It’s Red Writing Hood time again.
I’m torn between feeling pleased with myself, and feeling at a bit of a loss. The prompt for this week’s Red Writing Hood was to take a tool out of my writers’ toolbox that doesn’t get used as much and needs a bit of extra polishing. You might not have noticed it, but if you compare last week’s prompt post to the previous ones I’ve done, it’s pretty different. Even apart from the fact that I didn’t kill anyone in last week’s, I specifically (and purposely) focused on the piece being mostly about conversation. I’d say that counts as two tools I don’t use often enough. What am I bad at doing? Well… “Nothing” comes to mind, I am, after all, pretty awesome. For this challenge, I figured I would use…
… THE FIRST PERSON. I realise that 99.999% of my blogging is in the first person… but that’s just talking about myself, something thing I’m pretty awesome at doing in the first person, because, let’s face it, I would sound pretty creepy if I spoke about myself in the third person.
It helps that this story is an idea that stemmed from a VERY weird dream I had. The kind of dream you wake up from and question whether acid flashbacks can happen to people who never dropped acid.
Check out the rest of the submissions HERE, and mine is below:
It all started when I met Joanna. She was the most unusual person I had ever met, though I didn’t realize nearly how much so until later.
I stood out at my new school in my hand-me-down jeans and flannel shirt. The packed cafeteria held more students than we had in my entire town.
She looked like a crow, with her wide dark eyes ringed in heavy makeup, her dark hair braided and piled haphazardly and in a tangled mess on her head. No-one back home would dress like that, black lacy skirt fluttering and tattered at the bottom, tight T-Shirt labelling her ‘The Clash’.
I didn’t hear much rock music back home either.
She grabbed my arm, long red nails clacking, and pulled me away from the cafeteria line. I made a weak protest, but Joanna was a force of nature.
“You don’t want to eat that crap, come on!”
She dragged me down the hall and into the girls’ washroom.
This is it, I thought, I’m going to be bullied.
“I’ve decided that I like you, so I’m going to show you a secret.” Heavy purplish-red lips stretched wide as she smiled back at me.
She took me to a stall.
The doorway, despite being just as large as the others, was a tight fit to squeeze through. I hardly had a chance to register this unusual misrepresentation of proportion before we were leaving the stall.
I blinked in confusion. I was sure we had been going into the stall, but Joanna was leading me out the way we came, and right back to the cafeteria.
The hall was different, though. The grungy old lockers were gone, with rich mahogany panneling in their place. The cafeteria now had solid oak tables and heavy chairs, and the stale-grease smell that had permeated the room just moments before was replaced by the heady scent of roast chicken and gravy.
The people were beyond description, so unusually dressed and exotic.
I looked to Joanna for an explanation.
She spread her arms wide and said, “I call it The Necessary. It brings you to what you need. What we needed today was better food. Fish don’t even have fingers!” She laughed and added, “Also, it’s a synonym for toilet.”
My first introduction to that magical place was the most delectable roast chicken dinner I’d ever had.