I wrote this to help someone else out with a story they were working on. Figured I would just share it with you. I think the concept for the story is really good and am hoping to one day have the opportunity to read the finished product.



He ran his thumb over the nametag on his uniform blouse, feeling the thread from the embroidered stitching as he smoothed out the material. He curtly pulled at the bottom hem, pulling out any remaining material that might cause his uniform to look out of sorts. As he did, he gave himself one last glance in the mirror, a quick skim of his outfit to make sure everything was in place and that no wrinkles or bunched cloth would cost him a mark on the inspection.

The uniform was crisp. The grey material contrasted against his pale skin. His bony fingers down by his side reflexively scrunching as he fought against the rise of anxiety that started to creep in. His eyes, blue and sharp, stared back at himself. He thought “Get a hold of yourself, they mustn’t know you are nervous. You will become a Weed if they see.” Just the mere thought of Weeds set his mind to thinking of the 6 dozen or more failed members of his class. Continue reading Beginnings