Sunday, 25 September 2011

Day in the Life (Creative Writing Assignment for Eng. Lit. and Comp.)

For my English Literature and Composition class, we had to write a day in the life of our first day of high school. The catch was, though, that it had to be melo-dramatic. I fought and fought to find what to write about. I kept telling myself, "This shouldn't be too hard, you're already extremely dramatic." And I'm telling you straight up, I like to over exaggerate things. It's what I do. I just COULDN'T come up with anything. Then finally I thought of something. What if I made my school an actual jail? So I did, and this is the product of that idea:

"Julia, can I watch TV???" This is what I wake up to almost EVERY morning. It usually starts around 6:00 AM. This morning, though, my little brother, Ryan, woke me up around 4:30. I had to get out of bed, find the remotes (since we're always losing them left and right), turn the TV on, flip through the channels until I actually find a show Ryan likes, then I finally got to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, Once I lay down, I realize I'm no longer tired. Oh how lovely.
When I've actually gotten myself up, gotten ready, and have finally gotten to my high school, I couldn't believe my eyes. The whole entire school is surrounded by a chain link fence and barbed wire, and there are men with weapons surrounding the whole perimeter of the school. At that moment I realize, my high school isn't even a school at all, it's a correctional facility.

I walk into my school and I automatically notice the color; a dull gray. It also has a terrible smell of mildew. The only color is the clothing of the unsuspecting students that fill the halls. Little did we know what kind of place we were about to spend the rest of our ninth grade year learning in. I was hoping maybe this would be a case of Matilda. Scary school, dull halls, but exceptionally kind teachers.This was most definitely not the case. I walk down the halls and all the teachers are outside their doors, faces in a scowl, arms tight across their chests, and their backs up straight.

In every single one of my classes, the teachers paced at the front of the room, holding their wooden sticks, just waiting for someone to smart off at them. One class out of all of them, though, was the must terrifying. We were in Algebra going over our notes. My teacher was looking at the seating chart and randomly picking people to answer. Sounds normal, right? Wrong. What was really scary is when the boy my teacher picked on got the answer wrong. All of a sudden, my teacher ran to the wall where a gigantic red button was, and slammed her hand into it. Then, all chaos broke loose. Four men ran in, grabbed the boy, and ran out. He was never seen again.

Lunch wasn't much better. We were watched so closely you could feel the guard's eyes burning into your neck. It felt like you had to clear your mind of everything just in case they could some how read it.We were served slop that was almost paste- like. Just like the school, this food was gray. Stripped of all color. We sat at long tables that never seemed to end. We were sat boy, girl next to each other forced to eat in silence, and stare at the dull, molding wall in front of us.

Finally, the school day was over and I could go home. It was time to get on the bus and leave this prison until the next day. I thought all of the petrifying events were over, of course until I stepped onto the bus. In every single seat there was a camera watching your every move along with a guard who's look dripped acid.
An hour later, I reach my stop and I'm thoroughly winded. I can't wait to sink into my favorite chair, read my book, and escape to a different world where my problems don't matter. Unfortunately, when I get to my door I notice that it is locked. Locked! I could not believe that on top of everything else, this was happening.
Thankfully, my mom wasn't gone for too long and she let me in. I couldn't wait to tell her what happened, and beg her to transfer me. When I finally tell her about my day, my mother thinks that it's my over-dramatic self taking over, and I'm over exaggerating. If only I was.

...I hope you enjoyed my story. I'm not half as good as my mother is. But, I think I did pretty well for my first creative writing assignment this year. (Let me tell you I STILL have not gotten my grade on this project, yet, and we did it the first week of school. I am probably in the 7th week of school, now. *sigh* I WANNA KNOW MY GRADE!)

Anyways, thanks for reading! I thought I would do something a little different, considering that I didn't have a book to review this week!


Barbie Furtado said...

Apple, tree, I think it does fit here :)

My favorite part was that the food was also gray, I'm not really sure why, but somehow that had a great impact it was the point that kind of concentrated the essence of the story, right there. From all your mother tells about you, you do have a melodramatic vein in you. I really enjoyed this.


Jewelz said...

Thank you very much! I really appreciate it! :)