The short story unit was aimed at having creating stories whose proatagonists have internal conflicts, which later lead to external conflicts. My story was inspired by several people that I know, who shall remain unnamed for the moment. This story was also supposed to be the basis for our animation, but because I worked in a group my story has nothing to do with our animation, save for a small cameo by my story's main antagonist.
Insanity
Quincy Johnson walked into his old high school gymnasium, and unfortunately it was just the same as it was when he had last left it. Ten years ago, almost to the day, Quincy had walked out of that gym to the "accolades of his peers", as the local superintendent of schools had so expansively characterized it. The same battered and mismatched folding chairs stood in tired, crooked rows on the same uneven hardwood floors that posed the same inordinate tripping hazard to anyone concentrating on anything except for staying upright. Quincy's reminiscence was quickly cut short as, inevitably, his toe caught on the raised grain of the budget flooring, nearly pitching him unceremoniously to the ground. Now more alert to his surroundings, Quincy took up a position near one of the walls before continuing his thoughts. As he gazed around the room his eye lighted upon the schools mascot, an odd leprechaun-orca hybrid. Born out of an ill conceived attempt to preserve the "heritage" of a nearby closing high school, McShamu cast a faded and peeling eye over the rented sound system playing the "music of his era" and the buffet tables laden with standard catering fare. As Quincy looked appraisingly around the room he noticed an old friend coming purposefully towards him from under the "WELCOME CLASS OF 1999" banner. Concealing his double take under the guise of a cough, Quincy Johnson turned and made a break for the nearest bathroom.
The friend, Greg, was Quincy's best friend during high school, at least all the way up until graduation day. On that June afternoon Greg had earnestly asked Quincy's help, and Quincy had blown him off, neglected him. Quincy's despair over his past actions was only intensified by the jovial gaze of Mc'Shamu, whose likeness was painted on every conceivable surface in the men's room. As Quincy walked back into the gymnasium he avoided eye contact with any and all who offered it, and mutely made his way towards the buffet tables. Safely reaching the punch bowl, after only a brief chat (with the guy he tutored occasionally senior year) and a few introductions (with people who "remembered him always being in the library"), he dipped himself a glass and once again surveyed the room, noting that McShamu seemed now to be staring disapprovingly at him. Noticing Greg across the gym floor, enjoying himself with a few mutual acquaintances, Quincy tried to muster the courage to go over to Greg, to explain to him what he had done, and to rid himself of the burden he had been bearing for the past ten yea- "Hey Quincy, hows it goin' man!" Said Craig, Quincy's other best friend from high school and Greg's twin brother. This startled Quincy so much that he promptly splashed his left arm down into the punch bowl. Pretending nonchalantly that nothing had happened, Quincy replied "Oh, hey Craig, what’s up?" Craig looked at Quincy with the same expression Mc'Shamu wore and, lowering his voice, responded "Quincy, Greg's been looking for you, you know he's here right?" Upon hearing this Quincy paled and his thoughts racing, he quickly composed a response and delivered it as plausibly as he could. "Oh really? Well I didn't know that, yup I most definitely didn't know that, thought he moved to uh, Siberia. Probably why I haven’t talked or had any sort of communication with him for the past ten years. Hey, on a totally unrelated note, want to walk the hallways of the school? You know, to reminisce about the uh, good old days?" "Sure" said Craig, and Quincy's heart sank at the thought that Craig knew also, knew what it must've done to Greg.
As he walked the darkened hallways with Craig, Quincy talked with Craig about many subjects, and desperately tried to change the subject away from anything even remotely related to school. "Remember that time..." Craig began, and inside Quincy's head alarm bells went off signaling the need for circumferential evasion. Craig continued "in Junior year when you and Gr-" Quincy had to act. "Aaaand on that subject what’s the worst food you ever ate?" Success! Subject circumvented! "Well," said Craig "that would have to have been the McShamu special in the school cafeter-" Quincy's mind jumped in to action once again, "NO!, I was actually talking about politics, you know, worst food- politics, same thing, you see the connection right?" Luckily for Quincy, Craig was a political analyst and went off on a long monologue about the state of politics in Washington and how it was the "worst food" for the United States in years. Despite that unusually successful deflection, Quincy's grip on sanity grew ever more tenuous with each aquatically Irish, menacingly jovial gaze that McShamu gave him from every locker, doorway, air conditioning unit, and taco truck in sight. Sensing the malevolence of the school mascot, and imagining mournful, yet oddly up-tempo River dance music coming mournfully from the pool area, Quincy made a break for it with a wild yell. By the time the astonished Craig exclaimed "Oh, come on Quincy. Ralph Nader isn't THAT scary!" Quincy was already rounding the corner ahead.
As he ran Quincy's mind was frantically trying to find a solution to his problem "If only I could explain to Greg, then it would stop, all of it..." Quincy panted to himself. Spotting the light coming through the open doors of the gymnasium, Quincy saw a way out. Making a sharp right turn, and bowling over several trashcans, Quincy tried to outdistance his fears and the suppressed emotions of the past ten years. He made it. Running into the gym intent on escape, Quincy once again tripped on the floor, and fell at the feet of none other than Greg. Looking up at the face of his best friend Quincy babbled out an apology "Greg, I'm so sorry I should have told you... really I meant to..." "Huh?" said Greg "I have no idea what you're talking about... but guess what I just found out... my fly was unzipped all through graduation! Crazy right? All the people here told me about it, guess they were thinking about graduation day... Wait, were you going to tell me about something?" Greg finished quizzically. Slowly Quincy stood up, the haunted look fading from his eyes, dusted himself off, and casually replied "Never mind."