Conscious: A Short Story

Reading this book I was relating to Alex, whom is the main character. Feeling Trapped. In the first scene Alex was robbing a house, he then was caught and was framed for murder of his friend who was helping him rob this house. He was then sentenced to Furnace, a “jail” that was hopeless of escaping. Throughout this novel Alex feels trapped, with people who hate him and belligerently beat him up. These people belong to a gang who call themselves “The Skulls”. There is only one way in and one way out. Trapped. Helpless. I felt helpless when I had too much homework all do the next day. What no, Yes! Procrastination. ☺ I had a paper, 100 pages to read, and a couple packets in German to do. But wait there’s more, oh yeah; I also had Play Practice and a workout going until 7:30 that night. Ugh. But like Alex, I kept going I didn’t stop thinking and doing, I kept going; I stayed up until even the owl went to bed. Alex didn’t stop. He had grit! He planned escape after escape, plan after plan until one day he felt a great sensation near a door, it felt good on his skin and made him feel better. Fresh Air. After that feeling he never let go, planning how he could get through this door without being in jeopardy. Finally, the day had come; the black suits all went into their offices and he took his chance. Alex scrutinized the bolts holding the boards together, and then struck them hard. The board came lose and was able to sneak through. He explored the cave; it was massive! He kept going, turn after turn in this huge cavern, until he found what looked like heaven to him, a way out, a river. Roaring like a lion ☺, the river was his play. The only problem was this: “Our way out was no wider

As we headed back there was a problem, the road was closed. We didn’t know what to do, Wily exclaimed “Look there is a sheriff parked by the side of the road let’s ask for directions! Then we headed towards the sheriff’s car. She said “You need to head towards highway I thirty-five”. We grabbed Ivette’s phone hoping that her navigation could take us back to the cabin. There is no signal, should we ask someone else? Let’s get back to the town and ask for directions, Ivette said. So we headed back to the town but all we got was “Highway I thirty-five will take you back to your destination. Being a paper map our only option to head back home, we grabbed one from the restaurant we had dinner that night. As we headed towards the highway everything was fine. It was not a dangerous road and we were relieved to have found the way back to our destination. As the hours passed we started getting a little worried, are we really on the correct road? We started wondering. It seemed like we were going up the mountain and not down the mountain, basically we were

You drive far into town, through the house you had once called home on Madison and Sixth. The new owners have repainted. It hurls the memories back at you and you allow yourself feel again—the clattering of Lego against wooden floors, his voice barreling to quieting yours, father and son playing catch on the green lawn. You allow yourself feel these things. The

Her hands danced in the air; her eyes were glued to the unforgettable view that surrounded us. She looked at me and threw my hands in the air with hers. I grew the courage my sister always had and looked down. I was in the clouds; I was on top of the city. Millions of ants danced on the floor beneath me. Skyscrapers and streets, smothered in traffic, formed a board game in my mind. The breathtaking view from atop the clouds formed a Van Gough canvas. My blood shot into every crevice of my body. The harsh wind made my eyes drier than a desert. As my brain plunged in and out of my skull, I realized the meaning of life’s adventures. Soon I began to feel a line of water descend from my cheek.

The entire ride home from Morrie's had a horrible sense of finality to it. That was the last time I would see my old professor, as much as it pained me to admit, I knew it was inevitable. The world around me began to slow. I was hungry, but couldn’t bring myself eat. There were so many thoughts running through my head as I slammed the brakes of my car. I felt isolated, like I was the only person in the world. Cars continued to drive all around, some were still behind me blaring their horns, but I just sat there, coming

My hands shake as I take the wheel, desperately trying to force the key into the ignition. I scratch the metal once, twice, before it finally catches, and the engine comes alive. It coughs out a gravelly sputter, and I click my seat belt into place. I peel out of the driveway, my empty stomach jostled by the bumpy curb, and speed onto the otherwise calm street. I have never been one for the rules, so at a pace far above the legal limit, I head for the haven I know will give the sustenance I need. My stomach lets out another rumbling growl, and my mind flies back to the dinner I know I should have eaten.

