My paper for my 9th grade english class. Enjoy.


Wake Up

Here it's always dark, always so dreadfully silent. It's almost as if all of the light was sucked out of this of this small room. Even with the engulfing darkness I already knew what was here. The loud sound of my erratic heartbeat filled the barren room, echoing through the stale atmosphere as I slowly inched forward step by step. My quivering hand hesitantly reached out before me, slowly skimming the surface of a smooth table. My sweaty palms glide across the stout piece of furniture, my thin fingers gently bumping into a cool metallic box.

I swallowed hard, my throat thick with the tint of fear. I can feel my tight chest heave up and down rapidly as my pale appendages gradually explore the heavy box, intently feeling every diminutive bump and ridge embedded within the thick material. I can feel my fingers make their way towards the center of the small chest. My slim fingers barely trace the small outline of a cold metal lock, trembling as my thumb rubbed against the prominent clasp. My hands senselessly moved on their own, unlocking the silver clasp with a quick click.

I want to stop, to kill these curious urges. But I can't, it was as if I couldn't control my body anymore. As if I was a mindless marionette simply bending over to someone's whim, obeying without question. Before I knew it, the box was split wide open. Subconsciously my wobbling legs carried me closer to the wooden table. The open case called out to me like Pandora's Box, like how an alluring siren would call out to her unfortunate prey. Her prey that would never escape her iron grip. My damp palms slid into the unlocked box, my senses prickling the back of my perspiring neck, sending chilly shivers that darted down my sensitive spine. The tense feeling of anxiety clawed at me, only making my racing hear thump faster and faster.

Blindly my stubby fingertips ran across the case's soft felt lining, only to discover that suddenly the texture of the smooth fabric disappeared, a cold bulky object taking its place. My swift hands grabbed the heavy item, and almost simultaneously the temperature dropped drastically, the tiny room becoming unbearably frigid. Slowly the unidentified object emerged from the dark depths of the now empty chest, landing with a distinct clank on the low table as it slipped out of my clammy hands. I flinched at the sound, my bursting heart ready to leap out of my chest. My tired body started to spasm, miniscule tremors blossoming within me. Nonetheless I could still feel my small fingers reaching out towards the fallen object.

My twitching digits curled around the item's petite form, nervously grasping its sleek surface. I bit my cracked lips roughly, recognizing the familiar rusty taste of blood that stained the inside of my dry mouth. Quickly I glance down at my trembling hands although I knew that the infinite darkness made it pointless. Even so, I already knew what I held in my hands.

At first I could only feel the cylindrical barrel in my palms, the ribbed metal eventually smoothing down to a bent yet erect pin. My appendages ghosted over the hard sturdy handle, the slight curve of the deadly trigger. A depiction clear as day was vividly etched into my frantic mind. I was holding a gun.

My taut lungs took in a sharp breath, the hasty gush of air whistling between my parted teeth. The adrenaline I bore coursed through my veins, igniting my agitated nerves on fire. My body burned, yet my occupied fingers felt as cold as ice. Despite how heavy my limp arms seemed I could feel my right arm stir constantly, shakily extending up towards my frenetic head. Then it happened, the nippy sound of the gun's clockwork ticking to twelve.

The loud bang ricocheted off the dull walls, the deafening sound reverberating within the bowed shells of my ringing ears. My head ached, the sharp pain of the penetrating bullet finally registered in my clouded mind. The sides of my pale face were slick with crimson blood, the ghastly stream steadily flowing down the soft curves of my slender neck with every frail heartbeat.

The sickening scent flooded my quivering nostrils, knotting my twisted insides instantly. I felt sick. My thick throat erupted into a series of violent coughs, each one accented with a fountain of deep scarlet. A dark pool of sticky liquid formed beneath me, slowly encasing my immobile body. My blood ran cold, the temperature of my body fading away, sending shivers that ran frantically across my colorless skin.

Slowly I could feel my feeble heartbeats become almost nonexistent, the practically inaudible sound the only thing I could strain myself to hear, the timer of my own life counting down. My drooping eyes closed shut, ready to welcome my last breath in this despicable world, to wake up from this horrifying nightmare. Though that last breath never came.

The seconds ticked by as I painfully waited, the seconds turning to excruciating minutes. I couldn't stand it, my numb body frustrating me more and more. I had pulled the trigger so many times, over and over again, yet the outcome always remained the same. I laid there, distressingly frozen in place, my now open eyes staring at the ebony world around me. Weakly I cried out, my bloodshot eyes welled up with saline tears, the fat droplets rolling down my dirtied face. The thin membrane of my eyelids began to sag once more, coaxing me to heed to its call. I knew what would happen if I complied, it would be the same as all the other times, to open my eyes once more to the boundless obscurity, to pull the trigger one more time. Stubbornly I felt my consciousness drift away, my heavy eyelids becoming impossible to keep open.

'One more time,' the thought that ran through my head more than once, another attempt to escape this nightmare, the unfulfilled prophecy denying me of reality.

When will I finally realize that I would never be able to wake up?