Meanwhile…

By Mariah Neuhauser

Buzz!

“Who? What? Where?” I questioned as my mind still had yet to recognize the

fatal breaking of silence that the alarm clock brought to my sounded sleep. Sometimes I

wished that it could be energizing music, filling my mind with bliss while eroding my

predawn melancholy thoughts.

I hurriedly got dressed and ready for my highly anticipated day. I scampered up

the stairs to the non-angelic noise of my parents arguing with my brother about not doing

his homework.

“What else is new?” I thought to myself.

I chowed down on my used-to-be-scrumptious-but-now-it’s-all-cold-and-clammy

scrambled eggs. I ate as the chorus of nonstop yelling continued. I could care less as this

would be one of the most important days of my teenage life – I actually smiled, for

reasons unknown.

“Let’s get ready to rumble!” My mom cheered as she went to the start the car in

her usual morning apparel, dawning bed-head, comfy slippers, and toasty pajamas.

All three of us – my mom, brother, and myself – scrambled into the car, late as

usual, like the scrambled eggs that used to be on my plate.

The fog invaded the air above as we drove along the icy road of “Winter

Wonderland.” Only a small fraction of water on the lake ahead of us never froze. I peered
in awe at how the fog transcended over the lake, giving it a mystical feel, to otherwise

generic Destitute Lakes.

We pulled into the north side roundabout at school with no time to lose. I

drastically catapulted my way into school, just moments before the bell rang. The bell

notified all that those still left and put on the wayside in the hallways (corridors of chaos

and confusion) would thus result in the careful inspection of peering, jeering eyes as your

useless, nervous and otherwise embarrassed self entered your Prime Time room, careful

of your classmate’s reaction at your sudden tardiness.

Sure enough, my enthusiasm detached as I entered Prime Time with a plastered

smile on my otherwise sound-asleep face. As I sat in my chair, I soon entered a zombie-

like state as I had left my emotions in my backpack, and could only depend on their

arrival in Language Arts class – my favorite class of the day.

As Prime Time scooted by, I strolled on to Language Arts: Hour 1. I entered the

classroom, only to find Mrs. Daly standing in the middle of the room, dawning an

extraordinarily strange ensemble of cowboy-like attire: green, alligator skin boots, a

purple leather cowboy hat (with matching gloves), and pink leather chaps – the whole

shebang, complete with a lariat just long enough to wring someone’s neck if they

rebuked.

“Today, class, we’ll be writing about how Chuck Norris invented the lightbulb,”

Mrs. Daly implied.

“But, but, Edison invented the lightbulb, can’t we write about him?” I questioned.

“What are you talking about? Everyone knows that Edison was just a crock; a

puny-little-no-good-dirty-rotten-history-book-placement-stealer that wasted his time

messing around with his phonograph of lies – it’s all a setup,” she replied. “And hear me

out, kid, never ever insult me in front of these little angels again, or I’ll lasso you faster

than you can say, ‘I’m not worthy.’ Now, pipe down and listen up – you could learn

something for once in your ill-gotten life,” she sneered.

I stood there shocked beyond human knowledge; never in my life has Mrs. Daly

ever said anything cruel or downright ridiculous. I kept my thoughts to myself. I knew for

sure that I’d find a way to evade from this nasty world of lies and turmoil.

All of a sudden, I got pulled into a vortex of surrealism. I witnessed history flash

through my very eyes; thousands of years of mystery lay right before me. My mind tried

to grasp the reason as to why my life bore so much happenstance, yet I couldn’t grasp it

strong enough.

I peered through a sudden opening in the massive continuum of time and walked

through the illuminating lights of centuries; I was frightened beyond belief, but I walked

through the barrier and suspected that something was up immediately.

I soon reached what appeared to be a hallway. I strolled down the long corridor of

desperation that seemed endless and never-ending to the human eye. I just waited for

someone to jump out of one of the rooms and yell, ‘Gotcha!’ but I continued on my trek

to nowhere, with not a care in the world. All of the doors were identical; red and silver-

plated with iron knobs.

I progressed to a door unlike the other doors. There stood a white, gold-plated

door with a sparking, greedy golden knob. I slowly opened the door and scanned the look

and layout of what lay ahead - A staircase upwards to yet another door.

“Is this some kind of trick?” I thought.

 I made the same mistake that any other human being would make in any situation;

curiosity took the best of me and I just couldn’t help myself – greed and engrossment

overtook my present sense of thought. I now regret this decision.

