RuneScape Forum Archive | ¥ Message in a Barrel ¥

Yrolg

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¥ Message in a Barrel ¥
Thank you for visiting this thread. If you take the time to read this story, please know that I appreciate it. Why not leave a short comment saying what you liked and what can use improvement? The only way I can grow as a writer is if I receive accurate and honest feedback.
"Message in a Barrel" is intended to be a relatively short story geared towards high school students. I've tried to make it relatable to many of them. It centers on a group of students at Greenville High School as the trying events of an attempted school shooting takes place. In such stressful circumstances, no one can really know how he or she will respond.

17-May-2011 06:17:25 - Last edited on 17-May-2011 20:55:15 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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The rhythmic ticking of the clock marked in the most cliché manner the passing of time. Its light ticks coincided with the drawling monotone in front of the whiteboard; its resounding tocks seemed to make a mockery of the whole ordeal, slowly marking time to the tune of endless lectures. Its black-framed face stared down at the room of twenty-six desks, twenty-three students, and an instructor to whom the title “insane” seemed modest. Its minute hand seemed stuck to the six, struggling to pick up the effort to overcome gravity in the lentitudinous room. Its brand was blocked by the glare of fluorescent lights: an economic accoutrement that made the room seem ever more like an institution.
Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at this glare, trying to push the rolling hills of ennui that the banausic lecture seemed intent on providing, and pushing with none of their might – which is to say, all of it – that minute hand forward. These glazed eyes blankly stared at this symbol of boredom from three rows of six, the first starting but three feet from the arid poditern. Behind them, in a mishmash of leaf papered sheets and book-stuffed pillows, another three perused the high seas of imagination on a majestic schooner, escaping English Aisle for a more fortuous and eventful activity. All the glory, all the fame, all the riches for but one lady: their country of Zzzzzzzzz.

17-May-2011 06:17:38

Yrolg

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In the room – twenty-four bodies in all – only two remained attentive. They were perched with excitement next to this puzzle of interwoven sailors, ready for the next chapter in the saga that was their life. Indeed, with every ounce of effort their depleted minds could manage, they plotted with each other. In a company of absolute understanding, they communicated in silent creativity; their hands scrawling out lines as fast as they could in a vain attempt to keep pace with their racing minds. These four eyes did not stare at the clock; they did not watch with awe as the land of dreams unfolded. Instead, the pupils flashed with a frenzy of chaos left and right and up and down, maintaining autonomous consistency within the story that was unfolding. Their minds, however, did not look upon the paper whose black-laced surface resembled more a painting-by-accident than a reflection of inner dwellings. Whereas their bodies resided in Room 2018, East Wing, their minds were in a separate world, plotting and scheming and creating a series of events nothing like their comatose peers had ever dreamed.
Their story was fantastic, original, and insightful. It was interesting and thought-provoking. It was intriguing.
It was as follows.

17-May-2011 06:18:11

Yrolg

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The school year continued for the twenty-third year its tradition of starting school. Since 1964, Greenville High School had started at 8:20 AM, the first Tuesday of September; it was a tradition the administration was proud of and it was a situation the community was comfortable with. Two thousand six hundred and fifty-five students crowded the hallways as the 8:15 bell rang, each vying for the prime position in class. Hallway monitors in bright orange polo shirts waved handheld radios around as they tried to maintain order; four tie-clad Assistant Principles divided into two teams, one chatting in the corner, one threatening detentions as either Mr. Morgan or Mr. Brown paraded down the main hallways; and one height-challenged mullet-clad principle began the morning announcements.
The school was divided into three main parts. On the west, the two gyms, athletic lobby, and music department made up the extra-curricular wing. On the east, three floors of classrooms comprised the East Wing (where most students spent their day). And in the middle, four sets of adjacent doors welcomed visitors into a high-ceilinged, sunroof-lit cafeteria: the Commons. On the right the auditorium greeted your searching eyes; on the left, a water-stained linoleum hallway marked the offices. In the gray-stoned alcove under the second-story catwalk, a group of students awaited the end of the announcements. New to the district, they were unfamiliar with the layout of the school. Behind the glass at their backs, the Main Office bustled with activity: a hundred students had lost their schedules, two hundred needed them changed (and went to the wrong office), and it seemed like a centipede of feet marched out the door when the Main Office announced that it would not support Teacher Petition Forms, as the hiring process guaranteed quality personnel.

