Creative Piece-Freshman Year

Bohemian Rhapsody
Bohemian Rhapsody, to me, is a song about a murderer who feels remorse about what he
has done and is later judged on whether he will go to Heaven or Hell. I believe this is shown in
the lyrics, “He’s just a poor boy from a poor family, spare him his life from this monstrosity”, as
well as “We will not let you go”. The use of different tones shows who is speaking in the song.
The higher sounding voices represent an angelic choir who believes the murderer can be spared
and the deeper and harsher tones reflect the Devil and demons who believe the murderer must
face his consequences.
Me and Brian had decided to meet up for old time's sake. It started out harmless. We
walked to our favorite diner and had a bite to eat, where we caught up on our lives and what we
had been up to since graduating from high school a year ago. I was going into my sophomore
year at Aurora Community College, since I couldn’t afford to go to a more prestigious school,
but it was better than nothing. Brian was doing substantially better than me, majoring in Natural
Science at the University of Illinois.
Things started to get heated when we returned to the parking lot of the diner. After
hearing Brian’s stories of success, hearing him blabber incessantly about the scientific medal he
would be receiving, his supportive girlfriend Christina, and his volunteer work, I felt tense and
upset, more at myself than him. He became Brian Matthews, the praised scientist, while I was
stuck as John Murphy, the high school burnout, the waste of space, the basket case. I hated being
John with my entire being. How I wanted to begin anew. Maybe if I had a chance to redo my
school years, I would have been less rude to people, I would have gone out with more people,
and then maybe I would be on the same pedestal as Brian, but no.
A sour expression was forming on my face as we arrived at our cars. Even our
transportation showed the difference between me and Brian. I was stuck driving my dad’s old
beat up jalopy that looked like it was straight out of a junkyard, while Brian got a black
Mercedes Benz. Brian glanced at me. “What’s wrong?” I shook my head and put my clenched
fists into the pockets of my jeans. “It just sucks being John. You’re lucky to have what you
have.” I stared pathetically at the gravel on the ground. “Don’t think I’m not grateful for where I
am in life. But John, you’re such a good writer, and you’ve always been an amazing friend to
me.” He said it with so genuinely that I felt inclined to believe him. He was always skilled at
persuading me.
“Don’t kid yourself, Bri,” I replied, noticing the immediate confusion in his eyes, “you
could hang out with much better people than me, so why don’t you?” I spat. Brian’s face grew
concerned, his features seeming to soften. “John, what’s all this about? What’s bothering you?” I
lit a cigarette. “Bri, even as the science student you are, I don’t think this is something you can
solve,” I said, blowing smoke in his face. “John, cut it out, and don’t play around if you’re so
serious about this.” I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, really. Nothing to be helped. I just wonder
why someone as smart and gifted as you would hang out with a low life like me.” Brian got stoic
again. “Because John, you’ve been my friend since grade school, and you’ve always been there
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for me. And if we stopped being friends, you’d have all my embarrassing secrets to yourself, and
that wouldn’t be good.” I laughed at that, and he smiled.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Brian started to walk up to his car. “Too bad you became a goody
two shoes who brags about everything,” I muttered a little too loudly. That was the remark that
would completely change my life. Brian froze, then turned around. His voice was cold. “What
did you say?” I threw my cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “I said it’s an awful shame
that poor old Brian had to turn into a goody-goody who wants approval from everyone.” His
gaze looked as sharp and menacing as a knife that wanted to pierce my soul, to make me feel
bad. “What’s your problem, John?” Brian’s face was beginning to turn pink. “I don’t know,
Brian, why do you always have to remind me that you’re a better person than me? You think I
don’t know?” I spat. “You know, John, I try to help you, I really do, but acting like your father
doesn’t help.”
I tackled him then and there. I hated when anyone compared me to my dad, though I did
know I inherited my anger from him, but I was my mother’s son, with her reddish-brown hair
and blue eyes. So, there we were, two college students, wrestling in a parking lot. I pulled at
Brian’s curly dark brown hair, punching his face, as he, being the peacekeeper as always, tried to
shove me off without having to strike me. “John, get off me! Get off!” He struggled as he pushed
at me. All I felt was a burning rage. “Take it back!” I grabbed his neck, shaking him. He choked
and sputtered for breath. I threw him down on the ground, getting up only to open my car door
and grab my handgun off the soft carpet.
