Author's note: I hope people will think about the working's of a dark mind, of how our society puts a grave... Show full author's note »
PremonitionsAnother vile rush as his foot crashed, ever so deftly, upon the floor just inside the hall. Straight down, past the long monotonous row of lockers, first door to the right, his classroom awaited. His slid back and forth, bouncing from subject to subject. His mid was racing, swimming in an assortment of thoughts drowned by a constant blur of words, meaningless chatter cascading all around. Kids stood stupidly, like cattle in masses, blocking already choked hallways, yet ignorantly they rambled on. From behind, kids moaned about those ahead to be too slow, while those in front paid no attention, leaving the boy a victim between the two pestilences. A daring thrust, he clears the mob of students just barely, slipping into the classroom.
White walls. White walls, yellow pole-like bulbs behind ragged plastic sheets throw a pale light, reflecting on the white walls. Posters plaster these solemn confinements, cheesy slogans attack with a pseudo-optimistic barrage. To the child, these were more conformities, just as lifeless as (which he regrets to call them) his peers.
At the front of the room, commandeering a small, cluttered desk sat a young teacher, her face still warm from unbroken passion. It was in this face of tender beauty the child repressed his hatred. He saw the passion to change the world, passively, to make an imprint through knowledge and understanding. He was reminded of things he loved; people that made him smile; the ability to craft a mind. But that thought, coupled with his abhorrent desire to make an impact brought him back to his plan. Back to what could only truly make a difference. The time for passivism rested now, long deceased. Yet the time for aggression shone upon the horizon.
The boy took his seat.