It made no sense. She got enough sleep last night, had plenty of water and a good breakfast. Still . . . There was something about the room. There was a faint whine - no, scream - probably from the fluorescents, that made her turn and twist, trying to locate or silence it. The air was dead. Most of the students were perfect: taking notes, paying attention, asking great questions once in a while, but never interrupting the teacher. Despite all that she just wanted to put her head down on the desk to rest. Just for a minute. Just rest.
She hated the class, hated the teacher. Business Writing for the Future. Hah. More like Sucking the Life Out of Your Writing. But it was required for graduation, and God did she want to graduate. To leave town, ditch her low-end job at the hardware store, go have some sort of an adventure! All she had to do was get through this damn class. She glanced around, bemused by the dull faces so focused on a future as corporate drones.
Her head sank on her chest, bobbed up, then slowly dipped again. Lily leaned forward, laid her arms on the desk, and gently rested her cheek against the cool smooth formica. The teacher watched, smiled faintly, and started toward her.
Screaming, screaming “Wake up! Wake up!” Lily convulsed awake, twisting wildly, completely disoriented. A dozen voices were shouting at her to wake up, but the room was dim and she couldn’t see right. She blinked, then rubbed her eyes as the shouting faded. And then her screaming started.
The teacher touched the sleeping girl’s shoulder. “Lily,” she said gently. “Lily, are you ready to wake up and be a good citizen?” The girl opened her eyes, smiled faintly, then sat straight up, ready to join her classmates.
For the second year I am participating in a month of daily writing prompts in the Nightmare Fuel community of G+. I probably won't write every day, and much will be dreck, but I enjoy the challenge and some of these stories may someday lead to something.
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