17-May-2011 06:18:38 - Last edited on 17-May-2011 06:25:58 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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The Midwest-covered-Southern voice seemed to go on forever. It listed what sports would be disbanded and what organizations were newly formed. It gave protocol for every possible situation and, to the students in the alcove, it read the handbook word for word. When at last they thought Mrs. Anthony couldn’t possible have another thing to say, she did. She began haranguing the students about appropriate behavior and school reputations. For ten minutes, she spoke, and all the while the misfit bunch of non-Greenvillese stood uncomfortably, shifting their weight as they worried about their imminent disruption of class.
When she’d finished reading the phonebook (as it seemed to the entire school, by now), she wished the students a successful year, and hung up the intercom mike. As if on cue, a brunette woman with long curly hair about her face and a dress that did*’t help her figure poked her head out the door. “We’re ready for you now. Please come in and be seated. We’ll be making one schedule at a time.”
The students – mostly upper classmen – shuffled towards the door in a snaking line. They were embarrassed to be there; most were angry that they’d moved. The seniors were exceptionally perturbed: their fists clenched, their strides a powerful sequence of controlled lunges, and their eyes glaring forwards, they entered the room first. In front of them sat two women with computer monitors in front of them. The screens were five inches tall; the towers were forty. The same woman who had asked them in stood in front of them. “I am Mrs. Castella. I am in charge of the Administrative Department here at Greenville High School. This is the Main Office, where most of your business will be dealt with.” She pointed to the woman on the left, “This is Ms. Jurien. She will be taking care of the underclassmen as well as juniors whose last name begins with letters A-G. She’ll start with the juniors.”

17-May-2011 06:18:54 - Last edited on 05-Jun-2011 08:56:09 by Yrolg

Yrolg

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The group divided, the appropriate students filing into the left part of the room. The seven of them stood awkwardly as Ms. Jurien started covering bureaucratic red tape. Out of the group, not one person seemed intent on making a good impression; they all stood with their faces to the ground, looking about nervously.
Mrs. Castella addressed the remaining students, “This is Mrs. Mendelsen,” she said while pointing to the woman on the right. “She will be taking care of our seniors as well as juniors whose last name begins with letters H-Z. She is also our Senior Graduation Consultant, so you should speak to her if you have any questions about graduation.”
Following the introduction, an awkward pause stretched on for what seemed hours. It seemed to these newcomers that life in Indiana would not be boding well. In almost unity, they thought that this new school was in a different dimension where time passed slowly and speech drawled on for what seemed eternity all the while saying absolutely nothing. There were only six people standing, but no one seemed intent on finding out who should speak to Mrs. Mendelsen first. Mrs. Castella addressed them once more, seeming impatient, “Let’s start with the seniors, going alphabetically. That means Jonathan Alreicht is first. I trust you can figure it out from there, as I’ve got to go and take care of some issues with the freshmen who think it’s appropriate to cuss in the hallway.” She briskly nodded and left the room through the back-right entrance; the students could see a hallway with offices on each side.
“Alright, you heard the woman. Mr. Alreicht, please come forward,” Mrs. Mendelsen stated, her incredibly white smile doing nothing to mask the annoyed edge to her voice. No one moved.

17-May-2011 06:19:12

Yrolg

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“We don’t have all day. You’ve got class and I’ve got work, so let’s get a move on. Mr. Alreicht, please come here.” The students looked around at each other, their eyes saying everything. They wanted desperately for Jonathan to go first, but he did*’t seem keen on doing it.
“Very well. He must be absent. And on the first day, too. He’s not setting up a good foundation for this year, eh? Irregardless, we must move on. Following Mr. Alreicht is…” She stopped for a second as she scanned her list, her finger running up and down the sheet in search of the next name. “The next person is Elizabeth Cantrell. Mrs. Cantrell, please step forwards.”
A petite girl in jeans and a whitish sweater broke the students’ ranks and approached the front desk. Her chin barely peeked over it. Her over-brushed blonde hair cascaded in a mess of frizz and static to the middle of her back and her foot tapped anxiously as she waited for Mrs. Mendelsen’s attention. “Um… I’m Elizabeth,” she stated quietly, her eyes searching for compassion.
“Alright, dear, let’s get you scheduled up. Go ahead and start by filling out this form, sections one and three. We’ll get to two later, ‘cause most people mess that up. Go ahead and sit down, dear, and just come back when you’re ready,” the secretary said, smiling down at the frightened puppy of a girl. Addressing the rest of the group, she added, “It’d be best if you alphabetize yourselves. The next person is Steven Harris. Mr. Harris, please step forwards, it’s time to pick out your classes. The rest of you should figure out who’s who and get in order.”

