The Student by The Bitter One (A Parody on Communistic Literature.)

The Student

By: The Bitter One

Weighed down by misery and looking at the grey sky our hero trudges towards home to consume the same meal that he has eaten for the last three days.

The muscles exhausted from sleep deprivation and fingers filthy from the ash and soot he joins the group of dreary looking students. Their shoulders are hanging low, deeply hidden in their high collars and with grave pace they move their cold feet, while leaving a deep trace of greyish wet snow behind.

Covered in a cloud of steam, the school spews the students out, who, after having served the school, will come back the next day to fulfill their mechanical duties once more.

Irritated and contemptuous grumbles could be heard among the students as they turned their head away from the last bell that indicated their temporary freedom.

The day has ended and the sun is slowly setting. The irritated grumbles turn into warm fiddle-faddle.

The classroom has sucked all energy out of our students and with apple-red cheeks their teeth are dripping with saliva, ready to attack the few pieces of bread their family can offer.

After many years of intense labor, most students have peace with the fact that there is no denying in the grave suppression they all have to undergo and that every step they take to end the day, is a step closer to their grave.

This is also true for our hero, for years of labor have robbed him from his appetite and his desire to drink warm wine.

Other days, when school has ended, the students speak to each other in a serious manner.

Never deviating from the grades and that which manifested itself the closest in their existence: the physical labor that has to be done to the fat-stomached schoolchiefs.

Rarely does a smile break through their monotone mannerism of speech and when this does happen on an unusual day, the aggression is compensated at home towards the younger sibling or parent who dare to ask them how their day was.

And after having lived like this for sixty-five years, they all die, knowing that they themselves have contributed the most out of all students to society.

So too would our hero have lived, as the most loyal worker of all.

He is the most handsome, the strongest and the most intelligent, but also impatient and rude towards any form of authority.

It so happened one day, that he comes across a very moody fellow student who makes a vile remark regarding his clothing.

Severe and disrespectful as he is, our hero responds the surly looking young lady.

Her piercing dark eyes look tired and she turns away from the nasty comeback our hero makes.

However, something is still bothering him, for he has noticed that there was some truth to her words.

There is indeed something wrong with the way he is dressed.

And you see, he tells himself, it’s not only me who is dressed this way, it is also the fellow student who made the moody remark and the students walking across the hallway.

She is right, he claims, indeed we are all dressed horribly.

Horribly the same.

And he notices the students, hungry like wolves, ready to revolt against the regime. Hungrily and impatient to feast on the corpses of their to be former schoolchiefs.

From that moment on, our hero knows what he is ought to do.

Burning with flames of desire, he makes a way through the thick layer of ash-grey know and as he throws his arms into the sky he exclaims:

‘’Comrades...!’’ he has just begun his sentence or a big crowd of students gather around our hero.

He looks at them in aw not knowing what to expect next.

And with grave disappointment he witnesses the most shallow act imaginable at that time and moment when they take out their mobile cellphones to film the spectacle.

Our hero feels at that exact moment all hope melt away and he lowers his arms in sadness.

His shoulders are hanging low, deeply hidden in his high collar and with grave pace he moves his cold feet, while leaving a deep trace of greyish wet snow behind.