A Short Story, by Rejon Taylor, about the daily procedure of waking up. |
The sound of a harsh, vibrating, buzzing sound of the annoying time bomb flew into my ears as I suddenly jolted up, out of the comfort of my very own bed. It was my alarm clock; something told me it was just another monday, and the torment has just begun. By the time I exited my bed 10 minuets have passed. Luckily I set my alarm clock to make sure I can perform my bad habit of being body dead, so I may reboot my systems. So in realism I wouldn’t waste 10 minuets of my life; I thought it out carefully so I wouldn’t be late to school. AS soon as I’m done being lazy I opened my eyes and scanned the room for anything suspicious; for I did not enjoy anyone or anything hovering over my body while I slept; or anything trotting across my room sneakily like raccoon trying to scavenge in a territory it was not wanted in. Like a bear, more of a yawn, less than a roar, I exhaled air through my moderate sized mouth and finally, instinctively rose from the dead and stumbled across my room looking for the light switch. I stretched my arm out and simply flicked the switch, to unfortunately be greeted with the blinding electrical lighting current on my ceiling. It was terribly blinding, especially in the sleepy state I was in. Once my eyes became adjusted to the lighting of my room I place both hands on my table moving my mouth and spoke the words like memorizing a song, “Just another Monday.” It wasn’t the day that was a nuisance to me, it was the fact that I had to wake up in the morning just to go to that prison of a school, the zoo ran by humans for humans. In my head, they weren’t people anymore, and skin color didn’t matter anymore either. They were animals; animals that ran the zoo, and I was one of them. |