Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25170312-20160405191048

I've always been a good speller. Some people just have the knack while others struggle their whole lives to spell even the simplest words. With the advent of the internet came widespread apathy towards proper spelling. I'd just assume join the masses but I'm sure I'd never forgive myself - not after everything that's happened. Allow me to explain.

In sixth grade I won a spelling bee at my elementary school. Long story short - I won. It wasn't fair, really, considering the fourth and fifth graders were involved, but I didn't let empathy sour the moment. My classmates were thrilled and offered their sincere congratulations, which felt incredible. Up until that point I hadn't been much of a standout kid, but now I was a champion of sorts.

As the winner I was invited to compete against local schools, then possibly advance beyond that. Exciting as it was, I was extremely nervous since I tend to freeze up when put on the spot. The first spelling bee was fine because it was at my own school, which was small, and only some other students and teachers were there. Now I would have to stand up in front of people I didn't know and try to keep my cool.

My first challenge was at Westbrook Elementary, in a neighboring town. I was relieved to find that despite being in a large auditorium, the contest would have a small audience of parents and a few teachers - no bratty kids to heckle me. Being on stage was a little disconcerting but I was confident I could push through the distractions. The other kids didn't look very smart and I figured they came from schools where nobody could spell for shit. This was going to be easy.

Before we began, the usual rules were dictated by the pronouncer. I won't bore you with the specifics but she made it a point to emphasize that there would be no homonyms: words that sound the same but are spelled differently - not to insult anyone's intelligence. Usually, when given a homonym, the competitor would simply ask for the definition. However, in this particular spelling bee I was to expect no homonyms - not a one. I could put them completely out of my mind. Homonym? What's a homonym?

Things got off to a good start, as expected. Naturally, the words started out simple and gradually became more difficult - not enough to stump me, though. I was right about the other students being pathetic spellers. Two of them were eliminated early on by some really basic words. My confidence was skyrocketing and an effortless victory seemed to be within my grasp. But then, out of nowhere, this bitch did the unthinkable - she gave me a fucking homonym.

Now you're probably thinking, "Whoa, that's pretty harsh considering you could just ask for the definition." Well, you're right. I could have asked for the definition. Oh God, why didn't I just ask for the definition? My eleven year old mind struggled to understand why someone would be so insistent and then completely contradict themselves. She said there would be no homonyms. No... fucking... HOMONYMS! I felt like I had been thrown under the bus. You could hear a pin drop and a wolf howl in the distance as I stood there like an idiot trying to untie the knot this woman had just fastened in my brain

The word was either "colonel" or "kernel" - I never found out which. I was too preoccupied with the whirlwind of questions spinning round my head. Which word am I supposed to spell? Why did she give me this word? Why did she say there'd be no homonyms? Why is she doing this to me?! I wanted to scream, to run, to cry, but I did nothing. After a long, awkward silence that seemed to last forever, I was told to hurry or I'd be out of time. Afraid of being disqualified, I spit out the only thing my tangled mind could manage to deliver - a combination of both spellings.

"C-E-R... N-O-L."

"I'm sorry, that is incorrect."

I was mortified. What the hell just happened? Did I really spell it that way? Why did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?! No, it was that bitch's fault. She lied to me! This was my chance to show everyone that I was special, and she just ripped it away from me like a greedy sloth snatching bread from a hungry child.

I was clearly distraught but no one seemed to care much. My father attempted to console me, but he didn't try that hard. Maybe it was futile, or maybe he was just bad at that kind of thing. I pleaded to that stupid woman but of course she dismissed it like it was no big deal. I kept telling my dad, "She said there'd be no homonyms!" I wanted him to confront her, to do something about it. Instead he just shrugged it off. She knew what she did, though. That bitch knew.

Everyone at school was sympathetic about my loss, but it only made me feel worse. Now and then I'd imagine that dumbass kid who won the spelling bee smiling with his shit eating grin as that evil woman pats him on the back. It was obvious that I was the better speller, so how in God's name did they let that idiot win? At least they were from different schools so I would never have to see them again. Still, my anger never faded - permeating into every facet of my young life. I stopped caring about my grades and started acting out in class. The teachers were surprised, and my parents were worried.

Maybe it's unfair to blame everything on that one experience, but the humiliation I felt kept growing and mutating as I refused to let go. By the time I entered high school, I just didn't care anymore. It's a slippery slope once you give up on life, and it's not unusual for people to start going downhill in their teens. Bad grades, bad relationships, bad choices - that was the road I traveled into my twenties. Roads like that don't lead anywhere worth going.

I'm in my thirties now and just as pathetic as ever. I can't keep a job, I'm undateable, and I piss off everyone I come in contact with. Not too long ago, something happened that I thought would change everything. It was easy to convince myself, to give in to the anger that I'd been bottling up for all those years. I didn't even know what I'd been waiting for until it fell right into my lap.

I was on line at the supermarket when I heard her voice. There was something familiar in the tone and the way she enunciated. I glanced over as she picked up a bag of frozen corn from her shopping cart. A small tear in the bag got caught on the head of a spray bottle and corn started leaking out.

"Damn it!" she grunted. "Kernels everywhere!"

My ears caught fire. The way she said "kernel", it just had to be her. She kept saying it over and over like she was mocking me - laughing and joking with the cashier about "a kernel here and a kernel there". Apparently, she thought she was funny. Something inside me snapped and all I could think about was how to wipe that stupid grin off her face.

