The following is something I wrote while at work tonight. I finished everything on my check list and had some time to kill, so I decided to do a writing challenge. This is challenge was something brought up in my Creative Writing class at the beginning of the year. What you do, is grab a pen and paper and write down what's going on around you...specifically sounds and conversations. So, this is what the end of my work shift usually sounds like.
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“My class…what happened was…”
A cart
rolls by, drowning out all other sounds. Its roar amplified by the tiled floor
and high ceiling.
“Hahaha!”
“Now
you understand where I’m from.”
“Hahaha!”
“There’s
no need for me…”
Again
the cart appears, again it slices through the voices; creating fragments out of
whole sentences.
“I have
to get ready for the match!”
“Are
you going to the game?”
“I’m
announcing the game.”
Ca-sh, ca-sh, ca-sh, ca-sh, cubes
of frozen water crash against each other. Their voices like that of breaking
glass, but softer, and less metallic. Their voices are deeper, more masculine
then the shrieks of shattered porcelain.
“But,
the question is, will they let him play?” The person speaking on the mounted
television doesn’t stand a chance against the hum of the large, shiny rotisserie
oven. Freshly polished and stocked with the naked carcasses of chickens, the
machine purrs louder than a cat in heat.
The ice
cream machine kicks on, its equally shiny surface shakes as it let out a growl
louder than the rotisserie’s purrs. The chicken cooker may have drowned out the
news, but it was a whisper compared to the ice cream machine.
“Do you
know where the…”
Another
cart rolls by, turning voices into muffled whispers.
“Uh…we
might be out.”
Squeak,
squeak, sneakers make their presence known. Their owner’s hand swinging a manila
envelope back and forth. She stops, her blond curls sashaying, and glances at
the cashier in curiosity.
“Is the
mail office closed?”
“Yeah.
It closed about four.”
“Oh.
Well. I guess I’ll go back to my room real quick.”
“Wah, wah,
wah, wah, wah, wah,” a worker, dressed in black, sings as the blond turns to
leave. The paper towels in his hands are silent as they caress the glass
beneath them. Their bodies soak up the blue liquid that had been sprayed on the
glass prior to their presence.
“I don’t
know where…”
“Hey!
Have you seen…”
“Go for
it! Are you asking me permission to make an omelet? Go for it! You could have
that station tonight, if you want.”
“Do you
have any spinach?”
“I don’t
know. Let me…”
“Hey
girl!”
“Hey,
we’re looking for the restrooms,” a couple stops by the wooden stand of the
cash register, their hair salt and peppered by age.
“They’re
right through those doors,” the cashier points.
“Can we
use them?”
“Yeah,
go ahead.”
Be-beep,
a scanner signals the swiping of a card. Its voice blending in with the hissing
of the grill.
“Thank
you.”
“Yep,
just remember that it’s sandwiches and salads right now. The rest opens at
five.”
Scrape. Scratch.
Hiss.
“Are
you serious? You just destroyed the flat dog.”
“What
are…”
Hiss.
Scrape.
“Pork
fritters.”
Hum. Clink. Clink. Clank. Scrape. Growl.
“Actually,
I hope that…”
“Super
long.”
A click
is heard as the ice cream machine shuts itself off.
Be-beep,
be-beep, be-beep, be-beep, be-beep. Volleyball players file in, swiping their
ID cards at the register.
Be-beep,
be-beep, be-beep, hiss, be-beep, ching, clang, hum, be-beep, click, be-beep, be-beep…another
dinner shift’s begun.
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