The Terrifying Moment in Class
Troy Youman
Prof R. R. Small
English 1301 41007
March 23, 2014
The Terrifying Moment
We all saw it scrolled across the black board the second we stepped into Ms. River’s class. Its wingspan reached from one end of the room to the other, hovering above our heads as if it were about to pounce. Its chalk scrawled claws looking ready to grab up an unsuspecting student and fly away. “What is that ungodly thing?” my best friend John asked with a curious tone, “I don’t know” I replied. Ms. Rivers had scribbled its name over its dome shaped head, beckoning the class to chant this creature’s nauseating name. That day, in class I felt terrified, overwhelmed, and petrified. I shuddered at the sound its name made within my mouth, whispering it with the rest of the students. It seemed to pour out from over my tongue, the syllables soft and moist as if it had just dredged its self up from some sordid portion of my stomach, buried for centuries under the muck of my digestive system, rising up towards my teeth on a tide of vile. Suddenly, it struck me. The more we called out its name, repeating our teacher’s pronunciation of this dreadful word, the more I noticed how all the students were beginning to shift their pencils on their paper. Diamond Bikem, a girl that was sitting about three feet away from me with brown glistening hair and hazel bright eyes, was popping her Hubba-Bubba chewing gum right in my ear. The air hissing out from that gummy bubble distracted my attention from that devastation on the board. I noticed that she was furiously taking notes, recording every single name her high priestess called out. I looked under her desk to notice her black leather shoes tapping constantly in a rapid motion as if something had awoken within her. This wasn’t just any normal class; we were taking part in something darker than in our normal curriculum. This was some type of ritual, an annotation of evil. Looking back at the black board, that powdery drawing
Prof R. R. Small
English 1301 41007
March 23, 2014
The Terrifying Moment
We all saw it scrolled across the black board the second we stepped into Ms. River’s class. Its wingspan reached from one end of the room to the other, hovering above our heads as if it were about to pounce. Its chalk scrawled claws looking ready to grab up an unsuspecting student and fly away. “What is that ungodly thing?” my best friend John asked with a curious tone, “I don’t know” I replied. Ms. Rivers had scribbled its name over its dome shaped head, beckoning the class to chant this creature’s nauseating name. That day, in class I felt terrified, overwhelmed, and petrified. I shuddered at the sound its name made within my mouth, whispering it with the rest of the students. It seemed to pour out from over my tongue, the syllables soft and moist as if it had just dredged its self up from some sordid portion of my stomach, buried for centuries under the muck of my digestive system, rising up towards my teeth on a tide of vile. Suddenly, it struck me. The more we called out its name, repeating our teacher’s pronunciation of this dreadful word, the more I noticed how all the students were beginning to shift their pencils on their paper. Diamond Bikem, a girl that was sitting about three feet away from me with brown glistening hair and hazel bright eyes, was popping her Hubba-Bubba chewing gum right in my ear. The air hissing out from that gummy bubble distracted my attention from that devastation on the board. I noticed that she was furiously taking notes, recording every single name her high priestess called out. I looked under her desk to notice her black leather shoes tapping constantly in a rapid motion as if something had awoken within her. This wasn’t just any normal class; we were taking part in something darker than in our normal curriculum. This was some type of ritual, an annotation of evil. Looking back at the black board, that powdery drawing