Creative Writing: High School

I feel my heart boom in my ears screaming at me to go home and never come back, but I can’t because the Oakwood door is already staring at me in my face. I wonder how many times I’ll shut my mouth just so I don’t have to be told to shut it. I feel the air conditioning on my skin as I sit in my seat to unload my belongings. After putting my things on my desk, I heard a loud thump and saw scattered paper all over the floor. “Sorry ‘bout that, maybe you shouldn’t always be in everyone’s way,” hissed Mister to Cool for School, “or maybe you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Middle school, when that word pops up in one’s head, it’s a sudden reminder of dreadfulness, broken promises, regrets, first crushes, and last but not least, learned lessons. Another morning had brought another school day. Seeing familiar faces and teachers I just wanted to get through the day with no hassle, but that’s not always the case. At least it wasn’t for me. Making my way through the extended halls and walls that seemed to enclose upon me, I felt nothing more than like a chained prisoner. The bell rung and I remained seated in my class, encompassed by boxed, outdated computers and rusty white walls, I felt

" I could have invited you to my office, but actually I manage three organizations, so I have three offices, and I exactly didn't know in which one I would be this afternoon, so I thought it would be the best just to meet you here. Is that ok?"

Samson laughs. “I wasn’t a good man at that stage. I ceased being a good man the moment Meredith removed me from my duties. By the time I returned, the order was not what it was, and that, Commander Cullen, was none of my doing.”

The Superintendent walked solemnly down the dimly lit hallway. The vast walls of lockers gave him an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, eating away at his soul like acid eating away metal. The psychologically effects transmitted to his outer body, causing him to halt to an abrupt stop. Standing like a deer in headlights, his mind was instantaneously flooded with brisk images of the once flourishing hallways. He stifled a faux smile, composed himself, and erratically walked into the main office, where he prepared to apologetically deliver the final afternoon announcement of the High School’s history. Alone¬¬––later in his office, another pang of dense, impenetrable darkness suffocated him and he let out a cry of resignation. He put his chapped

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

No words had ever sounded sweeter. More detention equals less time at home. Less time at home equals less time seeing my drunken step father. Mr. Curtis started talking as the students opened their notebooks. I opened mine, pretending to write. This is my life, no good, bad ass, social outcast, Nathan Smith. By being a social outcast, I've never really attracted much female attention. Not that it bothered me. This senior year, I planned to finish and get out as quickly as possible. After senior year was over, I would be on my way to college. College would be my escape

“He shouldn’t have been in that building, whether he was in a meeting or not.”, she said disgustedly.

“ Do you want to go to Ms.Thomas’s class and talk to her about it?”

“Yes. Please don’t address me when you see me tomorrow. I would like to observe quietly.”

The shadowy figure stood on the roof of the building, going over in his head the plan for this job. The central floors were entirely unoccupied, and so that would be his entry point. He grinned; this was going to be too easy. Tying a lifeline to himself and one of the water pipes snaking up the side of the building, he carefully lowered himself to the fourth floor balcony. He quickly pulled out a set of lock-picking tools and made short work of the pitiful lock on the door. Inside the building was an office, plain and rather dull. Cubicles split the room and made his line of sight short, but he knew where he was going. Walking swiftly, he navigated his way through the maze of bland, gray cubicle walls,

“So how much trouble has you be in for knowing me. What am I saying, you wouldn’t…”

I intently stare at the once white tile floor, now littered with the array of colors seen on the autumn ground. I find a seat in the back of the brick red room filled with glasses pencils and computers, and tell myself that I only had to drudge through a week of this and then I will be free. I look around the room and see a flaming red shirt, and then I notice the boy who wore it, James, whose rude comments to me caused me to dread seeing him at the locker next to mine throughout middle school. Although he seems almost as out of place here as me, his presence in the club solidified the fact that I do not want to be there. After an indefinable amount of time listening to an adult talking in what might as well be gibberish, we split up into what activities we want to do. Wasting a week sit behind a computer sounds unbearable, so, I join the pack of people moving toward the mechanical room. As I start toward the room I pass him and I look forward, trying to avoid eye contact as one would when attempting to not provoke a wild animal. Then, my foot catches on something, I feel myself losing my balance and my weight shifts in an uncomfortable way. I

The boys stood gasping, their eyes on the tall facade that loomed. Where they slept; where they ate. Where they lived -their laughter soaked into the floorboards, echos of jokes and taunts and teasing. Ghosts of them; wrestling in the dorms, sprinting through the halls, bounding up the steps. The imprint of their existence and the existence of generations of boys before them, separated by the times but all essentially the same. Tenants of the fifties still nicked each other's books on the way to classes, boys from the sixties still hurriedly snuffed out their cigarettes when they heard the dean coming, and boys from the seventies still climbed out their windows at night when they needed to escape. All of this encased in cold unyielding stone

Now here, I never thought I would go back to a school again. The day before yesterday, I had visited some school by the name of North Quincy High School, where they said they was reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn for ages. They said they knowed my by the way I talked — I felt so known, I most wished I was dead alright. In the school, I heard them students wanted to tell about something that’s on their minds and can’t make themselves understood. When I walked into the school, I met with two guards or something. They was a yell at me about being late and all. Since I had gone to school all the time, I disremembered how boring them classes were.