A Morning Without... | Teen Ink

A Morning Without...

March 24, 2014
By MistyVenture GOLD, Newman Lake, Washington
MistyVenture GOLD, Newman Lake, Washington
17 articles 0 photos 17 comments

Favorite Quote:
“If you’re going to be a writer, the first essential is just to write. Do not wait for an idea. Start writing something and the ideas will come. You have to turn the faucet on before the water starts to flow.” —Louis L’Amour


Coughing, gagging, I stagger to my feet. But blinking back in pain and confusion instantly I am shot back down. I try and speak, but no words form. Now I find myself too confused for even words to express.

Desperately, I try again to rise. It is painful, but my mumbling mind persuades me, and I find myself standing upright, against all odds. I need something, but not quite sure yet what it is, I blink in surprise. The room is still darkened. Curtains down, shades drawn. So nowon can see my pain.

Smacking my lips in pursuit of my goal at foot, I stagger forward, not exactly knowing where I am or where to go, but I do know when. For I must get to my destination before anybody else would know of me, should I be pulled away from an infinite goal and die without it. I need something - but what? Confused beyond words I stagger on, only stopping for brief periods to rest along the way. My legs are weak, shaky. I question whether or not I should go on. But I know I must. It is a challenge I must overcome.

My eyes are weary, daring me again and again to close them forever. Forcibly I shake my head "no". I will not succumb to this torture a second longer! In desperation I make one final lunge forward, and enter a room with even more darkness than the last. Blinking from the lack of light, I try and perceive my surroundings.

There - to my left. A refrigerator and a sink. Still again I look to my right, a counter, and right in front of me once more I see yet another counter, and suddenly atop this one I know for sure why I am here. Now, only capable of a silent crawl, I pursue this counter with my life depending on it.

If I do not make it, than I will surely perish. For atop this counter lies a machine that would be the only cure to my slumbering state. I would be free, I could be gone forever from the torturous darkness, the confused agony, that surrounds my very being.

I extend a wavering hand toward the machine, pulling myself up so I am eye to eye with it. There at last, my ally, my hero.

This coffee maker will be my lifeline.

Forcibly I stand myself up. All I need is it's bitter warm liquid and I will be sane. The morning will be clear! I reach for the grounds. I notice for once the machine has not yet been operated this morning. I will be forced to manage it in my state of confusion, but I must. For without the coffee that will encircle my veins and revive my very spirit, my flesh would be weak. I would not be able even to stand without it. For everyone knows, and as all my people were taught, for a teenage girl such as myself, coffee is always a necessity.

My pained hand brushes the cold, hard rim of the coffee ground's container. I must operate this machine, for without coffee, it could mean my life. I insert the grounds, desperately, but slowly. But here, what is this? A shock sends my entire body to a chilling conclusion I do not want to face: the coffee grounds are gone!

Somebody had drank their share of the coffee already, and had left my quivering lifeform to waste without it! Without coffee, my life would be ruined! What must I do? I reach for the water. Perhaps with what I have, the caffeine will revive me. Perhaps I have a chance, perhaps I will survive, perhaps...but that will is not for me. I am too weak to look for more, and as I fall, collapsing in a heap on the ground, I must face the bitter truth that awaits:

I will have to enter school without coffee.


The author's comments:
I made this piece deliberately deceiving. I had noticed this morning I was out of coffee. So, complaining to my cousin, I came up with a story. It is deceiving the reader to feel a desperate struggle for such a small thing. But said in the tense of the teenager, this is how she would have to face it.

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