so just a note, i don't really write all that much. this is actually a creative writing assignment for lit class. read and review and i'll love you forever!
High School Hell
After disobeying the school rules one too many times, I woke up one Saturday morning in room 131, one of Our Lady of Good Counsel High School's portable classrooms, with Mr. Raimo hovering over me. The president, the all knowing head of the school, informed me we would be touring hell with the hopes of scaring me into correcting my flawed behavior. The previous night had been the last straw according to the administration, and if I refused to straighten my behavior and improve my grades, I could very well be expelled. I had attended our school's Homecoming Dance, where Mrs. Nichols had kicked me out for freak dancing. Subsequent to my attempt to sneak back into the dance, where I was caught by security, I landed myself back into her hands. I was fortunate enough not to have been awarded detention. My relief is what motivated me to attend an after party when I really should have been studying for a test occurring Monday morning. If I had had to take the test at this point in time, there would be a 100 chance of failure.
"Follow me," Mr. Raimo said, which brought me out of my flashback and into a confusing present.
"Okay," I responded, very much stunned, not quite believing that this was reality. It felt like I had been transported to an alternate universe. I was in a place exactly like Good Counsel, except much larger. There were the freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior hallways, however they extended much farther than normal. Not to mention the fact that students were roaming everywhere I looked, and screams of terror where ceaseless.
For the first few feet outside of Hell, also known as the school's campus, there was as atmosphere of peace and quiet. However, it did not last long. As I walked toward the door, the screams grew in volume. The gatekeeper, Mr. Arnold, was standing guard, ready to punish any criminal who was in search of the relief that existed only outside of hell. I walked up to the gate in a daze, where I was instantly reprimanded.
"What do you think you are doing here, miss? Am I wrong, or are you not dead yet?" Mr. Arnold's harsh voice shocked me too much to allow a coherent response. Normally, when a teacher yells, it has little affect on me, but for once in my life I did not understand what exactly I had done wrong. Wasn't I supposed to be here? I thought. Luckily I had had my guide there to do all of the talking for me.
"Tom, we've talked about this. Now, if you value your job you would do well to step aside," said my guide. Mr. Arnold grudgingly obeyed. Whether in school or in hell it was still clear that the job of the President (or guide) surpassed that of a disciplinarian (or gatekeeper.) The gate squeaked open slowly, stopping unexpectedly, leaving only enough room for the two of us to squeeze by and enter the freshman hallway.
The first sinners we encountered were the pesky underclassmen, those who occupied the lowest level on the totem pole, or, as they are more commonly known, the freshmen. They had complete control of their hallway, and were confined to it. In hell, I was informed that the freshmen's sins consisted of un-tucked shirts, as well as cell phones left on on during class. I had instantly thought of my brother. Would the unchanging high-pitched sound representative of the constant interruption of the cell phones ring during class torture him? Sure enough, I did see John; my brother, as one of the more tousled looking offenders. His un-tucked shirt during life portrayed him as a disheveled person in hell. A messy environment depicted this. Textbooks and pop-quizzes haunted his every step. Pens and pencils stalked him everywhere he went, which forced him to stop frequently only to fail yet another exam. One thing, which perplexed me was how, back at home my brother was not dead. In fact, he was very much alive.
"This hell includes all people, living and dead, and shows them in their respective place in the afterlife if they happened to die today. Only the dead have a fixed place in hell, those alive have a chance at heaven and the luxuries that come with it," my guide explained to me, seemingly able to read my thoughts. Of course, this only bewildered me further.
"Does that mean I'll see myself!?" I exclaimed, horrified at the thought.
"No, of course not. You are already present in hell as your earthly form, which cancels out your existence in hell as a sinner."
Those words calmed me down slightly. "So, I guess I should work on keeping my shirt tucked in and my phone in my locker," I said to no one in particular.
My guide and I continued on our journey and entered the next level of hell. The sophomores, having finally risen from the rotten status that being a freshman had consequently turned into bullies, stealing anything with value. There was a constant battle going on. Strong jocks on the Varsity sports teams picked on all the scrawnier Junior Varsity members, who in turn picked on the athletes who did not make any team. Wanting control, their punishment was to be constantly ripped from a slight feeling of security. Fighting against one another, the winner temporarily felt they had power. However, right around the corner, a teacher was always lurking with razor sharp demerits and detention slips in his or her possession. I saw my cousin Michael here and was shocked. Who knew he could be so violent! Had there been time to stop and talk, I would have, but I had gotten the impression from Mr. Raimo's quick footsteps we had had a deadline to meet.
Have I ever behaved like this? I had found myself wondering.
Next we ventured into the junior hallway, which had merged with the cafeteria. Juniors, the class of which I am a member, after gaining a feeling that they truly belonged in the world of high school, have slacked off. The students received failing grades in classes, assuming that they showed up at all. As a result, PSAT scores plundered. Most students had slept through the three-hour test, not even taking two measly minutes to fill in their name. In hell, juniors were forced to work at the school's cafeteria, the only establishment that would accept their miserable resumes. They had to endure constant harassment by any one soul who chose to venture into the dangerous world of the cafeteria. I noticed no one that actually ate the food served there, but instead its sole purpose was ammo in the myriad of food fights, which occurred there daily.
"Why isn't anyone eating the food?" I understood that to eat it was disgusting, and innutritious, but when one hungry, one needs to eat. So far along my journey I had not seen an alternative food source.
"Quite simply, it is because they are dead. If you are in hell, there is no real purpose for food seeing as one does not need energy to survive. The job the cafeteria supplies is simply punishment," my guide clarified.
"Okay," I responded, "I think I'm starting to understand. If I refuse to work harder in school, I could very well grow up to work in some type of fast food restaurant. Personally, I would rather not have a job as degrading as this one."
"Very good. I think we are getting somewhere with you." Mr. Raimo looked pleased.
Finally, we entered senior territory. The seniors, because of their awful performance on their SAT's and ACT's, had not been accepted into the college of their choice. After failing the admissions process, these seniors tried again. Their essays contained poor grammar. It was not only this that kept them back, but also the bad track record where grades and behavior was concerned. The continual dangling of false hope combined with failure led them to insanity. I was shocked at all the harm they were capable of. One senior in particular caught my eye when she raced to a friend's application and tore it to shreds.
At that moment, I finally understood why I was brought here. My parents wanted me to get into a good college. They did not want me to struggle, or be placed on a waiting list, but to be accepted as the best. I made a vow to myself to try harder in school, and to party less frequently. I defiantly did not want to endure as much as these souls did on a regular basis. I closed my eyes as a sharp pain went up and down my spine. When I opened them, I found myself warm and safe in my bed. Who would have guessed it had all been a dream?
Word count: 1,487