Okay, so I know I've mentioned that periodically, I have a bit of a wicked sense of humor. Assignments in High School weren't spared from these fickle moods (: So here's a short story I wrote for my Senior English class.
An Animate Object
Funk and Wagnalls. . . he figured that it was his name; after all, it was written on his forehead.
He remembered the day he was born: His shiny, clear amniotic sack broke, and then he was
breathing his first breath of life. He specifically remembered seeing a little identification badge
on the doctor who delivered him; it said TEACHER; at the time, he had thought that it was her
name. He laughed ironically at the memory because she now consulted HIM for the definition of
words! he had lived in the same room his entire life, an only child, subjected to the cruel tortures
of beasts he knew as students: His thoughts turned inward, and his mood became stormy; he
remembered the day his virginity was taken-- page 908, villager through virgule-- it was ripped
from him by a rough, vicious male student who had no respect for the well being of others. Funk
shook himself mentally; after all, it did him no good dwelling on the past. . .besides, he couldn't
change the fact that it had happened. The teacher had taped it back in place, but he still
remembered how it had felt. . .and that memory would stay with him for the rest of his life.