Harry Wolff

You can't escape my laugh.

Imagination Gregory

March 14, 2011
Read time 2 minutes

Following is a creative short story story written by me.

Gregory was surprised that the teacher called his name. His hand wasn't up nor was he making any sort of eye contact. Even odder the teacher hadn't asked the class any question. It seemed out of pure spontaneity that the teacher had called his name. Or maybe it wasn't a call at all. Could it have been one of the oddest vocal ticks of recent memory that caused the teacher to utter the proper vowels and consonants that the name 'Gregory' was heard?

Like any other duty bound student Gregory got out of his chair and approached the front of the classroom. Side conversations came to a halt as the classroom gently hushed itself, all eyes turned to Gregory as he ably ambled forward. Teacher, chalk in hand, stopped marking the board and pivoted, letting her hand fall from its previous elevation to one more comfortable on her hip. Her eyebrows gathered themselves into an arch while Gregory continued his forward trod, making no motion to explain himself or halt his current intention.

With but a whisper Gregory came to a rest on his balled up toes, scrunching against the shoes that held them, "Yes Ms. Dalia?" The uttered words fell forward, just like Gregory before them, and near missed the linoleum floor before they became engorged with helium, inflating to a state of levity that forced their state to hang. And they hung, suspended above every head in the classroom, freely floating and moving as breath was inhaled. They drifted toward the closed windows and bounced away, gathering speed as they careened into the closed door and again bounced, their trajectory cemented into the teacher's right ear.

"Hm? What do you want Gregory?" The class took another breath, anticipation growing, curiosity mounting, longing for understanding.

Gregory's eyebrows took it upon themselves to mirror the teacher's now de-arching eyebrows, "You called me Ms. Dalia?"

"I did no such thing Mr. Walsh."

Gregory's face fell, his chin crashing towards his chest, "Oh."

"Please take your seat again and we'll continue with the lesson."

"Yes Ms. Dalia."

Gregory shuffled back to his seat head held low, making no eye contact, as he slid himself back into his seat. The classroom resumed breathing, each successive inhale louder than the previous. The teacher, back turned to the classroom once more, resumes her chalking of the board. As she resumes writing her sentence Gregory's attention turns to drift outside the classroom windows. As he rests his chin on his hand his ears twitch and perk up. Did he just hear his name called again?