Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction
Tongue TiedShe hastily grabbed for the travel booklet and tickets which were on the bed, tucked partially under the pillow and rumpled blanket. Haunting memories of that last oratory fiasco invaded her thoughts as she put the finishing touches on her packing. She would have to get a move on it in order to catch her plane on time. This was totally ridiculous, she mused. The booking for this dreaded trip had been made months ago, so she had had plenty of time to prepare. Instead, she pushed all consideration of the matter from her mind whenever it attempted to creep in on her - as if to say, “If I just don’t think about it, it will all go away.”. It was an unwelcome chore, and one she was sure was doomed from the start. How could she have gotten herself into this mess? Her eyes caught a glimpse of the orchard below her window as she turned and slung the unorganized knapsack of essentials over her shoulder, and reached with the other hand for the cot. It would be a miserable day, and an equally dreadful night sleeping on that thing. She sighed heavily and noticed that the leaves on all of the trees in her favorite haven were beginning to turn and that they lacked their usual burst of color this year because of lack of rain. Their unbecoming, dull brownish, dry appearance matched what she was feeling. She was certain that she was headed for a slow, crackling demise. Her thoughts jumped again to the task before her in only a few short hours. She started to sweat and tremble inwardly as her nervousness began to increase. She should have applied extra deodorant that morning in anticipation of this loathsome event. Her stomach began to churn in that queasy, sickening way that it is known to react in response to such negative circumstances. She knew her face was beginning to discolor as the blood drained downward and the bile rose. She checked her watch and the perpetual taunting motion of the secondhand caused even more discomfort as she headed for the door. The presentation was imminent, and she was the main speaker. She did the only thing she could think of as she ran to catch the taxi waiting for her at the gate. In a final effort to combat the oncoming slaughter and come out victorious, she uttered a deeply profound, heartfelt prayer to St. Blaise asking for intervention in her cause. “Please, please, O Most Holy Patron of diseases and difficulties of the throat, just this once if it be His will, and I wholeheartedly beg that it is, let a sudden onset of laryngitis help me out of this predicament! Amen.”
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