SSS Week Two: My Current Crisis

Happy Short Story Sunday!

I know that my story last week wasn't one of the most loved stories to ever reach the eyes of the public, and I'm also aware that it was a very stupid story to start a writing challenge with. However, hopefully the one I've written for you today will make up for it. 

The Reddit prompt for today is:

Write a story that doesn't make sense, until the last sentence.

Today, darling readers, I decided to add a little pah-zaz into my writing. Instead of one prompt, I decided to use (wait for it...) two. However, due to the content in the first prompt, it's a bit impossible to tell you what the second prompt is if I want the plot of the story to be unknown until the end.

So, I will tell you my second prompt after the story.

Just like last time, if you would be interested in participating in Short Story Sunday, feel free to write your own story with one of the (or both) prompts. I would love to read what other brilliant writers came up with! 

Also, I know it's rather short, but I didn't want to drag it too long. 

Here's the story:



Here I stand: hanging there, waiting.

Gosh, I'm an idiot! Why did I even get myself into this situation? It was a bad, bad idea. I vow never again to do this, no matter how much the situation seems to accept my decision. No. Never.

He's looking at me, at my current position, yet he's doing nothing about it. I don't know whether his expression supports the idea that he's contemplating his decision, or if he's merely looking at me as though I'm an idiot. Perhaps both.

Is anybody looking at us? I can't tell. Oh, gosh, I hope not. My eyes are only locked on the man before me, waiting to see what he'll do. I bet everyone's looking. I bet I'm the centre of everyone's attention. I bet everyone is watching us, at the display I'm in. I bet they're all laughing and pointing and calling me a complete and utter idiot-- which I am. I bet they're all taking pictures and recording videos for social media. It wouldn't surprise me if my humiliating experience gets shortened down into a hashtag or becomes a popular vine.

Dangflabit, is it supposed to take this long? It feels as though an eternity has passed between the beginning of my mistake and this current millisecond. He closes his eyes, breaking our eye contact. Is he ashamed to look at me? Am I so stupidly hideous that he can't bear my sight? I beg, pray to God to relieve me from this torture.

I just know the passing bystanders are watching, just know the looks they'll give me and the sly remarks I'll receive. Gosh, I'm daft. What was I even thinking in the first place? How could I be such an idiot to think that all of this would turn out well? I thought it would be fun, friendly. How dare I think that! All this predicament is bringing is my own humiliating torture and amusement to the public, I just know.

I can never come back to this place again. I can never step foot in this building, can never walk down this street... No, no. That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do! I can never come back to this city again. Alas, but I live here. Oh, the horrid misfortune! This is where my family and friends are, this is where they live and breathe and dwell... Not that they'd want to claim me as a family member or friend after they hear about this. I'm sure news has already spread across the country about my humiliating woe!

I have to move. Not just out of city, nor state. No. They'll find me. They'll always find me. Their eyes will be everywhere I go. I need to leave the country. Wait... but I haven't any money. How am I supposed to survive in a foreign country without money? How am I supposed to leave the country while broke? The mere idea was impossible. Perhaps I can hop the borderline, sneak into Canada someway, somehow. I'm sure it's possible. I've heard many people say it was... Canadians probably haven't heard about my current crisis, probably never will. Even if so, I'll change my name, dye my hair, transform my whole appearance! No-one would be able to find me in Canada. And even if they do, they wouldn't know it was me. They would confuse me for someone else. I would be free!

Yes, yes. This plan is brilliant, genius...

Oh, who am I kidding? It's stupid, idiotic...

As I finally take a breath, the man opens his eyes, ending the simple blink. He smiles and collides his hand with mine, making a clap. I sigh in relief, pleased that he decided to high-five me back and not leave me hanging in humiliation. Perhaps I should start doing fist bumps instead...



Alright, alright. I know that technically it was the second to last sentence, but that's just a minor issue... 

If you haven't already guessed, the second prompt is:

You go for a high-five. But you're left hanging. In that slow motion moment of anxiety, tell your over dramatic tale while you wait to be met up top. Or down low.

Hope you enjoyed!