One Minute Story

I knew not to do it but was engulfed by temptation. It was unbearable. The screen glared off of my tired eyes as I looked at the screen. 12 new messages.

I hesitated as I scrolled down. Honesty is amazing, but the worst thing in the world. I called it cyberbully.com, but it was more commonly known as Sarahah.

I had gotten myself into falling into the bandwagon. I scrolled down to read the messages. It was a three-way split. Four that were jokes, four that were telling me to "hang in there" or complimenting me, and four hate-messages.

I skimmed past the lame "I hate you" to one that was slightly more elaborate.

"You sexist, racist b***h. Can't you just agree with the social teacher for once? All of you white males are the same. Sexist, racist, and mahoganistic." I laughed at the irony. No regrets so far. Then I saw the next one.

"I know what you did," it read. "My entire family. Gone. All because of you, you emotionless piece of s**t. And what was it all for? Nothing. I know it was you. I have proof. Either you admit to it, stay at your house, or suffer the rough consequences through the street justice of me and the guys. Have a nice day!"

It could only be one person. Ignorant little child. It was for his family's own good.

I heard a knock at the door.

"Already?" I thought.

They burst through the door. Seven of them. Tough, tough. The first one pulled out a baseball bat.

"This is all we got, just to make it fair," he said.

Yeah. Fair.

Acting fast, I grabbed a chair and threw it at the first assailant. He fell to the ground, and I tackled him. We both fumbled for the bat. I gained control of it. It was a fight to the death, and I was determined to be the victor. I grabbed it, stood up, and smashed the enemy's head. One down, six to go, I thought. The thought was interrupted by a tackle, and I hit the ground hard.

There were three attacking me at the same time. Kicking, punching, whatever they could do. I could hardly move, but new I had to. I blindly kicked up, hitting one in the face. He fell back. I grabbed another's head and rolled over, smashing it strategically into the ground. I fumbled the pencil out of my pocket and stabbed him in the back of the throat. I was pulled back onto my back, and one of the female attackers jumped on me and executed multiple blows to the head. I felt bad, but I had to do it. Pin-pointing the weakest part of her skull, I grabbed the pencil, pulled it out of his neck, and relocated it to her temple. She had a look of surprise and went completely limp. I rolled her off and got to my feet.

The man I kicked in the face stood up, holding his forehead in pain. The other three were cowering away.

Someone else burst through my front door. Startled, I turned around. It was my friend, John.

"Whoah, man!" he helplessly screeched.

I looked over to him. "You know what to do," I said.

He nodded worriedly. I felt a blow to my head. The world tilted quickly. I felt my body thump to the ground, then felt nothing.

I jolted up, breathing heavily. I looked around. So this is what it looks like, I thought. There were thousands of people lying down in what seemed to be hospital beds. I looked beside me to see John twitching slightly in the bed next to me. He was finishing the job I had failed. It's a tough job, but it had to be done. The ground lit up. Illuminated was a path. I followed it, excited to experience the real world.