627 Word Short Story

I came across an alleyway, it was a close gap between two old apartments, and it was dark and uninviting. The cold night air coursed

I gripped the over-annotated, photocopied packet in my eager fingers so that my sweaty fingers made print marks on the black speckled page. And I read. I cried. And my dream changed.

It was a frigid day in September 2003, and I was on my way into school. This was the first day of school, in my Senior year. Everyone said it is suppose to be the best year of your high school career. However, it wasn't that way for me. I walked into school on that day, and I felt as if I had some terrible disease. People were avoiding me, ignoring me, and this had never happened before. I was always Miss Popularity all throughout school and I constantly had someone around me. Therefore, getting the cold shoulder was new to me. Day after day I would come to school feeling left out and alone. I had no idea what was happening to all my friends. Until one day I overheard some people talking about me. I was so

“Me? Are you sure I’m the right person for the job, Mr. Wright?” He was still writing. He hadn’t even stopped to look at me. I shuffled the weight from my heels to the balls of my feet. “I mean this sounds more like something Anthony would do.” Mr. Wright’s pen stopped with exaggerated slowness he laid it aside and raised his eyes to survey me.

There I was going through the motions of a high schooler's life: waking up, going to school, sitting there wishing I was anywhere else,

He stared into the distance for a moment before responding, “I did my best to save both my friends and innocent people.” He looked so tired. “I couldn't save them all.”

Dylan placed the last dot on the page. He wiped his face on his sleeve only to discover that it was covered in blood. His tears splattered onto the page.

Each page brought a new, sorrowful story. I was the paper signed by an arguing couple. I was the paper that was taped on the door of a struggling home. I was the paper that made up a book that was never read.

He looked at me with such offended eyes that chills your heart until it’s ice. “I don't believe I ever gave you anything.” he said with a croaky then emotionless voice.

I put this book together as a collection of moments together. I did my best to group the pictures on each page to fit a common theme. There have been so many great memories shared over the past three years. It hasn't been easy to narrow down to just the few pages in this book.

During that first day of school, I went to each class hoping there would be one of my friends in that class. Apparently, I wasn’t that lucky because I only had gym class with a friend and all of the other classes I was alone. Each bright and early morning I did not want to go back, and I hated the fact that I had to get up at six, so much that some mornings I didn’t get up until seven thirty. Every night I would be so upset about school, I always felt like there was a lump in my throat and I started to not eat as much as I used to. Nothing made me feel better about school until one day during fourth hour.

In all areas of his life, when he was with someone, he was fully engrossed in what they were saying. This is something that can be said of you too (minus the staying alive in a desert for forty days part). With gifted projects, it’s all you think about until it is finally done. With school poems, you practice tirelessly until you have it memorized. With choir, I can hear you practicing “super duper double bubble gum” for days after your Friday night choir practice. Stay committed DD. It’s one of your best qualities. I can’t even begin to describe all the ways that you’re wonderful, but hey, at least I tried. You make me laugh and I’m sure you make Dane laugh (*wink wink*). You’re a light in this world and I know I can count on you for anything. You’re my confidant from things like Shawn Mendes to weird stuff like dreams that we had. (Sorry, Shawn is playing right now and I had to include him). Mom said the other day that you’re our little performer and wow is she right. Everything you do is filled with emotion. It’s what makes you you. I wish I could share some wonderful little anecdote about when I first saw you in all your pink, tiny babyish glory, but unfortunately I was way too young to remember

Bull assisted yanking down his boxer briefs as the Doctor knelt behind the Sergeant and parted Bull’s fuckable ass.

" Y'ARE very snug in here," piped old Mr. Woodifield, and he peered out of the great, green leather armchair by his friend the boss's desk as a baby peers out of its pram. His talk was over; it was time for him to be off. But he did not want to go. Since he had retired, since his... stroke, the wife and the girls kept him boxed up in the house every day of the week except Tuesday. On Tuesday he was dressed and brushed and allowed to cut back to the City for the day. Though what he did there the wife and girls couldn't imagine. Made a nuisance of himself to his friends, they supposed ... Well, perhaps so. All the same, we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves. So there sat old Woodifield, smoking a cigar and

As the days passed I remember trying to fool myself that everything was fine, ok I was probably just too overwhelmed. I knew that I was overwhelmed because of all the pressure and stress that kept piling up throughout that year. I knew there was more to what I called my “small sickness”. Perhaps it was the nerve racking emotions of preparing for a new life that awaits for me after high school or perhaps it was just the pressure I received from my councilor as she crushed my dreams and goals. One day we left