To Be Or Not 2b

• Jackson Cavanagh, Grade 9, St Brendans College
• Short Story
• 2014

Excellence Award in the 'The Text Generation 2014' competition

Every day I see it.
My friends are losing their heads about this short story competition, more and more are breaking every day.
Even now, I threaten to break over the agonising pain and fury that I am put through, as I am ferociously tested to read through the lines of this battlefield of words - I am manipulated to write a masterpiece, the story of all stories, the story to win the great prize.
I need a miracle to block out the endless and deafening shriek of my head hitting the paper; copy after copy is torn up and thrown to the trash along with my friends. I know that this is what is to come of me, although I have the voice through writing, I am restricted by a higher power.
My friend has been cut short; the endless rubbing of his head against the paper has made him mad I don’t think he will be able to do this much longer. I know that this tenacious task will be my demise; I was not designed for such pressure.
As days pass there is a growing sense of desperation to get this story complete. Even without this task I know my days are limited. I'm being out sourced by other methods. Me... Previously the chief of all writing, am now the peasant of the modern world’s cruelty.
Today is the day though, I can feel it. Me, like all others before me who have taken on this task, I'm going to break! My time is limited anyway, it is how I was made, and it’s who I am.
As the story is finished, with a great snap I break on the full stop. Now it is here I lay. I have met my downfall and as I have foreseen, there is no dodging inevitability, now it is here, where I rest.
As I am thrown away, the boy pulls another pencil out and continues the story as mine ends.