On Wednesdays, Delores, from Under The Porch Light, has a word challenge meme which she calls “Words for Wednesday”.
She puts up a selection of six words which we then use in a short story, or a poem.
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?
This week's words are:
and:: "coldly clinical....cunnningly calculating"
Here is my story:
At 13 he'd been expelled from several schools for repeated disruptions of classes, fighting and truancies. In despair, his parents had Travis inducted into a military style boarding school they'd heard about, then researched extensively, situated on ten acres near the state border.
One step away from what used to be called a reform school, it was a last resort for many parents whose young sons were out of control, or lacking most aspects of self discipline.
On the long drive to the school, Travis's parents chatted brightly about the plethora of sport and academic options available there.
The school grounds contained several out buildings, one was a gymnasium, one a very well stocked library, another a small museum of natural history. The grounds also offered a swimming pool where the boys would take life-guard lessons, playing fields for ball sports and even an army style obstacle course!
Travis listened without saying much, his face set in a scowl as he silently vowed retribution on a society that just didn't seem to understand him.
His parents continued with talk of how all the teachers were known to be firm but fair, discipline was strict with emphasis on the boys learning self control and why it was so necessary. It was well known that any insubordination would not be tolerated although no boy was ever punished unjustly or severely. (A psychologist on the staff helped a lot with talking to the boys and getting them to open up about any problems or fears).
Travis scowled harder while thinking all this discipline wouldn't be necessary if maybe people would just listen to him once in a while.
On arrival at the school, the newly rebuilt lobby and hospital wing appeared coldly clinical, at odds with the rest of the main building, a converted 200 year old mansion that had once been the summer home of a rich family.
After giving their names to the receptionist in the lobby, they met the headmaster who looked kindly upon Travis and welcomed him, then said he would get a physical check before being taken to his room which he would share with three other boys his own age.
His parents hugged him goodbye, promising to be there for every allowed weekend visit, then Travis met the Matron. She had a kind face, with a nice smile, but the kind of cunningly calculating eyes that could look right into your mind and see every single thought in there.