Short Passages

"If Only..."

His heart thudded in his chest at a maddening pace, echoing in his ears and threatening to burst. The room felt suffocating, the steady tempo of the clock ticking away a daunting presence. Papers ruffling, pencils scratching and chairs squeaking mixed in to create a distracting medley, the constant sounds ringing at the back of his mind. 

Irked and frustrated beyond comprehension was him, the boy, sitting behind a desk amongst a myriad of others. His fingers tangled around the short strands of his dark hair, tugging at the very roots in vexation. In his other hand he gripped a pencil with an unnecessary amount of force, his fingers stiff and a shade of red, his palm clammy with sweat. It felt as though his lungs were protesting as they constricted, a painful scream ready to burst through in any second.

He blinked, his vision a hazy blur and his skin prickling with heat. Beneath the small desk his knee bounced up and down in agitated movements, a sign that openly displayed his frustration as he frantically searched through his mind. All he found was a devastating pile of sheets, sheets and sheets and sheets that he flipped through, all blank.

The steady beat of the clock reverberated in his mind, a reminder of the time he desperately needed but was far out of reach. At this point, he had stopped scanning through the sheets, only left with the option to plead. At his pencils, desk and whatever he saw next. Desperation clawed at him, tearing at at him and building up the tower of bricks surrounding his mind. One sentence⏤a warning⏤ the only thought that slipped past the crevices of the brick wall; Take no risks, spare no glance, anchor your heart.

A shuddering breath escaped his mouth.

What now? He pondered, chewing the insides of his cheek anxiously. Surely he wasn't the only one. The only one who seemed to be experiencing the most arduous era at this very moment in time. His swirling brown eyes flickered to the sheet of paper in front of him, gazing at him as though it had its very own eyes. Almost in a mocking way. Too late, he had realised how hellish this suffocating room really was.

The fact that it was so easy for his entire future plan to be determined through one thing so measly small, in such a short period and in such a severe way seemed incomprehensible. Even the existence of the darkest, most dangerous abyss would make the idea seem far beyond reason.

Hoping for that time would freeze all for the sake of himself, the student began sorting through the straining memories wreaking utter and complete havoc in his mind, whilst at the same time weighing the possibilities of the two outcomes that would emerge in the end: achievement, or failure?

The apocalypse was to be blurted out in a matter of seconds, his page filled up only half-way, yet all his mind could offer was practicality. That wasn't needed at this time. Energy seemed to have all seeped from him as he let out a rugged, frustrated breath⏤not quite a heavy sigh.

This felt impossible, as though there would be no⏤

He froze mid-thought, then sat up as though physically hit. Realisation dawned upon him like a heavy weight thrusted upon his shoulders.

⏤end.

Pieces formed together, and finally the missing piece filled in the blank. His heart rate accelerated, thumping loudly in his ears.

Of course! How could he have possibly forgotten the thing that could link together his whole piece? Thinking back, he couldn't understand how the epiphany had not occurred any earlier.

Vaguely, he remembered the words of his teacher. Beating the information into the students in preparation for the big day. "Your story could be amazing, utter perfection and a spectacular composition. But you won't get the deserved marks if you do not link the whole piece together. The resolution is that, exactly, the bow atop the present."

He readied the pencil, ideas fleeting as they rapidly formed at the top of his mind, but the pencil tip never touched the paper once more.

The booming announcement traveled through the room like a rolling wave. "Time's up! Do not touch you test paper!"

His grip loosened and his pencil clattered onto the desk in defeat, rolling until it stopped just before the edge of the pitfall. A dead weight seemed to lug down his heart, devastation gnawing at him at all possible angles. He bored holes into the unfinished selective writing piece he had nearly completed, as though that would make the situation any better.

If only he had written down the resolution earlier... If only...