My Original Works

Writing Practice #2: Description

The narrow boy sat at the table on his own, his gaze shifting from one person to the next as he sat in the cafeteria. School wasn't his favorite thing in the world, but no matter how hard he tried to will himself to stay home, he knew the school would pull some bullshit out of their asses and get him in trouble. He wasn't anything special; his skin was a medium brown that was almost always hidden by a long sleeve shirt, mid-length, curly brown hair that he found himself messing with when he got nervous (which seemed to be very often), and dark brown eyes that he remembers being called "small" when he was in elementary school (why he remembers this confuses him too, but it seems that he can't forget any embarrassing encounter). He was very short for a fifteen-year-old male, often being used as an armrest for his peers when he stopped in the hall to gather his belongings from his locker. He's of average weight, though has a narrow build.

He was considered the mouse. He was always too small and frightened by anything.

He sat in the cafeteria with a slim finger twirling his hair around and around and around and around... God, why couldn't he do anything else? He was too scared to move, to think, to exist. All he could do was twirl his hair around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around.

The walls were cracked and peeling like the wall itself was trying to escape. The walls were a dull gray color that never seemed to be painted over, even when some of the other students wrote on them with sharpie markers. There was nothing but cheap lawn chairs for people to sit in and the foldable tables for the students to eat off of, all of which used to be bright white before going through the wrath of the teenagers. The lights overhead occasionally flickered, and one even went out completely, leaving the whole right side of the cafeteria to dwell in the darkness. It was a ratty old place, but he knew it all too well.