So what do you want to be when you grow up sweetie?
If you could be anyone you wanted to be or do anything you wanted to do...who would you be or what would you do big man, pretty girl?
Children all over the world are plagued with such questions. Decisions, decisions, decisions so much pressure for a developing mind. To pin down and choose one specific idea is so difficult.
That's why when I was a little girl; I decided to do anything I wanted and be anyone I wanted at any given time.
They say, the so called 'professionals' that I have delusions of grandeur. That I hold a false belief that contradicts reality or what is commonly considered true. Basically, delusion of grandeur is someone believing that they are someone other than who they are. I've read that the strength of a delusion is based on how much the person believes it.
But that's not true about me. I know really that I am anyone and everyone I want to be.
Monday March 14th Shoal Creek Hospital Austin TX. 11 a.m.
"Has anybody seen Dr. Faison?" Shelby asks.
"She's not working today," Carlita replied.
"No she was just with a patient in room 3254," Staci says.
"Yeah that's why I'm looking for her. I just went in to check Mrs Carrington's vitals and give her the lab results. She told me that Dr. Faison wrote up discharge papers for her to go home later today.
But the lab results show she has streptococcal bacteria in her vaginal area that has started to invade her deep tissues and that's what was causing the pain in her lower her back. If she is discharged now she runs the risk of her organs being overwhelmed by the poisons produced by the strep bug and if her organs shut down that would fatal. She said Dr Faison told her she had a touch of flu and a basic yeast infection, but, Streptococcal toxic-shock syndrome is actually the correct diagnosis," Shelby states.
"I'm looking at the schedule and I see Dr Faison is off today," Carlita says pointing at her computer screen.
"That's strange. I am pretty sure I saw her entering room 3254. I know I haven't worked here long, but, Dr Faison?... late 30's, kinda tallish, brown wavy hair, and glasses?" Staci responds.
"Noooooo Dr Faison is in her 50's, short, a little on the heavy side, has blonde hair, green eyes, and is from Norway," Shelby gasps. "Call security STAT!!""
I got to Shoal Creek Hospital at 7:42 a.m. took the elevator to the 11th floor. Posing as a charge nurse; I called scheduling and asked which Dr's were working the floor today and who were on call. I found out a Dr Faison was not working.
I grabbed a white physician's lab coat a pair of stethoscopes and started making rounds.
Hello Mrs Carrington. How are you feeling today? My name is Dr. Faison. Your chart says you came in complaining of irritation in your vaginal area, pain below your rib cage and dark urine. Says here you later had a sudden onrush of radiating pain in your lower back on both sides. Lastly you started feeling chills and weak from your neck down.
So it looks like you have a touch of the flu and a vaginal yeast infection.
I'm prescribing flu medication and an antifungal drug for the vaginal infection. You should go home, stay in bed, get plenty of fluids. No work for the next five days.
I'll write you a note for work and discharge papers for you to go home later this afternoon.
Tuesday April 8th Casco Bay High School Portland MN 2:35 p.m.
Lady Supersonics let's go. Kimmie legs straight. Alright everybody four five six clap 7 clap 8 bend. One jump, two reach, three click foot step, five six up, seven drop. Now for the second eight, can we move nice and slow; starting from eight.
OK ladies good practice see you guys Thursday.
Tonight is Mountain Point High's school dance and we need a chaperone. Mrs Davidson was gonna chaperone us but her mother is sick in the hospital. So can you help us out please?
Oh wow, uhmm, I kinda have a couple of things to do tonight.
Please, please, come on pretty please.
Taylor had been voluntold to come and ask me. The rest of the girls are huddled together anxiously waiting my reply.
OK I'll help you guys out.
Loud cheers and clapping erupts from them and they rush from the bleachers to give me a group hug.
Tuesday April 8th Mountain Point High School 8:30 p.m.
This dance is not too bad and the snacks are really pretty good. The girls are so funny some are mingling trying to be overly confident others are sitting looking awkward and lost. Not Bianca.
As per usual, Bianca Carter has to be the center of attention. Look at her she's an attention whore. She irks me so bad.
