11 views
The Encounter
#WritcoStoryPrompt47
Write a story based on this famous excerpt from Revival by Stephen King:
He unlocked a door and led me through an office that was empty of furniture, although I could still see square clean patches on the grimy linoleum, where the legs of a desk had once stood. On the wall was a curling calendar with April 1989 showing.
In the room was a very huge and dark mahogany desk, which did well to express the manliness of the room. the walls were dark grey and the french windows were a bit tinted, though it was opened. The curtains were monogrammed and the only decoration in the room was the chandelier handing up in the middle of the room. I felt like it was too low, and posed a dangerous threat to the poor person who sits under it; in this case, would be me.
"Have a seat ma'am." He pointed to the chair under the chandelier, that faces his across the desk. I have no idea what I was doing there. All I know is that, I came home from school, saw a body I have never seen laying dead in my apartment, then was suddenly hit on the head, and woke up in this futuristic facility.
People were a bit surprised with my reaction to the gory scene. Others would have been scarred for life, but according to the so called doctors who worked here, they claimed that I took it as if it was just a normal thing that happened in my day. It supposedly was a call for concern, on why a girl like me would be acting like that. But I don't blame them. Not really. Things really do not scare anymore. If one was born with the gift I had, you tend to hardly get surprised by anything.
But that was a secret I intend to carry with me to the grave. It is the last thing I want, people using me for their own pleasures. I have watched a lot of movies to know how that would end up. I looked at the poor guy who was laden with the job to interview me, more like question me. He was studying me curiously. He had a bald head, and a little goatee. A scar marred his left cheek, and thanks to my gift, I knew what exactly happened or went down that enabled him to get that scar. He was probably in his mid fifties, and was once a handsome man when younger.
Tired of the dragging silence, he finally asked me a question.
"Miss Elaine, do you know why you are here?" At that, I just had to smile. Since entering this building, I probably have more information than he can ever hope to get in his entire life. But I cannot tell him that and that's the irony. I face him, my smile probably blinding his. Why can't I have a little fun? It's been a long time since I disrupted someone's destiny. I looked him straight in his brown eyes, and said,
"Yes Peter, a ma m ihe m ji nor'ebea".
(Yes Peter, I know why I'm here.)
© Naomi Obasi
Write a story based on this famous excerpt from Revival by Stephen King:
He unlocked a door and led me through an office that was empty of furniture, although I could still see square clean patches on the grimy linoleum, where the legs of a desk had once stood. On the wall was a curling calendar with April 1989 showing.
In the room was a very huge and dark mahogany desk, which did well to express the manliness of the room. the walls were dark grey and the french windows were a bit tinted, though it was opened. The curtains were monogrammed and the only decoration in the room was the chandelier handing up in the middle of the room. I felt like it was too low, and posed a dangerous threat to the poor person who sits under it; in this case, would be me.
"Have a seat ma'am." He pointed to the chair under the chandelier, that faces his across the desk. I have no idea what I was doing there. All I know is that, I came home from school, saw a body I have never seen laying dead in my apartment, then was suddenly hit on the head, and woke up in this futuristic facility.
People were a bit surprised with my reaction to the gory scene. Others would have been scarred for life, but according to the so called doctors who worked here, they claimed that I took it as if it was just a normal thing that happened in my day. It supposedly was a call for concern, on why a girl like me would be acting like that. But I don't blame them. Not really. Things really do not scare anymore. If one was born with the gift I had, you tend to hardly get surprised by anything.
But that was a secret I intend to carry with me to the grave. It is the last thing I want, people using me for their own pleasures. I have watched a lot of movies to know how that would end up. I looked at the poor guy who was laden with the job to interview me, more like question me. He was studying me curiously. He had a bald head, and a little goatee. A scar marred his left cheek, and thanks to my gift, I knew what exactly happened or went down that enabled him to get that scar. He was probably in his mid fifties, and was once a handsome man when younger.
Tired of the dragging silence, he finally asked me a question.
"Miss Elaine, do you know why you are here?" At that, I just had to smile. Since entering this building, I probably have more information than he can ever hope to get in his entire life. But I cannot tell him that and that's the irony. I face him, my smile probably blinding his. Why can't I have a little fun? It's been a long time since I disrupted someone's destiny. I looked him straight in his brown eyes, and said,
"Yes Peter, a ma m ihe m ji nor'ebea".
(Yes Peter, I know why I'm here.)
© Naomi Obasi
