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 |  Enter your story of 300 words or less. |
The Assignment Redux WC: 286 "Salty water laps the shore; tears burn God’s waiting cheek. Walking barefoot through the dark, fantabulous night, I--” “Thank you, Lulu.” I can’t take another minute of the purple prose. “I spent a lot of time on this,” Lulu says, red-faced. “You said to use the prompts water, burn and dark.” That is the assignment. “They need to be used as naturally as possible so as not to call attention to them,” I say and slip the paper from her hand. “Try again. Write it from your heart.” I add, “Make it real.” Lulu stomps off, head down. At the end of sixth period, as I’m loading the stack of student prose into my briefcase, Lulu walks toward my desk, assignment in hand. Lulu’s a pretty thing in her perky peasant blouse, red-haired and freckled—the girl next door. She’s not a bad writer, just afraid to write courageously. I know something of her background: the drunken father, cheating mother... “Mr. Sheppard.” “Lulu.” She places the crumpled sheet on my desk. “I balled it up twice, threw it away once. But, here it is.” I smooth it out and begin to read. “No, please wait ‘till I’m gone, Mr. Sheppard.” I stop reading. “I wrote it real,” she says, and hurries out of the room. I begin again: The rope-like burn on the freckled arm hides beneath the sleeve of the peasant blouse. The Jezebel mother and the dark, drunken heart of the father has guaranteed that scar, one of many vicious reminders of the life she leads. Mr. Sheppard—cool water in a parched throat—has helped her find her voice, AND SHE LOVES HIM FOR THAT. A salty tear runs down my cheek. |
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