Creative Writing: Our Town

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

"Come," he said, "we shouldn't be chatting here. We can talk later. Now you want clothes, food, rest. You shall have them. This is a most-restful spot."

Sunshine was pouring out from in between the buildings, casting shadows all around Ponyboy and the gang as they walked to Pony’s school. They were taking their time walking down the streets and for the first time they all were really seeing what was all around them. Memories were surfacing in their minds showing them what it all meant to them. With every step they took on the sidewalk they remembered a different memory as if they were walking down memory lane. Ponyboy didn’t think it was possible for him to be walking down this street for the last time as a high school student, but he had gone through the years with great grades that earned him many scholarships.

"I will be back when I am ready. I hope I have experienced forgiveness by then."

Malcolm and I vowed to stay in touch, but with a wife, two kids and a full-time teaching position, our communication tapered off and one day stopped. Our lives went on unconnected. Until, fifteen years later, when I came across his name.

In the first day of the University 401 class, I interviewed one of my classmates called Ravinder. He is from Pune, India and he is an international student. During the interview, he is very friendly and humorous. At the beginning, we did not start the interview but introducing ourselves and talk something else to make our relationship get closer like food, sports.

One car, one wrench, and one roll of duct tape. That's all I needed to get a three and a half ton Yukon out of a “very broke down situation.” Hearing the car start clucking, I started to think “I’m gonna be awhile.” The Boston Mountain loops scenic roads are nice to drive but I guess I didn’t get to be lucky that evening in October. Besides the truck start to stalling out, going around the sharp curves on a hill with momentum was a thought of I’m going to crash. Not only did I have to fear that, but when I got pulled over, that the car kick out gear and go rolling down the hill. I did have some luck that day; having brought a toolbox with me.

I reached the entrance of the school and the surroundings felt different. The hallways were usually crowded, filled with students trying to get to the next class. The hectic hallways were hazardous, with heavyhearted . The receptionist in the office told me where my testing room was. My proctor took me to the third floor of the school and she gave me the test. I went through the reading and math portion in a hour, although I didn’t understand the math. I was told that I was doing the Writing on Monday. When I left the building, my mind and body felt as if someone emptied out my insides, but there was no pain, just emptiness. I wasn’t sad, just

“You know how grandma is. She doesn’t want me to go which makes it that much

I threw all of my binder and textbook into my backpack. Then, I carefully stuck in my Beats headphones into a small pouch in my backpack and grabbed my cruiser board gently in order to avoid abrading my fingertips onto the sharp, rough griptape. I walked out of the classroom and felt the breeze of fresh air hitting my body as I made my way to the stairs. I walked towards the grass field hearing my footstep change from thump noise to a more distinct crunch as I step onto the grass with my foot. I sat down crisscrossed while hearing birds chirp and the ambient sounds of college students chattering. Then, I grabbed my backpack, unzipped the main zipper, and took out my binder and pencil to write about describing peeling an

The blaring of my headlights, shadows littered the ground. The light cut through them, disturbing the darkness. The sun had set a while ago, but still I was wandering. My eyes had grown tired, but still I was searching. Clouds, sinister and heavy, were layered above the earth, hiding away the moon and, with it, the stars' light. For a few hours now, I had been driving around. Somewhere along the way, I strayed from my path. Many circles I seem to have made, and I am still stuck on this abandoned dirt road. By now, I should have arrived at my uncle's home. I should have finished greeting all of my family. I should be sitting down with them, drinking and laughing, having a pleasant night. Right now, I realize that I have just passed the same

I walked through the halls of Golden Oak High, looking for my class. I was late, but it didn’t matter. I was new so they would excuse me, and since I came in the middle of the year, they never gave me a tour of the school. Room 105: Science with Mr. Wilson. What fun, doing the same experiments on animals that people had done to me. I thought darkly. After a while, I finally found my classroom. I took a deep breath before I walked in.

I stared blankly at the dancing numbers on the edge of my paper. They were slowly fading away into a grayish blur that I could no longer read. The more panic I felt, the farther the numbers traveled away. While I struggled to gather my mind together, I could hear my teacher’s stern voice echoing in the classroom, “Pencils down. Pass your tests up to the front.” I looked back down at the chicken scratch on my paper. There was no doubt that the answers were all wrong.

Today was the day we all studied hard for. It was the final science test. From asking the older student who already took the test, I gathered that this was the most difficult test I'll take so far. And to be honest I took some pretty hard tests in my lifetime. Everyone was chatting in the room, but none were talking about the test. This surprised me. All I could think about was that quiz- If you could even call it a quiz, it's more of something that will determine whether or not I will fail the science curriculum or not. Science was in a few periods, so every chance I get I look through my notes. As I opened my filled up notebook a shadow approached, darkening the pages. I looked up to see who it was. Madeline's tall figure stood beside me.

I entered an empty classroom at the beginning of my seventh hour chemistry class to find a plain white binder sitting on the front desk. Given that no one had yet entered the class I knew that it had to belong to the teacher, and at that moment I heard a faint whisper “closer closer” from its direction. So I walk toward it seeing the bland fluorescent light beaming on that binder; as I tower over it I realize the opportunity I was presented with. This binder was the key, my key to and A in that god-awful impossibly difficult chemistry class, however, if I squandered the opportunity I wouldn’t get another chance. Being the logical, well-adjusted teenager I am I grabbed my phone and proceeded to take pictures of every page I could before the teacher returned. As she walked in I sat triumphantly at my desk relieved that finally I would be able to obtain that highly coveted A that was always just a percentage or two out of reach. My best friend at the time, Trevor Franco, was also in the same chemistry class, so i did what any good friend would, and informed him of our newfound fortune.