A Writer Created

It all started in high school. I was conflicted on what elective class to take. I already took wood shop, ceramics and even typewriting class so now I wanted something different. There it was creative writing class. I thought to myself this would be cool, I could learn how to write my crazy thoughts and ideas into creative writings and maybe even movie plots. So, I took my talents into Mrs. Rolands class. It was exciting to join the group discussions and learn how to put my thoughts on paper. It was like letting someone into my head to see my thoughts as my pen hit the paper. The first few weeks were nice. Class consisted of writing exercises that focused on expanding our minds and creativity. Mrs. Rolands was excellent in the way she gained our attention and had us wanting to always learn more. I couldn’t wait for class each day as it was my 5th period after lunch.

As I entered class I couldn’t help but to notice a single word on the blackboard. At first, I thought maybe Mrs. Rolands forgot to erase it or maybe she was starting to write something and didn’t finish. We sat in class and began our writing exercises, went over a few vocabulary words and discussed the proper screenplay writing structures. I was about to make mention of the single word on the blackboard when Mrs. Rolands told everyone to turn their attention to the front of the class. We all turned our heads toward the blackboard and saw the word “Limit” by itself.

“Every day I will write a single word on the board, and you will use this word to start off a short story.” Mrs. Rolands told us.

This sounded fun I thought to myself. She even told us that she would read the top 3 or 5 stories each day. This would encourage us to do our best to hear our stories read out loud in front of our peers. I took the word and started working on what I thought was a masterpiece short story. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow to hear her read it to the class.

The next day I walked into class feeling pumped up. She started class as usual with our writing exercises and vocabulary. After we finished up, she wrote another single word on the board.

“Bonus, this is your next word for your short story today.” Mrs. Rolands told us. “I have 3 stories that I have selected to read from yesterday’s writings.” She continued.

I sat there knowing she was going to read my story. Everyone sat there waiting, thinking their work was going to be presented as well.

It was time, she was sitting in front of the class with papers in her hand. I was sitting there waiting patiently as was everyone. First story she read wasn’t mine, second one still not mine. It was now the last one she was going to read. I sat there wondering how everyone was going to react. She began to read and right away my head fell down as I was now staring at the desk wondering why she didn’t select my work. I just knew she would read it. After that day I tried to write the best stories I could to have her read it to the class.

As days turned into weeks, I was writing my butt off trying to get it read in class. I had stories about robots, space, life and even spaghetti under the bed and still not one single one read. I was getting frustrated.

As I gave up hope and was ready to keep my dream in my mind and never let it out, I thought of something interesting. Seeing how I was frustrated with Mrs. Rolands not reading my work I decided to put her in my story. Instead of writing a different story each day I decided to write a series and link each story as a chapter to a complete story. I decided to make a kind of Scooby Doo mystery story. The mystery of the story was who killed Mrs. Rolands, and I used each student’s name in class as characters.

The next few weeks were awesome; Mrs. Rolands read each chapter and as each day went by all the students were waiting to see who the killer was. I sat back trying not to give away that I was the writer although I believe a few kids had their assumptions. I would sit and look how all the kids had their attention on her every words. Each student was looking around the class as their name was read in the story. As the school year went on, I was trying to figure out how to end it but before I could come up with an ending that I liked school was coming to an end.

I didn’t come up with an ending in time and with all the end of school commotion and all I didn’t get the end of my series read. During the summer break from school, I had an idea of sending the end of the story to the student in class that I had made the killer. I wrote the chapter out as a letter saying we knew who had killed Mrs. Rolands. I even sent the story in the mail with no return address on it to make it even more realistic. I put in the mailbox and was expecting her to get it and be surprised to find out she was selected.

Later on, during summer break I was coming home from an outing and my mother had a disturbed look on her face.

“What’s up mom?” I asked.

“What did you do?” She replied.

I was confused. “What do you mean?”

She continued to tell me that the FBI had come to the house asking her questions. I was nervous and asked her what about. She then told me that they were investigating a letter that was sent to Rebecca Hernandez. Supposedly her father sent the letter to police and somehow it got to the FBI, and they were able to pinpoint a radius of people who would have had any connection to Rebecca. After the Feds concluded their investigation and told her who I was she then remembered the story and told them she knew who I was and thus concluding the case.

After this I was so stunned that my writing was able to cause so much attention and thought to myself I must continue writing and hope to have something published.