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| First day of boarding school; short story | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 11 2008, 04:41 AM (1,383 Views) | |
| Arkane | Sep 11 2008, 04:41 AM Post #1 |
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...i need inovation... really badly
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A story i made depicting the first day of boarding school. I went to boarding school about 3 years back so i was roughly 13 then ----------------------------- It was the first day, the moment right before you begin to grasp what it is that you are getting yourself into. I felt the cheap carpet underneath my socks – I had already begun to kick off my shoes. It was hot, and humid. I sat back on the chair, and it was this moment, where it hit me. I was alone, a guest to my own solitude. Quite in this lonely room I would call my dorm. I felt the silence press down on my ears, the heat move up through my shirt - the desperation come out from within. I lunged for the window, the hope of catching a gasp of fresh air. And here I lingered, upon the ledge -looking out, hearing the all too familiar birds tweak – and trees sway, while a light breeze struck my exposed cheeks, pricking them with the same feeling as back home; but I wasn’t home. I stared foreword, at this new world, this peaceful storm I was about to call home. Half in daze, half in thought I observed the sun beating down angrily on the freshly mowed lawn in front of me. This large carpet of green lay out before me – in a soothing manner. I stared to what was beyond the grass. The veins curving upward through the bricks, the white European archways, the lone single clock in the center, all too familiar from the pictures I had seen. This had been my dream for as long as I can remember, and now – I felt – it had become my nightmare. I stared at the old wooden sign, as it creaked on the hinges that made their home above. It read, “Welcome to Ridley College.” Every Christmas - once the dinner was in its restful place, and the distorted wrappers of what had once been presents lay strewn about the floor – the family would finally sit together. Amidst the battlefield of broken wrappers, empty bottles, and forgotten toys, sat a family in the warmth of each other. This is where my uncles would throw all their magical spells upon us; this is what I was regretting as I peered over the window ledge. “Ridley College…” they would begin, going on endlessly about it. I can imagine the glaze in my eyes as they retold countless stories. Ridley College had always seemed so far away – magical, but belonging of a story. It was a distant reality, distant from the safe comfort of what I knew. So here I was, at Ridley College. It had finally caught up to me. The silence enveloped me, surrounding me in a bubble from reality - this bubble, creating my prison, my heaven. I let my thoughts guide me, an eternity in this new world. I wanted to pop it, do something to escape – end this anxiety that I had; kill this unwanted intruder that had so swiftly taken over my body. I stared down at my hand, at the dry ink that had already made its home over each hair follicle. My last connection to home, my last desperate attempt at holding on to the only piece of string left. I ran my finger over it, my senses feeling each electrical touch, multiplied by the intrusive silence. It read, “Mom” in bright red sharpie. At that precise moment in time – that was all that mattered to me. This had been my last attempt to get rid of my parents, to escape from the embarrassment of their hugs, their love. I regretted this. I had quickly scribbled my name onto my mother’s hand, and then she slowly wrote hers on mine. I observed the writing. She always curved her perfect M’s, but the O was a bit stretched. I had told my mother that this way I would still be there, joking it off like some Hollywood movie. And then she left, with small careful steps out the hallway. I heard the clap as her shoes made contact with the staircase, each time getting more distant, each step stealing her away from me. Wiping a bead of sweat from by brow, I carelessly turned around and went into my room. A room that would soon become my new prison. Mom, it read. These three letters suddenly felt so real. I ran my finger over it again, hoping that somehow – magically – my mother would suddenly walk through the door. She didn’t. And I was still alone. It was this realization that finally cut that last string. I found myself trapped again; I felt a train of panic gather speed inside of me, each turn of the wheel getting louder. I felt the temperature rise and the world shrink around me. And I just sat there, in panic. Not daring to disturb the deadly silence of the world around me. Screaming, shouting on the inside - I had to escape. I had to tell someone, I had to do something. Desperately I pulled out my knife, and began carving on the soft, moist wood on the ledge. A sentence in the fear of disturbing the eternal sleep of that which I called silence. Each letter I poured my heart into, my sadness, my despair - somehow hoping that it would make it better. The jagged cuts of an S lay before my knife, as I gently put it back into my pocket. My handiwork was crude - I can’t do this – it read. The O looked like a scribble that a kindergartener would make on his first day; but I didn’t care. It helped. I felt a new breeze push against my face, bringing to me the smell of moist ground. A woman was walking her dog below, a golden retriever – his fur shining with each step. I let the silence bear down upon me, seceding into its polite authority. And I just sat there, staring, thinking. If not for the door I would have waited there for an eternity. The creak of the old wooden door pierced through the silent room in a deafening shrill. I slowly turn around to find another human. It felt like years since I had spoken a word from my mouth. “Hi” I said. He looked at me, and then wandered his eyes to my bag - carelessly abandoned on the floor. He seemed about my age, with a dulled out red cap on his head. The hat itself was dark maroon. It looked like an antique from an old shop; the type where the color is so worn out that it almost seems grey from the distance. He bent over to his bed and pulled out a soccer ball. