The Collection

Perspective

Hey guys, so these next stories are ones me and two of my friends wrote. The prompt was "Write with the point of view of something in your room" and this is what my friends and I did. This part is my writing and the next two parts will each be one of my friends. They have requested to stay anonymous. Love yall!

Not again. I watch from the corner as she presses a button on her phone, music playing. Let me listen... yep, Hamilton again. At this point, if I had ears, they would be bleeding. Every night. Every single night I have to listen to the same songs on shuffle. I only get a slight break when there's a Tom Felton song but really, how many times can someone listen to the same 46 songs in a week? A lot apparently. She's trying to turn up the music but realizes that it's all the way up already. I watch as she jumps around her room, acting out scenes, and grabbing her orange flashlight as a sort of microphone in some songs. Nothing new. I wonder how the microphone feels, being thrown about. Man. I wish there was a second water bottle in her room. Even a plastic one that would be thrown away in two days. But there's always just me. Surrounded by multiple other puny objects. Hm, maybe that's good though. I never fall on the floor. Well, I might've fallen once but I flew out of her backpack, so that doesn't really count. Anyway, I listen as my favorite song finally plays: Guns and Ships. I swear, if I could sing, this is the song I would be singing all day, everyday. I wait for the fast rap, and sing along in my head as she raps along with the song. I think she's forgetting how loud she's being. Yup, there they are. Footsteps. They sound like her mom's but I'm not sure. In about a second, my theory is confirmed. Her mom's head pokes through and tells her to go to bed. The girl nods her head a few times until her mom leaves and turns her music down. But not off. She keeps it playing and sings along to one more song while organizing her room quickly. She then turns off her music and leaves for the bathroom to get ready to sleep.

When she returns,  she's still humming Hamilton, and makes sure everything is in places for the next day. She gets under the covers, singing different songs to herself, more quietly this time. I realize she forgot her phone. It's laying right next to me. By the way she's looking around, I can tell that she's realized it too. She glances up quickly, and sees it on the desk. A huge sigh breezes past her lips and she gets up, clearly not wanting to get up. Nevertheless, she walks over to me and picks up her phone. With what looks like a split second decision, she grabs me too, and puts me next to her bed. Her phone, she plugs into the wall and uses it for an hour. That's an hour longer than she should but whatever, I guess. Finally, she turns it off, puts it on her fuzzy carpet, and flips over, closing her eyes and waiting for tomorrow.