Over the summer, I enrolled on a little online course called the Superlatively Rude Summer School.
If that sounds familiar, that’s either because 1) you were enrolled on it yourself, 2) you saw me talk about it relentlessly on Twitter, or 3) you’ve seen the short stories I’ve posted written because of that very course.
They saw one another from across the park. Their eyes met briefly before she looked away again, happily chattering on the phone. A sudden shriek of laughter erupted from her lips, and he could have sworn that a flock of nearby birds took off into the grey sky as she did. Her cackle was almost as loud as her natural register as she spoke, and he wondered how someone could be so unaware of her volume control.
I stepped into the windowless, grey cube and thought, ‘Is this where the bright future of tomorrow is learning to fix the world? How depressing.’ But I wasn’t here to learn; I was here to audition for a low-budget university play. Though I may as well have been auditioning for the West End, for the amount of butterflies trying to escape my stomach.
When he walked into the living room, ducking his head under the door frame as to no muss that fluffy blonde head of his, I knew I was in trouble.
She stared wistfully at the computer screen
Endless images of tropical locales reproduced from her Google search
She frantically closed down the tab as her boss walked past
And pretended to look deeply interested that the spreadsheet in front of her
Which was, quite frankly, just a vomit of numbers
One day, she thought
One day I’ll break free into paradise
This is part of my creative writing series, Shorts. This lil piece was a result of a writing exercise from the Superlatively Rude Level Two workshop, The Nuts And Bolts of Moving Stories Forward. More little snippets to come soon!