Handwritten

Descriptive Piece- 3

"Boom." The final gong of the massive clock rang in her ear-drums, resounding and reverberating like no tomorrow. The atmosphere that enveloped her was sticky and drenched with perspiration - comprising of the wasted and unyielding efforts of its helpless and pitiful victims. 

No matter how hard they worked, it would never be enough; overachieving students fail to reach the zenith of their expectations by just that much amount. Always. 

Astounded and startled, she sat paralyzed in dismay and annoyance, agonized by the fact that she ran out of time. Panicked scribbles and last-moment scratching could still be heard from her very rebellious, or very ambitious fellow students. Some were frantic and edgy, while others sat back confident yet unsure. Indeed, some even looked carefree and unbothered. 

She heaved a sigh of frustration as she rubbed her sweaty palms on her neatly plaid uniform- a horrendous skirt that fell way past her knees. Another year of being second topper - a shudder ran down her spine as she thought of her rival's gloating smirk on the day of the honors ceremony. No, utterly unbearable. She would surely get him next time. She would start prepping herself ages beforehand and completely nail it at the finals. 

Ah, winning would be pure bliss, if only she could- a commanding pat on the shoulder jostled her out of her reverie. The rotund teacher peered into her eyes as she said, "That's it for this examination my dear. You may leave now." 

An infinite rush of relief and euphoria raced through her veins at those words. Finally, it was over! The burden was lifted! Her eyes glistened with joy as she mumbled a cracked "thank you." As if in a dreamless daze, she clambered up and stumbled out of the dreaded room of hell, alias Satan's primary chamber of torture, also known as the Auschwitz of every child's life, or simply The Examination Hall.

- By Samriddha Datta

Edited by Dia Makhecha