So some news first before I show what I quickly threw together for the writing prompt:
Taking 4 AP courses at once is a lot of work; dont do it fellow high schoolers unless you have a lot of will power, you'll need it
I'm visiting Arizona soon and on October 24th (Thursday) I am giving an Author presentation to Canyon Rim Elementary. I am very excited!!
One morning you awake to find yourself in a strait jacket, being taken off to an asylum. How do you prove your sanity? What do the guards and psychiatrists say you did?
Well, everyone has had those bad mornings. You know, the type where you find yourself in a very uncomfortable jacket where your arms have basically no movement and you feel a bit like a taco. You know, the mornings where you can hear the slow beep of a machine. The type of machine you later find attached to your arm. You know, the average morning when a few doctors in a lab white coat is standing near were you lay with two guards standing guard. You know, your basic not so average day!
That happened to me. To say the least, I was a bit confused. “Why am I in a taco?” I mumbled pulling at the sheets that were wrapped around me super tightly. Oh wait, those weren’t sheets. That was a strait jacket. I never thought I was claustrophobic, but suddenly realizing that I couldn’t move if I wanted to, began to put me on edge. “And why are you marshmallows have me plugged into this stuff?”
I like food, if not noticed, hence comparing my situation to being in a taco and to the whiteness of the doctors’ uniform to a marshmallow. The “marshamallows” were giving each other some strange looks before finally talking to me.
“There is no food in here right now,” Doctor number one mumbled, obviously confused.
“You are in a research facility,” the second one offered.
“An insane Asylum,” the third one corrected through a small laugh.
“Wait, What?” I shouted, a bit too loud, “Why am I in a place like here?”
“You were talking…”
“To yourself,” the youngest one interjected.
“Having a food fight…”
“With yourself,” the youngest one jumped in again.
“With yourself,” the youngest one added.
“Would you let me finish!” the first doctor said, clearly annoyed.
I laughed. “Hey, Hope. You seein’ this?” I asked the girl who was always so critical about everything.
“See you’re doing it again?”
“What?” I asked, innocently.
“Talking to yourself!”
“You’re so funny,” I laughed, “You agree, right Lokie?”
“I think I know what this is,” the middle doctor finally spoke since the first time, “this is the classic case of Author Syndrome. Their characters become real to them!”
“Is there a cure?” The youngest doctor asked.
Grimly the main doctor frowned, “None has been found.”
I just laughed, these guys were crazy, but at least all my friends were here!
Till next time,