Some Are (story)

* I wrote this in response to a prompt for a writing contest.... (that I didn't actually enter, but I thought someone might enjoy reading this anyway. :-))



Some Are

               A somber silence settled on the school room as the bell chimed the students’ dreaded death knell. It was now 8 AM on another Monday morning and the fall term had begun. As the teacher began writing the first assignment on the board, the children stared in numb shock and listlessness. Once the ominous omen had been read, the odiferous pungency of its directives consumed the olfactory senses of the slaves now firmly refastened to their stocks for another grueling seven hours of torture. A collective groan escaped from the lungs now tainted with the putrid air of forced education. Yet amidst the gasps of horror and despair, on the back row of the Coliseum of death, two small grins emerged.
                It had been a wide open world of wonder at first in the golden days. The sweet release of freedom rang loudly in the air with the rush of a thousand voices singing with glee. This is what real living was meant to be- a walk in the park or a day on the beach with none, no-never, nary a care. The possibilities were endless and so were the days it seemed. Oh, the expeditions to be mounted- the explorations to be endeavored! The pursuits of a myriad of activities lay stretched before all the willing participants of the intoxicating allure of such holiday pleasures. Time was a loyal and trusted ally then.
                Somewhere between the fanciful flights of the crimson marred streaks of light and the subtle creeping of the nomenclature of learning’s renewed siren call, a change came over the terrestrial ball and its congregants. It came with its share of hints- a rustle in the breeze, a purple haze at close of days and a baleful rooster’s crow in the morning. Somehow the signs were missed by many and the adrenaline rush drenched the world with energy but not perspicacity. “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” came the old refrain from which many did indeed refrain. The days left unseized by unseasoned had been seized by another.
                Then it was that distant doldrums came, beating out their rhythm of quiet despair and gathering gloom. Whence came the mourning mist that envelopes everyone everywhere in the midst of halcyon heights marked by a barefoot blazed trail? The gleam of gold wanes as a maze of gazes questions the questions in the malaise that travails upon their travels. Oh, the eternal paradox of the vernal equinox! All the time in the world available for the asking but nothing to do in the days passing! The strawberry fields are ripe for but a short stretch of Father Time’s arms. The fields are plentiful in harvest, but those who would be workers work hard in flittering frivolous pursuits.
                So the story begins as it ends. No matter how tenuous its hold amid enchantments of warm star-lit nights, the clarion call rings true in the end with the experiment house in session once again. Oh, the cruel tests of inhumanity to be wrought upon an unsuspecting class of young pupils- it’s too much for the eyes to take in. Look and see, hear and be amazed! Yonder light still shines from golden shores in those who boldly face the entrenching entrapment with a lion’s roar. No vanity in the lion’s pride, but an informed hope that spans the ages enraptures each soul with an unthinkable delight. Through conniptions aroused at the cavalcade of crosses and bars set forth from the teacher, the cavalcade becomes the calvary that keeps the summer sun rays glowing with the joyous thought of the glory coming.