I don't even remember thinking about what I was doing, it just kind of happened. One moment I was in the parking lot, and the next I was following her home. I had to know where she lived. As she pulled into a driveway, I made note of the house number and continued on while looking straight ahead. I repeated her address over and over to myself, spelling the street name each time.

Every day I would drive around her neighborhood, passing by the house every now and then. It became an obsession. Sometimes at night I would sit in my car and watch her family through the window. No one seemed to notice. Every time she laughed I could feel the rage building. I'd mumble as if she could hear me, utilizing every manner of profanity to express my disgust. Eventually I memorized her work schedule, and her husband's as well. It was only a matter of time before I confronted her, alone.

It was freezing that day. Most people were staying inside but I still wore a ski mask so no one would be able to identify me, and gloves of course. I parked my car a few streets over and walked casually to her house. I'm not sure what possessed me to go there in broad daylight, but I knew her husband would be at work so I took my chances. I knocked impatiently and soon heard footsteps and a woman call, "Just a second!" Adrenaline surged through my veins as the door swung open and I came face to face with my sworn enemy.

"Can I help-" Before she could finish, I punched her in the throat and shoved a wet rag in her mouth. Then I rammed her with my shoulder, sending her backward and giving me room to close and lock the door. She grabbed for the rag but I punched her in the stomach and she fell to her knees. I got behind her and put my arm around her neck, then dragged her into the kitchen as she flailed her arms and legs, gasping for breath. Red faced and wild eyed, I smashed her head into the counter and threw her to the ground, planting one foot firmly on her throat. She tried so hard to remove it but she wasn't strong enough.

Knives, knives everywhere - I had to find the biggest one. I needed to terrify her - make her beg for her life. It seemed her arms were getting tired so I picked up my foot and proceeded to kick her in the head repeatedly. She tried to get away so I kicked her in her side. I just kept kicking and kicking. The rag was hanging out of her mouth so I took a break to shove it back in, then I sat on the floor watching her struggle for a moment. There was something beautiful and innocent about it. I was smiling so wide it hurt.

The petrified woman was in too much pain now to fight back. I climbed on top of her and waved the knife around in a childish manner. My body was shaking, and so was hers. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Judgement was at hand.

"You pour thing," I teased. "You're looking rather pail. Do you need some heir?" My enemy tried to respond but her voice was obviously muffled and mixed with coughs and gurgles. "Hmm... you sound a little horse."

"Frmk yrm!" she screamed through the pain.

"My deer lady... is that any way to treat a guessed? You can mown and grown 'til you're blew in the face. I'm the won in control hear." Her eyes revealed a sense of defeat - not much of a fighter. "That's write... no reason to be so tents. Wheel get threw this... together. Okay?" She nodded slowly. "I'm going to remove the rag. Wood you be so kind as to not make a sound?"

I pulled the rag slowly from her mouth while I grinned and gazed into her frightened eyes. She was relieved to breathe freely again. I pointed the knife below her chin and began my monologue.

"I bet you think I'm sum sort of cereal killer, don't you? Nope. I'm just a regular guy. A guy who mist his chance at greatness. Since then I've bin searching for piece of mind. But I can't fined it. As daze go buy, it gets harder and harder. Nobody nose how much pane I'm in. I can't bear it anymore. At this point, I can't help but sit and weight for death."

The woman was silent. "Does my tail amuse you?" She shook her head slightly. I wasn't sure what to do next. "I'm starting to get board, how about you?" She said nothing. Then I had a brilliant idea. "Why don't we play a game? I'll give you a word and yule spell it. If you get it write then you go free. If you get it wrong then you dye." I could tell she wasn't happy about the game. "Can you dew that four me?" She nodded slightly. "Good, good."

I acted like I was thinking of the perfect word, but I already knew what it was. I just wanted to savor the moment, to breathe in the fear and soak in the redemption. I smiled again, trying not to laugh. Briefly, I questioned my actions. Was I really going to kill her? Was this really the same woman that ruined my life? I didn't care. All that mattered was the moment, and so I issued the challenge.

"You word is... colonel." Or did I say "kernel"? Honestly, I don't even remember. The woman gulped, then took a deep breath.

"K... E..."

"No no no! You have to say the word, then spell it, and then say it again! Don't you remember how a spelling bee works?!" I was furious that she had forgotten the rules. I let her calm down, then she started again.

"K-kernel... K... eh-E... w-wait... which spelling?"

I burst out laughing. "Witch spelling, indeed!" I was so proud of myself. The tables had been turned. I had put this bitch in the same position she put me in all those years ago. My laughter simmered down, then I put on my most serious face. I leaned in close and whispered, "I'm not telling."

"B-but... that's not fair..."

"Not fare? Well, life ain't fuckin' fare, bitch!" I couldn't believe she would dare say such a thing. Everything came to a head and I could no longer cage the beast. The knife seemed to move on its own as I swung at her face, slicing her from her left eye to her right cheek. She shrieked in pain and grabbed at her wound. There was so much blood. Maybe I cut her more that once, but it's all a blur.

I thought I could do it. I thought I could kill her, but in all the panic I got spooked at ran, and I never stopped running. Another state, another name, another life - no one really knew me back there anyway. I guess in the end I'm just a coward. All those years letting myself rot away like it was someone else's fault. Part of me regrets what I did, but in a way it was necessary. I know now that I'm still that kid who lost the spelling bee. I wouldn't let myself be anyone else. Perhaps, I never will. 