Chronics Narrative

The familiar aroma of coffee fills the air as I enter the not so common area. I feel very bewildered in the labyrinth of hallways searching for my classroom just like I had stepped into corn maze as a child. At last, I locate the secluded room tucked away inside the massive building. Even though the number on the door matches the number on my schedule I am still second guessing if I am in the right place. The door opened up as students poured out. Finally, I took my seat at the back, trying my hardest to sit down unnoticed. My hands were shaking as I wrote the class name at the top of my paper. After what seemed like ages the professor proceeded to

The brown brick building in the back of the school, next to the Orbach Science library, is at first shockingly small in size, the UCR School of Medicine. The golden lettering is easily read from a far distance. The surrounding area is very peaceful and calming where I am able to hear the birds chirp as I walk along the shady pathway. There was not a student in sight. As I entered the brown brick building, it smelled delightfully clean and sanitized. All I could hear was beeping from a machine that I could not identify. As I continued walking, a cool breeze was felt as I passed a classroom that was in session. The interior of the classroom seemed very spacious. The more I continued to explore the building, I discovered the dean’s office, and

All of the walls are plastered with student work of hand-cut construction paper snowflakes and stockings. In the mornings, excited students swarm the hallway as they look for their classroom and their teacher. Echoes of “good mornings” bounce around the hallway from student to teacher. But farther down the hallway, the older students are not as excited for the day while the bare walls match their expressionless faces. About halfway down this hallway is a wide staircase down leading to the fourth grade classrooms. It is rather quiet in this hallway because there is a distinct lack of

After visiting the office, being assigned a locker and getting your new schedule, an office clerk shows you where your locker and first class are located. Clusters of teenage girls and boys, your peers, bustle past you, moving in all directions. Their stares cut through you to the depth of your being. You hug your books close to your chest as a protection from their glares and the quizzical looks on their faces, attempting not to make eye contact with anyone. You couldn’t let them see the hurt, the unacceptance and fear you felt as an outsider. If only you could shrink to the size of a mouse and scurry along the wall, out of sight, run from prying eyes.

I breathed in the after rain smell. It must have rained the night before but I hadn’t seen it so I wasn’t aware that it would be wet. As I strolled onto the sidewalk and began my route to school I stomped on the wet, fallen leaves. I walked about a half mile each day to get to Florence Nightingale High school , or as I liked to call it, my daily prison. It was a good high school but it was still a high school. The usual American high school is full of people who are unsure of themselves and because of their un-surety, they feel the need to others down. Now take those people and add in an over-confident deaf girl into the mix and that's my every day. I am extra isolated but that’s fine by me. I really don’t care what they say about me. It's not like I can hear it

You’ve reached the classroom now, the right one, you’re sure, but there’s already people inside and you’re early, so you lean against a wall and wait. You keep your mind perfectly blank as you watch the students, now your peers, go by. You notice the rock in your shoe again, and you contemplate it’s and then your very own existence for a while, very heavy but not unpleasant before class thoughts.

The corridor is rounded with beautiful skylights, mosaic windows, and more beautifully dark hardwood floors. The school is encircled by lush courtyards, gardens and thick woodland. The cafeteria is large and is more like a five star restaurant. Already students are filling their trays with delicious smelling foods. Chatter fills the room echoing off the walls. I'm unsure why I'm attending this school. Azai promised if I attend my past will unravel. Azai is my guardian aiding my search for my missing memories. I know something bad happened to me. I can feel it. I also know whatever it is, it's still is

It was just like any other normal Thursday at HempPasture High School. The school day ended and I was exiting the school into the blistering cold air of mid-january. The bone-chilling wind kissed my cheeks, and hurried my rush into the field house to escape the bitter weather. I let out a sigh of relief as i entered the first set of doors, then began my decent down 2 flights of stairs to the locker room. As i descended, I couldn’t help but notice the eerie emptiness of the usually busy area of the field house. The stairwell was dimly lit, and it only seemed to get darker the more i descended. I finally came to the end of the stairwell and paused to see if i could hear anyone else as I usually would on any normal day, but all i could hear was my own faint breath. I slowly opened the door into

