Tales From Earth:Expedition
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The Expedition
The small gap in the curtain gave the a sun chance to introduce itself to the world. It crept in to the tiny room, bringing it to life. Now it was my turn. The sound of the alarm indicated another day, a sound I dreaded the most. It just seems to repetitive, get up, drag myself to the shower, zombie like drag myself back, and then continue to prepare for another day at that dreaded place. School.
Music swam through my room; I was so much more awake now, with a little Jimmy Eat World ringing through my ears. As I threw my jumper on, I stood in front of the window, my empty reflection stared back. "Here we go again Maz," I sighed once more, I grabbed my bag and made my way to the next step of the preparation stage.
As usual I was greeted by darkness, I pulled the curtain back and turned the light on, "Much better," I thought aloud. Time sneaked up on me and it was soon time to make my way out into the long journey.
The journey, the worst part, but also the best part, no homely worries surrounding me and no school paranoia lingering. Yes, the best part had to be the journey.
The ground wore a coat of frost, and the wind pierced through me, sending a shiver down my spine, a definite English winter! The sun had gone; it hid behind a black painted piece of cotton wool. Few cars were on the road, their headlights illuminating the way, spot lighting me as I slumped down to the nearby busy roads. The smell of fumes polluted the air, together with the morning smell, the kind that refreshes the air, however doesn't help with the fact there was another 6 hours to spend away from home.
50 minutes later I was there.
I walked up to the meeting place; everyone was laughing already, the same people in their place. The lonesome boy next to the buildings, staring down the path, desperate for someone he knew to come and join him. Someone I knew but didn't acknowledge me, standing in the car park with her friends, chatting. The cricket players playing with a tennis ball, cheering as one of them screamed "OUT!" Why was it so noisy? It was 8:15 in the morning! A wave of dread sprinted through me, I froze in the yard, and there was the huge group I was part of, raucous laughter emanating from it. But today I stood away from them, and looked around. It's amazing the different groups. You have the 'stuck up' girls, wearing the shortest shirts and the tightest trousers known to the human race. Then there was the 'who cares' girls, who sat talking of smoking and drugs. They glared at the 'grebs', their rivals; smart but not obviously smart and didn't care about what anyone thought. They were joined by the girls who worked, but weren't geeks, now they were glared at by their rivals; 'the hard boys,' you know the type, trousers tucked in their socks, mo-ped helmets on show as if it were a trophy. In just one yard, so many groups, but that's what I hated the most; the tension as one group past another, 'you could cut it with a knife,' the sound of the bell yanked me out of my thoughts at this point.
Time for registration.
All through it I worried about the day ahead; lessons I had, never feeling noticed at dinner, and as time went on I began to dread it even more, I longed to be at home, but all too soon was it time to go to first lesson. English.
The alienated smell suffocated me as I dragged myself into another hour of inner torment. Laughter hugged the air, as conversations between friends sparked. Frozen. 'The higher authority' sauntered in, immediately, the once empty space sank into silence and lifeless expressions rose upon the faces of the inmates. You could always tell another lesson had begun by those dead expressions. Every lesson was the same, you had the robot-like students on auto-pilot, looking straight forward as if hypnotised, or on some form of public transport! To think, I had another 5 lessons of this.
When dinner landed, after four gruelling hours' worth of lessons, I was totally exhausted. Time seemed to go so slowly over the 40 minute period. One person sat on the small wall; I knew that was soon to change. I sat near her, the usual start of a conversation, "Hi, how are you?" (Always a good starting point in my opinion). The air was still fresh from the morning smell, although specks of evidence suggested it was fading. The worst part of the day, it was loud, too loud. The little years screeched, arguments flared and the slap of the soles rang out as they sped around a compact space. It seemed rather like a prison, or a chicken pen. As I sat and watched the world from my step, the one person group soon developed into a ten person group, that's when it starts. The real torture of this expedition, as more and more friends appeared, the more I distanced myself. They seemed to spring out of thin air! I sat on the step, just watching and occasionally listening, being stepped over as I sat on a planet other than this one, staring out to the field. It seemed like such an empty world, like when you look out to sea, endless blue, this was like an endless green, completely empty, almost deserted. Compared to the chicken pen I was sat in, it seemed like heaven!
Then the migration happened, a swarm of students all heading for one place. Slowly, I joined the stampede, ready for another hour of clock watching.
Even though it was the same journey, just backwards, it didn't feel the same, there was more of a "used" and "old" smell about, and more cars on the road, so much noise in such a small space. But I made my way over to my world.
A place by the canal.
It was quieter, the kind quiet you get in the early hours of the morning, with the odd bird singing. Everything just seemed so different, I didn't feel so alone; no one could hurt me here. I sat and watched the water for awhile, I could feel no cold, it was like I was in a bubble; until time silently jolted me back to Earth. I sighed, "Better go then," and once again I dragged myself along the straight, tedious road.
As I walked into the room, a blast of cold air hit me, that melted me like chocolate in a pan, "Mum must have gone out," I thought, "Looks like I have the house to myself again," I went straight to where I had started from, my room.
At last, a common smell overthrew what seemed like an ever-lasting unfamiliarity, which had glued itself to me, refusing to let go. I was safe. Security jerked over me, a smile crept up. Privacy was mine; locked in a world of peace and tranquillity of which only I knew. Imaginary guard dogs waiting to pounce on anyone who dared intrude this world of peace. That's what this was to me, my own imaginary world of peace, and I was not prepared to give it up for anyone. At last I was where I wanted to be, where everything seemed so much easier, and nothing seemed impossible, tools of release sat patiently if I needed them, and after another expedition I sighed with relief, only to think: "I'll have to go through it all again tomorrow."
