Stephanie Bontorin-Stuart
Stories (3/0)
I can't wait for life to happen
I’m up. It’s what my internal dialogue always tells me, not what I tell myself. Almost like someone else is telling me what’s happening, my external narrator. Okay so you’re awake, now what. The light is streaming in softly from the vinyl blinds covering my windows. My cell phone is tucked under my pillow, I unplugged it from the charger and check it for the time, it’s a quarter past nine. I try to crawl into the part of my brain that functions to figure out what day of the week it is. After staring at my closet doors for about a minute I finally decide that it’s Thursday. Shakespeare’s sonnets at twelve thirty, followed by eighteenth century gothic literature at three, the latter of the two I’m actually looking forward to. Before even taking this class I already read most of the books on the syllabus; Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, a smattering of H.G Wells novels, and some news clippings about Jack the Ripper from the London Daily Post circa 1888. After finally willing myself to sit up and think about my day I turn to my nightstand and pick up my black leather day planner. Flick off the elastic keeper and turn to the current week.
By Stephanie Bontorin-Stuart3 years ago in Humans
