Jeffw's Blog

Get OUT of my pub!

Just joking, WELCOME! Here, you'll find some short fiction stories, anecdotes and my possible grumpy opinion on pretty much everything and anything. As you didn't in the slightest asked for it and because I can be magnanimous, I'll try to wrap it all in a clever cocktail of sarcastic witticism and stylish dark humour of the latest fashion, under the icy sophistication of which, you'll discern my true cry of despair to witness our world going to pot... or maybe it's just something I ate.
Don't hesitate to leave a comment! Thanks you, come again.

Caution MAY CONTAIN STRONG LANGUAGE AND HAZARDOUS PUNCTUATION... and with a bit of luck, some English too.

Monday, 9 September 2013

The Letter

There was a quaint letter, in full view, amongst the papers on the desk between us. And like an idiot, I hadn't been able to refrain myself to look at it. Just for a second, but it was already too late. I knew I wouldn't avoid it now.
I felt like my legs were made ​​of jelly. Standing like that in front of my torturer...
Anxiety was gnawing my guts.
He had himself called 'Master'.
As a mark of respect, I always thought that 'Sir' was enough. I was wrong.
He was old school.
But what had I done?! Nothing! And to no-one. I was quiet in my corner, minding my own business. When suddenly, plucked out from the crowd! Without warning. At random... to find myself here...
I had a furtive glance towards the window. I shouldn't have. The light from the outside blinded me for a moment... My eyes already stung before. I felt tears of frustration threatening, welling up as a pain-relief, but crying was the last thing I wanted to do.

I felt in my back that I was being watched. 'They' spied on my slightest reaction.
A cold sweat covered my forehead. My legs ached now. And a familiar and unpleasant sensation was nagging at my underbelly... For cry out loud! I wasn't going to piss myself?! Not in front of him.
The huge knot that I had in my stomach almost turned into a panic tidal-wave when I saw his massive hand going towards the letter. He picked it up.
His disproportionate and unlikely figure towering over me, he showed it to me, with an inquisitive raised eyebrow. His eyes piercing me through and through.
My throat was dry ... I could not even swallow my saliva.
I knew that if I spoke, my voice would tremble, crack.
I couldn't ... and anyway, I had nothing to say!!
Still, I had to face it...

A broad smile lit up the face of Mr. Bertrand. He ruffled my hair in a friendly gesture. "Here you go Paul. You see, when you want? You know your alphabet! Go on and sit down. "

I turned around under the appreciative and half-envious looks of my classmates and headed back to my place, half-running. I was filled with pride. In my hand, I was clutching the small picture which was my reward. My first school reward.
Despite everything I imagined before, Reception Class was OK.
I even knew how to spell that already.

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