1780

Blotted Ink with a Broken Quill

United States

13 years old.
In love with books.
Ranger's Apprentice. 1
Dawn of Wonder. 2
Wings of Fire. 3
Warriors. 4
Percy Jackson. 5

ENFP-T

Coldplay.
Beatles.

Guitarist.
Artist.
Screamer.
Lover.
Actor.

Join Date: September 12, 2018

Message from Writer

I have found that what I put here before was very deep.
Nah...
Just wanted to say hi.
So hello.

And remember that whoever you are, however you look, in what way you think, what you drink, how you express yourself, how you write, what music you listen to, and even how long your fingernails are, the only real thing about you is what you decide to be.

Out of the Dust and Into the Cold

January 14, 2019

FREE WRITING

1


Oh, just wonderful. How the am I supposed to “contribute” to this project—and every other project ever—when all other people ever do is reject my ideas?
   “Ah, no,” Liam says. He smiles, showing off his clean, shiny teeth, pretending that he’s the best person in the world, and as if he enjoys my frustration—definitely no to the first one, and probably yes to the second.
   “I agree with Liam,” Lisa says. Of course she does. “Putting chowder on the menu is a terrible idea.” She likes him.
   “Well fine,” I reply. “Why don’t we put all of the stupidest foods in the world on the menu, so that no one will come to buy any of our food—which is great for business by the way—and we’ll get a bad grade. Eh?”
Lisa immediately frowns.“Ms. Garcia! Can you come here and talk to Angie?” she shouts much too loudly, especially for me being next to her. Always a tattletale.
“Lisa, what happened?” Ms. Garcia asks, pursing her red lips, which held much more lipstick than one could usually put on.
“Angie says that we’ll fail, and she’s not being a supportive team member,” she whines, but with an upturned mouth line.
We’re in eighth grade! Come on Lisa, get a life.
She acts like a Kindergartener (or maybe she is just a Kindergartener in an eighth grader’s body...Who knows.)
At least I didn’t need to care about chowder in a fake restaurant anymore. I looked at the wall clock, which read 2:58. A bell would ring at three, so while the teacher reprimanded me, I pretended to nod and look at least a little sorry. It didn’t matter anyway. I wouldn’t be around tomorrow.
As a matter of fact, I would never be here again. I would miss Madeline and Wilson, but besides that, I wouldn’t look back.
There was something different about this year, something that would change. It had to be different from the last six years of learning information that meant less than dirt and making one or two friends. I was ready to leave this dusty town that no one had heard of in the middle of nowhere.
By this point, I was fuming at the world. Like always.
~~~~    * * *   ~~~~
We were moving to Anchorage, Alaska, where the cold could chase away thoughts of homesickness—and also wipe my memory of Lisa and Liam, the forever “lovebirds” who were obviously meant for each other.
“So long suckers!” I whispered under my breath while my pink converse tore up the ground towards the bus stop.
I was usually a sight to behold, but today was extra confusing; of course I had to make a mark on the last day. My shoes, coupled with cargo shorts and a long sleeve beige cashmere sweater, along with cropped red hair,  too few freckles, and mismatching socks. One went all the way up to my knee, and the other was barely visible, peeking out behind the pink. In all honesty, I was pretty ugly. Hah, that makes no sense. Kind of like jumbo shrimp.
As the bus pulled up to my house, I saw the whitewashed blue from the wind and rain, or I guess it wasn’t from the rain. The cracks had been bulleted with dust, and it was more of a shack than a house with its roof, which was missing a board here and there and had more than a few holes.
~~~~    * * *   ~~~~    
I could imagine the crisp, clean air and the snowball fights… But there was something about the old house that felt like home. It was home.
And as much as I hated my classmates, I would be alone in the icy paradise, or at least more so than now.
~~~~    * * *   ~~~~
Boarding group three, please board the plane. The woman’s voice rang out over the crowd through a slightly static speaker.
I sighed, and we pulled our bags up to the gate, showed the lady our tickets, and continued down the tunnel. When I was younger, I liked to skip up and down, waiting for my parents to catch up. Not anymore.
We sat down in row 38 of 40, and waited to get into the air. The taxiing took two hours, but I didn’t care. I was too caught up staring out the window, watching the dust blowing in the wind. I vaguely heard the flight attendant finish saying we were scheduled for takeoff, and then the plane jolted into the sky. Seeing everything so small was still a little magical for me, so I stared at the endless waves of square fields with slightly varied colors for at least five minutes. But finally, my will gave out.
I connected my MP3 player to a pair of $20 earbuds and turned up whatever was playing. I wasn’t really sure I cared what, just that it felt good. It sounded like it wasn’t country, so that was enough for me.



 
This was done in full collaboration with MAM, or Majestically Awkward Manatee. It was hard to write together, but we really liked the end product.

Print

See History
  • January 14, 2019 - 6:06pm (Now Viewing)

Login or Signup to provide a comment.