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              Outbreak Magazine Issue #12 - Article 6 of 18
          '~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'

Gallows
-------
by: tweenbuster 

I wake. The clock glows its iridescent number, three minutes before the 
alarm is to sound off, arising me. I lay and watch, expecting another 
day, crueler than the last. My mind is clouded from sleep's hourly toll. 
6:58. Time dwindles and as a prisoner expects the gallows I expect the 
day… my heart sinks as I recall the days before. My heart sinks more and 
my spirits fail as I fathom the future and what it holds in store for me. 
6:59. I begin rising and turn the alarm off, as to muzzle one annoyance 
of the day, I win a small victory… routine. 

After my daily routine of hygiene, and dress, I gather my preoccupying 
books and bag, and cross to my keys. Eyes wander to the furry feline in 
the chair aside me, eyes shut, purring softly, stretched on the chair 
awaiting nothing. Pause, and observe its life - envy. To sleep all day, 
and worry only when slight hunger draws near; to have others at command 
at a single harmonious utter… damn cat. If ignorance is bliss, than its 
serenity is only matched by its stupidity… drive.

Sitting in the clothed seat of the car driven by me to school daily, 
routine like another, listening to the radio as others drone about their 
"hardships." As they whine and moan about having to switch to decaff for 
a day, others die from starvation, malnutrition, and disease, yet ignorant 
to the fact that life can become better than the hell they have, accept 
it, and die. Souls look past as I swift past… staring for the bus to usher 
them to their seven hour preoccupation. They too dream of a better life, 
one without being told when, where, and what to do. Dreams of many, but 
like mayflies, all die… parked.

I arrive in the student parking lot with a few minutes before the bell 
will sound and students will be allowed to their lockers. The parking 
lot resembles a grave, the students like wraiths, floating from each grave 
to the other. Car off and listening to the radio, a song about suicide 
plays melodically in the stereo, sung by one without worries, performed 
by a band without threat; posers. The all too familiar theme of others 
gaining off the misfortune and suffering of others has reeled its hideous 
visage façade again, this time in the devious veil of harmony… walk.

The car door opens at my command, most likely the only thing that will 
today, and arisen I walk. I put the backpack full of preoccupation around 
my shoulders and walk towards the school doors. The 100-yard walk seems 
like an eternal struggle faced daily. The cold stare of others would be a 
welcome alternative to the neglectful ignorance others show. Hands in 
pockets, I walk, head down, painfully conscious of my appearance to the 
door. Feeling that my walk was not acceptable to the norm and that it was 
out of place, I began trying to blend in, and my painful consciousness 
strikes another masochistic blow to its master, and I stumble in midst of 
my striving for acceptance. I quickly raise up after the stumble, but many 
notice, and my awkwardness only fuels their cruel laughter as I begin to 
increase pace towards the door… humiliation.

My timing is off, and the students, like cattle, have already begun their 
daily herding to their lockers to dispose of preoccupation. I hurry to mine, 
and need only discard the backpack. Preoccupation in hand, I walk to my 
class, my head is lowered, my eyes stare blankly at the floor… my class is 
closer, and I enter, laying my preoccupation at my assigned seat, and I sit 
alongside it, waiting for the day to end… as a prisoner expects the gallows. 
The creaking tension of the noose still echoes in my head as the bell cries, 
its pitch that of crying souls…7 hours, 24 minutes, and 59 seconds remain...