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Post by Rose Macallis on Sept 23, 2009 4:01:13 GMT
Even after hours, Rose could frequently be found in her classroom. Usually, it was the after hours that happened after dark, but depending on what she was doing, she sometimes never bothered leaving her classroom at all. It did, after all, have a giant screen that was perfect for watching movies on. Much better than the small TV that she had in her dorm.
Today, sitting cross-legged on a table, she was watching a black and white film crackle over the projector, happily shoveling lo mein noodles into her mouth. She was skilled enough with chopsticks to not have to watch as she ate, so she could keep her eyes on the pleasing features of Cary Grant.
And not only were his features pleasing, but his voice was as well...until it suddenly stopped existing. The picture was still moving, yes, but there was no longer any sound. Knowing, of course, that there should have been, Rose frowned, a baby corn halfway to her open mouth. After waiting a few seconds with nothing happening, she set the lo mein down, ignoring the bite she held, and unfolded herself from the table and moved toward the projector.
There was nothing wrong that she could see immediately, which meant that this would take a little bit more than just her usual cursory glance. Sighing, she moved toward the door and flicked the lights on, alerting anyone in the hallway who hadn't heard the movie/seen its flickering lights to her presence. Moving back, she pursed her lips, bending down to get under the projector and see what had gone wrong. |
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Post by Blake Andrews on Sept 23, 2009 5:01:40 GMT
Time slowed as the cigarette fell to the ground. Blake watched its casual rotations, observing the still lit cherry rotate end over end, dancing lightly to the ground. Lifting his foot, still feeling everything in what seemed to be half time, he smothered the cherry with his boot, seeing a waft of final smoke escape from the death dealing rubber soles.
He popped the tab on his Red Bull energy drink and took a swig immediately, starting the process of erasing the smell of nicotine from his breath. Although a faint smell of cigarette lingered, it wasn't enough to disgust most. Frankly, the Red Bull could do nothing to mask that anyway.
Walking down the hallways, Blake found himself reflecting on how dull the real world had become. Ever since he had come to enjoy the dream world, he had begun spending more and more time in it, loving its exotic locations and people, and having a place to escape to had always been Blake's dream.
He was suddenly and violently ripped from his musings by a light flashing on right beside him. He turned his attentions back to the real world, and suddenly, time came up to meet him. Things were progressing at a regular rate again.
"Um... can I offer a hand?" Blake asked, before he had even registered the situation that greeted him. His creative writing teacher bent under a projector, while it projected the ghostly images of a movie on the screen. Blake couldn't make it out against the glare of the overhead light.
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Post by Rose Macallis on Sept 29, 2009 17:48:20 GMT
Had Rose not been tiny, the feat she was attemtping to accomplish might have been far more difficult. As it were, she was still a little bit less flexible than required to bend in the directions she needed to. Somehow, however, she managed to get on the floor at a suitable angle to examine the projector to the best of her ability. It was a little painful, but it would save her grief in the long run if she managed to fix it like this.
She hadn't been counting on anyone being around to wander in so, when the voice interrupted her, she jumped, bumping her head on the table leg near the projector. With a yelp, she scrambled to get away from anything else that would restrict her movement painfully. She would have stood up, but getting into her position had been difficult enough without having to undo it and then do it again. Besides, she was sure that, once she explained it, whoever had come to see her would understand.
She finally glanced, when she could, at the boy now standing in her classroom. She recognized him from her writing class, but couldn't yet place his name. Something with an "a".....
"Well, hi!" she said cheerfully, feeling only slightly awkward about the fact that she was on the floor. "What can I do for you...err... Jake?" she tried, chewing her lip and hoping that it was right. She didn't want to be That Teacher that called the same student by the same wrong name for the rest of the year and she knew that, if he didn't correct her now, she would forever think of him as Jake. Which would be sort of a problem. |
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