I Can't Write Stories.

• Jessica White, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2007

My computer at home is broken, so I’m in the library trying to write a story for writing for extension. One problem, I can’t write stories. How do I write a story when I can’t write stories?
It’s like asking a shoe to tie its own shoelaces… it not going to happen.
It’s getting dark now and basically everyone has left the library, except me, I’m still here, choking on my own word vomit. The story’s in there somewhere, it’s just not coming out as well as I hoped. The librarian’s prowling the aisles like a cat, looking over her shoulder every two seconds to see if I’m breaking any rules. She’s strange that one. I get back to writing my story still not knowing what to write. I hear a bang from one of the aisles, it sounds like books falling off the shelves, and I get up to investigate. I tip toe, not wanting the librarian to hear me. Creeping up behind a book shelf, I peer through one of the gaps. It was the librarian with the janitor, they’re full on making out against the books, the whole shelf is shaking like an earthquake; I quickly sit down in the aisle, the shock overwhelming me. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It
Is the most sickening thing I’ve ever seen. The janitor smells like dirty nappies mixed with grubby toilet seat; and that’s just what I can smell from a distance. Imagine kissing him. It’d be like kissing a toilet. Unable to control myself I look again, and to my disgust they’re still going at it. Just as I turn away in disgust, I see her put her hand in her back pocket and pull out something shiny. It looks like a butcher’s knife. Crap!
Ohh no… I’m about to witness a murder. Nope, nope, she’s just got the knife to cut off the plastic from the new book he just bought. That’s it, that’s got to be it. As much as I want to go I can’t look away.
I look to see if anyone else is in the library, and as I turn back around, the knife is in the air, and in a flash strikes the janitors back. It goes so fast, I can’t do anything. Not wanting to be seen, I quickly run back to the computer, trying to forget what I have just seen. I am sure it was an illusion; it must’ve been from looking at the computer all night.
I hear footsteps coming my way; I use all my control to remain staring forward, even though I desperately want to stare at the footsteps approaching me at a rapid pace.
My heart’s racing, my head pounding as the footsteps come closer and closer. My palms are sweating and with every step I feel the footsteps pound the ground. The vibrations shake my legs making them jitter, until they finally stop right behind my chair.
I feel a soft hand on my shoulder; I give a quiet yelp and turn around. To my surprise, it is my mum.
“You ready yet, Hun?” She asks. Filled with relief and overwhelmed with emotion I jump up and fall into my mother’s arms. I then hear the footsteps from the aisle coming our way. I tell her we need to leave immediately. As we make a dash for the doors, I hear a voice behind us.
“Wait a sec,” it yelled, “You need to borrow that book”. Not wanting to look around I drop the book on the counter and grab my mum and continue running out the doors.
As we drive off, I take one more look at the library and to my disbelief I see the janitor walking out the door with the librarian, I must be seeing things. Did I dream all of that? My mind filled with confusion, I suddenly get a great idea for my story.