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Who Writes Short Shorts?

Okay, so when i found out the two short shorts are due on Monday I wrote a quick one (370 wordsish) just in case I wasn't able to actually write a completely made-up and original "didn't happen to me" all from my imagination story. I'm still hoping to write something not from the first person perspective but this is still practicing writing in general if not that skill in specific.




How everyone could be standing at their tables so calmly minding their centrifuges while all around us a storm raged was beyond me. The walls shook and the floor buckled underneath like a fun house gone horribly awry. I struggled across the room dodging cracks that appeared and disappeared beneath my feet as the boards shifted in place and hurrying past future salutatorians with their hair tossing about in the gale-force winds that slammed through rattling windowpanes. “Kim!” I yelled, tugging on her sleeve. “We have to get out of here!” She smiled at me then turned her attention back to the pink solution in her test tubes. I gave up and moved on. Finally I reached our instructor and pressed her to get everyone downstairs to safety. She placed a concerned hand on my shoulder and with a look of such gentleness asked me, “Have you thought about chorus?” The next morning I met with my advisor and signed up for Driver’s Ed and Typing.

I had been struggling all year with the decision anyway. Was it a sign when my test tube shattered in the centrifuge, spilling distilled water and mystery elements into the electrical components and shorting out the machine? Would I have even been able to identify them had the particulates settled to the bottom as they were supposed to do instead of leaking out? Most of my experiments had failed. If the rest of the classes’ compound turned pink upon adding hydrochloric acid, then mine would be blue. Somehow my water wasn’t even composed of hydrogen and oxygen. And once, just walking past another team’s Bunsen Burner triggered an explosion, shooting magnesium into the air and onto my shirt in the same spotchy pattern as spilled applesauce on a baby’s bib. I could handle the mathematics and the theory with ease, but their application eluded me. So I questioned myself and the desire to be a scientist that I’d held onto since discovering the astronomy section of Kate Sullivan Elementary School’s library. Was that really what my future should hold?

The winds from my unconscious mind had blown away my dreams of becoming a scientist. They say people should follow their dreams, but I followed my dream’s advice.



disbandedtoastr gave me some suggestions but I haven't had time to incorperate them or process them so this is my second draft after having a writing and grammar teacher check my mechanics. She only caught three comma errors and two wrong verbs (passed/past - my nemisis homophone and spilt/spilled). I was proud!

What do you think, sirs?

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
supergoober
Jan. 13th, 2006 01:49 pm (UTC)
Your first fiction assignment: the first paragraph (minus the last sentence) is not a dream but is actually happening. Go!

(That's a story I would like to read, anyway.)
madladyred
Jan. 20th, 2006 06:42 am (UTC)
oooh - that's a good idea! she said she didn't want any police chases or bank robber or high adventure stories in class though so i'll write it for myself as practice.

how would i save everyone, i wonder?
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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