L.A.M

On a cold, December night, every house and being was asleep. Cute, one-story houses with bicycles and toys scattered across the lawn sat silently with every light turned off. All was peaceful. Families slept soundly inside their houses, and businesses with their ‘closed’ signs dangling in front of the window relaxed after a hard day’s work. Nothing stirred, except for the rec center on the edge of town. While most of the lights were turned off, one at the very end of the building on the first floor refused to sleep with the rest of the town. And neither did the people inside of the room.
Inside of the room sat a circle of people. These people wore clothes tattered and ripped. At first inspection, many would believe the clothes on their backs were rags. However, after a second glance one could see the faded glory the clothes once prided themselves with. The circle of people was dressed in dingy, expensive suits and dresses. Along with the clothes, the people themselves looked worn down. All of their eyes were sunken in and blood shot as if they had spent the last few months awake with no rest. They all sat facing a man in a black and white tux, with a black bow tie dangling loosely around his neck. The once dark fabric now looked gray due to the dust and dirt it had gathered through the days. However, despite the fact that he tux worn by the man was completely ruined, the man still sat primly on the edge of the seat, barely sitting in the chair. The man nervously picked at his nails and barely made eye contact with the people staring at him. Finally, taking a deep breath and letting out a long sigh, the man in the suit began to talk.
“Hello everyone, my name is Steven.” The people, with dullness in their eyes, simultaneously echoed their greeting back to him.
“Hello Steven.” Steven nervously smiled at the group.
“I have to admit, this my first time I’ve ever been to one of these meetings.” Steven looked around at the group of people. Sympathy all reflected in their eyes as he revealed this piece of information.
“It’s alright. At least you’re here now.” A girl wearing a ripped blue dress with an expensive pearl necklace smiled at Steven.
“Okay. Well,” Steven paused then sighed again. “The first time it ever happened, I told myself it was a one-time sort of thing. I would try it once, and then never do it again. But, I couldn’t help myself. What started as only doing it once a day slowly turned into always doing it.” Collective nods went around the group. Steven went on. “At first I couldn’t admit to myself that I was addicted. It was such an ugly word, but it was what I had become.” Steven stated, looking at the group. Encouraging smiles were plastered onto their faces.
“Thank you for sharing Steven, but I have only one question,” The girl in the blue dress and pearls spoke up. Her eyes were crinkled and her eyebrows were raised in thought. “What exactly are you addicted to?” The group turned their heads in unison back to Steven, waiting for an answer.
“Well, I’m a writer of course.” Steven stated and chuckled as if it were something obvious. “I’m addicting to writing. At first, I wrote stories to impress my friends, but then I just couldn’t stop. It’s taken over my life completely. I mean, I just can’t stop writing!” Steven peered at the group of people, who gave more encouraging and comforting glances. The girl in the blue dress smiled at Steven kindly and nodded her head.
“Well, welcome Steven, to our group.” Steven flashed a brilliant smile at the group, and all smiled back. The girl in the blue dress turned to a girl who wore a gray pencil skirt and white blouse with patches of multicolored fabric sowed on in order to hide holes. “It appears we have another member as well.” The girl in the patchwork blouse smiled back at the lady in the blue dress.
“Hi, everyone. My name is Sheryl.” Once again, the group echoed a response to the lady’s greeting.
“Hi, Sheryl.”
“Like Steven, I started out only wanting to try it once. But it’s consumed my life. I am a librarian, and cannot stop reading.” Sympathetic nods came from the group yet again. Sheryl looked at the floor nervously, then began to speak again. “I guess I should explain from the beginning. It’s like I black out and time slips away from me. I can’t remember where I am or what I was doing before. All I know is that my hands smell of fresh ink and I’m sore from sitting for so long. Every morning I tell myself I will not read, I need to get work done, but I just can’t help from picking up a book. It’s become a problem and I need to solve it.”
“Well, I hope you can find your answer here. Welcome Sheryl, and Steven.” The girl in the blue dress stated, then motioned to the people sitting in the circle. “Welcome to the Literature Addict’s Meeting.”