Engraved Blackboard

The blank blackboard in front of me just hangs there, awaiting for somebody to taint its clean state. The longer I stare at it, the more I begin to feel like something is going to peer out of the blank void and reach into my soul, dragging it to hell and back.

Armed with my white stick of power, I engrave sacred markings on it, moving as fast as I can. I can’t stand being in front of here.


I rush back to my dwelling, aching for comfort and relaxation from my ordeal with the black void. I can see it in sight, just a few more steps.

“Come back here, Cyndi. You’r answer to the math problem is wrong. Come back and do it again.”

A voice echos in my ear, more like a high pitch squealing, an annoying squealing. I turn and see a woman in black wiping away my markings on the blackboard. My heart sinks and I fall to my knees.

“But this is the third time today I had to go write on the chalkboard!”

— via Daily Prompt: Trace Trace

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