Death of a Dream

     My eyelids hung low over my eyes as I fought to stay conscious. My hair was messy, while I struggled out of bed and got ready for school. Everything felt soft to the touch as my body was still waking up. Hurriedly I scampered around the house, picking up my notes and text book and throwing them carelessly into my back pack. My gut dropped as I realized that I had forgotten to study for my exam yet again. I marched out my door, ready to accept my fate. It was my last exam. The school was a prison, ready to lock me up for the next 4 hours and test me. I scanned around the room and could see fear in the eyes of my peers. My joints ached as I sat down to read my notes again. People came up to ask me questions about topics on the test. My answer was a blank stare. My mind screamed at me. I should have studied; I should have cared more. Excuses ran through my mind. My lips curled around the rim of my third coffee. The aroma of caffeine and regret filled my nostrils. My hands shook, and my body quivered. I was unprepared. This was the first time I’d ever put something off this long. The constant reminder that I was going to fail paralyzed me. I tried to skim my notes. Faster and faster I read, but nothing was being absorbed, these were just meaningless words on a piece of paper. “F=(1/2dta)/G? What does this even mean” were the only words that slipped out of my mouth that day. There was a frenzy of both excitement and fright filling the room. Hastily I glanced at the clock, aware that it was counting down to my doom. This was going to break my confidence, my dreams, and my future. My reservoir of hope was quickly drying up. Anxiety crept up from my fingers, until it embraced my body. The person on the PA announced that it was time to enter.

A Frostbitten Morning

     As I take my first step into the desolate wasteland I am hit with an immense cold. The barren grad parking lot seems devoid of life, a sight I have become accustomed to seeing at 8:25 in the morning. The warmth of my car tries to tempt me into staying inside. As I struggle to continue onwards a -20°C force field tries to halt my journey to the front door. My backpack is weighing me down like a ship’s anchor and seems to be trying to help the cold stop me. Sprinting with all my might against what seems to be impossible odds I somehow manage to get inside on time. Despite the harsh conditions outside, I am greeted by the bright happy faces of the people in Jazz Band and the early bus commuters. I stand around and wait to warm up. Just as I am about to head to class, fellow grads that survived the trek through the bitter cold begin to trickle though the doors. They walk in slow strides, dragging their heels, and look at the floor with an expression of contempt drawn on their faces. They unleash a tidal wave of unenthused murmurs and their sighs threaten to sweep me out to sea. Their tired eyes demand more rest and their dreary heads struggle to stay awake. Suddenly silence sweeps across the hallway. A teacher has made their presence known and seems to be looking for someone. I know the teacher, but do not recall doing anything that would upset them so I feel fairly safe. At least I do until he starts advancing towards me. Thoughts race through my head as I try to think of anything that I might have done recently. Students quickly hurry past me, glancing over in sheer horror. Mr.Vancamp towers over me and begins to open his mouth to speak. I fear for the worst. I am ready to accept my fate, but remarkably he says a name unfamiliar to me. I twirl around and see a small student awkwardly trying to hide behind me. Vancamp points distinctly and asks to speak to them in private, and I hastily scurry out of their way as they march off. Once he is out of sight I breathe a deep sigh of relief. Suddenly the bell alarms, almost as if it is trying to wake students before class. The chaotic chatter resumes, the pathways twist, and turn and the halls transform into a obstacle course as students try head off to their respective classes. It heralds the start of a new adventure, as the day is finally about to begin.

The 4 Figures of Drew

A plume of smoke arises from behind the black leather chair. A quick turn of the chair reveals Al Capone’s face, with a cigar slipped between his lips, and a slight smirk off to the side. This cocky, arrogant, smug faced thug represents the self-importance of Drew Fraser. As he looks into a mirror he sees himself atop the mountain of success that others are still trying to climb. Drew sees himself as ingenious, just as Capone. Alongside the conceited mindset Drew also feels like the well-known Sherlock Holmes.  With the ability to solve any problems that arise, he is a cunning man. He can think outside the box and is keen. To balance all these level headed, cool and collected people, he also can be represented by The Joker. Known to love jokes no matter the situation, he is the insane and dangerous villain from Batman. Often derailed from train of the thought, The Joker is still a crafty man. On many occasions he uses wit to win his battles rather than brawn. Drew views the Joker as a perfect example for himself; he is both funny and bright but at the same time a depressed maniac trapped within the confines of the boundaries he sets for himself. Finally a figure that Drew strives to be himself, is the awe inspiring Ghandi. He is wise and ready to fight for his freedom when approached. He is also a non-violent man that believes he can achieve peace between differences. All in all, Drew is clearly a wide array of characters and this diversity leads to how he lives his life differently each day.