 |
| src: webstockreview |
In the eighth grade classroom of a Central school, all hell had broken loose. It was a commotion so profound that calling it a fish market would be an understatement. In the midst of the futile screams of the class-monitor were flying cloth dusters, pencil pouches, and a black shoe. While some were seen hopping over the desks, others crawled underneath them for reasons unknown. Vigorous pen-fights and matches of odd-or-even were being played over multiple groups. A few were found asking around for completed notebooks, graph papers, rulers, and a missing shoe. You see, it was a free period.
My bestie and I had just finished inscribing customized quotes on our desk. With nothing better to do, I headed over to the last bench and flopped myself on the floor. From underneath the desk, I was perfectly hidden from the madding crowd. Nobody poked their noses here and asked me what I was writing. Because that was what I did from down there. Enter my zone of words. But mind you, I wasn't writing poetry or short stories. I was merely thinking through written words; pasting my musings to paper.
- - -
This is a part of the April A to Z challenge under the theme of 'My Inhibitions' or 'An Ode to Myself'. Read the other posts here.
Theme Reveal - An Ode to Myself | A for Awkwardness | B for Books | C for Connections | D for Decisions | E for Extempore | F for Failure | G for Gymming | H for Hurt | I for Individuality | J for Judgements | K for Knowledge | L for Left-Out | M for Mediocrity | N for Needful | O for Overthinking | P for Paunch | Q for Quitting | R for Remembering | S for Sensitivity | T for True-Self | U for Usefulness | V for Vexation | W for Writing | X for The Unknown | Y for YOLO | Z for Zone
No comments:
Post a Comment