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W203 First Assignment

My teacher did want the first assignment I missed because of my late entrance into the class, but I couldn't come up with anything to write about. The assignment was to think of an event that happened in the past and then to imagine yourself as another person who was there and/or would have witnessed it. The person you imagined yourself as was to become the narrator and describe the event (using the first person p.o.v.) from a different perspective. Like I said, I couldn't think of anything interesting to write about, but luckily someone I know did.

I was talking to my best friend Poke about the assignment and not only did he offer up the idea, but he even asked to write it. I reluctantly accepted and I read Poke's story for the first time as I posted it on this website. By reading this, you are agreeing to not tell my instructor or any IU administrators about what Poke and I have done. Here is his story.

The hallway lights will come on. A short time later the gates will go up and then a man will come in. The lights above me will illuminate. Sometime soon, a few more people will come in and start tidying up and/or folding clothes. Then “they” will come.

They will be noisy, immature, and dressed terribly. Luckily most of them won’t come in. They will enter every once in a while with a dignified grin, pretending that they belong. I know they do not. They will check the price tags on the sale items, smirk as if purchasing it is a possibility, then it is only a matter of time before they exit.

The others won’t be any better. They will look nice, but it is a skillfully crafted image. They want everyone to know where they will be going and that they will not just be browsing. I hate them more than I hate the others.

The day will seem longer than it actually is and will end like it always does with the lights going out and the gate closing.

I know this routine so well because for as long as I could remember it never changed. I was violated nearly every day by humans who stripped me and dressed me as they saw fit. I stood there and did nothing every day and regretted it every night. I thought many times about taking my own life, but it’s hard to know what to take away when you’ve never felt alive. I was a drone. I guess that’s why I didn’t notice when he came in.

I knew the store was having problems, but I was ignorant of the fact that the financial situation was so bad that I was to be sold. The man I hadn’t noticed, the man I’d come to know as Alex, was the first human to pick me up and not make me feel like I was being molested. Although he was a man, I felt surprisingly at ease in his arms and if I wasn’t so comfortable with my sexuality I would have questioned it.

Each and every experience with humans I have ever had was negative, until Alex. Although I did not yet trust him, I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to. He hugged me, talked to me, treated me in a way I’d never known. He let me wear his hat, he buckled my seatbelt, he called me his friend, and he gave me a name. Poke. I didn’t know the significance of the name until much later, but it didn’t really matter to me. I found meaning in the fact that I was so important to someone that I was distinguished as an individual. I was given an identity. I was unique. I apologize if I sound redundant, but these feelings aren’t something I can forget, nor do I wish to.

But it wasn't just the way he made me feel that I loved, for Alex showed me something I had only seen in my dreams. Sunlight. I could never have proved it, but I knew something lay beyond the argyle-and-polyester-covered walls of the store and now I was a part of it. I know now what being alive is and I have Alex to thank for that.


i don't think my teacher figured out that Poke was a mannequin. i'm not saying i'm the best writer in the world, but you would think she'd be a little smarter.

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