An author's battle against procrastination.
“Why are we here,” Tyler asked.
“It’s therapeutic, honey.”
Tyler looked around the abandoned school grounds. The wear had shown and time wasn’t kind to the decrepit building of learning. Tyler stood holding himself together, hoping not to scrape against something sharp, deadly and would cost him a very expensive trip to the emergency room.
“Would you relax,” Toni asked, breaking Tyler’s concentration.
“This is as relaxed as you’re gonna get.”
“Again!”
Cheryl rolled her eyes as little Robbie sat in front of the blank television. Robbie danced in anticipation and pointed at the screen expectantly. “Come on, Robbie. You’ve seen the same show twenty-seven times! You can’t be serious,” Cheryl said.
“Again,” Robbie said louder than before.
“No,” Cheryl said sternly, “it’s time for reading.” She summoned her mother’s voice and tapped her foot again. The idea of having children became an unpleasantly. She could feel the muscles on her face falter. Children could sense that, but for Robbie it wouldn’t matter. He stayed fixed on the television demanding more.
“Again,” Robbie said more courageously.
No one wants to get into a car accident. There’s never a convenient time for it.
This one Saturday, I had the whole day to myself and aimlessly drove around town, seeing and doing things I always promised myself I was going to do.
The sun started to set and I began to hear laughter. Not the wholesome laughter either; it was the loud snorts and whooping from college kids. I remember that scene very well. That’s not my world anymore.
I’ve snuck out and my parents don’t know where I am because it’s 1998 and cell phones aren’t a thing.
It’s late because I spent all night drinking, showing off to a bunch of college kids I don’t know.
The party was a bust and I’m on the road now before I get into some real trouble.
It’s interesting when there isn’t any lights and there’s a guy on the side of the road.
“You look ridiculous, Tim,” Adam said.
“Oh, really? Have you seen yourself,” Tim asked sarcastically. “You look like a kid that couldn’t wait to dress himself after mommy gave him free rein to choose his identity.
“Dick,” Adam mumbled under his breath as he checked his clothes.
“Eh, you’ll get over it,” Tim said with a shrug. “This party looks lame.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“I’d prefer meeting someone then playing your stupid video games again,” Tim said, turning to him slowly. He held a pause to emphasize how serious he was through his sarcasm.
Jace Rockland 