Omen - [EDITING]

[ Empty Home ]

"The wolf runs and pounces on its prey, feeding from its flesh as the deer struggles no more. The remains are left and the wolf hounds back to its den. The rest of the pack disperses to find their own prey."

The camera shifts from the ground to the disturbing leftovers of the deer. The voiceover is replaced by the natural sounds of the camera's surroundings. The rest of the class, majority girls, cringes at the terrible sight of the dismembered deer. I sat there unfazed and remain quiet. 

It isn't something horrible to look at. 

I've seen worse.

The scenery changes into the group of wolves who trample on dry ground. They remind me of snobby guards, despite their noses sticking around. I'm not saying all wolves are. They just happened to leave that impression on me.

"It blends within the bushy shrubberies, breathing at a steady rate in silence as to not provoke its delicious prey. The wolf waits within the shadows, ready to pounce onto the rabbit before it could even attempt to run."

I've probably lost count as to how much I could doze off with this man speaking over the recordings. I could sleep within minutes because this class is absolutely unnecessary. The said task from our professor contradicted so much to the documentary played now. 

We were supposed to be inspired from this forty minute film only to create a piece of poem in one page. I don't know how to create such spontaneous piece of literature if there are dozens of images being shown. Either I have trouble squeezing the frameworks into verbal words or my understanding is not making any sense at all.

I checked the time on my watch and almost sighed in relief. The day was ending with this documentary, which I am sure that majority of the class could barely tolerate. It was obvious from the sighs that erupted from one table to another. 

Even I sometimes wonder to myself, how am I so bothered to watch the documentary without dozing off to sleep?

"The wolf is happy after catching its prey, bringing the dead and bloody form of what used to be adorable into dinner."

The screen turned pitch dark and almost everyone punches their fist into the air. Our professor heads to the light-switch, blaring what excess darkness was in the classroom to fade. I blinked my eyes several times, trying to adjust to the intense brightness from the darkness that I had accustomed to.

Watching a full documentary about wolves became part of the assignment. To dissect something that large into small meaningful literature.

Had I picked the wrong Major, or was the professor just unbothered by this course at all?

"Deadline is by next week. I expect a well written literature based on this documentary. We'll move onto the cycle of life after this." He announced and I am sure once more that the whole class groaned in retaliation.

This semester would be the last before we start dispersing into finding our 'perfect' career. I wonder, despite the political issues around the world, how a student like me is supposed to find a job in this worldly crisis. 

How could a student like me develop spontaneous writing forms? Am I good in the path of news writing, reports, stories? What am I capable of other than writing? 

Shoving the exercise book inside my sling bag, I pushed myself to stand up and kicked the slumber within my legs. We had been sitting in the classroom for at least two hours, which is probably the longest that I can manage trying to stay still. I am prone to moving around, which my Mother had nagged once with a smile on her face.

That was the only memory that I could remember. 

The thoughts after that were hazy and undistinguishable.