Wednesday, March 9, 2016

Dystopina Short Story by: W.E.

Corruption in the Halls
You could hear the ear shattering scream of a puny freshmen as he tumbled down the stairs. The cracking of his fragile bones was followed by the menacing laughter of the senior football jock as he mockingly sauntered down the stairs to his prey. It was the time for Expel, a day to cleanse the school of the weak, uneducated, and the lowest scum of the school. This day was proclaimed thirty five years ago. They felt that eliminating the weak would raise test schools. That slaughtering students would make the school look better. It started as just a way to raise test scores but it turned into a day of revenge and hatred. Everyone had to participate, no exceptions.  Four hours, and all students were stuck together in one school. No weapons, no rules, no power, only school supplies. Doesn’t seem like it could do much damage, but in the hands of a terrified student a shoelace could be the difference in lying in a pool of your own blood, or walking out a free man.
Mortis closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see another death. One final blood curdling scream and the halls went silent. When he was sure the jock had fled Mortis dropped from his hiding place in the air vent. Two hours stuffed in a tight metal coffin had made him stiff.The Expel only lasted four hours but so many people were already sprawled on the floor. Two hours to go, two hours and he will have survived his third Expel. He never thought high school would be this hard. He figured test and reports would be the death of him not other students.
He slowly crept down the hall listening for the sounds of footprints. At any second a horde of seniors could charge his way. The seniors seemed to run together, picking off those under them. They mostly preyed on the fishes but every once in awhile they liked to pick off a junior to assert their dominance. Two hours, two more hours, that’s all he needed. Don’t make a sound. He slowly crawled to the water fountains to get a drink and returned to his hiding post. As he was climbing up he heard it. The stomp of a group of seniors charging his way. It was a large group, maybe six or seven, and they had spotted him. Just as he was about to disappear a strong hand grasped on to his frail ankle and yanked violently. He was sent flying to the floor. The air was knocked out of his lungs as his back smacked against the cold floor.
“Oh look a little junior!” A large senior sneered, patting the head of a weak freshman being held as a hostage, he lowered his face close to Mortis. His breathe smelled like rancid meat and he desperately needed a shower.
“Awww he thinks he’s getting out of here!” His boisterous laugh echoed, rattling the halls. His laughter stopped. His head slowly turned towards the puny little prey lying on the ground. He lowered his voice so quietly you would think no one would have heard.
“Get him.”
Oh they heard that quiet command and within seconds they were on him, kicking and clawing as he tried to scramble away. As they kicked him his life flashed before his eyes. He had always hated the Expel. He never wanted to participate but it was mandatory. They did this. They turned a school of normal teenagers into a group of bloodthirsty savages. They decided that test scores were more important than the lives of their students and they turned away each year as we ripped each other apart. Every blow made his vision go darker, till he could no longer see. His hearing slowly faded and the pain lessened. He had made it through three Expels, and as his head crashes to the floor for the last time he smiled. It was over. He would never have to play in their games again. It was over. He was safe.

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