william gripped the pen uncertainly in his fingers
what do you want me to write?
a story.
a story? i don’t know how to write a story.
just write something . it doesn’t have to be a literary masterpiece.
but - why can’t you just tell me something to write?
we have our reasons. do you want to take the test or not? you don’t have to do it.
how long does t have to be?
not very long.
how much time do i have?
friday looked at her phone. i will give you ten minutes. give me about a hundred words or until the ten minutes are up.
william looked down at the blank pad. do i need a title?
you can just call it “a story”.
*
it was night.
it was dark.
this guy was walking down the street.
his name was joe something.
he was just a guy.
a guy just like millions of other guys, wandering the earth, wishing he was somebody, even though he was really nobody.
it got darker.
suddenly he saw something lying in the street.
it was a little bit shiny.
it looked like a credit card
he bent down to pick it up.
just as he reached for it, he thought, this is some kind of setup.
i am being played for a chump.
suddenly everything went dark.
when he woke up he was in a strange room.
he did not know where he was.
the room had no windows.
*
william’s hand started to cramp up. he had never written so much with a pen or pencil in his life.
is this enough? he asked friday.
yes, that is enough. she took the pad and the pen from him.
can i go now?
yes.
will i hear from you?
probably not. your case is closed. if you want to appeal, fill out the form i gave you and return it within 30 days. the address is on it.
to be continued
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