I write what I know, and the suppositions of "what if". This place incorporates the two aspects of my life: the real (or my perspective of what is "real") and the fiction. Sometimes it's profane, confusing, sad, sweet, bitter,and funny- or just plain boring and stupid, all at the same time, but it's mine.
Teacher, writer, amateur bass player, observer of the world..
One other thing:
My dad passed away August 15, 2013 from Alzheimer's. I hate Alzheimer's and Trump. In that order.
How I Deal with Life.....
Friday, March 22, 2013
FICTION Chapter Five: No One Gets Out of Here Alive
Sorry, it took me so long to post this chapter- for anyone who is really and truly following Matthew's story. I was in the North Georgia mountains and I only had minimal internet service. It was just like the late 1990s.
This chapter is pretty short so I'll post chapter six in a few days.. Chapter Five
Lesson plans, faculty meetings,
prom committee. I’m exhausted and it’s not even Christmas break. Five more
years until retirement, if I can make it.
Teaching high school isn’t for
sissies, and all I want is a small Scotch before I fall into bed. I unlock the front door, throw
the bag filled with student papers that still need to be marked on the couch,
let the cat out, and go into the small kitchen to heat up a Lean Cuisine meatloaf in
the microwave. I eat the tasteless entrée while standing at the sink,, then I
heat up another Lean Cuisine. I’m pretty sure this gastronomic adventure
doesn’t count as “lean” anymore.
The phone rings. It’s Elaine
Henderson, one of the English teachers from work. At first I can’t understand
what she’s saying, then the words register: Matthew Royal has killed himself.
I hang up the phone without saying
goodbye, turn the ringer off, pour a double scotch, sit in the
darkened living room, and throw back the Johnny Walker in one fast stinging
It’s 3 a.m and I’m still sitting
here, my mind wiped completely clean of any discernible thoughts except the
screaming voice pounding around in my head that says Matthew is dead.