This piece took longer to compose than I thought it would, but (as you can see) the below chunk of writing is rather lengthy (I hope that it isn't too long). At first, this story was to be sent to a friend, through email, but I decided that I'd spice it up by transforming it into an actual story in three parts. Writing about myself in the third person was harder than I originally thought it would be; though, I definitely enjoyed the challenge.
Anyways... Pull up a chair, pop some corn, and prepare yourself for my week's most interesting (if nothing else) adventure.
*clears throat*
Anyways... Pull up a chair, pop some corn, and prepare yourself for my week's most interesting (if nothing else) adventure.
*clears throat*
Keys to Self-Confinement
Brooke clumsily fumbled through her purse. The air was cold and her hands, searching desperately for her keys, trembled while her body shivered. Her light jacket was barely able to keep the chill out, let alone, the warmth of her body in. Key now in hand, she unlocked her car and jumped in, closing the door behind her. Inserting the key into the ignition, she started the engine and instantly turned up the heat.
The car ride home was one of silence. Her mind was racing-- full of memories of the past and thoughts of the future. After pulling into the driveway, for a moment, she sat there and savored the heat as it rushed out of the vents and brushed against her skin.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the steering wheel,as images from the past few weeks rolled into view. Christmas break had come and gone, for most of her friends, and it was time for them to go back to school. Because of this, she couldn't help feeling a bit depressed. It had been so wonderful to see her old chums and now the time for goodbyes had returned. She hated the thought of not being with them and equally loved the idea of their return. "Then again," she whispered to herself, "it seems like the more I'm with them, the more I become attached, and the harder it is to say goodbye."
At this, she sighed, turned off her car, got out, locked it, and headed into her house. Before she made it up the drive, though, something caught her eye. Turning around, she saw that her dad had left on his truck lights! She laughed, remembering other examples of his forgetfulness/ADHD and then went on into the house to snag a key to his car.
It was about midnight and her parents had already gone to bed. The Christmas tree gave a dim glow, but it was not enough light to assist her in such a quest. Hoping not to disturb her family, she flipped on a few lights, stashed her purse on the counter and began to look for her father's lunchbox (his basic man purse). Due to the fact that he usually carried it with him everywhere and used it to hold all of his things, she figured that it would be a good place to start. It would have been perfect, indeed, had the lunch box been in its usual location.
Instead of a pile of work clothes nestling it against the wall, next to the bathroom. Brooke found only carpet. Seeing the bathroom, though, she realized that it was about time to empty her bladder, but-- because there were more important things to accomplish, first-- she pushed this thought to the back of her mind and continued walking.
Being unsuccessful in spotting her dad's keys out in the open, she decided to check a few drawers and cupboards. Finally, in the kitchen, she came upon a bunch of random solo keys. "I've found the mother load," she sarcastically said as she gathered a handful and headed back out into the cold. "One of these had better work or his lights will just have to stay the way they are." Endeavoring to fit the key into the lock she urged every one of them on, in hope of a match. "Ugg! Come on, little buddy, please work... I have to pee and it's insanely cold out here!"
Finally, just as she was about to give up on the whole charade, the last key of her plethora actually fit into the lock. "I'm in!" she exclaimed. "Now, lets get down to business." Up and in she climbed. After habitually closing the door to her side, she noticed that it was mutilated and momentarily freaked. Reassuring herself, she recalled how her dad had rolled down his window each time he needed to open the door. Doing this made it possible for him to reach the handle from the outside. "No problem," she thought, "I'll turn on the car, fix the lights, and then roll down my window like Dad always does." She then reached into her pocket and grabbed the key that had let her into the truck. After jabbing it into the ignition, she was shocked to find that it wouldn't allow her to start the engine.
"Well, crap... Now what am I supposed to do?" Since it was impossible for her to unroll the window without having the truck running, she was forced to try the other door. It wouldn't let her out, either. The passenger-side door was open enough to keep the dome light lit, but not enough to be of any service. Remembering that she had only unlocked the one door, Brooke quickly clicked the button to unlock the passenger's side door, too. This didn't change a thing.
Pushing and pulling, she used every ounce of her strength to try and move the door enough so that it would either close or break open. She even attempted a few donkey-styled kicks with her feet. Nothing seemed to jar the door more than half and inch. Not even holding the handle and ramming her body against the door did much for her situation. Feeling completely helpless, she pulled out every single key from the pocket of her jacket and tried to squeeze them into the ignition. It was no use and, to her despair, none of them would fit well enough to start the car. As pathetic as it may seem, Brooke had locked herself in her dad's pick-up; she had opened and closed the door to her own self-confinement!
