Getting home.

A recount of me getting home after a day at school. superficial, if i say so myself, but I'd prefer constructed criticism. also, I couldn't suit a genre for this, so i just chose adventure.

March weather wasn't always the most pleasant of encounters. There was always the bitterly cold wind that bit at my ankles painfully, and droplets of condensation on my face to wake me up. Puddles of near frozen water lay in every crevasse, and I made it a habit to step in every single one until my feet were completely soaked. For me, this was a welcome change to searing heats, where even the thermometer stopped working because of unbearable conditions.

It was a miserable Wednesday afternoon, and all the kids had gone home. There wasn't much in the way of transport that I could catch after school. I mean there was the train, and the bus for when Connex decided to be Mr. Unpopular and cancel all lines, but even then my instinct was to be picked up from school. I had stayed back to get a piece of work off my history teacher; it was customary for me to wait until the last possible minute to do anything. Should this signal my downfall in future endeavors, I shall blame it on pure lack on upbringing. Or my parents.m

I waited with my best friend Tamara outside the school gates until she would skedaddle towards her mothers car. Both of us were seated and leaning against wire gates ajacent to the school, so we were able to peer across the road and watch the teachers file out drudgingly after a day of handling private school adolescents. After two minutes, Tam and I had grown accustomed to this waiting game, but with one music playing device between us, we weren't complaining. Much.

"its cold, its cold, its cold..." Over and over she murmured this under my breath. I was surprised that a quaint cloud of mist did not appear before me as I inhaled the razor cold polluted air. The song changed to a more age inappropriate artist, but as you know, times change, don't they?

"oh, looks who's here," my frozen friend remarked. It took me a few moments to realize to whom she was referring to, and after five minutes of ignoring Tamara's mother, she set off to the vehicle of doom.

I sighed and waved as the car turned the corner and down some nameless street. I suddenly regretted telling my mother to pick me up. She was coming by train, so whop De do, I had to wait longer. "should have just taken the train," I thought to myself, and finally decided to walk up to the train station.

A little spring went into my walk as I sauntered disenchanted towards my usual place of transport.

"hi," I said to my train buddies. This consisted of three close friends from school, and two guys who went to different schools but stayed at around the same place at the station. Unfortunately for me, they didn't really comprehend what a greeting consisted of. Three of them nodded their heads in acknowledgment, one screamed Liz but couldn't move on the account of frozen legs and one greeted me with an insult of which I threw right back. Quick commentary on my half and a few high pitched screams followed as a typical day at the station ensued.

Fifteen minutes passed and I felt my presence needed elsewhere. Since everyone of my companions piled onto the train, I had no choice but to quickly march back to the spot where I obediently awaited the arrival of a certain dictator.

It had really started to pour heavily while I was at the station, so i picked up the pace to get to some form of shade where i could rest and revel in the dismal downpour we laughingly call weather. My college dress was soaked through once I was out of the torrential rains, so I found a sound spot under the only tree which provided some form of shelter against the depleting showers. Throwing my bag down on the floor, I flopped heavily onto the concrete below, deciding to sit down a lot softer next time. I am unable to recount the time, so i'm assuming ten minutes or so passed since my sitting under the tree. I had decided to read the novel in my bag, and then changed my mind to a chemistry textbook, ratty from its over use. Quite rare for a year 11 procrastinator. After five or so minutes flipping through and memorizing the notes from last lesson, I looked up to see two red firetrucks outside my school. Strangely enough, I also realized every teacher and student had cleared the area and if there were a blaze inside the property id be the first to see it. The mind boggles.

"how many kids does it take to blow up a school?" I asked myself. Task for the day: think of a witty response. Mind you, I was pretty much frozen to the spot, so I was also quite uncapable to think straight.

Eventually the trucks pulled away quietly, leaving me to ponder which hair product Justin medal Johnson used.

"so if Trent Reznor were to grow nine inches taller, is that irony or another excuse for him to look down on people?" I said to myself. Unfortunately I didn't have my unused funbook at hand, so NIN was the only real amusement I had to play with like putty.

Anyhow, and I was assuming I had been at the same spot for an hour, the person whom I was waiting for strolled up the footpath on the other side of the school. She wore the classical motherly outfit, comfy pants, a warm jumper and a sour expression that looked set to explode upon my arrival.

Immediately I regretted calling upon her presence. Then again, how else was I getting home?

Author's Note

Yes. advise me of grammar errors, poor expression, after all, i look forward to improving my writing skills. I would like to stress the fact that this is my first attempt at writing short stories. Thankyou.

Reviews

[An Open Venue]

an enjoyable look at a few moments of idle contemplation.
I would remove "always " and "painfully," from the second sentence (they are over statements and detract from the sentence's strength; I will leave it to your mom to asses "a certain dictator". :P Also you might consider writing in present tense unless there is specific reason to place it in the past, doing so helps or welcomes the reader to enter the story. Otherwise, you have a strong grasp of language skill and will go far writing.

[Aurora Night]

Good writing. Makes the person reading wanting to read more. i enjoyed it. you have great skills and put them to good use.