Stranded
It was dusk. The sun lackadaisically cast down its pale yellow rays. We were leaving my house; it was extravagant. With pure white brick and a perfect brown accent, it would have surpassed any castle of dark medieval Europe or the glorious Renaissance with its beauty. It must have been inspired by the letter L as that was its shape. The concrete was fresh; no creeping cracks, nor arrogant weeds, nor discolored tire tracks were to be seen. The grass was dark yet perfect. But it was still insignificant as the building was the same as the one left, the one right, front, and behind.
We exited the building by means of our fortified double door. We left victorious, walking with strides as if choreographed for the next blockbuster. To my left, my friend Randy, and to my far left, my father. Why we were together isn’t important for it is a dream. Why we walked to our destination is insignificant for it is a dream. It was a long journey from where we were. Block after block we slowed our speeds to the point of being slower than turtles. Every step seemed to achieve nothing toward our goal. Our victory march became more sluggish. Our shoulders shrugged. Our legs became weak and heavy. Maybe it was due to the smoke. The thick smoke. The yellow smoke. The haze caused by the smoke. The ominous smoke. The omnipresent smoke in lackadaisical sunlight. The burdening smoke. The annoying smoke.
Our only drive was to arrive where we wanted to land—my school. Or so it was assumed. My father had other ideas; he delighted in achieving his own selfish errands. He suggested we visit everywhere but the place that was important (1). His detours led us to nothing. We became lost in a vast desert. It was dry and barren. Nothing could live in such a place. Even at dusk with lackadaisical sunlight. Even with the thick, yellow smoke.
Arrival
I had finally arrived at my destination. How I reached the school from the far desert is insignificant for it is a dream. Why my father or friend wasn’t to be seen is not important as it is a dream. The annoying thick, yellow smoke still remained and the time was still dusk with lackadaisical pale yellow sunlight. The last think I wanted was to hear complaints as I was still tired from the walk. But as often as it happens, it was the first. I heard from a building a girl yelling. I entered into a new expansion something I had never seen before. The lights were inconsistent. They flickered and blew out. They glowed with a depressing dim yellow. The thick yellow smoke still hung. There were no windows so I could no longer see the lackadaisical pale yellow sunlight. I could finally hear what she was saying.
“This school is sexist!” She said. I approached down the hall.
“What is the problem?”
“Do you see this?! Why do the boys get better treatment?”
She pointed toward the heavens to a cutout of the ceiling.
“Do you see the way the girls must go to get to their dorms?”
It was filthy and dark. It seemed to be an abyss. It was a late add-on, I could tell; a moment when the builders forgot that girls even existed. It is not important that they were housed in an attic for it is a dream. I entered to see nothing from the boys’ dorm other than spiders and bright yellow insulation. The same dim yellow lights flickered. The same thick yellow smoke hung. I said nothing more. I did nothing else. And I left.
To Class
How I went from nothing to a backpack and book walking to class is insignificant for it is a dream. I am on my way to class. The same thick, yellow smoke hung. It is still dusk with the same lackadaisical pale yellow sunlight being cast. I see sketchy characters and make eye contact. I could see there intentions were not good so I speed up. I enter my class. I see a teacher. I can tell by the way he looks he isn’t friendly. He doesn’t see me or attempts not to acknowledge. The yellow smoke still hangs and the dim flickering yellow lights are back once again. I see three seats open but there is only one I want. It is next to a girl I have not met (2). She is beautiful. I open the book I was carrying and begin to do work. I do not acknowledge her sitting next to me. Why I do not talk to the most beautiful girl I have ever seen is not important for it is a dream.
