Mad Objects: A Short Story

In sustaining the positive environment, each principal was given the opportunity to boast about how each of the high schools completed the school year. Additionally, some spring athletes from each of the high schools, and the Science

Rosie stood up. ‘To start with, I’ll release Charity. Deliver me the bodies and we’ll talk more.” Rosie motioned Nailon to the door.

Each woman was handed a key after she signed the book. “Unfortunately, we are currently operating with a skeleton staff, only those necessary for business, since most of the guest rooms are closed for renovations. I will get your luggage to your rooms as soon as I can.” Explained Joseph as he put the book away.

I reach the sophomore hallway and immediately step back. It’s more crowded than usual. Everyone’s pushing each other, walking shoulder to shoulder in rows of four or five. I look over to my left where Mr. Clarke’s classroom waits for me a few yards away with its door open, lights off, and desks empty. My Geometry textbook can wait, I decide. I don’t need it that bad.

A few minutes later, I came to a peculiar looking building. A sign next to the building read “Swilt Elementary School.” Without thinking, I desperately ran to the front of the school, knowing that I would definitely learn something new. I pushed open the front doors, only to find an empty hallway in front of me. Walking in the hallway, I saw a classroom with students in it. Even from far away, I could see that the door said ‘third grade’ on it. “What would third grade be learning?” I questioned myself. I rushed to the door and barged in, without

Rena blankly stared out the window adjacent to her desk. The sky was a bright tint of light blue, and the clouds were ripped up cotton balls. Rena was the first to arrive in her class, and she was assigned a seat in the back. She settled into her homeroom class, by placing her bookbag on the desk’s hook. Her eyes wandered the neatly decorated classroom, taking note of the pictures and figurines of cats lying around.

This may seem a little cliché but my pencil and my paper is my favorite thing alone side with my words. More times than often when I’m sad, mad, or just simply in my feelings. My pencil and paper comes to talk to me and tells me not to bottle it up, but let my words out. I’m trying not to talk about it, but those thin lines hate to be bare. With every stroke I take leaving a black mark, filling my paper up with my thoughts. You see I can’t always say what’s on my mind out loud, so I tend to write it instead. Yeah I’m guilty of being creative; but how would you know if you never read my work. As I start to write my pencil decides to make a few mistakes. Now my paper is talking to me telling me to read it out loud; use your words to fix your mistakes. These white lines is really testing me, as I feed into her mess, I begin to read out loud.

It all began on the first day of third grade. As the class was waiting in the middle of the empty hallway, she was standing by herself, being the first one in the crowded and unorganized line. Unlike her, I was at the back of the line. A few minutes later, a tall man with shoulder-length, black hair, appears from the end of the hallway, making his way towards us. As he approaches the door, he introduces himself as Mr. Contreras, our third grade teacher. Soon after he opens the door we walk into the classroom and take random seats. The majority of the people sat next to their friends. They all seemed to know one another, then there was us– the new kids, feeling out of place in foreign territory. To my relief, there was an empty seat next to her, that apparently no one was interested in. Without hesitation, that empty seat was taken by me. Soon after we all had taken a seat, Mr. Contreras tells us to find a partner to do a fun activity with.

The school grows larger in my view, and eventually we reach the door. My friends follow me into the classroom, and we sit down in our second grade seats. It had always been like this, at most the only thing that changed was the classroom. The day passes by quickly, school always does. On my way back home I spot a distant face, no more than two metres away. I reach out and

As an immigrant from Mexico, it is no surprise that Yuri Herrera gathers most of his inspiration from his life’s experiences to write his short stories. In one of his short stories, “The Objects,” readers are brought into a dystopian society where every night, workers in an office building are transformed into animals, based on social class, via a vestibule. The story follows the narrator and his friend, Rafa, who work on the lower floors of the building. Every night, the narrator turns into a rat and Rafa, a louse. Later on in the story, Rafa disappears from his floor, leaving his friend, the narrator, to find him. In his short story, “The Objects,” Herrera alludes to many real- world truths in today’s society; issues like immigration, racial discrimination, and the matter of social hierarchies.

In Yuri Herrera’s short story “The Objects” transformation is a key element to the significance of the story. Each night the narrator in the story enters a vestibule, or portal, and transforms into a rat along with a friend named Rafa, who transforms into a louse. These two main characters are part of the lower level of the building, and they are treated as such, just like in our world; therefore, making discrimination a major issue across the world. The fact that people are different and unique is hard for others to accept. Mostly because they are constantly in competition with one another; however, if everyone were the same, life would be unfulfilling. Therefore, people changed and became the person they wanted to be, but are being judged and discriminated for doing so. In Yuri Herrera’s short story “The Objects” he wrote about humans that are transformed into animals based on their status and the struggle the lower class people have to go through to make it to the top of the food chain. Some people only see certain races or social classes as people who can do the dirty work or people they can put themselves above. By doing this, individuals begin to lose their humanity. Herrera transforms characters physically, mentally, and psychologically to show how lower class people and different races are being discriminated against when it comes to social and work status.

“When you are a pestilent being, the world stops being pestilent. Or does it? (Yuri Herrera)

Hurried scampering was seen, as students scurried into the building hoping for warmth and shelter. The teachers brought their cups of coffee out as they patrolled the school ground, looking for any signs of mischief. The smell of freshness journeyed the air, moving and gliding through each molecule. Children from the older years dominated the playing area, whilst those from the younger years tried to negotiate some space. In the far corner of the playground, students seemed

In September, students from seventh grade through twelfth grade began to attend classes at the brand new school. There was a real Industrial Arts instruction area. Students were able to work on real projects instead of string art. There was a Home Economics room instead of a mobile home. There were laboratories and a planetarium. There were enough classrooms so that every teacher had his or her own classroom. The library was used only as a library and no longer had to be used as a classroom. The nurses’ office was no longer in the girls’ locker room. There was a cafeteria. Students no longer roamed the

I'll carry her to the bed. I can't believe you actually signed the sales agreement. - I had to show Tau I was serious. - And you have