Weekend Write-In Story Collection

Yawnder

In 500 words, tell a story about a poorly timed yawn. Written for the Weekend Write-In prompt themed "Yawn." 3-5 July 2015

A boring spelling bee with a twist. This story draws on my experiences as a dyslexic.

The Spelling Bee

"Y-A-W-N-D-E-R," David spelled out slowly and confidently from the lectern at the front of the school auditorium. "Yonder," he said to the silence in front of him. He sensed something wrong when there wasn't the usual applause.

From her seat on stage, Rebecca snorted back a laugh and had to cover her mouth as she listened to him mess up the spelling. She felt light-headed. She hadn't expected to make it anywhere near the finals. Now all she had to do to win the bee was to spell her next word correctly.

Maybe those many months of late nights are paying off, she thought as the moderator spelled the word correctly for David and the audience. Maybe poring over the dictionaries and the spelling texts and memorising the contents of the cards and word lists is working. I can picture all the words now. My dyslexia doesn't matter.

David was devastated as he slumped back to his seat. Since he had won the Grade Four spelling bee four years previously, he had never been defeated. Now, his winning his fifth straight, the Grade Eight championship depended on Rebecca missing her next word. Then she'd have to miss another one after that for him to even have a chance. It had been a long two-sided battle. He had never been behind like this.

He looked across at her as she rose to head to the place at the lectern. He hadn't really paid attention to her before today; she had never been in any of the previous bees. She's pretty, he thought, as he watched her, much prettier than the other girls. He looked more closely. I can't believe she's that slow girl, the one who has trouble reading.

Rebecca took another sip of water before moving toward her position at the lectern. Let's hope they ask me another word that I have pictured in here, she said to herself as she ran her fingers through her wavy red hair and held the top of her head in a moment of nervousness.

She was unaccustomed to being on stage, acutely aware of the full auditorium. Most of them have come to watch David win again, she thought. She felt the audience watching her. She wondered what they were thinking.

Still feeling a little light-headed, she stepped up onto the podium and approached the lectern. She felt faint and held onto its two sides to steady herself, letting her head fall forward and closing her eyes while tightly gripping the lectern rims.

"Vertigo?" asked the moderator.

"No," she said, stifling a yawn, "tired and nervous."

"No," said the moderator, "I meant that I want you to spell 'vertigo'. You have one question left."

"Is that dizzy and lightheaded, unsteady?" she asked.

"Yes."

Good, then that's simple, I can see it very clearly, she thought, and with a wide smile, she looked back at David. "Vertigo," she said, turned forward and slowly read the letters off the image in her mind: "V-E-R-T-I-G-O."