To Be Continued

Updated: Feb 20, 2021


By, Wendiann Alfieri

Authors Note: Let Me know if you want to hear more of this story! I came up with it out of nowhere and I hope you all liked it anyway!


Part One


Today is a special kind of day. You are working on an art project. The teacher assigned one thing, but you’re making another. The students ignore you as you shred colorful paper and are throwing it around the room. The feeling of shredding paper makes you feel a release. So what if they’re ignoring you? You’re having a GREAT time, right? So you are putting your hand on one of the art tables, tap-tap-tapping away. All the construction paper is shredded and if someone needs it, well boo-hoo. When WHAM! Someone accidentally slams your finger between the two tables. The crunch is so loud everyone cringed. But no one else except your teacher seems to truly care. Not even y- oh wait. The pain hurts and the tears start to fall.

. So you sit there as the kids forget their disgust with you crying and leave the room as class has ended. Your finger is bent. It hurts horribly. Your teacher looks in your eyes and says she is sorry and she'll be right back with the nurse. Her bright blue eyes bore into your soul and even though she was kind you still shiver as though all your other bones snapped.

You are holding your finger and crying and the tears taste sweet instead of salty, their taste was relieving and you can't wipe them away because it is helping and hurting to cry all at the same time. The room is yellow, a bright yellow, and there are murals of suns everywhere. The suns were orange and while they once seemed to be the only comfort in the room, now they seemed to bring out the demons you have been ignoring.

“Why can't you be full, like everyone else?" One sun with sunglasses appears to say. “You’re not full, you’re not complete. Everyone is full and complete. Idiot" You imagine the sun spitting on your face and your tears began to taste like soap, and you can't wipe them away. That is when you see the button. As you fall on the floor in pain, anguish and despair, screaming and writhing like a snake, you see something by your head.

It is a honey colored button. It looks like it is made of candle wax. The waxy button seems to dull in color every time you try to scream louder. It is becoming incomplete. It looked like one of the buttons Kevin made as an art project today. The teacher had assigned you all to make a magical button that was so unique and special to you that no one else could press it unless you wanted them to.

It is just an art project, and you had failed to make one, too busy shredding paper. But Kevin's button is dulling in color, and you need to hold something to comfort you, you don’t have stuffed animals right now. So you let go of your finger. And you hit the button with a cry as loud as if you were going to war. And nothing happens. Stupid, you are thinking, your thoughts drifting away. You close your eyes, and the last thing you see are your teacher’s big eyes looking at you with a nurse standing by.

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