It was another regular day in my reading class.
"Open your literature books to page 268 and read the story. Then answer the characterization questions!" my reading teacher commanded in her boring teacher voice.
I pulled out a spare piece of notebook paper from my blue plastic binder and began answering the questions. Suddenly, the "bell" rang, signaling the students to go to their next period; the bell is actually a bell sound from the classroom's speakers.
"Time couldn't have passed that quickly." I thought to myself. Meanwhile, I caught up to my friend Lillian and began to talk to her.
I was still thinking about the whole time thing, however. You see, ever since the dawn of 2012, I felt like I was speeding through time in a supersonic jet. Minutes feel like seconds, weeks feel like days. The clock doesn't agree with my internal feelings, though.
It's an issue I had been thinking about lately. At first, I had come up with the hypothesis that I was just having these random feelings. Now, I am positive that time is definitely flying by quicker than before. And it just keeps accelerating. The most abrupt change happened this week.
"Are you paying attention?" Lillian shouted over the ruckus of the hallway.
"Oh yeah. Sorry, I kind of zoned out for a second right then."
"Okay. Well here's my class. See you."
I headed on to English, my sixth period.
Just then, the wood-tone laminate door of my English teacher's room started to bend toward the blue carpet on the ground. I blinked once and then it returned to normal.
I made a mental note to myself to ask my mom to take my to the psychiatrist soon.
The rest of the English period was spent writing an essay on whether it was okay to break rules for your personal gain. It went quickly, unsurprisingly.
While I was working on my final copy, I noticed the worlds changing and distorting. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and a "Yeah?" came out of my mouth.
The annoying guy that sat in front of me started, "I think the words are changing on my paper. They're all twisty."
Suddenly, he wasn't so annoying anymore.
"Really?" I inquired.
"Yeah." He turned back around.
I continued to write my essay.
At about five minutes before the period ended, I was blinded by a purple light. Gradually, the light dimmed a few notches and I could see again.
Looking around, I noticed that everyone else also saw the the light. They were whispering among themselves, saying things like, "What's that?"
My English teacher fainted in her black, leather swivel chair. She slumped to the carpet floor with a loud thud.
At that moment, an odd vortex opened up. It didn't suck anything through, though. It just stayed there, at the corner of our classroom right beside some grammar posters, twirling around. Inside, it was pure black.
The purple light continued to shine. It didn't appear to have a source. The rays of light just floated across the room, like evil energy. Only it didn't feel evil. It felt like the light was beckoning me to go into the vortex.
After helping my English teacher up, I decided to go explore the hallways after my friends. I caught up with Hannah.
The hallways were full of people talking, speculating what could be happening. It turns out that the weird purple light and rotating vortexes were everywhere.
Finally, someone decided to take a risk and go into one of the vortexes. Once the first person went in, all the vortexes began to shimmer, as if they wanted to disappear. Around us, the building began to crumble. More people started to jump into the vortexes. The vortexes got even fainter.
I looked outside the window, and saw things disintegrating into nothingness. I didn't want that to happen to me, or anybody that I cared about for that matter. I urged the people around me to quickly jump into the vortexes before they disappear. I knew the vortex would take us somewhere safe, even though I didn't know why.
Without hesitating, I threw myself into the nearest vortex. My body felt like it was being ripped apart. I was being hurled across empty space, then through nothing at all. All of the sudden, there was no space. There was no time. Unfortunately, I was still moving, although I didn't really think that was possible since there wasn't any space to go through.