RoloTomassy

Before I start I'd like to say that I'm a rather novice when it comes to writing. I'll probably be posting some stories I wrote in my highschool creative writing class. Also, none of these strike a personal note (if they do, I'll say so), and I'm not against critism, so if you have something helpful to say, by all means, say it.

Six by Six

Six by Six

The last thing I remember was the headlights. Those gigantic, blinding, hallogen bulbs racing towards me. I froze, too startled to move to safety. Now I knew how all those deer felt. I didn't see my life flash before my eyes. That disappointed me. Instead, I noticed that it must be a newer model car. How sad.

Earlier today I had been sitting in my cubical. Every few minutes I'd shuffle papers and click the mouse. Giving my spineless boss the illusion of work getting done. I had to take a bathroom break. Eighth one today.

"Damn this bladder infection," I'd say to my supervisor as I walked by. It was pitiful. It wasn't pitiful that he believed me, because I really did have a bladder infection. It was pitiful that I'd rather piss blood every thirty minutes than sit in my tiny, off-white cubical.

That's when it happened. My responsibility left like the pint of blood and urine was soon going to. I was thirty-six years old and my life was wasting away. I was wasting my life the same way tens of thousands were wasting theirs. I was just a face in the swarm of the middle-aging-middle-class. Every day I'd get up for work at five in the morning. That same buzzer, the same flashing red numbers. I'd get to work and search the internet for clever screen savers to download. Every day I'd go "home" to a cramped studio apartment barely larger than my six by six cubical.

What were my dreams? To be promoted to an eight by eight cubical? To make enough to buy a house in suburbia-Hell? To have a wife and two children and drive a big white van to and from soccer practice?

Oh, I was living the American Dream, but it certainly wasn't my dream. I was done. Done wasting away at my computer. From now on, I was my boss; things were going to be the way I wanted them to be.

Without saying a word I walked past the restroom to the elevator. Glenn, my supervisor started to speak but I just smiled and brushed past him. I was still smiling when the elevator doors closed behind me. By the time I reached the lobby I had ditched my jacket, tie, and shoes. Too busy thinking about my new life to care, I stepped out into the streets.

"...the last thing I remember was the headlights," I muttered to the doctor.
"Well, you got lucky, you'll be just fine," he replied, then added, "don't worry, you should be well enough to return to work next week."

J.R.V.A.

I like this,the way it is going. It seems there is a lot missing though. I would like to see more, or a longer version of this. Thanks for sharing.

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And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart

Angel

A good story. I, like J.R.V.A. would like to see more...a longer version.

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In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer.
~Albert Camus