It replayed over and over in my head. The screams and shouts echoing. They grew louder and louder, shoving me into the back corner, behind the old red rain coat, never worn. The floor was cold as ice, the room was so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. My heart beat rapidly, louder and louder, as it beat out of my chest. What was I doing, why was I here? Let the noise stop, let them surrender.

I can’t be this person anymore. I can’t lead this life. It hurts too much. I’m tired of loving, I hate you and I’m tired of hating I love you.” She whispered softly with a calming voice, though filled with sadness. The melody seemed to just flow out of her like a mountain stream tumbling up and down over weather-worn rocks just the sound of her voice made the room feel colder. Gritting my teeth and forcing myself to stand it was my turn to look away and study the white walls. I shook my head bewildered. The devil wasn’t finished yet with wrecking my life. I opened my mouth to respond, hoping to repair the damage, but nothing came out. It felt like my vocal cords were paralyzed. Ingrid sat there thinking, the renewed silence between us surpassed the previous one in its length and weight. Then some force greater than the craving for a drink hit me. I could feel it pressing on me like the compounded gravity inside some inescapable black hole. I willed a breath into my lungs hoping that fresh air might relieve my sense of suffocation from trying to absorb everything Ingrid had just told me, struggling to put it into some sort of order and context. It seemed forever before I managed to exhale. Ingrid finally stood up; upset she stared at me with a blank, uncomprehending

My lungs filled with oxygen as I drew in a deep breath. I gently closed the book in front of me as my eyes slowly refocused on my surroundings. I felt like I had been drowning for hours and could just now come up for air. Except I didn’t want to. The water that had confined me flowed from a completely different world which I had no desire to leave. I could imagine myself as a part of that world’s adventures and playing a role in the story’s unfolding. A connection had formed between me and the characters, as if I had stood with them and their experiences had become my own. In the moments while I read, nothing had the ability to distract me from their struggles and their triumphs. In chunks their world consumed my time, my emotion, and my thinking.

I practically fell out of the bus. I had no money to buy water and I was sweating bullets. All I have to do is to get to is get to Martin’s house I thought. Then they will aid me with my arid throat. But wait, I have forgotten where they live! I should travel to the town’s central area and maybe I will remember how to get to Martin’s house! If not, then I can just ask someone on the street, I thought. As I trudged on, I could feels scabs on my feet. The money in my boots must have caused this, I thought. But it was necessary, I wanted a proper funeral. The sun beated upon my head as I blindly walked through the town. My sight was starting to appear with blur.

I woke up and looked out the window for the mark on the ground to find where the Wall once stood. After finding it, I thought of Frau Paul and how she was separated from her baby. Even though her story was quite sorrowful, I knew I needed to include it in my response to “the guy.” After one more cup of coffee, I went to my computer to finish my letter to him.

The grand town hall had half it’s roof falling off, I looked through the library windows and saw piles of books all flung about the place. Bomb craters were everywhere. I clasp my hand to my chest, it hurt to see my town in pieces. My little corner of the world. My home. I pinched myself, hoping it was just a dream. Nothing. I pinched harder and harder, ignoring the pain. I stopped, I looked at my fingernails which were now caked with blood, I didn’t wake up, this wasn’t a nightmare It actually happened. My anger took hold and I howled into the sky, tears streaming down my face. I sobbed and cried and mourned and wept and cried some more until there was nothing left and i felt blank, numb and helpless…

The words didn’t compute. They simply didn’t make sense. It was as if they were spoken in another language. Silence filled the room until it was broken by Miss Clark. “Are you okay ma’am?” Instantly, I was brought back to the real world. She stared at me with those dark brown eyes and wrinkled and aged face, with concern. “Well I should get going,” I said. “It’s getting late and I don't want to drive in the dark.” And with that, I quickly rushed out of the front office and into my Jeep. The Sun had begun to set in a flurry of orange and yellow and soon disappeared behind the mountains as if the Sun itself was playing a game of hide and seek. I knew that it would be extremely dangerous to drive the twist and turns of the road leading down the mountain, into the village. Since I didn't have anywhere to stay for the night, I took the risk and started navigating down the mountain.

“Everything around me seems to have stopped. The breathing became deeper and deeper, and the heart began to beat louder and louder. Again and again I didn’t meet the deadline and promises. And then I started thinking:

Other people can change the choises in our life. Friends and families and maybe some famous can chang the