Hello! Below is my messy and non-edited prompt from Wednesday, April 20's writing group session. I think we wrote for 20 minutes or thereabouts. The prompt was: Your character finds out they are not who they think they are.
I didn't quite get to the not who they think they are, but who knows, maybe I'll do more with this someday and get to that point! Also, swearwords below. You've been warned!
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DETENTION
Pffff. Pop. Smack.
Sandy just keeps pop-smacking her gum like she’s the only one stuck in this tiny detention room. I didn’t even do anything to get called in here. Well, I didn’t do anything today. I’ve already served my time. For other days. So why am I here now?
I shove my earbuds in as deep as I can—those haven’t gotten confiscated yet—and lay my forehead on the eraser shreds covering the desk from the last victim of detention. Even though I don’t have music—my phone did get taken—it helps a little.
Mr. Cormick needs to get in here already and take attendance, the clock for how long we’re stuck here doesn’t start until his ass is in the chair. So where the hell is he?
POP.
Sandy’s leaning back in her chair, leaning closer to me, with her eyes on me. One of her eyebrows is raised high like she’s daring me to stop her.
Pffff.
Dammit. I dig out a pencil I used exactly once today from the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie and jab the stupid pink bubble.
It pops in her face, getting all over her nose, some even gets up on her eyebrows.
Sandy snaps forward, the front feet of her chair slamming to the ground. Then she jumps up. “Hey! What the hell? You got some in my hair.” She blots out the teacher’s desk and some of the light.
I always forget how tall she is.
“Make smaller bubbles next time.”
I might piss myself.
If Sandy were allowed on the wrestling team, she’d crush everyone, but her grades are shit, so she can’t be.
Also she has a proclivity for punching.
She clenches her fists so tight I can hear it. “You’re gonna regret—”
“Shut up already,” Mr. Cormick says from the door glaring over his gold rimmed glasses.
My skin prickles. He doesn’t usually talk like that.
Sandy hovers there with her eyes on Mr. Cormick, mouth hanging open, and her fists loosen. I think she’s weirded out too.
Then he shuts the door and locks it.
That’s really not normal. Cold sweat slicks my palms.
“Sit down, now.” There’s only hard edges in Mr. Comrick’s voice. “We don’t have time for any of this nonsense.”
Sandy slowly moves back to her chair, but shoots me a look. We lock eyes.
Today is the first and only time I’ve ever seen her afraid.
Fuck.
Balding, stooped Mr. Cormick who usually has nothing more to say than a mumbled good afternoon stalks over to the dry erase board in the front like he’s somebody else entirely. He’s standing tall, like he actually grew a backbone somehow, and he’s not mumbling anymore.
I keep swallowing, I can’t stop. If I do, all the fear pooling in my stomach’s gonna rise up, it’s gonna get out in at least a scream. Maybe more.
Mr. Cormick grabs a marker, flicks the cap off with his thumb, and starts drawing symbols that belong in anime, not detention.
“I thought we’d have more time, but we don’t,” he says as he draws one final line. When he pulls back the marker, the board glows.
“What do you mean?” I get the words out without screaming, but they’re shaking. I’m shaking.
He turns, his eyes glowing too. His gaze slides from me, to Sandy, and then back to me again.
“You’re needed back home now. Sandy, you get the luxury of joining us.” Every word he says drips with a mix of fear and anger.
The doorknob rattles.
Then the whole door shakes.
“Get up here, girls, we’ve run out of time.”
I stand, I’m not even thinking as I do it, and I’m up there by him before my brain can catch up with my legs.
But Sandy stays put. “Hell no am I going anywhere.”
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You should give the prompt a try too and see how it goes for you as well! Prompts are so much fun because they don't have to be tied to anything you're working on and can get the words flowing.
Thanks for stopping by and I hope you have a super day!
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