Endless Slumber

My eyes were slowly closing; I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I tried to fight it, as I lay there, motionless. The blackness was overpowering. It was unbearable. The situation had put me in an endless slumber, unable to pick my head up or make the slightest movement like picking up my finger. I thought about what I could’ve done to prevent it. What did I do wrong? I lay there waiting for it to end, wanting it all to be over. This horrible circumstance of a wretched soul trapped in an endless horror, seemed to never end. I could hear voices calling my name, were they angels, where they the voice of an almighty god summoning me to the golden gates above? Or were they demons, pulling me into the dark abyss of suffering and solitude that we call hell? At this point I didn’t care who it was, I wanted it to be over, nothing could be worse than this. If you imagine the worst situation to each sense; the sound of a nail running down a chalk board, the smell of a rotting hump of flesh, the feeling of your skin being scraped by sandpaper, the taste of blood dripping from your lip, the sight of seeing someone’s fingernails being pulled off one by one, but nothing could compare to what I was experiencing. At the moment when it seemed to be the worst, I heard a bell waking me up, dazed and confused. I looked to my left to see my friend smiling at me.
“Why didn’t you tell me I fell asleep?” I exclaimed.
“Mr. Johnson was calling your name.” He snickered.
Mr. Johnson had realized I had awoken, “Ah… you’re awake Mr. Brown, and you missed my whole history lecture. Meet me after school.”