Wednesday's Words on a Friday
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the words are supplied by Lee and can be found here.
Here is my story:
The undercurrent of angst sweeping the assembly hall was thick enough to slice. Nudgings and whispers among the students rippled along the seated rows. The dominant theory was “Hamish has gone too far this time,” followed by multiple questions, “Has anyone seen Hamish?” “Did Hamish come to school today?” “Wonder where Hamish is?” “Surely he hasn’t actually gone and done it!”
A sharp rapping on a tabletop indicated the presence of the teachers and Principal, who had entered unnoticed. The students settled into an uneasy quiet as two Police officers joined the teaching staff. Principal Lawson addressed them. “We have a serious problem within our ranks. The constables will address you, you will do them the courtesy of listening attentively and answering questions in a polite manner.” He signaled the officers to step forward as he himself stepped back behind the long table where the rest of the staff were sitting.
Both men cleared their throats and seemed unsure or unwilling to begin. Finally, Senior Constable Thomas began. “We won’t bore you with a long narrative on the rights and wrongs of society, we’re confident all of you know the basic rules. We’ll stick with the facts. One of you, well known for being audacious, acting in a provocative manner, and many times being completely thoughtless concerning the feelings of others, has committed a rather serious crime.”
His partner, Constable Epping, continued. “I’m sure you all know Hamish Stopford, certainly those of us at the station have come to know him well over the last few years. Late yesterday evening, Hamish was discovered to be painting a very large caricature of the scene you see here before you,” he indicated the tableau of teachers seated at the meeting table on the stage, “with one major adjustment. All persons depicted are, or were, painted as being naked, with phone numbers beside each one imploring people to ‘phone for a good time’.”
“As we speak, Hamish Stopford is being supervised as he scrubs the wall clean at the Town Hall, after which the ultimate punishment will be handed down. Hamish will be brought back here tomorrow morning, you will all convene in this hall again, and he will be formally, publicly, expelled from this establishment. Counsellors will be assigned to each class in turn, you may speak freely to them about your feelings on this matter.”
*I had quite a bit of trouble coming up with this, having a minor meltdown and yelling at poor Lola, not a single one of the words suggested anything to me for a long while, so I sent the words to "no-one" and she sent me this piece which I think is very good:
‘Not more stories full of angst,’ I thought to myself as I scrolled through the most recent fanfic entries for my favourite show.
Scrolling further, I bookmarked multiple fics that I knew from the author's previous work was well written, and true to the show, not making caricatures of my beloved characters. And if they maybe had some mildly provocative scenes, well I wasn’t complaining.
“Common courtesy costs nothing,” my mother always used to say, and she wasn’t wrong.
I made it to the coffee shop with minutes to spare and got in line to order an ultimate choc-caramel latte, with an extra espresso shot, to cut through the dominant caramel taste, making the sweetness bearable.
I liked the fluffy stories, with an undercurrent of humour. A narrative of pain was not my cup of tea at all.
Closing the browser, I shut off the computer as I noticed the time. If I lingered any longer I’d be late to meet my friends for coffee. I hated being late, it was thoughtless and I’d been raised better than that.
Dashing out the door, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to feel confident about my new haircut. Hacking it all off was a rash decision, and now my brief audacious mood had passed, I wasn’t sure I liked it. Hopefully my friends could reassure me that it looked as good as I thought it would before I made that first cut.
My best friend slid in line beside me, hugging me and telling me how much she loved my new hair.
*so you have two stories for the price of one..."no-one" writes good stuff, I'm sure you'll agree.