All The World's Eyes Are Watching Me by JJ

The Man wipes the sweat from his eyes, and opens the bus window. He looks around at the other commuters and into their dull, half-open eyes. Eyes that seem fixed on distant, imaginary points. Eyes that are open, but do not see.

The Man shudders and looks away.

A student with eyes beyond her years, unfolds herself onto the seat opposite him.

The Man gives her a sympathetic smile when their eyes meet. But she responds with a confused expression of bewilderment.

The Man flinches. Her eyes make him feel dirty, as if he had molested her.

The Man looks away to avoid the girl's accusing eyes to see other dead eyes watching, watching. He can feel countless eyes watching him, judging him, condemning him.

The Man becomes frantic, he can feel the nervous energy of all the world gathering into him. This is not how everything should be, he wants to tear out the foam stuffing out of his seat and stuff it in the driver’s mouth. He wants to snatch the emergency hammer and smash the windows. He wants to fly to the sun and blot it out with his body, to obliterate himself in the process. He is furious, energetic and very, very angry. This is not the way.

A lady of middle years who has been sleeping with her feet on the seat, wakes briefly to glance at him with glassy eyes before returning to her world. Anxiety grips The Man. Is it showing? Are the internal fireworks erupting from his eyes? Are his visceral intentions so obvious? The Man struggles with himself, a Goliath holding back a dam overlooking farmsteads that stretch over a horizon.

He. Must. Not. Let. It. Show.

The Man tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace. He feels like an android, an automation with glass eyes and Lego hands, but he is NOT! He wishes it were raining, very hard so that the roof would keep thud-ding. He wants it to rain down on this pathetic bus, trundling down a dry road. He wants to hear the rain strike the plastic windows so that it will sound like someone is knocking on a door. Yes, then he could get up and open the door and step out to see the rain falling from a great height on his eyes.

Before The Man gets off the bus, he resolves to smile at the driver and shake his hand.

~

I think commuting is one of the most deadening, soul-crushing experiences that people subject themselves to on a daily basis. A daily prison, in which moments of life are progressively disappearing, while we sit and wait to go somewhere we may not want to be. It's scary how so many people sit in passive silence and just...stare into space. And we can't do anything about it, but remain in our own little worlds, alone, even with all the people around us.

Dally The Rabbit by JJ

The Boy loved writing, maybe he just liked the feeling of creating new things.

The Boy went to school and he loved it. He got to write many new things and he was happy.

The Boy had a new teacher one day. The teacher told everyone to copy something old out of a book.

This was called PENMANSHIP.

"Might we not practise our PENMANSHIP by writing something new?"

"Are you challenging me?"

"I just think we learn more by writing something new, rather than writing something that has been written before."

"You are here to learn respect and obedience."

"I have a need to create new things."

"Suppress it, TROUBLEMAKER."

The Boy was silent. All he could think of was a rabbit peeking out of a hole to see tarmac and asphalt being poured over it for roads.

The Boy was dismayed. He closed his book and began writing.

"Dally was a happy rabbit, why did you build a road over him?"

The Boy stopped writing, he didn’t think he could do it anymore.

~

When I was younger, I often felt suppressed by the educational system that was obsessed with making sure I always did the right thing (that is, to do things in the prescribed fashion). I wrote this story drawing upon my memories as a child in primary school, although you can tell that the incident may have been exaggerated a little...