Exams are Hell

There you
are, sitting your final exam of the season. It's been a long run, and you're
looking forward to some well-deserved rest, relaxation and recovery. But first,
you have your final paper to complete.
You glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time. Ten minutes
remaining. Beads of sweat trickle down your face as you try to ration out the
remaining time, but deep down, you know you're running short. You aren't going
to make it. You- 
Wait. 
It isn't the time. You can't put your finger on it, but something in the
crowded exam hall feels wrong. The temperature? No. It's almost a pressure, a
tangible vibration filling the air. You can feel it. Nervously, you glance up,
checking to see if anyone else is feeling it too. Nothing. The other candidates
are all focused intently on their papers. Across the room, an invigilator
watches you coldly, but you've grown used to their stares by now. Satisfied
that it's all in your mind, you look down at your paper once again. 
Pressing pen to paper, you slowly crank out an answer. Four lines of buzzwords,
numbers, comparisons, percentages, waffle, rambling, autopilot, going nowhere,
definitely not getting the correct answerFUCK! 
Your hands shake as you realise by just how far you've missed the mark. But in
your mind, you feel... perplexed. Why
are you slipping now!? So close to the end? So close to your goal? Once again,
no answer presents itself. At least you still have plenty of time left, you
reason, glancing back at the ever faithful clock adorning the far wall. 
But as you lower your head again, you notice it. The other students. They're
still, totally still. You turn your head to get a better look at the girl to
your left. Her head is bent, facing directly down onto the desk, her hands
gripping it tightly. Her composure is a sculpture of cold fear. You want to
reach out, to snap her out of it, to break yourself out of the stressful stupor
you've sunk into, but she seems so far away. Too far away. Somehow you know
that even if you were to jump up, to scream in her face, to run for the door at
that very moment, it wouldn't do any good. She seems beyond help.
And besides, you have your own problems to worry about. The fucking vibrations
are back, and they're stronger than before. Cold shivers ripple down your
spine, and you swear you can almost hear a hum in the air, an oppressive buzz
swarming around you. You wonder how to put an end to the crushing pressure. But
before you can gather your thoughts, something else enters the fray. For the
first time, you realise how cold you are. The room, the chair... even the pen
in your hand, they're all ice cold, and your nervous shaking soon gives way to
relentless shivering. The curtains are drawn, but the cracks of light beyond
offer you no comfort. The light seems cold and grey, and does nothing to dispel
the gloominess of your surroundings. You feel like a deer in headlights.
A few more freezing seconds pass, before you make up your mind. To hell with
the paper, to hell with the students and to hell with the room. You decide to
wait out the remaining minutes in silence. Endure now, pick up the pieces
later. Perfect! You scan the clock-face to check the time until your salvation.
Ten minutes remaining.
What the hell?
How had the time not changed? Just to make sure, you twist around and stare at
the digital timer at the opposite end of the hall. Sure enough, ten minutes
stare back. For the first time, you let your  panic show. Your breathing picks up and your
pen clatters to the floor, but you hardly notice. You realise you have only one
option left. You glance across the room to the lone invigilator and raise your
hand.
No response comes. The figure returns your gaze and smiles coldly, but stays
perfectly still, watching you from afar. That's when you realise. Every other
exam you've taken has been watched over by a familiar face: a teacher or
parent, but the man across the room seems foreign. You try to draw a
connection, to match his face with a memory, but deep down you know you've
never seen him before in your life. Worse still, his smile is cold, matching
the pale light trickling into the dark room. His expression is filled with
malice, hardly attempting to hide the fact that he's enjoying and has been
enjoying every excruciating moment you've spent tethered to your desk. And
then-
The clock and the wall fill your vision once again. You have ten minutes
remaining. 
WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!? The question reverberates throughout your mind,
but your thoughts are hopelessly lost. Desperately, you decide to retrace your
steps, to determine the path you took getting into this mess. Question by
question you work back through the paper, back to the start and the word: begin. Nothing. Your mind draws a
single, terrifying blank. You can't remember anything beyond eagerly opening
the question booklet to begin, along with the same questions over and over,
like a song on repeat. But you can remember the feeling. The mixture of stress
and excitement as you first set out on the home stretch. The fear as you
encountered tricky question after tricky question, and all the while a strange
searing sensation, beginning in your fingertips and slowly working its way to
your chest, building and building, turning into a slow burn until-
Your psyche recoils as you consider the possibility. You don't want to believe
it, but all the logic adds up. Could you really be…? NO! 
You've had enough. You push the ridiculous thoughts out of your mind and
resolve to get the hell out of the hall as soon as possible. All you need to do
is ask to leave. It's that simple. You open your mouth to speak-
The clock
and the wall fill your vision once again. You have ten minutes remaining. 
You decide
then and there to make a run for it. You tense your muscles to move-
The clock
and the wall fill your vision once again. You have ten minutes remaining. 
Your face
begins to twist into an expression of unbridled horror-
The clock
and the wall fill your vision once again. You have ten minutes remaining. 
Inside,
you explode into a seething mass of rage and fear. It isn’t fair! What had you
done to deserve this? What had you ever done to deserve being stuck in some god
forsaken room surrounded by thousands of other god damn expressionless human
statues and whatever the hell is laughing at you from where the doors used to
be!?
You want
to cry out, to ask the question, to quench your fear, but you know it won’t do
any good. Instead, you resolve to simply wait for change and hope for an end to
it all. Your best option. Your only option. You hunch over your desk and grip
the sides tightly, waiting for an end.
Something
catches your eye. You don’t dare to look up, but out of the corner of your
vision, you see a man. He’s much older than you, easily sixty or seventy years
old, and seems perplexed. You watch as he flicks deliriously through page after
page of papers, before finally setting them down with a sigh. You watch as his eyes flit from
one motionless figure to another, before finally settling on the invigilator out
of sight. You watch as his expression changes from confusion to fear to panic.
You watch as he realises too.
Category:Beings
Category:Places
Category:Reality