She's always interrupting me while I am cheer coaching. Just a quick suggestion Ms Collins, you missed a count Ms. Collins. Always trying to make me look bad. I know she wishes she was the cheer coach instead of me.
The other chaperones are making friendly conversation but they are a bit boring. I excuse myself and head to the ladies room.
I open the door to enter and I hear my name.
'Ms. Collins looks so stupid. OMG where'd she get that dress. She looks like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles. At least she's not breathing down our backs like Mrs Davidson would be.
I'm gonna sneak out and meet Quin outside in the parking lot. Yeah I know she's dumb she won't even know I slipped out, but, watch my back just in case. Ok call me in 30 minutes or if Ms Collins starts looking like she's trying to make sure we're all present and accounted for. Ok bye.'
I back up out of the bathroom quietly. Bianca of course.
As I wait for the two hormone captives to finish, I meditate. Closing my eyes; I prepare for the 'thinning' process to begin.
People like Bianca leave 'black' wherever they are, whatever they touch. They think they are better than others. She doesn't need to be among us that hold light.
Finally the boy leaves and heads inside ahead of Bianca. I trail Bianca. She has her earphones in listening to music. I grab her swiftly from the back; my arm around her neck; my hand covering her mouth and drag her to the edge of the surrounding woods. I put in a mouth guard and tape her mouth with masking tape. She lies on her back arms tied behind her; her ankles are bound as well.
She is crying and struggling against her restraints. I take the earphones out of her phone and fashion a garrote. Slipping it over her head I tighten it around her neck.
I remove my mask and Bianca's eyes grow large with recognition just like the others.
I quote one of my favorite authors,
Catherine Fisher, in her ear before I crush her larynx.
"Walls have ears.
Doors have eyes.
Trees have voices.
Beasts tell lies.
Beware the rain.
Beware the snow.
Beware the man
You think you know.”
Wednesday April 9th Portland MN 9:37 a.m.
'17 year old teen found on the out skirts of Crayford Forrest, one mile from Mountain Point High school, strangled to death with the cable from a pair of earphones.'
"Ms. Collins can you speak to the girls on the cheerleading team and help them process Bianca's death. They will be most receptive to you I believe," Principal Reese ask.
"Lady Supersonics on this sad day can we bow our heads and have a moment of silence to remember Bianca Carter?" I say as I bow my head.
Wednesday July 22nd Albuquerque NM
No money. No job. No hope. Please Anything helps. Thank you. Have a blessed day. I hold up a cardboard sign.
I attract stares and sympathy alike; begging for cash on street corners, freeway off-ramps, grocery store parking lots, wherever.
I checked my bowl. Just $25. I'd been out here since 8:30 a.m. Today wasn't a good day. I needed more money.
I'm not homeless. Nor do I profess to be homeless. But people think I am.
I just wear my rattiest flannel shirt and old worn jeans. I leave my hair tangled and don't brush my teeth. I smudge a bit of dirt on my toes and feet. And only wear flip flops.
It's just that I'm in between jobs right now. This is how I make ends meet.
After a string of job rejections; I started feeling desperate. I was running out of money. Rent was due, bills were piling up, and my phone had been cut off. I was eating 'Dollar Tree' food items. I had to get some money from somewhere and fast. Things were bad.
Sitting on a bench, looking dejected outside of the unemployment office; I prayed for help. An older man walked by and dropped two dollars in my empty soda cup. "God bless you," he said, as he walked past. I was surprised. I continued to sit there still trying to figure out what to do. A couple walked by and put five dollars in my cup. Amazed I thanked them.
God heard me. God thank you for showing me the way I could get money.
I started panhandling the next day.
I asked one woman I saw all the time begging; how much did she make in a day. She told me it depends; could be anywhere from $10-$100 a day. She said she averages $40-$150 a day because she has her two little ones with her.
I try pretending I'm blind, but, that doesn't work out too well. After my bowl fills up; young punks would always come and steal it away from me. People would know I wasn't really blind if I tried to do anything about it.
