Eerie stories

Fiction on Odyssey: A Day At The Park

Not everything is always as it seems...


A Day At The Park

"Let's go on the roller coaster!" I called out to the group that was walking in sync just a few paces ahead. I jogged to catch up with them and watched one of the girls roll their eyes. I pouted at the rudeness of her as she turned away from me. None of them responded to me and I was about to start bugging them when one of the boys grinned.

"We need to go on the big roller coaster!" the group glanced over at him and all nodded vigorously. My eyes narrowed and I let out a huff. That was totally my idea, he must have been the only one to hear me and wanted to sound like the cool one. I glared at the ground only to notice that there were no feet by mine. I looked up to see the group already headed over to the roller coaster. As I ran toward them, people kept getting in my way. It was quite annoying, in all honesty.

"Excuse me." I had to have said the phrase a million times before I had finally caught up with the group, "Why did you leave me back there?" I was sure my whiny tone would get a response out of them, but again, they had nothing to say to me. How rude is that? I was starting to wonder if these people were even my friends. They'd never treated me like this before. Come to think of it... There did seem to be something off about them...

We waited in line for an hour and all the group did was ignore me. Though, they did give me weird looks. Maybe there was something on my face? Finally, we were able to get on the ride. I climbed into the car with one of the girls and pulled the seat belt over me. My seat belt was different from the rest. Every other seat had a blue seat belt and an orange lap bar that pulled down over them and mine had no blue belt and the lap bar was replaced with thin, yellow belts that crisscrossed over my body, but I didn't care. That had always been my favorite seat. The attendants checked every seat, except for mine, which I found really weird, and the ride began moving. I felt my heart pound against my chest the higher we got up the first hill. My lips slowly curved upwards as the cars jolted down the first hill. I was flying.

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Please Spare Me From The Three Months Of Summer Break When People Revert Back To High Schoolers

They look forward to swapping stories with their friends at the local diner, walking around their old high school with a weird sense of superiority, and reminiscing their pre-college lives.


I know a surprising amount of people who actually couldn't wait to go home for the summer. They look forward to swapping stories with their friends at the local diner, walking around their old high school with a weird sense of superiority, and reminiscing their pre-college lives.

Me? Not so much. I don't mean to sound bitter. It's probably really comforting to return to a town where everyone knows your name, where your younger friends want you around to do their prom makeup, and where you can walk through Target without hiding in the deodorant aisle. But because I did this really annoying thing where my personality didn't really develop and my social anxiety didn't really loosen its grip on me until college, I have a very limited number of people to return to.

If you asked someone from my high school about Julia Bond, they would probably describe her as shy, studious, and uptight. I distinctly remember being afraid of people who JUULed (did you get high from it? was it illegal? could I secondhand smoke it and get lung cancer?) and crying over Algebra 1 in study hall (because nothing says fun and friendly like mascara steaks and furious scribbling in the back corner while everyone else throws paper airplanes and plays PubG Mobile).

I like to tell my college friends that if I met High School Julia, I would beat her up. I would like to think I could, even though I go to the gym now a third of the time I did then. It's not that it was High School Julia's fault that she closed herself off to everyone. She had a crippling fear of getting a B and an even worse fear of other people. But because she was so introverted and scared, College Julia has nothing to do but re-watch "The Office" for the 23rd time when she comes back.

Part of me is jealous of the people who came into their own before college. I see pictures of the same big friend groups I envied from a distance in high school, all their smiling faces at each other's college football games and pool parties and beach trips, and it makes me sad that I missed out on so many friendships because I was too scared to put myself out there. That part of me really, really wishes I had done things differently.

But a bigger, more confident part of me is really glad I had that experience. Foremost, everything I've gone through has shaped me. I mean, I hid in the freaking bathroom during lunch for the first two weeks of my freshman year of high school. I never got up to sharpen my pencil because I was scared people would talk about me. I couldn't even eat in front of people because I was so overwhelmingly self-conscious. I remember getting so sick at cross country practice because I ran four or five miles on an empty stomach.

Now, I look back and cringe at the ridiculousness because I've grown so much since then. Sure, I still have my quirks and I'm sure a year from now I'll write an article about what a weirdo Freshman Julia was. But I can tell who had the same experience as me. I can tell who was lonely in high school because they talk to the kids on my floor that study by themselves. I can tell who was afraid of speaking up because they listen so well. I can tell who was without a friend group because they stand by me when others don't. I can tell who hated high school, because it's obvious that they've never been as happy as they are now.

My dislike for high school, while inconvenient for this summer, might be one of the best things to happen to me. I learned how to overcome my fears, how to be independent, and how to make myself happy. I never belonged in high school, and that's why I will never take for granted where I belong here at Rutgers.

So maybe I don't have any prom pictures with a bunch of colorful dresses in a row, and maybe I didn't go to as many football games as I should have. Maybe I would've liked pep rallies, and maybe I missed out on senior week at the beach. But if I had experienced high school differently, I wouldn't be who I am today.

I wouldn't pinch myself daily because I still can't believe how lucky I am to have the friends that I do.

I wouldn't smile so hard every time I come back from class and hear my floormates calling me from the lounge.

I wouldn't well up when my roommate leaves Famous Amos cookies on my desk before a midterm, or know how to help the girl having a panic attack next to me before a final, or hear my mom tell my dad she's never seen me this happy before.

If I had loved high school, I wouldn't realize how amazing I have it in college. So amazing, in fact, that I never want to go home.

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Poetry On Odyssey: Guns For Hands

I'm trying to sleep.


Inspired by Twenty-One Pilots's, Guns For Hands.

This is a short poem that I wrote in response to Twenty-One Pilot's song, Guns For Hands. It was originally written for a creative writing class that I took earlier on in the year. It uses a lot of different poetry devices that we learned in the class. The original poem, however, had a very different format, but that didn't look quite as good in blog format.

I'm trying. But

It's hard. The world

Is a mons-

-ter. I'm

Trying. But

It's useless. Noth-

-ing Matters. I'm

Trying. But

It's not there. Hope

has faded. I'm

Trying. But I

Can't remember.

I'm trying

To sleep.

But I Can't…

When you all have

Guns For Hands

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