18 December, 2006

Lacking - a work of non-fiction

As you may have noticed, I haven't posted in over a week. Part of the reason for this is because I had my wisdom teeth pulled out last week so I wasn't feeling up to it. But after I regained my senses I couldn't think of anything I wanted to write about. Even forcing myself to find just 100 measly words. It's kind of sad. I don't think even this is 100 words long. Oh well.

07 December, 2006

Harmony

Discordia would have been a better name, Harmony thought as she sat at her table in detention. Everything always seemed to fall to pieces around her. She traced a finger over the graffiti on the desk in front of her, but not touching those bits that were too crude, even for her. Sure, she spent a lot of time in detention, but that didn't mean that she was a bad person. It didn't mean that she swore all the time, or had... impure thoughts. Harmony wasn't even quite sure what it was that she was meant to be thinking to go with the rest of her delinquency.

She drummed her fingers on the surface before her, alternating between the fingertips and the nails. She checked her watch. 10 seconds. She alternated the rhythm so that it was syncopated. 30 seconds. 31 seconds. 32 seconds.

"Would you stop that tapping please?" the teacher sitting at the larger table at the front of the room asks. Probably rhetorically.

32 seconds. It had taken the last teacher four minutes before she'd become irritated enough to even ask her to stop. Better not mess with this one.

The bell rang finally, ten minutes later. Harmony had just about given up on it ever ringing. She was almost certain that the bell was broken before she remembered that she had set her watch five minutes fast. She picked up her bag and left the room without a word to the supervising teacher.

Detention lesson number ten: Don't flush the toilet when the sign says "out of order". It's there for your own benefit.

06 December, 2006

Robin Misses a Bus

He sat at the bus stop, waiting.

"Stupid," he cursed himself. He couldn't believe he'd just missed his bus. And for what? How had he been late anyway? He hadn't done anything other than what he usually did. And he'd checked his watch; the bus hadn't been early. But somehow, he wasn't there when the bus had come.

Most people would just chalk it up to having taken a little longer to walk to the bus stop. But not Robin, no. He had to have timed it. He left at the same time, walked at the same rate, but hadn't arrived on time.

As he got on the next bus (which was thankfully early), he mused longer. He nattered to the other man in the elevator about it. He whined while his manager came to drop off yet another pile of work for him to do. He complained through his lunch break with his friends. He griped to his fellow commuters at the bus stop home.

And finally, he crawled into bed, only to dream about it all night.

The next day he woke up to do it all again.

05 December, 2006

Judith

She sat in front of the computer screen one last time. Typing. She always typed. It was stress relief, something vaguely constructive to do on those days when all you want to do is rip your brain out, give it a serious scrubbing, then put it back in. On those days, washing your eyeballs and ripping out your spine helped too.

She received an instant message from someone but she ignored it. She continued typing. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Furiously she smashed the keys. Smash. S-mash. Smash.

Just a little bit more. A little bit further. Just one more thought.

Yours oh-so-insincerely,
Judith.


Done. Let's see what Cantridge Paper made of that. Served them right for giving her a paper cut.

03 December, 2006

Charlotte sits alone

She was sitting by herself toward the back of the room. It wasn't a particularly dark corner that she was sitting in, but it was dark enough that someone not looking for her wouldn't notice her. She hadn't wanted to come, but Marcy had begged and begged until Charlotte had no idea why she was resisting in the first place.

She remembered now. It wasn't that she didn't know anyone there, or want to make new friends. But Marcy's friends weren't the sort of people she was comfortable making small talk with. They were too lewd, too... scary, was all she could think.

She sighed as she checked her watch. It wasn't even midnight yet. There was no way she'd be able to drag her friend home yet. And if it wasn't for the fact that Charlotte knew her friend was getting drunk off her face she would have left hours ago, as soon as she found that there was no one that would be suitable company. But she had to take Marcy home, couldn't leave her there like that.

She'd made a game of counting the couples who'd stumbled into the room she was sitting in, as well as the singles. Then she'd watched them leaving, seeing if they left with the same people or if the singles had hooked up. So far only one couple had come in and left unscathed. In one instance, two couples had switched partners, so Charlotte wondered if that was the way it was meant to be.

Two cat fights and fist fight later, Charlotte checked her watch. Past one. That was good enough. So she rose from her end of the couch (startling the couple on the other end that hadn't noticed her) and went to retrieve her friend.

02 December, 2006

Ludwig gets his drivers licence

"It's pronounced Lud-vig," he said to the man behind the counter.

"That's what I said," the man behind the counter responded dismissively as he read through the rest of the form. "Sign here," the man behind the counter said, pointing to a blank space in the form.

He scowled as he scrawled his mark. It might not matter to – he paused to read the man behind the counter's nametag – Jerry, but it certainly mattered to him. He pushed the form back to the man as angrily as possible.

"Just hop in the chair and smile for the camera," Jerry instructed, indicating a chair to his left.

He sat grumpily, and tried to school his face into a smile.

"No one's going to believe that," the man behind the counter commented, indicating that they would try again.

Ludwig frowned at the man before adjusting his expression.

"You look like you're about to murder someone."

Yes, you, Ludwig thought.

The man at the counter stared at the computer screen, concerned.

"You want to try that one last time?"

"Just take the damn picture!" Ludwig snapped, wondering what had happened to the days when the other person didn't care what you looked like in the picture. He placed a neutral expression on his face, heard the click then stood.

"The card will take a couple of minutes," Jerry said.

Ludwig ignored him and sat down to wait while Jerry served someone else.

Two minutes later the card was done. Ludwig retrieved it and examined the picture. He laughed when he saw how awful it was. He looked like a serial killer.

"Thanks," he smiled genuinely at Jerry before he left.

And that's how Ludwig's best drivers licence photo was taken.

01 December, 2006

Madhu sleeps in a park

She stretched, yawned then rolled over and vainly tried to ignore the tingling in her nose as something foreign caressed it. She sneezed and brought a hand up to move the strange object away. It moved temporarily, but was back straight away, and continued to aggravate her nose. She sneezed a second time.

"Mrugh," she said, finally, hating that she had to get up now or risk a continual sneeze.

"Good morning," a voice greeted her.

She looked up and stared deeply into the eyes of a stranger. A stranger whose hair had been tickling her nose.

"Get up," he said.

And she did what she was told, shivering slightly as a sharp wind whipped by. She wasn't wearing much despite the fact that summer had long gone and she was lying outside in a park.

"I think," he said, taking in her state of dress. "It would be best if we took this down to the station."

She only nodded. She'd been there before. They were nice enough, despite the fact that they liked to send her fines. And sometimes she'd been locked into a cell, but she'd always gotten out. It wasn't that she didn't have a home. It was just that she didn't like to be in it.

Introduction

Having come from my NaNoWriMo high, I've decided to write 100 words a day for no particular reason on no particular topic. The only restriction I've placed upon myself is that it must be at least 100 words long, and fictional. So this won't be your average blog.

Actually, I think I'll do one on a random person/entity a day. The name will be randomly determined by process of pointing in a name your baby book, or doing the equivalent online.