Requiem for Lost Sanctuary - in E-minor
Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 9:58 am
((Brendan Wallace continued from Food For Thought))
Brendan was enjoying what was a great day. He found a hair straightener that worked a few weeks ago, grew his hair longer and was complimented on it by a few people when walking to school that morning; that was when the word was came into play. He had gotten an assignment back just before lunch; a Legal Studies task on which he spent so much time, and he got a C. Plus. While some people he used to know would be okay with this, it severely annoyed him. He became even more recluse than usual, not talking to anyone par the teachers, and finding a nice, recluse spot to spend his lunch time. And that was how he got here.
What Brendan lacked in social skills towards his peers, he more than made up for with the relationship with his teachers. Whether it be convincing one to give him flexibility with handing in an assignment, or convincing one to tighten the rules in order to land someone a detention (in secrecy, of course), it was one of the reasons Brendan could spend his lunches in the sanctuary of the school Drama Room.
That, and the Drama teacher was one of the most laid back individuals he had ever met.
After throwing his bag against the wall, he pulled a desk towards himself, retrieved a pen and notepad from his bag, and laid down his paper and pen. Brendan often free-wrote at home, but this was a rare opportunity to escape the hubbub of school life.
Free-writing consisted of writing anything that came to mind, without actually thinking. Brendan used this technique to unload the thoughts that plagued his mind and made him loose focus in class.
Brendan connected pen to paper, and wrote the first things that came to mind.
__________________________________________________________________
After 5 minutes, Brendan looked over what he wrote, and then decided to make it gramatically correct.
Okay, put in quotation marks, add full stops, make more depth, and we have a glorious excuse for a story. So Bad it's Good? So Good it's Bad? You be the judge, that imperfect excuse for a brain!
He looked over it again, and realise how bad it actually was.
Good god, I really need to stop watching TV after 11 at night. Wait, what does that have to do with anything? Oh yeah, the stuff that causes dreams may be creeping into my head while I'm awake, despite the fact that that only happens when one's been awake for over 96 hou-SHUT UP, BRENDAN!
Brendan ripped the page out of his notebook, aimed at the open bin in the corner, and threw. It bounced off the edge, and landed inside with a satisfying sound.
Frustrated that his only free thoughts were of video games, and that his brain was wandering off into the oblivion that was a daydream, he moved the book to the side of the desk, and held his head in his hand, stopping himself from banging it repeatedly on the desk.
Come on, Brendan, you can do better than this. This room is filled with such...feeling, and energy that should fill me with creative thoughts. Instead...nothing.
Brendan was enjoying what was a great day. He found a hair straightener that worked a few weeks ago, grew his hair longer and was complimented on it by a few people when walking to school that morning; that was when the word was came into play. He had gotten an assignment back just before lunch; a Legal Studies task on which he spent so much time, and he got a C. Plus. While some people he used to know would be okay with this, it severely annoyed him. He became even more recluse than usual, not talking to anyone par the teachers, and finding a nice, recluse spot to spend his lunch time. And that was how he got here.
What Brendan lacked in social skills towards his peers, he more than made up for with the relationship with his teachers. Whether it be convincing one to give him flexibility with handing in an assignment, or convincing one to tighten the rules in order to land someone a detention (in secrecy, of course), it was one of the reasons Brendan could spend his lunches in the sanctuary of the school Drama Room.
That, and the Drama teacher was one of the most laid back individuals he had ever met.
After throwing his bag against the wall, he pulled a desk towards himself, retrieved a pen and notepad from his bag, and laid down his paper and pen. Brendan often free-wrote at home, but this was a rare opportunity to escape the hubbub of school life.
Free-writing consisted of writing anything that came to mind, without actually thinking. Brendan used this technique to unload the thoughts that plagued his mind and made him loose focus in class.
Brendan connected pen to paper, and wrote the first things that came to mind.
__________________________________________________________________
After 5 minutes, Brendan looked over what he wrote, and then decided to make it gramatically correct.
Okay, put in quotation marks, add full stops, make more depth, and we have a glorious excuse for a story. So Bad it's Good? So Good it's Bad? You be the judge, that imperfect excuse for a brain!
He looked over it again, and realise how bad it actually was.
Good god, I really need to stop watching TV after 11 at night. Wait, what does that have to do with anything? Oh yeah, the stuff that causes dreams may be creeping into my head while I'm awake, despite the fact that that only happens when one's been awake for over 96 hou-SHUT UP, BRENDAN!
Brendan ripped the page out of his notebook, aimed at the open bin in the corner, and threw. It bounced off the edge, and landed inside with a satisfying sound.
Frustrated that his only free thoughts were of video games, and that his brain was wandering off into the oblivion that was a daydream, he moved the book to the side of the desk, and held his head in his hand, stopping himself from banging it repeatedly on the desk.
Come on, Brendan, you can do better than this. This room is filled with such...feeling, and energy that should fill me with creative thoughts. Instead...nothing.