Fairfield High School - Talon Yearbook (Fairfield, CA)

Page 17 text:

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Page 16 text:

The children burst from their cages, and in a rush for survival coagulate around the open window. Stacherine stands with silver coins ready in his hand. More and more of the famined hoard cram against the others-pushing towards the providing hole for the relief of starvation. Stacherine breathes heavily as their eyes burn with the madness of an adolescent mob. They crush harder and harder as Stacherine struggles to remain calm, but their bodies, richly perfumed with antagonized sweat presss closer and closer-filling every space with compressed, abhorrent flesh. They are undernourished and stretch out begging for their supper. Requests from behind float through the thick air pleading with the mobbers in front to share in their fortune. Anxiety burns holes in the patience of Stacherine. His body flexes pushing the leeching children further into the hoard. His feet stand solid on the stone ground, as he prepares to strike the burning stroke, but his courage, like a summer's cloud, bursts and sends a flood of logic to drown his attack. Stacherine wedges himself from the mob. He turns and beaueaths to them a defeated stare. But the thought of flame retreats unwillingly to the darkness of his mind. l t lingers there in hiding, waiting to transform the school, like a match transforms a forest. ' i .,X. . x .1 .., .. - . 12

Page 18 text:

Everywhere was boredom. Monotony wasteo Drudgery lingered over the school like the apathy it created. Nobody laughed anymore. Nobody sang. When Stacherine wrote, his pen would overflow with the sadness of the school. When he walked, the drudgery would thicken the air and tease his steps. Pity overwhelmed him as he watched the students go blindly to class. They performed with the same monotonous repetition day after day. Patterns were carved deep into their lives. There was no variation. Everywhere was boredom. lt wasn 't always like this. ln the beginning there was happiness. ln the beginning children found laughter in the walls of school. They used deception to shatter boredom. They sang to battle repetition. But somehow drudgery had replaced song. Monoton y had spread like an epidemic. There had to be a change. Emptiness was eating inside Stacherine. Waste was trobbing in his skull, pounding away the last of his joy with a mind-wrecking rhythm. Stacherine, hands on head holding back the screaming panic, turned and faced the school. l t was gone. He wheeled about, but the school was gone. The children were gone. Stacherine stood alone in the darkness. ln the distance a glowing horizon marked the dawn of consciousness. Stacherine closed his eyes. A blanket of light wrapped around him like a shroud, and carried him away. Stacherine awakens to suffer the pains of morning. He commands his stiffened body into a standing position, and wraps it with battered clothing. The sleep from his resting clings in cakes to his half opened eyes as he aims himself towards the school. From the back of his mind the vision of this nightmare flashes before him, but his consciousness covers it like a shroud and buries it dee within the darkness of his dreams ..... ,,....-fr,