Having zero control of my body by that point, I turned around to see that Brian had stood up,
bleeding from his nose. His face paled as he saw what I was holding. “John, are you crazy?!” I
looked at his wide eyes. “Maybe.” Brian started to creep slowly towards his car. I aimed the gun
at him. “John, please don’t do this, it won’t do anything good for you.” I approached him
steadily. “Maybe it won’t, but it’ll sure make me a more easygoing person.” “How do you
figure?” I aimed the gun at Brian’s head. “Because I won’t have you to make me feel bad about
myself anymore.” I pulled the trigger. Bang!
Suddenly, it felt as though a spirit had left my body. Was this this even real life anymore? Brian,
my good friend since childhood, lay before me on the pavement. Something inside me must have
snapped. I didn’t even feel like I had control of myself. I didn’t feel my finger pull the trigger. At
least, that’s what I wanted to believe. I felt as though I was trapped in the pages of a murder
mystery. I looked back at Brian, who was limp. I will spare the gorey details and refrain from
describing the graphic sight that was in front of me. The world felt like it was spinning wildly.
My heart pounded. What had I done? “Brian!” I shouted. Nothing. I tugged on his slim arm. He
did not stir. I shouted until I went into hysterics. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the police
arrived. I had to leave immediately.
I raced home, running until I couldn’t feel my legs anymore, replaying what had
happened in my mind. God, please forgive me for leaving Brian behind. I was panicked at the
time, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but get the hell out of there as fast as I could. I
ran until I saw my house, a white bungalow with tulips in the front. Opening the front door, I
 Creative Piece-Freshman Year

calmed my frantic running. I went upstairs into my bedroom, sat on my twin sized mattress, and
thought about what I would do next. I anxiously picked at a hangnail, wondering how my mom
would react to this. I stood up abruptly, then headed towards my desk.
I grabbed my phone, preparing for what would be the hardest conversation of my life. I
took a deep breath, then began to type my mother’s number. She picked up after a few short
rings. “Hi, honey, how are you?” She asked gently. “I’m good, mom,” I replied, trying not to let
my voice break. “No, you’re not, I can tell by your voice,” she said, “what’s wrong, John?
"That's when the crying started. In a broken and pitiful voice, I said, “I-I killed Brian,” knowing
that was the last thing she expected to hear. My mother had helped me through breakups and
failing grades, but never through a second-degree murder. “YOU WHAT?!” My mother
shrieked. “W-We were having an argument, it was something stupid that I started, and I lost it,
and I shot him,” I sobbed. “You’re kidding, right? You must be kidding,” she said, starting to
laugh a bit. “Mom, this isn’t a joke,” I pleaded, “I’m serious. He’s dead. I killed him and I have
no idea what to do now.”
After minutes of listening to my poor mother pitifully cry, asking me why, why I would
do such a godawful thing, telling me she didn’t know what to do with me anymore, that she was
absolutely the most heartbroken she had ever been. We said our goodbyes. I stood up from my
bed, pacing around the room like an animal in its cage. I buried my face in my hands as thoughts
ran into my head. I had to face the consequences of what I had done. I wouldn’t get any
sympathy from anyone, not even my mother, although I knew that would happen. Would I be
given life in prison? The death penalty? I didn’t want to die! I decided to lay down in bed until I
calmed down.
Within a moment, I was somewhere different. I was sitting with my hands strapped to a
wooden chair that looked like something that would be used to kill criminals. “Awake now?” I
heard a deep and chilling voice ask. “Who’s there?” It was so dark that I couldn’t see anything.
The only sound I heard was my quiet, yet shaky breathing. “You’ll know who I am eventually.” I
felt a sudden wave of drowsiness come over me, then everything went black.
When I awoke for a second time, I was still in the same chair, although it had been
moved so that it was sat between two jury boxes. Was this an eternal courtroom? Was I dead? I
had no idea what was going to happen next. Imagine my surprise when light started to fill the
room and the first face I saw was rather strange. There before me stood a tall man dressed in red.
He had ebony eyes and a creepy smirk. I noticed horns protruding from his head. I felt my eyes
widen, not sure what I was really seeing. He noticed my look of disbelief.
“You must be wondering who I am and where you are.” He pointed at himself. “I’m the
Devil, also known as Lucifer or Beelzebub.” He gestured to the seats surrounding us. “When
someone dies, and it’s an unsure agreement on where they will end up, we hold a discussion,
somewhat similar to a trial if you will.” Sat in the jury box were dark shadowy figures that
almost looked as thin as ghosts. I looked on the other side to see feathery wings and white robes.
