Frantic
FRANTICK
Niamey POV: gerard ways genius screams in my ears as I sit on the small metal stool in the art studio texting my mother.
" yes mom, I'll be home soon" I type. I check my watch and add" I'm actually about to leave" and click send. Someone taps me on the shoulder. Oh yeah, I work here. I pull one earbud from my ears. " what?" I groan. The small girl standing before me is crying. " I didn't mean to! I sware!" She fires than looks behind her at a large tin of red acrylic paint. Except its not resting upon the large wooden chair like I like I left it. It is splattered across the mosaic floor. I gasp in horror. " I'm so sorry." The girls mother apologizes. " jemma, go help that girl clean that mess up." " ummn... My name is Niamey." I say awkwardly. I really need to get home. " Niamey's a pretty name." The little girl squeaks.
I fix my multicolored side bangs to the side then I swipe a rag from the counter beside me and get onto my knees.
( an hour later)
The blood red stain is still there.
" I'm so sorry" says the woman for about the 80th time. Jemma nods sheepishly. I shrug. " it's my boss you should be apologizing to. I like it. It's like a murder scene. Death by acrylic." I joke.
Then Jemma and her mother grimace out the door, obviously repulsed by this remark. I laugh at my cruel sence of humor then follow them out.
It's really cold. And I forgot my blak hoodie at the art studio. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. " like it makes a difference." I groan. I can't make out stars in the blak night. Not even the moon. " mom," I type frantically into my phone. No answer. I'm so afraid. Help me! I repeat in my mind over and over. " I am lost." I type into my phone and hit send. Still no answer. Then my phone dyes. NO THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!!! I hear footsteps behind me.
" yes mom, I'll be home soon" I type. I check my watch and add" I'm actually about to leave" and click send. Someone taps me on the shoulder. Oh yeah, I work here. I pull one earbud from my ears. " what?" I groan. The small girl standing before me is crying. " I didn't mean to! I sware!" She fires than looks behind her at a large tin of red acrylic paint. Except its not resting upon the large wooden chair like I like I left it. It is splattered across the mosaic floor. I gasp in horror. " I'm so sorry." The girls mother apologizes. " jemma, go help that girl clean that mess up." " ummn... My name is Niamey." I say awkwardly. I really need to get home. " Niamey's a pretty name." The little girl squeaks.
I fix my multicolored side bangs to the side then I swipe a rag from the counter beside me and get onto my knees.
( an hour later)
The blood red stain is still there.
" I'm so sorry" says the woman for about the 80th time. Jemma nods sheepishly. I shrug. " it's my boss you should be apologizing to. I like it. It's like a murder scene. Death by acrylic." I joke.
Then Jemma and her mother grimace out the door, obviously repulsed by this remark. I laugh at my cruel sence of humor then follow them out.
It's really cold. And I forgot my blak hoodie at the art studio. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. " like it makes a difference." I groan. I can't make out stars in the blak night. Not even the moon. " mom," I type frantically into my phone. No answer. I'm so afraid. Help me! I repeat in my mind over and over. " I am lost." I type into my phone and hit send. Still no answer. Then my phone dyes. NO THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!!! I hear footsteps behind me.
7/12/13