The Freshmen Hunt
Dear Diary,
Tonight, anxiety gnaws at my insides as I stand on the precipice of the daunting, unknown abyss called high school. The whispers of the dreaded “Freshman Hunt” have reached my ears, sending waves of cold, unrelenting fear coursing through my veins.
The Freshman Hunt is no mere child’s play; it’s a sinister tradition where we, the unsuspecting freshmen, are the prey, mercilessly pursued by older students through the confusing, intimidating halls of our new school. Each echo of laughter, each footstep in the corridor, might herald the beginning of this terrifying game.
I’ve spent the summer imprisoned by my trepidation, each day a countdown to this impending doom. High school, rather than appearing as a gateway to freedom and adventure, now looms over me like a dark, inscrutable fortress where joy is overshadowed by the constant threat of the hunt.
As I lay here, the moonlight outside seems cold and distant, illuminating my room with an eerie glow that does nothing to dispel the shadows gathering in my heart. The walls of my room feel like they are closing in, mirroring the suffocating fear that grips me.
I implore you, Diary, bear witness to my terror. Tomorrow, I will walk into the lion’s den, vulnerable and alone, with the specter of the hunt hanging over me like a guillotine. I pray that I find allies amongst the faceless crowd, kind souls who will shield me from the relentless pursuit of the upperclassmen.
With a heart heavy with dread…