Story Book- A collection of short stories and challenges

#TKBMovieContest

#TKBMovieContest

The kissing booth challenge (exactly 500 words):

My feet tapped along the pristine linoleum floor, a steady staccato rhythm echoing in my wake. The night had always been the only time my footsteps truly made any impact. Truly made any sound. There'd always been the near silent click of my boots, but in a sea of social cacophony the noise was as significant as a single grain of sand, easily washed away by waves of human contact. 

However, at roughly 11 o' clock at night, I was the only sound besides the occasional creak of a floorboard. The teachers had headed off to their homes and apartments, condos and mobile-homes. The 99.995% of the student body population had also headed home to their families and the heaps of homework which they'd likely all get less than average grades on. Once again, a sea of 417 voices, impacts, and lives had headed back into insignificance to everyone but their family. But, I would not be joining them tonight.

I'd taken hours and hours of meticulous planning, down to the minute of every passing hour and the inches which separated the ceiling panels. The clocks had all been stripped of their batteries and set to two minutes past midnight. Two minutes past for Midnight. Two minutes too late. Two minutes too late for me. The electromagnets which held the fire doors closed had been disengaged and the note had been pinned to the school bulletin. Everything which I'd planned was finally coming into action. Finally.

I pulled open the door to the Russian classroom, bottle in hand. I expected to be greeted by the lingering smell of Mrs. Precha's sandalwoodish perfume, possibly accompanied by the smell of one of the rotting apples which she tended to forget on her desk. But no, never would I have expected to, upon entry, find myself standing in front of Caleb. 

My eyes registered the shock set in his own, but seemed to yell 'look away!' as he saw what I held.

"What... what is that, Callie?" His voice held a very dangerous and reckless type of unyealding curiosity, but the way the words came out made my heart ache in a way I didn't think possible.

"It's, um, it's a Molotov cocktail." The sentence came out broken, all my confidence suddenly fading.

"Like in the James Patterson book?" I let out a saddened laugh before responding,

"Yeah, like that."

"Are you going to use it?"

"I think so..."

"Why?" He knew why, but he was obviously trying to let me hear it myself.

"To explode myself... I thought it'd be funny, because, you know, Molotov was Russian."

"Do you really want to do this Callie?" Stalling.

"I think so."

"Really?"

"Well..."

"Callie I'm going to walk towards you now, okay?"

"Sure." His sneakers padded against the floor but my heart thumped louder.

"Will you reconsider?"

"Maybe..." 

And then he took another step forward to stand in front of me. My chest faintly touched his as I breathed. My eyes widened; our lips met.

The incendiary cocktail slipped from my hand, the mix of gasoline and Styrofoam shattering onto the floor.

"And now?"