Glen was walking down the sun-beaten
pavement at a brisk pace. Sweat was trickling down from between his shoulder
blades, filling the small of his back with a pool of unsavory man-juice. He was
late. Again. Despite being a role model for tardiness, he seemed to show an
unconscious reluctance to play the part. Luckily for him, he knew these streets
well, its twists and turns anything but a secret. With some luck, he could
still make it somewhat in time. From his home, it was only a ten minute walk, but
snoozing was tempting for Glen, usually resulting in quick wash, no breakfast
and a whole lot of stress. Once out the door, Glen usually took several small
meandering paths through what most city-folk would call a forest. The last
stretch however, was on a relatively big road, four lanes in all. ''The exhaust
fumes, the excessive honking... how could anyone want to stay here for any
amount of time'', Glen thought when he was walking down the street. His walking
more resembled running than anything else by now and the look on his face must
have been contorted. Just before Glen was about to go around the last corner
before reaching his work, he heard somebody call him.
''Hey you'' a gruff, toneless voice said,
sounding almost bored. Glen considered walking on, ignoring the voice, but it
had something demanding.
He turned around.
There were two men, as far as he could
see, sitting in a black car, behind him, which he did not hear coming. ''I
could have sworn that car wasn't there a second ago'' thought Glen. The two men
seemed to be just sitting there, as if paralyzed. Waiting for a response
perhaps, Glen couldn't say. There hands relaxed on their laps, they seemed to
have been there for some time. Not getting a response from Glen, the only part
that moved was the driver's mouth. ''We are looking for the Dalton Central High
School'' he proclaimed. His voice was flat, emotionless. He might as well have
been talking to himself. Slightly struggling with the words, but with unknown
courage, Glen brought out: ''Aah... eeh... yes, you have to turn around here,
then it's the second street on your right, about four hundred meters on and it
should be on your left-hand side.'' His arm nearly pointed in the opposite
reaction of what he was telling. A nod was all that followed. Glen could not
tell whether the amount of sweat gathering on his back was increasing or not.
''It's remarkable how little emotion one exudes when you can't see the eyes'', he
thought when the car took a tight turn and sped off in the opposite direction.
Glen noticed that the car did not have a number plate.
Despite feeling slightly weird he did not
want to linger on the matter. He was really late now and he knew it. The last
part he almost ran and just as he took the first steps on the main stars
leading up to the entrance, his feet aching, his bag hitting his thigh, the
bell rang. ''It's official now'' Glen knew. ''Greyson will reprimand me for
sure.'' His heart was beating like a thousand war drums. Rushing through the
hallways, he was fetching his keys from his pocket. The kids in front of the
classroom door was already waiting. A thought ran through Glen's head: ''And of
course they're on time when you don't want them too''. ''Good morning class''
he bellowed out loudly, perhaps a bit too much, with a smile with more
resembled a smirk than some actually heartfelt. Even though a few managed to
muster something back, an off-feeling of dread always took a hold of him. This
was his least favorite group. Monday morning, first hour to boot. When he
entered the classroom, it was dark and dank. ''Somebody open a fucking window''
Glen overheard. Knowing he should respond, he didn't. What he did do was walk
over to the windows over viewing the parking lot of the supermarket next to the
school, and pull up the outside rolling curtains.
His heart nearly stopped.
Outside, a black car was stationed. It did
not have a plate. Two men were inside. Gazing. Peering, from behind sunglasses.
Glen felt as if his heart would explode. His mind racing with a million-and-one
thoughts, he knew he couldn't respond to this. Not now. Almost dirty rowdy kids
were coming in, throwing stuff around, spouting profanity. His class went worse
than normal. Normally this class had little interest in historical processes
anyway, but today he was the main reason. His mind was continuously wandering
off to outside, but he didn't dare to look. After about thirty minutes, he
couldn't take it anymore.
They were gone.
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The prompt was:
Write about an Average Joe who has
the feeling he got caught up in something much larger than he is supposed to
get himself into.
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