I need to get my hands on a wheelchair from somewhere. Yeah that's what I need; just put a blanket over my legs like I'm paralysed. I'm sure that I can pull big bucks that way.
Thursday October 4th 8:42 a.m. Parkway Middle School Kissimmee FL.
Good morning my name is Ms. Everhart. I'll be your substitute teacher today. Mrs Brandt is out sick.
When I call your name please say here.
Oliver, here, Candi, here, Rodrick,.....
OK class we have a pretty easy day today. You are to watch a documentary called 'Bully.' Make sure you take notes. After the documentary you will write about any bullying experience you've had. Then you are to come up with an action plan to address whatever bullying problem that you think might exist in school.
While the documentary plays; I check my phone. Three text from Spider Man.
I lived a seemingly normal life in Florida. I was a part-time substitute teacher by day; and at night I was 'truckin'; smuggling drugs.
I'd go to an arranged meeting place, receive a brown paper bag with cash in it, then leave my car unlocked and go grab a burger or just walk around Walmart for an hour or so.
When I come back, the 'formula' is gone. I go home and lock my grip in a safe in my basement.
Then I wait for the next text with what I'm smuggling, where, and what time.
A year and a half later....
Friday February 1st Manhattan NY
Raven I sent 'your style your rules' to your inbox. I need a 1200 count on it, chopped and waxed by one thirty.
Oh and heads up; Max is on the war path. Someone keeps charging take-out to the company expense account. Meeting in the loft at 3.
Thanks Katia. Did you get a hair cut?
Yeah, Dom hooked me up yesterday.
OK gotta run. Oh...going to Maples later you should come hang out.
Ahh I would love too but I'm swamped. I have 2 headliners and an A.I. essay I have to complete by Tuesday.
OK suit yourself. All work and no play makes Raven a boring stick in the mud.
Oh shush Katia. See you in the loft later.
Friday February 1st Manhattan NY 6:42 a.m.
So much has happened. Let me think. Ok so I got fired from Parkway Middle School because of missing too much work. I had a lot of money back then so I use to go on 4 or 5 day benders you know. Sometimes I would just buy a ticket to anywhere and hang out with the locals for a few days. I messed up so much money.
Now I work in mid town Manhattan in the luxury fashion business. I work for Condé Nast a fashion media company.
Condé Nast publications include Vogue, Teen Vogue, GQ, and Vanity Fair.
I love my job. I'm a freelance writer. My colleagues and I congregate at one of the office’s many common areas in the lavish building to brainstorm, communicate and collaborate freely on our articles and projects.
I particularly like the lounge on the 15th floor. It's modeled after the ambience of a San Francisco loft. The vibe of the space is eclectic, accentuated with tables from West Elm and chairs from DWR and Knoll to create a cool yet fun, never-want-to-leave-the-office feeling.
I capitalize on that. I shower at the in-office gym, order takeout; eat it in the breakroom, and then go back to the loft and sleep. These days I AM actually homeless. The security guards think I am a workaholic. The cleaning lady knows, but, she's not gonna say anything; she's working on a work permit that doesn't belong to her. Our secrets are safe with each other.
I make 'ok' money, but I don't have a place of my own yet. I'm trying to get back on solid ground. Hopefully soon.
We are not who we used to be."
"Why do you keep saying that?!"
"We feel tired."
"Life can make us tired, but, we keep trying right; we can't let it wear us down."
"Raven? Are you ok?" Katia asks. I had to come back and get my work laptop. "Who were you talking to?"
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Nice work. Part of me wants more, but the story has everything it needs. If you don't mind me saying, though, I would personally leave the "Diary of an imposter" from the title.
Thank you Robert. I am glad you enjoyed it. I plan to write a continuation on a new prompt. I don't mind feedback. Why do you say leave "Diary of An Imposter" from the title?
Because I think it would be more interesting for the reader to discover the narrator's character as the story progresses. I felt that part of the title was almost a spoiler. The story itself is certainly strong enough to stand up without being told that.
OK, ok. I see your point. Hmmmm grabbing my bottom lip as I think about it; changing the title.
We got to see so many sides of this character in one story! She was so confident in everything she did, really interesting read.