Translation
Fanfic: Just an ordinary day in December
Chapter: Just an ordinary day in December
This little story is written in the I perspective to bring the reader closer to what is happening. Have fun!
Just an ordinary day in December
The dirty snow crunches under my winter boots as I carefully move over the smooth ice that covers the path. Just don't lose your balance, just don't ... Oops already happened. There I now crouch on the floor, alone and quarrel with the world and the icy puddle. In a nutshell my bum hurts and I'm not thinking of blaming myself. No definitely not. The puddle finally got at my clumsy feet. I sigh softly, I'm slowly getting cold. I get up carefully, careful not to crash-land again. When I'm finally back on firm asphalt, I look around quickly. Has anyone seen my performance? No, I do not think so. In the far distance the headlights of a car shimmer.You can see the fine snowflakes in their cone of light, they are whirled around as if they were alive, dance weightlessly in the air and frolic like playful children in winter.
Far away I hear faint laughter and light steps. Everything seems so subdued, so quiet and calm. So fake. I move forward slowly, after all I don't want to be late and negotiate a sermon, I would still miss that. No thanks. The school appears in front of me, with its cream-colored facade that looks strangely ashen on this cold, cold winter morning. The yellow lights are usually on in the rooms and you can see the students' siluettes, they seem to be having a great time. I accelerate my steps towards the lights, for a moment it feels like they are guiding me, showing me the way. When I reach the door, although I wouldn't even admit it if the continued existence of mankind depended on it, I am really happy that I have reached the building, although only sparsely heated.Carefully but quickly I open the door and inwardly pray that the snow avalanche that is about to fall from the roof doesn't catch me. Lucky. My steps echo again in the empty corridors, no one but me sneaks through the school, which is decorated with golden lights and handcrafted Christmas decorations. I draw a cold drip trail behind me. The water has collected in the grooves of my brown coat and is now running uncomfortably wet and freezing over my legs. I cough softly. I probably caught a virus as well, I think while resignedly shaking my curly brown head. It's so quiet in here, a quiet school is always scary to me, so I look around several times as I trudge to the substitution plan. My inner hope that the first lesson will be canceled and so it will unfortunately not be fulfilled and after I stand there cursing for 3 more seconds I storm off, up the stairs and to the classroom in record time.I knock violently on the brown-painted wooden door in the gray-painted corridor in the corners of which, once green, plants bobble about. The teacher's voice, which could be heard faintly until a second ago, fell silent. Slowly I step in and try to explain the event with the greatest lack of words and with wonderful bright eyes. After he has immortalized the facts in the class register, I sat down on the hard wooden chair to the amused murmur of my classmates. My neighbor throws me a questioning look, I only nod briefly, reassuringly, then turn away and give in to my own thoughts. I stare sadly out of the steamed-up window, my head resting on my hands, I wonder why every day is so monotonous. Why everything seems so long to me and why I always have to cry in retrospect because I have the feeling that time just slipped through my fingers like ... sand. The teacher's monotonous voice is just too drowsy, what else is he talking about?I don't even really care. The only bright spot is the break, but until then it has to be another half hour, an eternity and yet only a touch in history that is forgotten and lost, just as everything is lost over time, even yourself and your dreams ... Because one loses hope in the face of the unjust world. Nobody is really free, I have known that for a long time. Society narrows you and if you are not oppressed by others then by yourself. People always need something that hurts them. Whenever we forget what is so good about a thing in life, we need something that makes us cry and shows us how valuable everything good actually is. We need the comparison. Must have both so that we can fully see the difference. Whenever society is doing too well, something breaks out, an epidemic, war ... You shouldn't forget that there is another way of doing things than always being in vain sunshine.Because when you get used to something, you want more. Is satisfaction a completely foreign word? If I am brown-haired, I want blonde hair, I can draw well, I would rather be a Sportas. Why is that. Do we humans always work towards one fixed point and forget that the way is the goal? But why am I rambling around here? I'm not doing better myself. I sigh softly. Concentrate again on the snow, which is now falling more densely. It gathers on the window sill and with a little imagination you can see something in the small formations, maybe something that you once saw in your dreams. Imagination ... dreams ... what is it? I laugh softly, even a snowflake makes me sad. It's still twilight outside, and it doesn't look like the sun will come up again. Everything looks so gray out there, so colorless and fake, like a bad black and white film. The bare trees bend slightly in the cold wind, like an old man with the burden of many years on his hunched shoulders.The faint lights of the Christmas lights can be seen in the distance, but they seem so infinitely far away. I shiver, but not because the cold penetrates through the thick walls and through my red sweater. Crying wouldn't help either, the tears would just freeze on my cheeks. Freeze just as people's hearts have long been frozen. It's just a shame that mine is part of it ... since I can remember.
29 minutes left.
Pretty pessimistic. The reason is that I believe only such stories make people think ... A story that leads one to believe how great everything is, because it makes people feel safe ... hehe, I kind of like the doom and gloom in stories.