I carefully crept up the stairs, wary of what lay ahead. I discreetly, oh, so

discreetly, opened the door as if Death was lurking in the shadows behind the door,

greeting me with a nod of approval on the other side. The door opened and, to my

surprise, I soon reached an open area full of people screaming bloody murder. The floor

that my very feet were on seemed to shift to and fro, leaning over to the right and to the

left, nearly throwing me off balance, and making me quite nauseous. I realized that I was

on a ship, but how did I get here?

I arrived at the aft of the ship. Looking down over the white-capped water, I

noticed that the very ship that I kept getting lower and lower. It took me awhile to put

two and two together to come up with a conclusion that the ship was indeed sinking. I

waltzed to the nearest person and asked them where we were and why we were sinking.

“Oh, my dear, don’t make such a fuss. The Titanic was built to float on the great

Atlantic. I don’t see what all of the commotion is about the ship hitting but a mere ice

cube. Blast!” An old lady replied, as she covered herself in her heavy jacket and stepped

back and forth to help keep herself warm; “It is quite nippy out, though, perhaps you can

be a fine young lady and fetch me a cup of tea before I turn into an ice cube myself. Now,

run along, miss,” she declared.

I could care less about fetching tea when, in but a few minutes. The ship would

call the rocky, cold-hearted bottom of the eerie and unwelcoming Atlantic “home.” I read

the history books; I knew the facts – I had to get off of this ship as fast as possible.
 Suddenly, the ship started to moan and groan as the aft lifted off of the white-

capped water. Panic and chaos erupted with a sudden triumph of fear and agony. I

quickly grabbed on to the bars of the aft as the legendary orchestra trio played on. I was

shocked as to how I had actually gotten myself into this mess. Sooner or later, we’d sink,

and there’d be nothing left, except for the lucky survivors that would share their

bittersweet moment with those back home. Those that did not come back alive would

never be able to tell the story of this fateful first, and last, voyage of the Titanic. It was

such an awful predicament. I couldn’t make up my mind as to whether I should try to turn

this tragedy into a miracle, or just keep to the history books. A battle of Morals vs.

Destiny took place that night, and I rode on the Destiny ship.

I knew that what I was doing was morally wrong, but how would this affect

history to come? There would be events that’d be altered; events that wouldn’t even

happen if I did help those whose destiny was to be a part of the atrocious casualty list that

would soon splatter newspaper headlines everywhere.

I wept as I kept hold of the bar; there were lots of people suffering, and I could do

nothing to help. I soon looked over at all of the fateful people that were soon leaping off

of the ship. I had to get off of this ship soon, or I’d be one of the casualty counts, too.

My heart kept ticking, my brain grew into a blob of nothingness, and my hands

shook with agony. My eyes were wide open and filled with terror – never had I

experienced anything so horrible, so excruciating, as I had experienced that night. Death

grinned at all of the with a dark, mad smile, as we’d soon say goodbye to the only world

that we had grown fond of; the only world that we could call “home.”
 I held onto the bars as hard and as strongly as my grip could manage as if my life

depended on it. The ship groaned and leaped with great force as it shook like a dog that

just got done swimming in the cold ocean. It rose higher and higher – this was one theme

park ride that I didn’t want to ride.

My body grew numb as I wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Higher, higher; the aft

lifted up out of the cold icy abyss as if the ship were in flight with God as the pilot.

“Fasten your seat belts, passengers, we’re about to reach our destination – Death,”

we’d all hear over the loud speakers.

I seriously wanted off of this psychotic ride. It felt like some one-way ticket to

despair, and I WANTED OFF!

The night air shattered with the noise of the terrified passengers crying out for

those that they had loved and lost. The ship soon snapped at the middle of the large

contraption of a ship.

The ship started to descend with great anticipation. The anxiety and cries of the

passengers whose fate would soon be met grew. With one large jolt, the ship shivered

like the passengers who had left their coats in their roams and their life jackets in their

closets – unused and unwanted.

With one large gulp, the deep blue sea swallowed the ship as a whole, leaving

some of its victims gasping for life as they, too, were swallowed by the force of the

“unsinkable ship.”

That was the end of it. I couldn’t think, move, or remember anything. I started

gasping for air as the ungrateful whirlpool regurgitated me, spitting me out like an angry

student that didn’t like carrots in their salad. I swam around as terror and agony struck the
night air with force and clamor. I soon found an end table that lost its legs in the forceful

clash of Man vs. Nature.