“Good Morning students,” the instructor says profoundly. “Welcome to the first day class for those who survived childhood with an abusive alcoholic unscathed.” He looks out into the empty desks before him. He paces a few steps with his head down and hand on his chin. His eyes are as vacant as the scene before him. “I will raise my voice so those in the far back can hear!” he yells into the void. “I am Professor Minnefield. Survivor of physical and mental abuse from an alcoholic parent,” he projects in a booming voice of confidence. “If I can go through life and succeed….”
“Mr. Thomas, keep your voice down,” the nurse abruptly tells the man standing in front of the picture on the wall. “You can’t go on yapping like that. This is the quiet zone of the ward. Here, let me help you tie the back of your hospital gown.”
This fiction was written for VisDare 146: Vacant
The picture to me was haunting. This is what came to mind. I was limited to 150 words so ends upbruptly.
Till we meet again. Good Day
Mind of Shoo