Sadness, desperation, and the thought of failure plagued my brain as I went into my second day of Sophomore year in high school. I had grown to dislike school a lot as it felt like all the fun I used to have was slowing diminishing into nothing. As I walked to my next class, I looked down to make sure I had the right room number. I did, it was time for English which I was not looking forward to. But, to my surprise, this English class would change everything

Derived from a past era, the school retains the the original red-brick, but inside its features are modern looking. The clash of the school’s motif reflects the snafu of my plight portraying confidence on the outside but hiding secret emotions on the inside. To add to the injury, passive voice follows me here at STLCOP. I can never say what I think because I feel like people will not be interested, so I keep my thoughts squished into a tiny ball in my stomach, which is the ugly part. What is worse is that the school looks like it does not belong here, barely visible nestled between the skyscrapers of hospital buildings, and not belonging is a prevalent theme lately, which is “the bad.” Both literally and metaphorically, the transition from home to college is resulting in an in-between

The school bus smell of musty of old leather seats and rubber floor mats drifted through my nostrils. The unrelenting hyenas on the bus didn’t make a single seat available for me. If evil had a voice, it’d be this constant lampooning. "It looks like Amal's face caught fire and someone tried putting it out with a hammer,” offered Emily. I plunged into deeper despair. I was an isolated wildebeest being malevolently devoured by ferocious hyenas. I didn’t anticipate for Athletics Carnival because it was appearing/unraveling to be another dreadful day.

Riiing!!!!! Riiing!!!! Riiing!!! The bell rang signalling the end of my eighth period class, Biology. This is the one class I can not seem to wrap my head around, I think to myself. As the other students scuttled out the door I began putting my homework into my backpack. They have all been waiting to leave the classroom since the moment they arrived. I on the other hand am afraid of who might be waiting for me on the other side of the door. When I finished I pulled my right strap over my shoulder and headed for the door. As I approached the door, I heard Mr. Daedalus speak. “Carlton, are you okay? I noticed that everyone rushed to get out of here fairly speedily, everyone except you?”

Bang! A metal ball slammed into the concrete wall behind me after I ran to avoid it. I was panting and shaking due to the side effects of the drug being tested on me. There was a crackling sound, then a voice spoke through the speakers. "Subject thirteen, we’ll be firing the last round now and it would be in your best interest to dodge it like the previous." There was a few seconds of peace before they shot it off. It flew toward me at an alarming rate and even with this drug drastically increasing my speed; I could not avoid it. It slammed into my chest and knocked me back several feet whilst the feeling of my ribs splintering and breaking overtook my senses. The immense amount of pain was surely over 50 dels and more than enough to knock

It’s ten years later. I’m sitting for the first time in a high school classroom, scribbling information into a black notebook; the words smudged as my hand rubs over the ink. The teacher flips the presentation to the next slide and continues droning on about classroom procedures and fire drills. Refreshing and cool, a breeze drifted in through the window. However, the room stayed humid. The image of sweaty seniors bounding down the hall with

Ellis1Malik EllisProfessor JannotsEnglish 10121 September 2015First day of schoolSweaty palms, shortness of breath, stomach locking it was the first day of school. I was alreadylate for school because my little sister slept under the fan and caught a cold that night so mom had toquickly find a baby sitter. Thinking to myself “can my day get any better.” I already had a lot to thinkabout I was the new kid. That’s where the pressure was at I wondered if kids was going to like me, if Ihad anyone to sit at lunch with or if anyone thought anything wrong.Everyone was so judgmental nowadays. I get in the car every year mom has a pep talk with meon how she knows I can do this and the rewards if I get good grades, but it was only going in one ear andout the other. The time is now 8:30 School started at 8:15 so I get out the car and tell mom goodbye.“Have a nice day at school sweetie love, ya.” Mom said“Love you too, see you later.” I said as my voice trembled over every word.I walk in the school and I can hear the sounds of my footsteps as I block any and every sound out.Boom! Boom! Boom! Was all I heard as I look for my classroom?“Do you need help young man?” The man said fiercely.“Yes I am looking for room 207.” I responded back to him.“Well 2 means second floor and we are on the third floor sir.”I didn’t even respond back because I felt that he approached me the wrong way with an unnecessarytone and attitude. So I walk to the second floor and find my classroom. I stood at the door