Failed to Protect

• Short story

								
I woke up to the chirping of a Northern Cardinal and the smell of freshly baked pancakes. I did my morning routine just like any other particular day. But it wasn’t. I rushed down stairs, patting the wooden floors as I waddled through the kitchen to fill up my plate. I strolled through my little brother chowing on some cereal, and my mom increasing the supply of her fluffy, golden-brown pancakes. The smell like none other, like a warm hug. By the time I finished eating, my dad had already left for work. I grabbed my backpack and lunchbox and made my way to the bus. As I arrived at school, I walked into the classroom where the talkative chattering of children filled up the room's general atmosphere. A few hours later, I heard a loud BANG! Followed by many popping sounds. POP! POP! Gunshots. Turning around, I saw the dreadful look on my classmates, friends and the teachers face, like they heard gunshots. Oh wait, they did. The suspense, boiling up, like a slow-rising tide protected my fragile emotions. The teacher hurriedly stood up and told us to sit under the tables and leave our belongings alone. As more gunshots occurred, they also creeped up nearer to the classrooms. Instead of the sound originally being faint, it got louder as they approached the classroom. Instead of the teacher telling us to be silent, she grabbed the nearest classroom objects and instructed us to do the same. It didn’t make sense at first. What was she trying to get us to do? Then the idea struck me like lightning. She wanted to exit the classroom and rebel against the shooters. The primary opinion of the students agreed with the out-of-pocket idea. It seemed so absurd to me. But nonetheless, I agreed. As we exited the classroom, we saw a couple bodies lay there, as still as a rock. It was absolute chaos as expected. A few kids cried their eyes out. Others broke anything they saw move even at the slightest. Then all of a sudden, we saw the trees glistening under the sunlight. Then BAM! POOF! And multiple shouts of pure terror. My own friends lay there lifeless in front of me. I run, run as fast as I can. The teacher was nowhere in sight, I assumed she had fallen like the rest. I saw the cops pull up at the front of the building. Hiding behind a bush, I struggle to catch my breath. My lungs desperately wanting oxygen made me gasp like I was having a panic attack. After the chaos was all over, I mourned. I mourned for the loss of my friends, classmates who have all been innocent and did not deserve to die. We were all just teens, none of us lived long enough to do something so bad that we deserved death at our feet. I stand up but fall, fall so hard I go unconscious, and dream forever.
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