“Shit, not again.” The shower wasn’t working. Nothing worked in that council house, but I’d give anything to be back. I grabbed my bag and a chocolate bar for lunch and started a run for the bus stop as I left my house.
My day continued to deteriorate rapidly. The sky now murky grey fused colour with high rise flats and the pounding of rain hit earth like bullets to the chest. A bus groaned past spitting a puddle of grime at me. Missed it. And it was clearer to me now than ever before, that the world was against me.
Arriving at school after an hours walk, I slumped my soggy satchel onto the desk. PSHE was a doss subject and even the teachers new it. We learnt about citizenship and morals when what we really needed were lessons on self preservation, survival, out in the concrete jungle. I muted the classroom discussions and listened to the bullets pounding the windows. The sound of drumming rain in my head intensified, and immediately a feeling of anger ensued. My mind began to burn as I became blinded by flickering flames hindering my vision. I could feel blood surge through my body towards my clenched fists. And then it stopped. I was dragged back to reality and as my sight returned I realised twenty six pairs of eyes fixed on mine. Grabbing my satchel, I raced to the door and sprinted out of class. I heard a faint cry from my teacher to come back and roars of laughter followed.
Everyone thought I was some mad kid because of the counselling and anger management I needed. And yet none of them, not one, had to live a life knowing that both parents were taken away, deprived of life, before their own eyes.
I continued running out of the school grounds. Everything was a blur. It was my mission to get home and nothing could stop me. I could feel my arms flail at passing pedestrians blocking my path. I was the target and humanity was out to attack. I needed to defend myself. And that’s when it happened. A passing pedestrian got too close to me. I felt my arms grab her - she was defenceless in my rage fuelled vice. As a car travelling at 60mph approached she was hurled into the road.
Her name was Sally. She was forty six and had a family of three. My name is 34503 and I’m serving thirty years imprisonment.
Commentary and Analysis
This short story opens with a rhetorical question to provoke thought to the reader and also gain an early interest. It is written in first person to provide an intimate understanding of the characters plight, yet also to allow an indirect portrayal of feelings. This is demonstrated by, “lurking in the depths of my mind fighting the shackles and chains”. The personification of a feeling immediately provides the reader with visual imagery, and perhaps an early perception of a troubled mind.
By using the senses, it allowed me to better portray a dystopian setting, immersing the reader into the story. A city scene was established with descriptions such as “orange glow of urban light dazzled my eyes” where the adjective ‘orange’ relates to street lights and lampposts.
The day in which the events happened was kept concise, with relatively small sentence structures through out. This allowed a faster paced story, which helped with the characters attributes of uncontrolled, deluded thoughts. The simile “pounding of rain hit earth like bullets to the chest” was used as alternative way to demonstrate the characters feeling of violence, as it is written as a reflection of his own thoughts.
The character later experiences a spontaneous moment of intense rage which he cannot control, relating to the initial question but also providing the reader with an insight of what will follow. By now it is clearly established that the boy is distressed with imagery of “flames”.
I chose to incorporate the core action and trigger of violence into the penultimate paragraph. It is structured in a series of short sentences to portray the quick time scale in which it all happens. The setting of the street is not described in particular detail allowing the reader to understand that the character is not aware of his own surroundings. “I felt my arms grab her” was a sentence used to suggest he was out of control, perhaps possessed. The fact that the pedestrian was hit by a car and killed is not included. Not only does this provide the reader with an opportunity to imagine the abrupt change in pace but also infers it never crossed the characters mind of the consequences. The final paragraph specifies a background to the pedestrian. This information reveals the characters understanding of his actions and amplifies his final realisation. “My name is 34503” tells the reader that he no longer has an identity, but is rather now a convicted criminal with just a number to his possession.
