Forbidden Literature

Epilogue

Four Years Later

When the announcer of the annual Harrington Writing Convention, Audrey I think was her name,  introduced me in a grand fashion, my first thought was: I have to pee.

My second thought revolved around cussing myself out for thinking it was a good idea to wear heels to this event. I mean seriously, why do formal event call for accessories that double as torture devices? My pinky toe lost feeling back when I first walked into the ballroom and that was almost an hour ago. But still, as I wobbled up to the stage I wore a huge smile pretending like my toe wasn't about to fall off.

Audrey met me halfway to hand over the microphone. Even she was wearing heels but she looked completely fine. I wonder what's her secret?

"Here you go, ma'am. And before I forget they were also wondering if you would do a quick poetry reading," she informed.

My eyes widened. "What? Now?"

"After your speech," she suggested. "It doesn't have to be anything huge. It's just that we reviewed the feedback from the last convention and a lot of people wrote that down as a suggestion. They want to hear the work from the person hosting the event. It sort of proves to them that they are being guided by someone reliable."

"I see." My bladder was screaming in protest but still I said, "I guess I'll throw in something at the end."

The announcer perked up with a smile. "Thank you, ma'am. I'm sure it will be wonderful."

"Thank you." I sent her a friendly smile before taking the mic then added, "And stop calling me ma'am, I'm only twenty-six."

She blushed furiously as she took her seat off the stage with the guest professors. All of their seats were filled up except one that I kept frowning at. Where is he? By instinct I wanted to check my phone but that wasn't possible right now. Later, I promised myself.

Before stepping up to the podium I mentally cut my speech in half now that I had to throw in a reading at the end. Last year my speech lasted almost ten minutes, but I'm shooting for five at the most this time. Not to mention I had to pee like racehorse, but I digress.

When I looked out into the crowd I couldn't see majority of the attendees because the spotlight was blinding on me. However, from what I could the room was packed with at least seventy participants this year. Much more than last year, and if we go as planned, it will only keep growing from there.

I made a vow when I got this position to accept as many eager applicants as I could into the convention as possible. That way people don't get discouraged and feel like they are failures if they don't get accepted like I did. There are restrictions, however, to make sure that the people coming here are truly in it gain something and not just for extra credit. So far we have done well, and I couldn't be more happy.

"Thank you for the amazing introduction Ms. Hillsman," I spoke into the mic once the applause died down. "I am so honored to be here with you all this week. It is absolutely amazing that I can say this will be my second year hosting the Harrington Writing Convention."

I had to pause the crowd erupted into another round of applause. When they quieted down I continued.

"It holds a special meaning to me for many different reasons. The most important being the I was once in your place about five years ago. I would say that I was sitting in the chair you are now, but I actually arrived late so I opted for sitting on the floor," a few laughs rang out in the crowd.