Nothing is Original

Chapter 1

                                                                                   (Slaying All Day)

Everything we've ever known is a recycled idea, every word has been written before, and all 26 letters have been formed one way or another to become some garbled shit with meaning. We claim every human is unique, and everyone has their ideas and beliefs, but truly every human is just a mishmash of the people they've heard of or met and formed to make another "unique being."

But it's also beautiful in that sense, how we "great and wonderful humans" have merely clung on to things that have happened before. It's familiar, we can find comfort in our surroundings when we've seen them before. We've gotten used to the repeating day and night, we've gotten used to the unique beings we surround ourselves with. Most importantly, we've gotten used to the cliches in nearly every movie that has graced this planet.

As my blood pooled under my collapsed body, I gave rasping breaths in an attempt to survive. The gash in my side ached every time I inhaled. I wanted to scream, but I knew no one would hear me. Even if they did, I knew no one would care enough to save me. That's how humans are; they're selfish, they take what they want from you and leave you to rot once they've got it. As I saw the darkness surrounding my peripheral creep in closer, I closed my eyes and awaited my fate.

BEEP BEEP BEEP An alarm clock. A great start to any story, especially mine. As I arose from my slumber, looking like a corpse and even wishing I was one, I grumbled at the blindingly bright sun that still managed to shine through my blinds. I slipped into an outfit no one cared about and started my day in this horrid new town.

The countless windows I passed by on my way to the kitchen reminded me of how overwhelmingly vibrant this place seemed to be. It's as if I was in a staged production of some kind, one artificially crafted to perfectly suit the needs of every smiling individual. That'd be crazy though.

I fixed my rats' nest enough to be presentable before my mom got to complain about it as soon as I walked into the same room as her. I strode into the small kitchen, grabbing the necessary ingredients for cereal and making it once I sat down. Mom didn't say anything, the room was simply filled with the usual silence that invaded the house.

The silence is comforting now, it's easy to get used to things after a while. I grabbed my schoolbag and went out the door, accidentally slamming it. I flinched at the sudden noise but continued walking down the concrete paths sewn expertly by architects.

I had only known of this place for about a week, only reading about it from the small pamphlet I grabbed at the train station. "Welcome," it read, "to your new forever, New Creekville!" That was the most American-sounding name I had heard since I was born, and the local high school was creatively named after it. "New Creekville High School" Was the name I entered into my GPS, and as it whispered directions into my ear, I began to notice how small this town appeared to be.

There was a singular main road with scarce side roads that always ended in neighborhoods. Once I got into a more downtown area, the side roads were replaced with cafés, clothing stores, a couple of small parks, and a large, glistening mall in the center of everything. It was bigger than any of the buildings I had seen today and practically invited me in with its glowing exterior and ginormous display windows.

I snapped out of my stupor and glanced at my phone to look at the directions I had missed, turning right and going behind the glorious building, still beckoning me into its grasp. Almost directly behind the mall, cowering behind its shadow, was the dull brick pattern of New Creekville High School. Confirmed by the large black letters courageously spelling out its name on the sign in front of the school.

I sighed, already done with the day before it even began, and weaved through the crowd of smelly, sweaty teenagers before stepping through the wide open doorway. As soon as I took a couple of steps through the double doors, some idiodic klutz ran directly into me, knocking us both to the ground.

Word Count: 734