17-May-2011 06:19:27

Yrolg

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Steven Harris stepped forward and gathered his scheduling information. As he stepped back to take a seat and fill out the clipboard’s papers, the remaining four students organized themselves into alphabetical order. Once in order, they approached the desk one at a time, gathering up their appropriate paperwork before heading to the back of the office to fill it out. Elizabeth was waiting patiently behind Zachary Youston, the only junior in the line, to submit her information after only a few minutes.
“Mrs. Cantrell, if you want to go ahead and recheck your information, I’ll be right with you. The computer system takes a little while to boot up,” Mrs. Mendelsen said as Youston took his clipboard. She then sat down and started booting up the computer. It made whining noises as it started up, clicking and processing through its vast 128MB hardrive. After about five minutes of booting up, it seemed ready, and Mrs. Mendelsen motioned for Elizabeth to come forward.
“Now let’s see here… AP Government and English, General Calculus, Scholarship Physics, Creative Writing and a Study Hall, hmmm… ah, AP Spanish, and Bible Literature. You’re aware that our Bible Literature class is secular, right? The ACLU would throw a hissy fit if we started teaching theology.” Elizabeth nodded, and Mrs. Mendelsen continued, “Good. Let’s start plugging these in.”

17-May-2011 06:19:44

Yrolg

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She did this to all of the students, taking their forms and giving advice before sending them back to the glass window at the back. When she had collected all of the forms, she typed in the command for the computer to start organizing the schedules. She continued her habit of commenting, “We’re really blessed to have these computers this year. We were supposed to have them last year, but there was some bug or something. I don’t really know anything about them other than what they’ve taught us, but they sure do save us a ton of time! Before we had these things, we’d have to manually track down all the empty slots. What this machine can do in three or four minutes used to take us upwards of an hour.”
The printer behind her started hissing as the ink warmed up, getting ready to fire out the schedules. Its massive hull lined a tiny opening, where a stack of perforated paper sat. When the printer had sufficiently prepared, it started printing, with Mrs. Mendelsen and Ms. Jurien sitting anxiously by the edge of its table. The papers printed out incredibly slowly, but the two secretaries did*’t seem to notice. They sat ready on the edge of their seats, and just grabbed each sheet as it became ready. Calling the names of the students on top, they would hand the schedule away, and instruct the student on how to get to Period 1.
When the printer stopped, only one student remained in the office. Mrs. Mendelsen thought for a moment and looked around for another schedule. When she couldn’t find one, she simply said, “Well, it seems that we did something wrong, Mr. Harris. Everyone’s schedule worked but yours. I still haven’t got the hang of this automatic thing, so we’ll just do yours by hand, okay?”

17-May-2011 06:19:57

Yrolg

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When he did*’t respond, she grabbed a piece of paper, sorted his paperwork out from the pile of other students, and asked him forward, smiling as she said, “Sorry your first day here couldn’t be better. It seems like Murphy’s Law is shining down on us, eh? Not to worry, though. When technology fails, I get stronger. We’ll get you a schedule and just have you excused from your first period today. It’s almost over anyways.”
To this, Steven responded, “Thanks.”
After a few minutes of uncomfortable waiting, Mrs. Mendelsen managed to create a suitable schedule. “Here you go, dear. I’ve only done the first half of the day for you, I’ll finish the rest before lunch. I’ll leave the completed schedule with Mrs. Peinaeu in room 2150, East Wing. She’s your fourth period teacher. Now, you have about three or four minutes until second period starts. Why don’t you just get adjusted to your schedule before heading on? Oh! And I almost forgot,” here she scribbled something on a post-it note, “Here’s your excuse note for Mr. Andrews tomorrow. He’s your first period teacher.”
“Thanks for all your help, Mrs. Mendelsen. I really appreciate it,” Steven responded, quickly turning and walking out the door. He stepped out of the Main Office and looked at his schedule. His second period was with Mrs. Griffin, in the basement of the East Wing. He sighed before heading off. Spanish was his least favorite course.
As he started down the stairwell, he managed to overhear a conversation transpiring on the landing above him. “We’ve got to do it third period. Right before lunch, so everyone’s confused. It’ll be more effective that way.”
“The more effective the better, Hyin. We’ve got to make sure our message rings loud and clear.”
“ Like a message in a barrel”.
And with this conversation in mind, Steven continued down the stairs, wondering what the two men could be talking about.

-/-

17-May-2011 06:20:26 - Last edited on 17-May-2011 06:21:01 by Yrolg

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