I’ve had a bit of writer’s block lately. I’m dead tired this spring, as I have been every spring since becoming a teacher. I was too tired to grade during my conference today, so I made myself write a shitty short story during my 45 minutes off. Enjoy!
She left the house at 8:19, which means she would arrive at 8:34, four minutes late to the weekly meeting. Oh well, she sighed hoping that tapping impatiently on the steering wheel would hint at the red light to change, they always start late anyway.
She always hated that springtime looked so pleasant and felt so soul-crushing. The town of Bradbury always sowed wildflowers in road medians. She loved the flowers–pink and purple bachelor’s buttons–but she only got to look at them when she was waiting at this light for the green arrow to signal her to turn left onto Akard Avenue.The flowers always bloomed when she was felt the weakest: the school year had worn her down for seven months, the students were getting unmanageable, and the entire staff was on edge, preparing for April’s state tests. Turning left meant turning to yet another day of fruitless yelling and tension headaches.
Country music tinkled on her radio, promising the coming of summer. Checking her side mirrors, she noticed an opening in the next lane, going straight. She could reach the interstate if she went straight. From there, she could go straight up north to Oklahoma and as far as it would take her. Maybe she could drive until she needed gas–her Prius could take her pretty far–and stop and start a new life wherever that was. Get a job at Wal-Mart. Get a small apartment. Work her way up to manager. It would be a life, and it wouldn’t be waiting at this light to go to yet another mind-numbing meeting.
She turned her left blinker off and gripped the steering wheel. She steered right, not seeing the monstrous Chevy truck speeding toward her. Neck twisting, ears echoing, she prayed this would kill her and take her out of her misery. She sighed in dismay when she was able to blink her eyes open after the impact. Oh well. At least I get to skip the meeting.