Their Wits

Fergus was hunched over his knee: he had a bug bite which he had scratched to the point of bleeding.  He was just looking at it for a while.  Fergus was on the white floor of his Managing Monotony class.  The class would, or so the Pointers told him, be "very valuable for your future."  This was spoken in that vague but unambiguous tone that says, clearer than the words themselves, "I would be very disappointed if you didn't take this class."  This created an illusory a past in which the Pointer held the student in high esteem, thus creating an incentive for said student to take the class in the interest of preserving the perceived esteem.  Fergus felt if they used that tone but just said gibberish, their students would go off searching for years to appease their Pointer's request, all the while not knowing what they were searching for.

The floor was gritty from the sand of other students' shoes.  Fergus brushed the blood away and looked around.  At that point he recalled that bookcase against the wall opposite the door.  It was set about a yard from the wall and the paint within a few foot vicinity was stained and peeling.  The people running the class spent the first few hours saying how pure evil it was in there and showed us gory pictures of what happened to people that went back there and how the vicious beasts back there deemed it their sole purpose in existence to kill all who approached them.  Fergus was unconvinced; everyone else was scared out of their wits but Fergus didn't care.  He tried to avert his eyes from the bookcase for a while, but that didn't work at all.  He stood up and walked towards it.  Bold in action, but hesitant in mind he rounded the bookcase and stepped into the land behind.  There it was cold and apprehensive.  Fergus looked around and heard a gasp and mutterings that were something along the lines of "they said this wouldn't happen."  Small funny looking people cowered in fear.  Fergus saw signs saying "beware" and realized they all referenced the way from whence he had come.  He walked forward, feeling heart rates rise with each step.  It occurred to him soon that it was Fergus they feared and that he was supposed to be feared and a threat.  All these misconceptions made everything wrong and in this world he had an unfulfilled purpose.  So many years of being held to a standard when he was oblivious to it.  It would not do.  Fergus grabbed a large rifle labeled, "in case of emergencies," which was hung below a "beware" sign, and walked out from behind the bookcase at which point he spent the next few hours developing an unparalleled hatred and blood-thirst for the creatures behind the bookcase and spent the rest of his life waiting to shoot the next one to come out.  In his long and thorough career I believe Fergus shot and devoured two.  Such was his story.

Reviews

[Sasha]

This is.. very strange. Right away, I can tell you there was a MASSIVE, run-on sentence in the first paragraph that made me want to stop reading. It was that bad. It was like the song that never ended and I wanted so badly to throw two periods and some capital letters in it. It sounds melodramatic, but I got stressed trying to keep up with it. There were other technical errors (mainly revolving around your use of the comma), but that wasn't SUCH a big deal for me. Those things aside, I do think this is a fairly intriguing story. It wrapped itself up in a way that felt rushed, though. You should expand on it. Add more details, watch your grammar/punctuation.