Intro: So I’m trying to do more writing my goal is to do writing at least a couple times a week to put on this blog. I joined a writing group (Words After Dark) recently after a convention where I met a couple of their members, most of these prompts will come from that group.
Prompt: “There were good days, there were bad days, and then there were these days.”
Title: Talking to a Girl
I awoke with a start. The dream wasn’t good, neither was the fact that I had just hit my head on the bunk above me. My memory was foggy but in the dream, I was a girl. It didn’t feel right, yet it felt so close to reality. This room still feels new, only two weeks had passed since I got placed here. It was a small room, only 10 feet by 15. It had a small desk, a set of twin bunk beds and some personal effects from the other occupant. I rubbed my now painful head and gingerly got out of bed. Good, he’s still sleeping. The boy above me couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than me, yet somehow much wiser. Fuck, it helps if you have your memories though. He’s such a cutie.
As I put on my robe on over my boxers I was still in the unexplainable pain. It feels like my whole body is saying “no, let’s never go through that again.” What? What could you have possibly gone through two weeks ago, or more that is so terrible?! Why won’t you tell me? I opened the door slowly, but not slowly enough. As I pushed the door out a security guard ran past and bumped it. The heavy metal door recoiled back and hit me in the face. Flung backward, I landed on the floor by the window. So, it’s going to be a bad day. I got it. Hell, aren’t they all bad days?
Let’s try again. Opening the door more slowly, I stepped out into the hallway. Even though the room seems so new to me. It feels like I’ve known this hallway forever. The guard was gone. The hallway was long and had rooms just like mine up and down both sides. On top of that, this was on the fourth floor. If most of the rooms are empty, why do Tim and I have to bunk together? It would make more sense to put us in separate rooms. There aren’t enough people in this school to fill every room. I hate this place. Why am I even here?
Before I knew it I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth. Ugh, this place is disgusting. Why do I have to share a bathroom with a bunch of guys just because I’m a guy? Girls are so much cleaner. Why do I know that girls bathrooms are cleaner? Sometimes I wish I were a girl. Maybe that dream wasn’t so bad after all. I stayed off in my own little world to ignore the dirt around me. As I was walking down the hall back to my room to get dressed I was totally out of it. I was bumped into, or maybe I bumped into her. She looked link a princess. She had long blond hair which fluttered to the ground as she fell. “I’m sorry.” It was the most melodic voice I had ever heard.
I couldn’t say anything. I was talking to a girl. We both just stared. Then I realized I should help. When I picked up her math book a police report fell out of it. A Police Report? She grabbed the paper back from me and shoved it back into her math book. “I’m Gwen.” She stammered. I was frozen in fear but I managed to be able to nod and say “Sam.” She waved and ran off. Her hair was billowing beautifully behind her. Okay, maybe I’m in love? I think today is going to be a good day after all.
Then, it happened. “Samuel Knudsen Please come to building 2C.” I knew at that moment… There were good days, there were bad days, and then there were these days.