A Silent Cry For Help | Teen Ink

A Silent Cry For Help

August 26, 2014
By Comrad BRONZE, Enterprise, Utah
Comrad BRONZE, Enterprise, Utah
4 articles 2 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul."
-William Ernest Henley, Invictus

“Let’s start with your name.” I look up, unfocused. “Jess Reilly,” I reply achingly. This assignment was quickly becoming more and more tiresome. I slowly looked around as the rest of the students interviewed their partners. The Interviewer started writing down information painfully slowly with a knife-sharpened, minuscule pencil. I looked up towards the clock. Each twitch of the second hand seemed to drag on, slightly longer each time it moved. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.


The Interviewer asked more questions and I replied accordingly. They were simple questions that left the tongue awkwardly and hesitantly, the way a cracked up druggie might speak to a policeman. They were simple questions like, “When is your birthday?” or “What do you do for fun?”. They seemed never ending. As I sat there, motionless, I began to feel an illusory tugging at the back of my mind, like an infant grasping a mother’s finger. It was a feeling I haven’t felt since before the start of summer. A feeling I have experienced more often than one should. Then it stopped. The Interviewer sighed. We both sat there, awkwardly making eye contact for a split second and glancing at the clock ever-so-slightly. The seconds seemed like days and the minutes like months.


I stared at the repulsively colorful appearance of the carpet and wondered how it would respond if I asked it questions. “Where did you come from?” or “Who got fired when they designed you?”. But then I began to envy it. The carpet doesn’t need to be entertained and it doesn’t care what I think of it. The longer I stared, the more I admired it. I began to realise the absurdity of the thought as I sat there, blankly staring at the ugly, patternless floor. Then another realization hit me. School has officially started.


More and more curious my thoughts became as they bounced back and forth through my skull. The Interviewer began silently humming what sounded like the Jeopardy theme and became more and more expressionless as the seconds dragged on like an iron anchor on a row boat. I looked towards the clock that seemed to be frozen in place. Then I felt the tugging—this time, like a yo-yo bouncing at the bottom of it’s string. A cold chill raked across my neck as an incomprehensible and unwelcoming voice accompanied the pulling. The voice was muffled, yet unpleasant, like a steak knife against the surface of a porcelain plate. I froze in fear and misery as the two grew and became revoltingly more lucid.


The whispering became hissing and the tugging became yanking. I sat there and began to stare into the eyes of the creature consuming me. The beast’s hunger grew as I tried to pry myself from it’s deathly jaws and it became larger as it devoured me from top to bottom. I tried to scream but no words left my mouth and I slowly became entrapped in a darkness that seemed to have no end. I closed my eyes and hoped to be released from my never-ending torture. Although the pain grew, I knew the demon would release me eventually, as it always did. We've all had the displeasure of meeting this particular creature—whether it be in a hospital waiting room or on a long drive. This demon will continue to devour me and many others for years to come. This demon called Boredom.

The author's comments:

I was sitting in class bored out of my mind and I decided to write down what was going through my head.

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