I’m doing something for the first time, here. I’m continuing one of my previous Red Writing Hood prompt responses. The other section of this story is here. Just to clarify, for those of you who go back to read it (or not, really), they go through a bathroom stall and into a different world. And they’re in elementary school in that part. Fast-forward a few years, and they’re probably in grade 11 or 12 in this piece of the story, which is set inside the alternate world.
The prompt this week was:
This week we’d like you to stir up some conflict, using the following quote as inspiration.
It is better to be violent, if there is violence in our hearts, than to put on the cloak of nonviolence to cover impotence. Mahatma Gandhi (1869 – 1948)
The word limit is 300.
Check out the other submissions here.
I’d been searching desperately for her for an hour, and there she was, in a bar. Flirting. The boy, heavily pierced elfin ears flashing in the strobing light of the bar, leaned in to speak. The pounding of the harsh music matched the surging boil of my blood.
She giggled and teasingly punched the dark haired boy’s leather-clad arm. He grinned , the scrollwork of silver and purple tattoos that trailed up his neck and along his hairline making him appear even more war-like than his fang-like teeth. He tossed his head back to flick his long hair out of his face, and our eyes met for a moment over Joanna’s braid-strewn bird’s nest of hair. I shivered.
“Joanna!” I yelled over the music, turning her by the arm.
She was drunk, her red-stained lips pulled wide in a rictus grin. Her face was pale with powder, her eyes smudged purple. She looked like a dead clown.
Joanna squealed in delight and threw her arms around me. “You’re here! Let’s dance!”
I didn’t move. “What the hell?! I was really worried when I got your text!”
“Chill, Char.” She pronounced it with the same strong ‘ch’ as ‘chill’, a mean glint in her eyes.
As usual, I took the bait.
“It’s Char, like ‘sharp’, but without the ‘p’” I snapped. “But you knew that.”
“GAD! You’re such a party-pooper, sharp-without-the-p,” she rolled her eyes. “Everything’s fine, so relax, enjoy the party!”
“I tell you I have to study, so you trick me.”
She smiled, but didn’t deny it.
“You’re so… SO Frustrating! You know what? I’ve had enough.” I looked into her unapologetic eyes, curled my lip in disgust, and spat, “SCREW YOU!”
So much for friendship, I thought bitterly, trudging back to the Necessary alone.