Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-31507371-20170320131723

Another day, another lesson. Today began like any other normal Monday at school. Teachers taught. Students listened, for the most part. One thing was different today. In my English class, I noticed that someone drew a small doodle on my desk. It was a tiny dark oval with two white eyes and a white ‘D’ shaped smile. Next to it was written the word “Hi!” Assuming it was a message from another student in a different period, I wrote down “Hello!” next to it with my pencil. I went about the rest of my day. The only other memorable thing was the doodle. When I was leaving, it looked different from this morning. Like the head turned slightly. Long day. Mind playing tricks on me. I left class and went home, thinking nothing of the doodle.

The next day, there were some noticeable changes. The friendly “Hi!” was gone and the doodle’s head was now looking towards the center of the desk. Towards me. It also looks bigger than it did yesterday. I guess the artist was reacting to my greeting in their own strange way. The large smile and dead eyes on the doodle were unnerving. Creepier now that it feels like it’s staring right at me. I cover the drawing for the whole class. Leaving class, I noticed that the head had a neck now. Was that there before?

By Wednesday, it was obvious that the artist was making changes. Got to give them credit, they were doing a great job of leaving no residue or anything for where the drawing was. The doodle was not only large, but closer? They’re moving it down the desk. In addition to it’s neck, you could now make out shoulders. It looked like it was rising out of the desk. I’m over the doodle. It’s giving me chills. I can’t explain why, but it is. I take out a marker and draw a large rectangle around it and filled it in. Pretty sure that’ll relay the message of “I’m tired of this thing”. Fuck whoever is drawing it.

It was clear the next day, my message wasn’t received. The doodle was back. It’s smile gazing at me from the ride side of my black box. It now had long outreached arms as if it was crawling around the box. Goddammit, I’m tired of seeing that face. I cover the drawing once again. I’m giving this artist attention, which is what they want. If I ignore him, he’ll get bored and quit messing with it. I’ll be fine, I just need to mind my own business. I left that day without glancing down at my desk. I can’t look at it. I won’t.

I tried to end the week without looking at the doodle again, but couldn’t. It was nearly halfway down the desk now. Crawling. Starring up at me with the same deadpan smile as before. I hate that this thing bothers me so much. I hate this thing. All I want to do is be as far away as possible from it. It looks like my wish would be granted too. Before being dismissed for the weekend, our teacher gave us new desk assignments. I was placed on the farmost right-side of the room. Far away from my old desk. Once seated I glanced over at the new resident of my old desk to see her reaction to the doodle. Nothing. It was like she didn’t even notice it. Or maybe she didn’t care. At the end of class, I was tempted to go over and ask her about it, but decided against it. I’m free of it. Let it be her problem.

Monday through Wednesday of the next week went by smoothly. The doodle was already feeling like an old memory. However, Thursday morning I sat down and saw on the left side of my desk that same smiley face that haunted me all last week. It looked like it was crawling all the while staring right at me. Fuck this. I can’t deal with this anymore. How did they know where I was seated? Were they targeting me directly? Why? WHY? I’m through with this thing. I spit on my hand and wipe away the doodle. The black ink turns red on my hand as I wipe it away. The ink felt warm and thick to the touch. It smeared. All over. I wiped away at the remaining red ink until it was all gone. My hand was covered in this thick red ink. I left class. I needed to get this off of me. I ran home, and immediately burst into the bathroom. I turn on the sink to try and wash it off. It’s not working. The smell of copper begins to linger in the bathroom the more I tried to rinse it off. Panicking now, I grab a white towel and begin to scrub at my hand. I can see my skin through the ink finally. It’s coming off. Every wipe of the towel left a deep red stain on it. Jesus Christ it’s like I’m cleaning up blood. After nearly 20 minutes, my hand is rid of the ink, but the towel is now completely red. I drop the towel to catch my breath. It’s over. It’s done. You’re fine. Looking down at the towel, my heart sank. The whole towel was red, with the exception of two white circles and a smile. It’s that face. That same goddamn face. My eyes began to water and my face inflamed with rage and fear. No. NO! I grab the towel and run to my room. I grab a waste bin next to my desk and shove the towel amongst the papers and trash. I bring the waste bin to my window and open it. After locating a lighter, I set the damn thing ablaze. I watch it burn until the whole towel is charred. I put out the flames and lay down on my bed. It’s over. It’s done. Calm down. I breathe a sigh of relief.

I fell asleep hard that night. The whole day left me feeling exhausted. Pretty sure the sprint from school to home had a hand in that. I was startled awake by a loud metallic bang. I turn on my lamp and search over my room. It was the waste bin. It fell over. Ashes were spilled all over the floor. I could see something moving. It was the towel. The burnt black towel was moving towards the bed. I could hear it crunching as it moved closer. The towel began to tear and two long black arms began to reach out to crawl ever closer to me. I was frozen. I couldn’t move. More crunching and tearing as a large mass appeared. Two holes tore open followed by a large slit. It was the face. It was that fucking face. For the first time, the face wasn’t smiling. It was frowning. It opened it’s mouth wide and screamed at me. It’s scream sounded like the screams of a hundred people all screaming at once. My scream joined in as it finally crawled on the bed.  