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Felipe, were roommates” I nodded, not knowing what to say. The silence had somehow taken my ability to speak. I slowly fidgeted with my fingers, behind my back. This was my first chance to make a friend, to invite him into my solitude, and break my curse. Felipe looked at me, then at his white soccer ball. “Let’s go play, man” He shouted as he ran to the door. I looked at him, my roommate – my friend. This was my ticket to escape from my nightmare. The pinch of reality I so desperately needed. I quickly stared back at the window ledge, took a brief glimpse, and finally bounded out the door as fast as I could. I can do this. |
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| Lone Stranger (S) | Sep 11 2008, 05:20 AM Post #2 |
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Wow, good story. I assume it's true?
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| Arkane | Sep 11 2008, 08:58 AM Post #3 |
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...i need inovation... really badly
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Yes it is. |
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| The sentinel-ZNS | Sep 12 2008, 02:45 AM Post #4 |
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Space octopus
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very cool story bro. i would assume being away from home would take its toll on you..but i guess it worked out fine..may i ask what happened to felipe?
Edited by The sentinel-ZNS, Sep 12 2008, 02:46 AM.
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| Arkane | Sep 12 2008, 09:36 AM Post #5 |
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...i need inovation... really badly
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well, me and felipe lived out the rest of the school year as roommates. we played soccer, pranks, women, the usual. he was kind of the one that really made boarding school bearably fun. haha |
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| The sentinel-ZNS | Sep 12 2008, 03:39 PM Post #6 |
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Space octopus
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women you say? nice bro. some boarding school stories i know of arent as positive as this story. |
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| Eliteprodigy | Dec 2 2008, 10:26 AM Post #7 |
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Zum Gebortstag ZetaBoards! Zum Gebortstag viel Gluck!
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*brings topic from the dead* Wonderful literary prowess! So raw, so emotional, so perfect! This could've been a novel and I would have read it straight through. The sensory details were beautiful, I felt as though I were in the room with you, I felt your emotion, your loss, your emptyness. I felt as though I were with you in your solitude, your desolation. Aside from one or 2 grammar and spelling errors, I give this a 9 out of 10. (Spelling and grammar count.) Thanks for sharing. |
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| weezze | Dec 4 2008, 07:10 AM Post #8 |
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This was a great read, definitely showed emotion. Shame it’s not longer though. |
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| Eliteprodigy | Dec 4 2008, 09:54 AM Post #9 |
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Zum Gebortstag ZetaBoards! Zum Gebortstag viel Gluck!
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Isn't it though? |
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| Arkane | Dec 4 2008, 08:42 PM Post #10 |
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...i need inovation... really badly
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Ah yes, reading it through again I did find some grammatical problems and some punctuation irregularities. None the less thanks for reading and I'm really glad you were able to get such emotion from it. That's exactly what I wanted - to share with the reader how it feels getting there for the first time. For a fun fact you can go to Ridley's website (Google 'ridley college') to see the place I was talking about. |
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| Eliteprodigy | Dec 4 2008, 08:58 PM Post #11 |
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Zum Gebortstag ZetaBoards! Zum Gebortstag viel Gluck!
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So, you really attended this place then? |
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| Arkane | Dec 4 2008, 09:21 PM Post #12 |
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...i need inovation... really badly
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But of course. |
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