« Home | What time is it? » | Not even close! » | Hmm... » | Happy New Year! » | Shocking! » | BCS Games » | The New Seven Wonders of the World » | This is our country » | Thanksgiving break » | Johnnie Cochran is rolling in his grave »

W203 Second assignment

Here at IU, I am currently enrolled in a creative writing class (W203) and I figured I may as well post my stories since I don't have anything else to write about.

It is a fiction writing class and if you're wondering why the second assignment is posted first, it is because I have yet to do the first assignment since I joined the class late. The assignment is as follows...

Writing Assignment 2 Desire not Drama: As Janet Burroway says, “Young writers … think that they can best introduce drama into their stories by way of murders, chase scenes, crashes and vampires…In fact, all of us know that the most profound impediments to our desires usually lie close to home, in our own bodies, personalities, friends, lovers, and families.” Write a story in 500-1500 words, in which the conflict or character’s desire is something simple, perhaps he needs to pee and for some reason can’t find a bathroom, or is very thirsty and wants a glass of water, perhaps she is dreading calling someone back and keeps putting it off, or can’t get to sleep at night. Think about how any sort of conflict or desire when located in a specific character can create interesting fiction. Try to be as specific as you can about the character, setting, and conflict – this will create life in your story and give you new ideas as you write.

This is my story.


He awoke to the pounding of rock music from the neighboring room. He was not happy. Creighton groaned as he tossed his body and angrily put his pillow over his head to muffle out the noise. As he lie there, he thought about next year and how his parents had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to let him live off campus with his longtime girlfriend Daphne. “I won’t have to put up with this next year,” he thought.

As he drifted back into his customary afternoon nap, he couldn’t get over the fact that his parents were actually going to let him live with Daphne just as long as he kept his grades up. “My grades…” he thought. “My grades!”

He threw off his covers and turned to his alarm clock. “3:18?!” he cried. “It didn’t go off!” In seemingly one movement, Creighton leapt from his bed to his desk and packed up his book bag as fast as he could. “I can’t believe it!” he thought. “How could I be so careless?”

Oversleeping for a class wouldn’t be a big deal to most people, especially in an astronomy class that didn’t take attendance, but Creighton wasn’t most people. Creighton held a firm belief that if he missed even one class, it would come back to haunt him on the next exam. He couldn’t bring himself to take that risk knowing that he would be living with Daphne next year.

He tied his shoes as sloppy as a four year old, smashed his New York Mets ballcap on top of his messy brown hair, and grabbed his cell phone on the way out. He flung open the door to the hallway when he realized that he couldn’t see a thing. “My glasses!” He darted back into his room and scanned it with squinted eyes. Not at his desk. He looked across the room. Not on his nightstand. “Damnit!” Creighton yelled.

In his panicked state he hadn’t noticed his roommate come out of the bathroom. “What’s wrong, Crey?” he asked. “My-my glasses...I-I-I can’t find ‘em,” Creighton managed to spit out.

“Settle down. They’re in there. By the sink.”

Creighton almost kissed his roommate.

“Thanks, D! I owe you one!” Creighton exclaimed as he grabbed his glasses and sprinted out the door toward the elevators. “3:20” he said aloud passing the clock in the hallway. Creighton calmed himself as he pushed the down button; finally realizing he’d be outside in plenty of time to catch the 3:25 bus that would take him across campus to his class.

He looked up to see what floor the elevator was on. “Ground floor? Why isn’t it moving?” He looked back down and a sign he hadn’t noticed before caught his eye. The elevator is temporarily out of order. Sorry for the inconvenience. He let out a high pitch scream and raced for the stairs.

Living on the eleventh floor, Creighton had never before taken the stairs and he wondered if he could get down them and still reach the bus stop on time. He took a deep breath as he glanced over the guardrail and started his descent.

The stairwell smelled of rust and was dimly lit at best. Each step was scarred with scuffmarks and the walls were barren with the exception of a few paint chips. Creighton understood why he didn’t used the stairs more often.

The sound of his hurried steps echoed through the silence and he began to sweat. The heat of the stairwell overwhelmed him and he grew short of breath. “I must be close,” he thought out loud. Creighton turned to go down the next flight and saw the number on the wall. 9. He grunted in frustration and continued on.

Creighton pulled out his phone to check the time. 3:22. “I can do it,” he said. He lumbered down each step as quickly as he could, using the handrail for assistance. As floor 7 became floor 6 and floor 6 became floor 5, the weary Creighton grew determined. For he knew he wasn’t going down these stairs alone; Daphne was with him every step of the way. He thought about her long auburn hair and the way her nose would scrunch when she laughed. He was no longer exhausted.

From every floor window, he watched as the mighty Oak tree outside rose higher and higher and when he reached the exit door he had a smile upon his face. 3:24.

Creighton understood why he didn’t used the stairs.

Whoopsie.

the line was supposed to be "Creighton understood why he didn't use the stairs more often."

of course he's using the stairs. no "whoopsies" here.

You could be the next R.L. Stine with those intense, crazy, suspenseful stories.

Post a Comment