Another Long Night

[Loki]

[After post note: I am interested in hearing your thoughts on this piece. It is something I wrote for another project, but it is partially based on parts of my college career and I am quite proud of it.]

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Brilliant red embers lit up the night as they advanced along the pale white shaft of the cigarette, leaving dark grey ash it its wake as it filled the air with the pungent aroma of smoldering toxins. The ashy taste of smoke coated my tongue as it traveled to the lungs, sending a wave of tranquility through my body, helping to forget the stresses of the day. With numerous hours of work under my belt and several more needing to be spent, the sudden feeling of lethargy was my sanity’s way of informing me it was time to take a break. So now, I sit on the cold concrete stoop of the very prison where my patience is tested day in and day out. To most, the building is simply one in the many dark red-bricked buildings on the college campus, each one of them following the same monotonous Georgian design; to those of us that are forced to endure the courses professed inside, it became both a badge of honor and a source of frustration.

Each person that walks past the building on this Thursday night in particular seemed to be unwittingly mocking its inhabitants. Is it wrong of me to become bitter toward those who are seeking out easier degrees, giving them plenty of time to drink and socialize so late during the week? Most likely; it is my own personal choice that I don’t follow in the footsteps of many before me to change to an easier major after all. Watching the drama of those who are not tied to the same responsibilities as me is one of the few pleasures I get to enjoy with a deadline looming over the horizon. This stoop, enshrouded in dark blue moonlight, allows me to observe the lives of others as they pass by along the distant sidewalk illuminated by the large white orbs of streetlights without being noticed.

The subjects of my curiosity at present are an agitated female who appeared to be scolding an uncaring male. Each one of her movements caused her long blonde hair to whip around in the air as she gesticulated in an accusing manner toward the calm male, clearly irate, most likely from his actions earlier in the evening. There was a deep red tint to her face, from either rage or imbibing, as she verbally expressed her displeasure with him, but the clarity of the words were lost by the time they reached my ears. Her quick aggressive movements contrasted the calm and steady strides of the brunette man who was on the receiving end of her accusations. It almost seemed as though he didn’t even realize he had somebody next to him, his eyes only looking directly forward and not once glancing at the blonde no matter how hard she tried to capture his attention. Every couple of steps he would raise the wrinkled brown paper bag to his lips. From the opening of the bag was the tip of a clear glass bottle, glistening in the dim light, only showing the dark amber contents when it was tilted enough for the man to consume the liquid.

My attention was diverted from the couple by the dull metallic thud of the door behind me closing and a new patron of the night walking into my field of vision. The acrid smoke entered my lungs as I took another long drag from the cigarette as I recognized the newest target of my observations being a freshman who was following the same degree as me. Design studios are always the most difficult for the underclassmen; it takes several months to adapt to the new responsibilities that come with their coursework, most of which lack the time management skills necessary to balance their social life with their professional requirements. This student’s pace was unusually quick and his movements were erratic and jerky; he had clearly made the same mistake I did when I was in that level of studio. Typically, it is sophomore year when we learn that a few hours of sleep each night easily trumps even the most abundant supply of caffeine. Just as I had, he will learn that the synthetic energy in his body will decrease his focus, make him more prone to mistakes, and inhibit his overall ability to draft. This assumption is only confirmed upon closer inspection of his worn long-sleeved shirt. Faded white fabric beset with small holes draped off his frame as though it was a size too large for him at the very least. Combined with the lack of crease markings along the upper portion of the sleeve indicates that the student had overlooked one important detail when it came to working with graphite or wet ink. A black splotch contrasted the purity of the shirt’s fabric on his right forearm. Each observation pointed to the same probable conclusion as to why this student was leaving so early in the night. The reason why it is advised either to wear short sleeve shirts or to roll back long sleeves is to prevent coming into contact with a medium that is likely to smear, thus reducing the likelihood of disaster. Typically, such a mistake would be a simple, though time consuming fix; the size of the stain on the sleeve indicates that it was a particularly large freshly inked area that his sleeve slid across. Professors in these classes are quite unforgiving as far as careless mistakes are concerned, especially so in the event of self-inflicted sleep deprivation.

Though I couldn’t help but feel pity for the unfortunate classmate, it is a lesson we all learn, be it through the happenings of others or being the unfortunate soul in the scenario. Determination is the key for becoming successful with this particular major; at this juncture in his education, he can either salvage what he can of his project and hope the professors show mercy or meet with his advisor in the morning to seek an easier degree to pursue. It is a decision everybody in studio must make at some point, regardless of talent and knowledge of the subject, whether or not to press forward through the rough times and strive for your dream. I hold my head high, knowing that no matter how many situations arose that attempted to break my resolve; I met the obstacle head on and relentlessly pushed forward, never looking back. In all honesty, I am no better than that unfortunate underclassmen, I just proved myself time and time again that I will do whatever it takes to accomplish my goals. I just hope he has the same drive.

A simple melody echoed throughout the campus as the library’s bell tower rang out, signaling the arrival of a new hour. Following the brief pause once the melody concluded, two deep monotonous chimes rang out, the last one seemed to carry on for several seconds after the pendulum hit it. Those somber tones signaled the end of my break, reminding me of the arduous task at hand. The smooth edges of the small white stub became crumpled as it was ground against the rough surface of the concrete stoop, and then was casually tossed aside. Reluctantly, I pulled myself back to my feet and returned to the building, determined to not let the slight feelings of lethargy and fatigue distract me from my obligations.

[Dio the Awesome]

Wow Loki, I think you captured the essence of post secondary school right there. XD

There's not much to say. I saw not glaring errors, and your use of imagery is stunning. Every detail was described, but it wasn't a boring or forced description. Well done.