Short Fiction: A Knock
I have started to branch out in my writing, trying to make myself better. Not a fanfic, but a short fiction piece I wrote.
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The tile is pink, fitting for a women's restroom. Dirty, but that might be fitting too. The mechanical hum of the fluorescent lights is drowned out by the occasional exuberant cheers from the crowd outside, celebrating the events of the first football game of the season. She knows she should be out there, partaking in the hooping and hollering that comes with another touchdown or a clutch first-down, but she isn't. Instead, she is sitting on the dirty, pink tile, head in hands as the world around her cheers.
It wasn't always this way. Once upon a time, she was comfortable being a part of that crowd, screaming when the opposing team had third-down, clinking beer bottles in jubilation of a victory. She could handle the people, the questions, the world in which she lived.
Now, she's in the bathroom floor, hiding from everyone --- friends and acquaintances, both. She's hiding from herself.
She wonders if anyone has realized that she is gone, slipped away to the restroom for a bit too long. Has anyone asked if she's okay? Where she went? Or did they just not care, too wrapped up in the game and company to give a damn about the girl crying in the bathroom floor.
She wants to hide in that bathroom forever, or until someone comes to find her, or needs to use the toilet. Is it selfish to be this way? To want to hide from the world? To feel cared about? She doesn't know, and only cares a little... it's what she wants, for someone to find her.
Another cheer, louder this time, with a hint of excitement and victory. Definitely a touchdown, but there was something else, something not about the game.
A knock.
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For more works like this, visit my blog: justanotherwannabeclassic.blogspot.com/
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The tile is pink, fitting for a women's restroom. Dirty, but that might be fitting too. The mechanical hum of the fluorescent lights is drowned out by the occasional exuberant cheers from the crowd outside, celebrating the events of the first football game of the season. She knows she should be out there, partaking in the hooping and hollering that comes with another touchdown or a clutch first-down, but she isn't. Instead, she is sitting on the dirty, pink tile, head in hands as the world around her cheers.
It wasn't always this way. Once upon a time, she was comfortable being a part of that crowd, screaming when the opposing team had third-down, clinking beer bottles in jubilation of a victory. She could handle the people, the questions, the world in which she lived.
Now, she's in the bathroom floor, hiding from everyone --- friends and acquaintances, both. She's hiding from herself.
She wonders if anyone has realized that she is gone, slipped away to the restroom for a bit too long. Has anyone asked if she's okay? Where she went? Or did they just not care, too wrapped up in the game and company to give a damn about the girl crying in the bathroom floor.
She wants to hide in that bathroom forever, or until someone comes to find her, or needs to use the toilet. Is it selfish to be this way? To want to hide from the world? To feel cared about? She doesn't know, and only cares a little... it's what she wants, for someone to find her.
Another cheer, louder this time, with a hint of excitement and victory. Definitely a touchdown, but there was something else, something not about the game.
A knock.
----
For more works like this, visit my blog: justanotherwannabeclassic.blogspot.com/