‘Write an essay until the end of the day,’ she had said with a smile and gave me the ugliest picture I had ever seen.
My future depends on this story, lays in the hands of a teacher, who will either show mercy or let me fail.
How can I dream if there is emptiness? How can I write if I feel nothing?
I should make up a story about nature and mankind, write about strengths and balance.
The ugly picture has a beauty I didn’t see at first glance?
My mind is racing, I pick up my pen and write.
Sorry for the “Ugly picture” somehow it brought back memories from school. Back then my mind went blank quite often, and I felt a helplessness that I remember too well. A 101-word story to a picture that just wasn’t my cup of tea. I hope that is alright. I will be a good girl next week, or perhaps the week after.
Rochelle and the Friday Fictioneers seem to bring out the best -and worst- in me.