Classwork

Flash Fictions/Assorted Starters 3

WARNING: CONTAINS MENTION OF SUICIDE

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Staring off into class makes you think of all kinds of scenarios, least of which entails dreaming you were some sort of god and could obliterate the class. So, of course, when I was called back from my own little world, I spouted some bullshit response to the teacher. I didn't expect the ceiling to cave in, though. Or the teacher to randomly burst into flames. Or the fish to explode in its bowl.

And yet, all of these things were things that I had thought of right before they happened. Weird, right? So, naturally, the next thing I thought of was the cute girl in the back in her underwear. And suddenly she was almost naked.

At this point, I'd have to tell you, I had a panic attack and passed out. Right there in the middle of class. Yep.

Honestly, the whole memory is sort of a blur. But I don't plan on ever forgetting the day that I became God, even for a few moments there.

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Mommy always said there was nothing there. Mommy always said there was nothing there. Mommy always said there was nothing there.

The same sentence echoed in her head. Whatever was under her bed was making noise—it always made noise—but if mommy came, it would disappear, only to taunt her further.

I need to look. I need to be brave like mommy. Mommy always said there was nothing there.

She crawled to the very edge of her bed and let part of her chest hang off the bed. The growling noise was louder there. She inched her body down so that she could see, grabbed the flashlight off of her nightstand, but her grabbing hand never closing around the metal cylinder. She fell right off her bed, landing on the tight braids at the crown of her head. She cried—it hurt—but mommy didn't come.

The growling got even louder.

Mommy always said there was nothing there. Mommy always said there was nothing there.

Her internal dialogue was more hurried as she tried in vain to reassure herself. The monster wouldn't stop its noise. But, as all young children do, her energy ran out.

She woke up in the morning, tucked in as if nothing had happened.

Mommy always said there was nothing there.

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This is real. Holy fuck, this is real.

I looked down from my haphazard crouch on top of the water tower. I was going to jump, but...

God, it's real. I'm real. The tower's real.

Like plugging in a charger, the two things suddenly connected. I was here, and I was ready to die, but—well—was I ready to die? To just... end it?

I looked out over the sleepy town. I picked a house, a brick cottage with a thin plume of smoke escaping a chimney. There, a new mother could be putting her baby to sleep and kissing her husband. Or maybe some teenager was rebelling against his loving parents. Anything could be happening within those walls.

Anything could be happening inside my home.

Maybe my parents thought I was at the library. Or maybe they were about to call the police worried sick. Maybe my older brother thought I was at a party, or my sister thought I was being sleazy with some douchebag. Maybe they haven't even noticed that I wasn't home for dinner.

And there I was, sprawled across the great white orb labelled "Churchtown", ready to be knocked off to my death by the tiniest gust of wind.

What the hell had I been expecting?

Would jumping have made my life easier? If I jumped, life would end. That was a comforting thought, actually.

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