Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt #2

You are walking home from work when something hits you from behind...

02:58 pm.

I never liked the scent of chalk. Is that random? Whenever I smelled chalk, it reminded me of the sound it does when it makes contact with the blackboard, kind of screechy and high pitched.

American History II in Room A408 was strangely silent this afternoon. Every single person had a pen in their hand and their eyes locked on their work. For being the class with the worst reputation, this was definitely weird. Almost like we stepped into an alternate universe. It made me wonder how the honor kids next door were behaving. Were they acting out? Did they finally use their outside voices in the classroom?

Well whatever, I wasn't complaining either way. I couldn't possibly care less if everyone failed or not.

Two more minutes and I'm free from this hellhole they call high school. The T.A. watched me silently with her beady black eyes but I paid the evil looking woman no mind. She was what nightmares were made from.

I was but a mere moment away from sweet, sweet freedom where blue skies and cotton candy clouds were calling my name. It was only one minute away. Sixty teeny weeny little seconds.

My cheek rested on the palm of my hand as I gave my undivided attention to the ticking and tocking of the ancient clock above the door. Around me, I could hear people beginning to pack up, bags were zipping, pencil cases were being shut, murmurs turned into whispers that turned into not so quiet talking.

Thirty more seconds left.

I didn't bother to pack anything, not that I had anything worth packing up. It wasn't like I was well prepared for school anyway. This morning, I overslept waking up at almost nine and missed first period. Then some headphone-wearing idiot crashed into me in the hallway, spilling their caramel latte on my only pair of clean pants. Last period, the principal wanted to have a little chat with me about the last minute paper I turned in last week. Another evil looking woman with beady eyes. She hasn't been very happy with me this semester.

Ten more seconds.

But I couldn't be bothered with all that because today was Friday and today was the last day before spring break. And today nothing could phase me.

The T.A. never took her eyes off me. Though I didn't look at her, I could feel her piercing stare drilling a second set of dimples to the side of my face. She stood up to say something but lucky for me, the bell rang. Well, if you could call that a bell, it was more like a dull, not very important sounding siren that wailed for a few seconds. And for those few seconds, I ran like my heels were on fire. The hinges on the wooden door squeaked as the class watched in silent wonder, trying to figure out what the hell got into me. By the time I left the school grounds, the bell was still ringing, it only stopped once I passed the school bus stop.

I'll probably get fired for that, but oh well. That's a later problem. I'll find out whether I have a job or not on Monday.

First thing I noticed was that it was hotter than I expected. I slung my blazer over my left shoulder, very cool and casual that didn't seem like I was trying too hard. A few students ran past me in a hurry, lightly shoving me off the sidewalk and weirdly, I didn't cuss them out like a usually would. I blame Friday for that.

The sky wasn't as blue as it usually was on a happy Friday. It was grayer and depressing, kinda like if Edgar Allen Poe decides to illustrate his books from the heavens. That doesn't make sense. And that doesn't matter because it's Friday and Buddy's Bar was calling to me.

For as long as I can remember, I always walked to Buddy's on Fridays from that horrible high school. It was my favorite way to cleanse the putrid scent of snot-nosed kids from my soul. That and Tequila shots. For those short hours at Buddy's, I can feel like an actual man instead of a teacher. Kids tend to forget that when you're a teacher, you still have dreams and regular human emotions. It seems that when you put on blazers and some corny ties your nephews give you for fathers day and preach about the American Revolution for hours then that's all you are. A teacher man. A drone. A piece of furniture or something that doesn't exist outside school. Apparently what you like to do in your free time is read books and grade papers. I don't even care about the American Revolution enough to talk about it for as long as I do. I wonder how much trouble I'll get for bullshitting historical facts. The mere thought makes me regret being a liberal arts major.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair, turning the corner onto the main road. My scuffed shoes catch my attention. Maybe I should have listened to my dad and become and an engineer like Jim, then I would have had a dented Honda Civic and two kids, one girl, one boy and a two-story house with a garage filled with broken bikes and unbuilt birdhouses.

Too dull. I'd rather be a teacher.

I walked through the typical suburban neighborhood that was copy and pasted on every block in this town. Big houses, big lawns and big bills in small mailboxes.

Dreams of piña coladas on the beach in Malta were suddenly halted. Pain shot through my spine, interrupting my train of thought yet I didn't think much of it. I just rubbed my aching back and kept on moving. I vaguely wondered if I pulled a muscle? No, I didn't. I know because the pain returned with a vengeance. It was enough to bring me down to one knee. And Jesus that hurt! I hissed and tried my best to blink the tears away.

Turning around, I was surprised to see a skinny woman, tossing a softball up and down on her right hand. Her cap was turned backwards to emphasize her seriousness and she had an angry look on her face. She reminded me of Ash Ketchum but I quickly dismissed that thought because that would make me a Pokemon. Her short black hair was in pigtails at the base of her neck and she was wearing what appeared to be, yes I believe they are Naruto pajamas.

Her dark eyes glared at me beneath her brown frames. She pointed at me, softball still in her hand and said, "Fuck you Jonathan!" and threw the ball at me in full force.

I should have dodged it, or at least attempted to but like the stupid Pokemon I was, I stayed put, watching the Pokeball- er, I mean softball make contact with the side of my face. Another dimple to the collection.

That was gonna hurt in the morning.

I saw the woman walk towards me until she was hovering over my weakened body, an evil smirk painted on her pretty features when she realized something. Her face fell and she started to move her lips as she furrowed her eyebrows. I couldn't hear her, I realized. Also, my eyes were really heavy all of a sudden.

Also, I can see her panties from this view.

Also, my name isn't Jonathan.