I was literally about to testified by Heaven and Hell.
 Creative Piece-Freshman Year

“Let’s see, what are you in for?” The Devil asked as he picked up a file from the table on
the front. He smiled wickedly. “Ah, yes, you’re our tenth first-degree murder case today.” I
yanked on my hands, trying to pull them out from where they were caught. “What’s going on?” I
asked, getting a vague idea of what was happening, but not wishing to believe it was. He
chuckled again. “Don’t you know, John? You’re dead now.” I felt a cold shock rush over me.
“What?” “Well, yeah, you’re dead, how do you think you ended up here?” I sat there, feeling
more dazed than I had when Brian died.
“How did I die?” I wondered aloud. “The same as your little friend. According to this
file, your death was self-inflicted.” What other surprises would I be greeted with? Maybe he
would also tell me I grew three new heads. I shivered, thinking about how my mother must have
felt. Maybe she didn’t feel upset at all, maybe she didn’t care that I was dead, it would sure be a
weight taken off her shoulders. I hoped she would miss me, being her only child, murderer or
not.
“Alright, let’s begin!” The Devil boomed. The angels and demon-like creatures took their
seats on their designated sides. “Now then, which of us will go first?” He asked. “I think I should
go first,” I said, “seeing as how I am the reason everyone is gathered here.” The Devil looked
amused. “Okay then, state your case.” “Well, you see, I’ve always been a sad soul. I’ve never
been good at controlling my anger. Combined with my poor upbringing in a financially unstable
family, disappointment has been one of the only emotions I’ve ever known. Brian was always
unintentionally making me feel bad about myself, because I felt like I could never live up to
anything but a nobody. I lost control of my anger. That doesn’t mean what I did was right, but I
just wanted to explain why I did it.”
“See, he’s just a poor boy who didn’t know what he was doing! Spare him from the
monstrosity that is Hell!” I heard an angel plead. Some other angels murmured in what appeared
to be agreement. “Yes, spare him! I believe in what John is saying, I know he wasn’t trying to.
He’s just a kid!” Another angel cried out. I looked hopefully towards the Devil and the demons.
“Will I be let off the hook?” “NO! Don’t let him get off that easy! He should be punished!” The
demons argued back. “Spare him!” The angels shouted. “We will not let him be spared!” They
argued back and forth like that for a bit. “Enough!” I demanded. “Will I go to Heaven or Hell?”
The two groups turned from me and talked amongst themselves for a minute.
“We’ve decided after a bit of discussion that the majority have decided that John should
not be spared, he must be punished for the sin he has committed.” “WHAT?!” I shouted. “If you
were really a good person, you wouldn’t have let jealousy get the best of you. I guess that’s why
it’s a deadly sin.” An angel explained. I began to cry. “Please let me go.” “NO! You won’t be let
go!” A demon said. “Do you really think you can just punish me like that? I’ll carry on Brian’s
memory, I’ll go to church every Sunday, whatever I can do to make up for it, I will.” “No, the
decision has been made.” The Devil said. I turned to the angels, still crying. “Why would you
guys support me and then abandon me and switch sides?” “Sorry, John, it was majority rule.
What you did was inhumane, and now you’ll face the consequences.” “I have to get out of here!”
I cried.
 Creative Piece-Freshman Year

I woke up abruptly, this time still in my bed. I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that it had
all been one scary dream, and that Brian was still alive. I walked out of my room and downstairs
only to see police officers standing in my living room, talking to my sobbing mother. “Ah! There
he is!” I was grabbed by two police officers and put into handcuffs. As terrible as this was, I
would prefer to spend years in prison rather than eternity in Hell. I still had my life and for the
first time, that meant something to me. I was swiftly taken out of the house and into a police car.
I’m still in prison serving time. We were offered a writing class, where I chose to write
about what landed me where I am now. I still think about Brian every day and what I wish I
could tell him. No amount of apologizing would ever make it up to him or his family. I
remember his girlfriend, Christina, glared daggers at me in court. I still talk to my mother on the
phone once a week. She’s slowly begun to get used to having her only child in prison, but I know
it crushes her every second of every day. As for me, I have no future. Writing stories in prison
isn’t as bad as it sounds. I wish I could go back to that July afternoon in 1975 and stop myself,
but I obviously can’t. I have no idea what the rest of my life will be like, or where the wind will
take me, but it doesn’t really matter to me.