The Sanctity of Life
I was raised to believe in the sanctity of life. That every living thing deserves to live, so I should never choose to take another life. This does not just mean I am vegetarian or vegan, it means I never consciously kill a fly, spider, or any other small creature that others might consider pests. It is a simple code to live by, but some of the boys in my school don’t appreciate it one bit. They constantly try to get me to break my code, even if it means me breaking it unknowingly. Why? I don’t really know. Maybe they are bored, maybe they are mean, maybe they are jealous I have a strong belief and they don’t? Or maybe my killing nothing makes them feel a little guilty about not being so careful themselves? I could ask them, but I doubt they would give me a truthful answer.
Every day at school it is something with them. The three main boys that mess with me are Derrick, Charlie and Michael. On Monday I was sitting at a lunch table, about to eat a tomato and cucumber sandwich. Michael and Charlie, who were sitting behind me, got my attention by pretending to swat a fly. When I turned back round I saw Derrick walking away from my table, and I noticed that my sandwich was not exactly where I left it. Highly suspicious, I opened the sandwich and was not at all surprised to find a small strip of bacon in it. I took it out and put it to one side, then enjoyed my sandwich. Or at least tried to look like I was enjoying it to the annoyed looking boys sitting behind me.
On Tuesday I was in my class, learning about bees and pollination when I felt something tickling the back of my neck. I moved my hand to scratch it but just before I touched it I realised what the tickling was: one of the boys had put a small spider on my neck. Now I may believe in the sanctity of life, but I did not relish the feeling of a spider crawling on my skin any more than you would. Still, I managed to restrain myself, and put my hand on my neck next to where the spider was. When it crawled onto my hand, I placed my hand on my desk and let it go on its way.
Wednesday was a bad day. They got me. I was walking out of the hallway door that led to the playground, when I felt a little crunch underneath my foot. I froze and looked down. It was a snail. I saw Derrick and Charlie laughing at me before they ran away. They must have placed the snail there. It was dead, I could not help it, so I did the only thing I could think to do.
At the far end of the playground was a tall tree. About two thirds of the way up that tree was a bird’s nest. I put the snail’s crushed body inside a tissue in my pocket and climbed the tree (which was completely against school policy and I would get in no small amount of trouble later). When I got to the nest, I gave the snail’s remains to the hungry chicks, who gobbled it up like it was the finest cuisine. I told myself that their mother might have found this snail for them anyway, but still, the boys had succeeded in making me break my code. But it just made me more determined to be more careful in future.
Will the boys continue to torment the writer on Thursday and Friday?
How will the writer avoid breaking their code again?
Will the three boys get in any kind of trouble for their actions?