Froot Loops: A Short Story

The air was crisp and without a sign of clouds in the sky. Orange and yellow leaves blew to and fro, and despite it being late fall, it was hot, and the girl was lightly sweating. As she was walking to her car to get to her English class at another school, she enjoyed the warm and fresh air that only happens right before the cold, freezing winter. Because of the school’s miniscule parking spaces, the girl had to park further away in order to fit her moss green truck she drove, but she did not mind the extra walk in the bright afternoon. Inside her truck, she was met with musty, hot air. Instead of turning on the air conditioning, the girl decided to open her windows, to let the fresh air ventilate the truck and cool it off. As she drove out of the parking lot and stopped at a stop sign to turn right onto a busy road, a man noticed her from across the

The mouldy, rotting, brown house stood in front of Emily, only fear keeping her feet planted to the ground. Moaning and creaking noises being projected from the house. The grass was damp from the evening fog and every time she took a step the mud squelched. The bottom step squeaked as she applied pressure with her foot, she let out a sigh of relief as the old structure hadn’t swallowed her up. The door, slightly off colour from the rest of the house, loomed over her like a giant as he reached for the brass door handle. A shiver ran through her body like an electric current, the musty smell of a house that had been long abandoned filled Emily’s nose. It was dim and uninviting. The furniture dusty and old, looking as if it would crumble to dust if she was to touch it. Mould ate away at

The young woman opened up her door and immediately felt that sense of uneasiness again even though her home was full of light. She could hear the water running in the bathroom and figured that her boyfriend, James, was just taking his usual night shower. She went into the kitchen to get a quick drink of water. As she drank the cool liquid she felt an immense feeling of relief. She advanced toward the bathroom. She walked down the hallway heading towards the closed bathroom door. Alecia felt a sense of panic and anxiety when she felt her foot become slightly submerged in a liquid on the floor.

The low ceiling cowered above and the black plastic chairs formed a restless crowd around me. From my seat, I could smell the acute scent of cleaning fluid, whiteboard markers, and the nauseating perfume of the girl sitting next to me. Like so many other students, she exuded concentration. Her brows were drawn as her hand moved rapidly over the testing booklet, only pausing to reposition herself or cast an almost imperceptible sidelong glance. The effortlessness of her actions furthered my anxiety as I began tapping my foot uneasily against the speckled linoleum floor. Through the dusty shades that hung precariously in front the only window in the room, I could see the outline of a solitary building shadowed by the dense gray fog that clung to the courtyard outside. At that moment, I would have given anything to be able to run and scream at the top of my lungs. I had an inexplicable urge to break free from the confinement of that room and what it

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.”

It was a hard rain that woke him up, the pitter patter on the windows and the clunking against the metal shackles. Tennent lifted his head off his blocky, drink stained pillow and headed toward the door. The sound of glass breaking whistled behind him as the liquor bottles sprung off his bed, being dragged by the blanket he held onto, like the pain and regret that were held in the shards would always follow him. He finally reached the door as he turned the bolts to lock as he always forget too, and started crawling to the mini refrigerator that hid in the back corner of the room. As Tennent crawled to the iced bar he remembered why he was only supposed to stay in this over expensive motel for a few nights, having to help his mother though the latest and recent flu that’s been going around.

We arrived at our destination… so I took my headphones out, and I put my iPhone away. I stepped off of the bus to see a large brick school building with some bricks missing and multiple cracked windows illuminated by light bulbs glowing brightly in classrooms full of innocent children. I began walking to the entrance of the school, trying to avoid the large cracks in the sidewalk that were filled with ice on this bitter December day. Snow was falling and the bitter cold and my new surroundings were shaking me to the core.

A morbid melancholy stole over me. Anxiety gnawed at my heart. I was a living corpse. There was a feeling of chill in the air every day as I felt. I faked illness so as not to go to school. Despair hangs heavy in the stifling air. It was a dreary day for me , cold and without sunshine. I dread people and always avoid people. The door was locked from the inside. A cold grey light crept under the curtains. The windows were secured with locks and bars. The room felt cold and sterile.The flowers faded for want of water. A single lamp was suspended from the ceiling. The clock ticked louder and louder in a quiet room. I regarded the room as a refuge from the outside

Lifting your head up from a nap from the cold wood-finished desk, trying to overcome the haziness from your eyes as you look at your teacher, turning your head to the right your friend is taking a colorful page of ocean-blue, rosie-cheek-pink, lime-green, purple heart majesty colored notes and you wonder why you are doing the same. You suddenly hear loud thuds coming up the metal-rusted ramp outside leading to the door. The door swings open with a powerful “swoosh” and an eerie creek from the rusted bolts follow. A gun walks in, following a middle-aged white man who has a distorted look in his eyes.

A simple cracking sound sent me plummeting to the cold hard ground breathless. The flashing lights illuminated not only an arena of dancing teenagers, but it exposed a world where no one cared. I lie restless while cradling my knee, trying to muster up enough oxygen to yell for help over the blaring beat. The crack in my knee shattered my perception and split my world in half.

He stomped his way out of the slushy snow as he headed home for the widow’s house. The temperature had dropped throughout the day, it was reported on the daily newspaper that the bad weather was only just the beginning of the winter yet-to-come. He had just came from school and was drained. He didn’t like being sivilized but, school had grown on him. He rubbed his hands together in an effort to keep warm as he walked the familiar street. When he spotted his gang leader, Tom with the others.

Silence. It was too quiet for a Manhattan neighborhood. My eyes slowly opened, welcoming sunlight in, as I looked around my room, I strained my ears to catch for any sounds. I decided to get up and figure out why our usually bustling neighborhood went from noisy to quiet. Walking down the stairs, I was welcomed to a totally destroyed living area, all my furniture against the door, all my windows boarded up with multiple nails pierced into the board. Creeping towards my kitchen, all my belonging looked as though it had not been touched. Opening the oak cabinets, I noticed all my food was in place, including my box of chocolate granola bars, with four left. Grabbing one, I leaned against the counter, my eyes glancing towards the daily newspaper crumpled on the floor. Bending down

It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of

The alarm clock buzzed loudly beside my ear. Feeling like a gong that was being hit repeatedly was placed right beside my head. I sluggishly pulled myself out of my bed and dragged myself to my closet. The words, first day of school moaned ghastly in my head. Summer was uneventful and school was just going to be hell. I picked out an old, worn out flannel and a pair of jeans to wear. Not rushing at all, I struggled to put the raggedy clothes on. They smelt like horrendous lies and rumors. Exactly what this state and my school are built on.

Slamming the fridge behind me, I make my way back to the bedroom and check my bed and backpack. I rip my backpack open and turn in upside down, hoping that my key would reappear; yet, the clinking sounds turn out to only be the dimes and nickels left from the change at the supermarket. Then, I