from their leering grins. Boasts of fast cars and new conquests, how often
these words have reached my ears. They stand in their cliques, punctuating
every clause with the f-word, pausing once in a while to fulfil their daily
quota of ostracism (as seems to be required of their kind). The dynamics of
their solar system puzzle me still. They orbit precariously round one
another; a change in apparel or an insightful thought would hurl them into
the vast obscurity of space. Truly the physics are mind-boggling. The
harlots are no better. Congregated in groups of four or more, their painted
lips curl in venomous smiles as they nod and utter the occasional "uh huh"
or "oh my god". Fornication, shopping sprees, and the lord's name in vain.
All is right in the universe.
Amidst the sea of flesh I discern the self-styled crusaders of education
appointed by some balding deity to enlighten the masses. Do they seek to
tame them? These amorphous, transgressive-boundary breaking (or so they'd
like to believe)-schizo rebels whose moods shift like the desert sands?
Already I see the disillusionment in their eyes. Even they have lost faith.
Their monotonous droning speaks not in the mantra spewing language of the
devout. They speak in the buzzing of godless flies, like men and women who
hopelessly pray under the threat of imminent crucifixion. Their words
congeal in mid-sentence and coagulate in my ears, sticking to the hairs.
I avert my eyes and search for cracks in the ground. I see none.
Treading cautiously, I keep my eyes on the ground lest I should step on a
crack and shatter my back. Slowly, surreptitiously I weave through the
gauntlet like a clumsy minnow through reeds. I never lift my eyes. To make
eye contact is to lose myself utterly. Their warm bodies shove against me
and I am tossed back and forth. They are an ocean, tempestuous, undulating,
and I am a shipwreck lost among the waves. Clawed fingers grasp at my arms
and I feebly struggle. I stifle the urge to cough as jungle fumes roll over
me. I must be soundless. I must be invisible. Some of them notice me and
laugh but I pretend not to hear them. An aperture forms in the crowd and
black tendrils emerge, coiling round my waist. They stare at me with raven
eyes, mouths gaping eager to devour me. I break free from their hold and
somehow I make it across alive.
It makes me wonder why I descend into this madness day in and day
out. What an abject and miserable creature I am. With each passing day, I
feel my sanity slipping away. Will I one day be like them? I steal a
furtive glance at the sliding, gyrating mounds of flesh caught in the
frenzy of a primal rhythm and I pray that it will not be so. However, a
part of me always longs me to surrender and be among them. I stamp it out
angrily. Truly this must be hell. What vile sins have I committed, to be
cast into this accursed place? Where is my Virgil? Who will lead me out?
The furies perch atop my shoulder and I am at their mercy.
All of a sudden I hear a voice that calls out my name. Delicate and
musical it filters through the roaring din, which is humbled and silenced
in its wake. Its melody embraces me-the furies fly away shrieking in rage-
and I lift my eyes. A familiar face smiles upon me. The heat recedes like a
fleeting dream and soon a conditioned chill lingers in its place. A shroud
is lifted from my eyes and gone are the savage demons. In their place
people, teenagers like myself, stand and converse pleasantly with one
another as teachers mill through the crowds with stacks of papers under
their arms. One teacher notices me, smiles and waves upon recognition. I
smile and wave back.
My friend and I walk side by side down the crowded halls. Our voices
are but two threads woven amongst those of a thousand others. I laugh. This
is not hell after all.