Thursday, July 5, 2012

Tuesday Quick Write on Thursday 7/5

I know that I shouldn't stress over this, because I write every day.  However, I always seem to be a day late and a dollar short with these Quick Writes!  In this case, I'm two days late.   Click Here to read the prompt from author Kristy Dempsey.


Putting aside my tendencies towards perfectionism and propensity against promptness (two opposing forces that cause me daily internal conflict), I think that Tuesday's prompt is helpful for me.  In my story (WIP), the main character has already lost something.  More specifically, something was taken from her and spewed throughout the courtyard at her school.  Already upset that her backpack has been stolen from the library, those feelings don't compare to the loss Beth feels when discovers that her journal is gone. 
Here is the last paragraph from my previous post regarding point of view (in blue).  Today, I will add to the story using the prompt from Tuesday.


Wait.  I know it was here, next to the printer by the door.  Where is it?  A wave of panic rushes to my head, and I can feel it compressing a black clamp between my eyes, making me lose my balance.  My journal.  My life.  My bag.  WHERE IS IT???
I drop the book back onto the return desk and race out into the hallway.  I can feel the clamp tightening between my eyes, and I force the onset of my imminent migraine away.  I cannot lose it, not now.  Breathing in, I force the yellow stars back from my eyes and blink to clear my head.  Exhaling, I know that it has to be here somewhere.  I wasn't in the library that long, and we still have the afternoon.  It has to be somewhere in the building.  It has to turn up.  I have to find it.
In the corner of my eye, something white flashes and I see it.  More like them.  Notebook pages from my Language Arts binder are fluttering through the air in the slight spring breeze of the open air courtyard.  Late-spring paper snow, they rise and drift downward, then up again as if caught in a slow moving blizzard.
Once inside the courtyard, the contrast between the bite of the spring breeze and warmth of the sun through the ceiling-less room causes me to pause as I survey the damage.  Despite the binder explosion, relief passes through me and I can feel my heartbeat slow and steady to a normal rate.  My backpack, tossed on its side, is next to the picnic table, and I jog over to begin to reclaim my belongings.
David must have noticed the paper storm as well, because he is suddenly at my side to help me pick up the pieces.   Why does he always appear out of nowhere?  He hands me my World Cultures textbook.
"Hey David.  Um, thanks," I scramble over to catch a stray page before it lands in the FFA built fish pond.
"Whoa, Beth.  What happened?"
"My backpack exploded.  No biggie."
How can I get him to leave, seriously? I don't like how he is always here, trying to get into my head.
"I mean, really, Beth?  This didn't happen by accident.  I just found your planner over by the vegetable bed."
"Seriously, David.  It's not a big deal.  Thanks for all of your help, but I really have to go.  I'm going to be late."  I take the planner from his big hairy ape-hand and scan the courtyard for any other stray items.  Nope.
I can barely hear his goodbye as I sprint down the hall and find a quiet corner to survey the inside of my bag.  I can feel the thudding in my head increase as I frantically sort through my stuff.  My journal.  Where is it?  I know I picked up everything from the courtyard.  It wasn't there.  Where is it?  Who has it?  Who knows?  Who KNOWS?  
The yellow stars are back in my eyes, and I don't even feel it when my head cracks into the side of the water fountain as I fall to the ground.   


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