Writing Prompt Practice

David’s hands were clammy and covered in sweat. He hesitated as he stood before his English teachers office door. Breathing heavy, he wiped his hands on his pants and reached for the doorknob. Turning it slowly he regretted what he was about to do immediately. He pushed the door open and heard his teacher’s fingers hitting the keyboard.

“Sit down David.”

David took the seat in front of Prof. Herald’s desk. He stared around the office trying to keep his eyes off of the old man. This office was quite small he thought. The room only had one normal sized window facing a brick wall, letting in minimal light. The walls were painted beige. David didn’t think it mattered too much since most of the walls were covered with either bookshelves too full or awards and degrees. Prof. Herald’s desk was overflowing with reports and letters. A small desk lamp was dim and not really worth having. A small monitor was shoved onto the corner of the desk with barely room for the keyboard. David did not like this office.

Prof. Herald leaned back in his chair and the rusted base squealed loudly.

“Mr. Jones, what can I do for you?” The old mans voice was slow, deep and raspy. What was left of his gray hair sat unkempt on his balding head and his beady eyes sat sunken behind deep wrinkles. His suit was as wrinkled as his face and stained with coffee. Some how this man, even with his messy disposition was quite intimidating. Maybe it was his well-known reputation for failing kids for less than a bad paper. Or perhaps it was simply that he was a mean old man.

“I uh…um,” David stumbled on his words. The old professor folding his hands and made the chair squeal once again. David took a deep breath and tried again. “I wanted to talk to you about the grade you gave me on the last report.”

“You have a problem with my grading, young man?” Prof. Herald looked quite offended.

“No, sir. Not at all.” David didn’t know what to say now. The grade Prof. Herald gave him was quite unfair actually. David had written that paper perfect. “I suppose I didn’t understand the assignment and I-”

“That is no concern of mine Mr. Jones. Perhaps you are just unprepared for this class.” David swore he saw the professor smirk.

David nodded, not knowing what to say. There was nothing he could do about the absurd grade. His hands were sweating profusely now and he could barely hold on to his words.

“I think I am quite prepared for your class sir,” he whispered under his breath.

“Sorry, Mr. Jones. I didn’t hear you,” the old man spat, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, sir. Perhaps I could rewrite the paper?” he asked, already accepting the answer would not be a good one.

“No. You cannot rewrite the paper.” The old man faced his computer again and began typing once again.

David felt completely dismissed and ignored now. Defeated and pissed off, David pushed the chair from underneath him and stood up.

“Thank you for your time, Professor.” David, eyes glued to floor, left the office and had to try very hard not to slam the door.