Just an ordinary day in December
The dirty snow crunches under my winter boots as I carefully move over the smooth ice that covers the path. Just don't lose your balance, just don't ... Oops already happened. There I now crouch on the floor, alone and quarrel with the world and the icy puddle. In a nutshell my bum hurts and I'm not thinking of blaming myself. No definitely not. The puddle finally got at my clumsy feet. I sigh softly, I'm slowly getting cold. I get up carefully, careful not to crash-land again. When I'm finally back on firm asphalt, I look around quickly. Has anyone seen my performance? No, I do not think so. In the far distance the headlights of a car shimmer.You can see the fine snowflakes in their cone of light, they are whirled around as if they were alive, dance weightlessly in the air and frolic like playful children in winter.
Far away I hear faint laughter and light steps. Everything seems so subdued, so quiet and calm. So fake. I move forward slowly, after all I don't want to be late and negotiate a sermon, I would still miss that. No thanks. The school appears in front of me, with its cream-colored facade that looks strangely ashen on this cold, cold winter morning. The yellow lights are usually on in the rooms and you can see the students' siluettes, they seem to be having a great time. I accelerate my steps towards the lights, for a moment it feels like they are guiding me, showing me the way. When I reach the door, although I wouldn't even admit it if the continued existence of mankind depended on it, I am really happy that I have reached the building, although only sparsely heated.Carefully but quickly I open the door and inwardly pray that the snow avalanche that is about to fall from the roof doesn't catch me. Lucky. My steps echo again in the empty corridors, no one but me sneaks through the school, which is decorated with golden lights and handcrafted Christmas decorations. I draw a cold drip trail behind me. The water has collected in the grooves of my brown coat and is now running uncomfortably wet and freezing over my legs. I cough softly. I probably caught a virus as well, I think while resignedly shaking my curly brown head. It's so quiet in here, a quiet school is always scary to me, so I look around several times as I trudge to the substitution plan. My inner hope that the first lesson will be canceled and so it will unfortunately not be fulfilled and after I stand there cursing for 3 more seconds I storm off, up the stairs and to the classroom in record time.I knock violently on the brown-painted wooden door in the gray-painted corridor in the corners of which, once green, plants bobble about. The teacher's voice, which could be heard faintly until a second ago, fell silent. Slowly I step in and try to explain the event with the greatest lack of words and with wonderful bright eyes. After he has immortalized the facts in the class register, I sat down on the hard wooden chair to the amused murmur of my classmates. My neighbor throws me a questioning look, I only nod briefly, reassuringly, then turn away and give in to my own thoughts. I stare sadly out of the steamed-up window, my head resting on my hands, I wonder why every day is so monotonous. Why everything seems so long to me and why I always have to cry in retrospect because I have the feeling that time just slipped through my fingers like ... sand. The teacher's monotonous voice is just too drowsy, what else is he talking about?I don't even really care. The only bright spot is the break, but until then it has to be another half hour, an eternity and yet only a touch in history that is forgotten and lost, just as everything is lost over time, even yourself and your dreams ... Because one loses hope in the face of the unjust world. Nobody is really free, I have known that for a long time. Society narrows you and if you are not oppressed by others then by yourself. People always need something that hurts them. Whenever we forget what is so good about a thing in life, we need something that makes us cry and shows us how valuable everything good actually is. We need the comparison. Must have both so that we can fully see the difference. Whenever society is doing too well, something breaks out, an epidemic, war ... You shouldn't forget that there is another way of doing things than always being in vain sunshine.Because when you get used to something, you want more. Is satisfaction a completely foreign word? If I am brown-haired, I want blonde hair, I can draw well, I would rather be a Sportas. Why is that. Do we humans always work towards one fixed point and forget that the way is the goal? But why am I rambling around here? I'm not doing better myself. I sigh softly. Concentrate again on the snow, which is now falling more densely. It gathers on the window sill and with a little imagination you can see something in the small formations, maybe something that you once saw in your dreams. Imagination ... dreams ... what is it? I laugh softly, even a snowflake makes me sad. It's still twilight outside, and it doesn't look like the sun will come up again. Everything looks so gray out there, so colorless and fake, like a bad black and white film. The bare trees bend slightly in the cold wind, like an old man with the burden of many years on his hunched shoulders.The faint lights of the Christmas lights can be seen in the distance, but they seem so infinitely far away. I shiver, but not because the cold penetrates through the thick walls and through my red sweater. Crying wouldn't help either, the tears would just freeze on my cheeks. Freeze just as people's hearts have long been frozen. It's just a shame that mine is part of it ... since I can remember.
29 minutes left.
Pretty pessimistic. The reason is that I believe only such stories make people think ... A story that leads one to believe how great everything is, because it makes people feel safe ... hehe, I kind of like the doom and gloom in stories.