The Teachers – Part One ‘Locked Out’

The Teachers A1

Part One

‘Locked Out’

“It’s not the end.” He said, playing with the last plastic fork they had. It felt fragile, and slippery between his fingers. “It’s just our end.” He added, pausing for dramatic effect. “Everyone and everything else will go on live in,’ we will just stop.”

“Depressing. That’s all I have to say about that, Quentin.” Rosa replied. Tugging the plastic fork from his hands abruptly and continued to bend the prongs back and forth, hoping they would snap off, so she could poke her brother with them after. They both sat angled on the floor, with their backs against heavy, velvet cloth. The room was filled with stark air perfect for Rosa’s delicate plaster skin. She’s made up of many things, after mother lost her original body.

The room itself was small, with a single rectangular bench off to the right side. Packed with the typical Guardian folded up, underneath it. It was a used model, but served it’s purpose. Quentin’s family couldn’t afford the new ones that came out last year, the material were to costly and the ‘XXX Guardian’ took up too much room, so his Father found an old one and fixed it up. Being that the new laws state that every living quarter must have one. Rosa thinks of it as a metal babysitter, where as her brother a conspiracy. But then again, Quentin was always on for a good conspiracy theory. The most recent one involving Earl of Londenq, who claims to have uncovered knowledge that the Carriers ‘accidentally’ lost.

“Depressing. It is.” Quentin finally replied, losing his thoughts of the latest conspiracy, however outrages the claims for new knowledge was. He sighed, turning to watch his sister for her sudden fascination of the fork. Her red skin glistening under the heat lamps. His sister acted as if she never saw one before, and ironically she was the one who found it. He remembers the day they both snuck off to find something odd and new to touch. It was dangerous, but he couldn’t help but explore the barrier. Give him a good chance of getting out, he’ll take it like the sick take to the medicine. Though he never knew Rosa’s reasons for leaving that day..

“Where’d you go? Lost in your head again, Quentin?” Rosa chimed in, scratching her nose before taking a stab at her brother with a plastic ending. He hesitated just long enough to give her the perfect opportunity, in her mind he was asking for it.

He knocked her hand aside saying, “And I am not lost. It’s just night-time in here, and I don’t have a flashlight to see around.”

“Su-re.” She said, laughing. “What are we to do today?”

“I am going to do nothing, as we turn to nothing.” Quentin said, glumly and plainly. Twisting his face into something awful.

“That’s a very old way of thinking.” Rosa replied, realizing that her efforts to make things more light-hearted had failed.

“But doesn’t it seem to fit? Were dealing with old issues, old ways…”  He stopped, mid sentence. Eyeing his father who seemed to have just appeared into the little room.

“Quentin, your theories are growing more wilder by the days.” He said, pulling the cloth wall aside. “Everyone is a system, and with any system there is room for error, my dear boy.”

“So you agree with me, Father?” Quentin asked, standing up. Breathing in the crisp air that rushed through the open cloth.

Behind a yellow, steel kitchen with a sink full of silver oil and a dear Mother who was reading the latest news off the chalice.

Father glanced around, then settled on Quentin. Whose blonde hair was wrapped up in a tangled heap on the top of his head. However messy it was, it matched his pale skin and blonde eyes.  Where as Rosa once resemble her mothers image, long, sweet and people-ish, she now takes to machinery. Her eyes a slate grey, her skin hard and her hair a mixture of yellow and blue wires.

“Did you read the news?” Mother asked Father her voice full of dread, not looking up from the page. Quentin always thought that being able to tell whom is in the room without seeing, is a talent to be reckoned with.

“No dear.” He replied with a smile, “What is it?”

Mother looked up. Her eyes wide and teary. “It’s about us.”

“Us?” Quentin said, feeling his brows raise in question. There is not reason for his family to be in the news. They were simple folk, that kept to themselves. Not unusually bright or wealthy – just average. He found himself walking over to his Mother, feeling the electricity buzz through the floor with each step. It always tickled his feet. Which is why he tried to stay out of the kitchen as often as he could. He stopped short of the table.

