posted on Dec, 1 2006 @ 02:11 PM
Although I plan on writting a full story of this, I figure I post it up here and see how creative everyone else gets with the begining of my story. I
tend to write my beginings very open ended. Anyway, here you are.
A sudden jolt goes through my body. White light is all that I can see. I cannot help but wonder where I am, and further more, how I managed to get
here. Another stinging sensation and the white light is now three large aura-like beams above me. Am I in a hospital, or am I just dead? A hospital
would seem most logical and appropriate, but nothing has been what it seems, and I can’t help but question. Have I come to my senses, or have I had
them all along? If I have had them all along, then do I dare tell the story I have come to know as my life? I guess at this point, there really
isn’t much of a choice.
The glass made a shattering noise as it hit the pavement. The noise made little impact on me, since I could hardly manage to keep my balance, let
alone worry about the broken bottle. The number of these I had drank became as blurry as my vision. Each stair I climbed became more of a challenge
then the one before it. All I can seem to think is “Déjà vu”, which is rather appropriate since I had been doing it everyday for four years now.
I thought to myself “One more time up these old steps, one more memory I can only hope to forget.”
The doors were locked, but why wouldn’t they be? It was a Friday night between eleven and midnight, and usually high schools aren’t open at these
times. I, being in a drunken, oblivious state, was not expecting this.
“Fig’res, nothing…ever goes my way!” I yelled with quite a slur. The alcohol was effecting my speech, and apparently my judgment as well,
because within seconds I had picked up a brick and threw it right through the window. The alarm went off, but I was in no hurry to get away. Stumbling
along, nothing seemed to matter to me. Luckily, no cop came quick enough to catch me before I left, or else jail would have been most likely the
future for me. Given the circumstances though, I probably could have gotten lucky. Wasn’t long before things got dark. I can only describe this as
what is commonly referred to as “blacking out“.
The sun must have been up for hours before I came to. A jail cell… apparently I wasn’t as lucky as I thought I was. The pillow was rather flat,
bed sheets clearly worn, and the metal frame cold, as would be expected.
“So John, got anything to say for yourself?” Officer Armstrong said to me with this casual but disappointed look. Might have answered him but I
couldn‘t bring myself to do it. Such a splitting headache often limits your abilities to function correctly, at least it did for me. After some time
of gathering myself back together though, I managed to come up with a reply.
“What happen?” were the words that left my mouth. I knew about what happen. I threw a brick through a window, left a trail of broken glass
bottles leading up to the scene, and passing out before I managed to get home. When I asked what happen, what I really meant was, “What do you know
I did?” and “Why am I here?”. The response didn’t take long. He took off his glasses and said, “Well, this shiner you gave me might have
been a start.”. It became blatantly obvious that some of the events I cannot remember last night, were the reason I got myself in here. “You’re
lucky John, I decided to not file a report. Given the circumstances, I decided that for this one last time, I let you go. If this happens again, no
more free passes, and you know what happens then. Now, you better get out of here before Officer Carpenter and Officer Willings get here.”
He unlocked the cell door, and opened it up. I was rather surprised. I could see getting off for something minor, but I had hit a cop. If this
weren’t such a small town, and Mr. Armstrong hadn’t known me since birth, I could have been in some serious trouble. That didn’t keep me from
asking what immediately came to my mind though.
“What are you going to tell them?” I asked him, without trying to pry. Officer Armstrong looked at me with dismay and said “Nothing.” I
couldn’t help but say, “I meant about your eye. What are you going to say?”. He then realized what I meant and walking back to his desk said,
“Got hit with a baseball playing catch with my kid.”. I wasn’t surprised though, since Officer Armstrong was always able to think up excuses on
the spot. You don’t know whether he will be the guy giving the ticket, or the guy making up the excuse to get out of one. I wasn’t going to wait
around any longer, I knew where I needed to be, and I was already late.
I will enjoy reading where everyone heads with this.
[edit on 1-12-2006 by grimreaper797]