"Continuity of Parks" Reaction
Julio Cortazar's "Continuity of the Parks," blurred the line between fantasy and reality, the experience resembled that of reading a book. The short story reminded me of immersing myself in a good novel, the more you read the further you slip into a different world, no longer aware of your own. The same thing happened to the protagonist as he read. This sentiment is evident in the writing, forcing the reader to bare witness to the implosion of both worlds, the further along the short story goes the more the book coincides with the protagonist's reality. Falling deeper into the story seemed to summon its inception of the book and reality, leaving the reader unable to discern the two. The concept of continuity is interesting and beautifully wielded throughout the short story, seamlessly connecting fiction with reality, an interception of novels and prophecy.
"Continuity of Creative Writing Class,"
Mr. Herring bounded over to the hunk of metal suspended from the ceiling and half the class (including me) flinched as the machine blinked to life. Color flooded the box to reveal a news anchor regaling the public with a recent cover up for last week's massacre. I suppose he'd smashed the power button to distract us from the bounty, his face shiny as ever, his hands fumbling in fear. If anything, the television drew our ears to its hum, its fever-pitched screech that seemed to swallow the class whole. The teacher paced the length of the room, and greeted us with a gaunt tinged smile, a withered remainder of his sunny disposition. "uh...Hello class," he stuttered, same forced smile, same rumbling hands. Malachie chuckled, Fiona raised her head from her journal, Asaad glared at the teacher, I remained unfathomably still. "Welcome to the second round of the fourth annual Academic Enrichment Lottery," the words poured out of his mouth at a foul, unmoving adagio, the class proceeded to jeer at him for the use of the Hunt's school designated name, but we all saw it for what is was. "The Bounty!" Abigail Bissett spat, hair flouncing haphazardly beneath her beanie. "Let the games begin, and all that who-hah." Mr. Herring cleared his throat and continued with the required officiant speech though the words seemed muddled by the dull roar of stirring in the classroom, squeaking in the halls, and of course the unbearable scream blaring from the clump of pixels broadcasting the irrelevant news. I tried as hard as I could to latch onto one of the sounds, to focus on anything, but as I desperately struggled to listen to the news, I felt the world blur. All I could see was the clock, all I could feel was the whooshing between my ears and the perspiration percolating on my palms. The bounty would commence in ten, nine, eight..."Students, I really have tolerated your company," Mr. Herring exclaimed as our phones buzzed bearing the following message:
BOUNTY [Creative Writing Class]
Reward: +.5 GPA
Time Limit: 5 minutes
Penalty (incompletion): ???
Our class silently acknowledged each other and rushed to barricade the door. Mr. Herring turned off the lights and lowered the blinds and my mind scrambled for a solution, for a plan. The hallway flooded with students laughing and shouting, pounding against lockers, seizing the door. An obvious scare tactic, but still, none of us could risk the hallway. The bell rang. It was a transition which means the hall offered no exits and the hysteria of crazed students, so we were better off waiting it out. The windows in the back of our classroom were reinforced and relatively inaccessible from an outside vantage point. I looked down at the phone, three minutes left until I could breathe again. Three minutes until I could think about lunch instead of this fight or flight thing peaking my anxiety. The murmur from the television finally resounded in my ears, this was the wrong news report. A hissing sound rang out from in front of Mr. Herring. His backpack lay open in the center of the classroom, a black monstrosity with glinting green eyes unfurled itself. "In breaking news, a Black Mamba mauled 15 students at Athens Drive Magnet High School," the news report wasn't from last week's hunt. "Incompletion," Mr. Herring sighed, an exasperated expression slunk over his eyes. The beast lunged.
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