“Were leaving.” His Mother said suddenly, making great efforts to smooth out her shaky voice. “I’ll call to work, tell them I’m taking my vacation days.”

“Leaving?” Rosa mumbled, peeking through the curtain like a timid creature. She stayed where she was, “were not in trouble are we?”

No one replied, and the silence piled in masking the room off before Mother started screeching. “LOCK IT DOWN!”

And his Father started rushing around the home, as both Quentin and Rosa stood frozen, watching as the world spun around them – doing laps. Over and over again.  But before Father could empty the chalice, Quentin got a quick glance and the watched as the words burned into his memory, ‘MAYARDS RESPONSIBLE?”

“That’s our last name.” Quentin breathed.

Written by A. Writes.

Part Two coming next Wednesday!

Comments and feedback are always welcome.

If you could.

“If you could be anyone, who would you be?” I asked. Staring pass the dark stairwell that seemed all to friendly.

“Anyone?” He asked.

I nodded. “Anyone.”

He inhaled, pausing. “I’d want to be myself.”

“That’s an interesting notion.” I replied, tugging at the end of my brown hair. Just hard enough to remind me to blink.  “Most people would want to be somebody else.”

“I’m sure.” He said, chuckling. “How about you, out of the billions of people on this planet, who would you want to be, Miss Mary?”

“I don’t know. Certainly not me now… perhaps, me in seven point five years to the future.”

“That’s an interesting notion.” He responded, quoting me.

“I’m sure.” I said, grinning back.

Written by A. Writes

 AW sunset

600 Follows + New Series!

The Teachers A1

Coming September 1st 2014!

 Hello! First of all, WOW! I can’t believe this blog has reached 602 follows! Thank-you! This has been an amazing adventure so far, and your support has been absolutely stunning! I feel very honoured to have you all apart of my online community here on WordPress. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us!

In celebration, starting September 1st, 2014, I will be launching a new short story series called, ‘ The Teachers.’ And I am very thrilled to talk about it! This is a new ‘format’ for this blog, so we will see how it goes! It’s a science fiction series that will be broken up between three to five posts, each being published on a Wednesday.

Question: What is ‘The Teachers’ about?

My answer: I can’t tell you that yet, (snickers) but please stay close!

 Sincerely, A. Writes 

It’s all for the Adventure

It’s all for the adventure.

The air smelt disgusting; it almost makes me vomit just thinking about it, really. It was like that thick, sticky smell.  I was even tempted to stick Vicks up there. It was pretty dark outside too, which didn’t help. At all. Now, I know what you are thinking. Why did you do it then? Why did I attempt to break into the fish market and steal a catfish? Well, to be honest I couldn’t help myself. My curiosity got the best of me and I had to answer to it. And I know, it would make the story easier to swallow if I said my younger siblings dared me to do it, but it was all me and I would have gotten away with it! If I didn’t let out a cursed screech at the exact moment your were walking by with your big ol’ flash lights. But hey, think of it as a favour, you guys caught me because of it. But wouldn’t you be screaming if you dove into a huge container full of fish endings too? Yuck. You guys would have walked right past me anyhoo. So yeah, there was no reason to my actions. I wasn’t on drugs, or doing someone else’s bidding. I was simply being a rebellious pre-teenager who was trying to steal a catfish. I would have named it Sally, you know. If it survived the jolt back home in my rucksack I would have kept it in the bathroom tub, and if it died I would have tried to cook it.

I know. I am probably going to spend the rest of my summer vacation doing community service, but its a win-win. I get to help out the community… and it’s all for the adventure anyways. Just go ahead and call my parents already.

Written by A. Writes. 


Crown feet drawing heavy on pounding cement. with a horse-drawn carriage approach the bench. she was laced in pearls, diamonds and grey. her eyes were aged but her smile was prey.

she waited every year at the old-paged peer, half excepting for her bright-eyed sailor to appear.

nothing for yet and her thoughts for pause, for worries forgotten. among the forgotten.

feet drawing heavy on one pounding cement.

Writing and Photo by A. Writes