Night Shift Storytime

As you may or may not know, I am currently working a night shift custodial position at Bowling Green State University. For one who appreciates daylight, it has been somewhat of a struggle getting used to becoming a full-time night-dweller. It's always dark, there's nobody around, and the only sounds I hear come from the hum of heating units and vending machines (that is, if I'm not listening to music). One of the things that is helping me through all of this is my appreciation for silence. I'm usually ok with turning off my iPod and simply working in the quiet of the shift. I may be thinking about a variety of different things that I need to do the next day (or afternoon, as I sleep through the morning after the shift), or how efficiently I'm working that night (it varies), or I may not be thinking about anything at all - just listening.

One of the things I've wanted to develop since graduating from Spring Arbor last May is my relationship with writing. Unfortunately, not until very recently, I have not written anything since creating my monologue in April, which was used in my senior recital. I miss it. I never thought I would have ever said anything like that a few years ago. I miss creating stories and sharing them.

While working this past week, I had an idea, which I shared with Caris (my soon-to-be wife, as you may or may not know). I asked her to give me a small piece of information in which I could create a story out of. It had to follow one of these criteria: it had to be a title, or a character name, or an opening line. She gladly did so, and during the last couple days of work, I have used my designated break times to write a short story using the tiny bit that she gave me (she actually gave me more than I asked for, but oh well). It's not very long, but here's what I came up with:

Given: "The Clock" (title), and "O'Ryan" (character)

The Clock

"O'Ryan, Benjamin. Age 27. Reported to be seen at the incident. You're on the clock, sir."

There was silence in the room.

"Am I supposed to say something?" asked O'Ryan, rather sheepishly.

"Just tell me about the incident."

"The whole thing?"

"The whole thing."

"And I'm being timed?"

"Pardon?"

"You said that I'm on the clock."

"Yes."

"Is this being recorded for quality purposes?"

"Archives. Now, from the beginning if you please."

"Well, that could be anywhere. It's quite a long story."

"From the beginning of the incident."

"Oh, ok. Now you're making more sense. From the beginning..."

O'Ryan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. After a minute or two, he noticed a rip in the leather on the arm of his chair. It wasn't a large rip by any means, but large enough to reveal the chair's inner material. He wondered how old the chair was. He didn't see any other rips or holes,  but the leather seemed quite worn. 

This chair business soon became boring, and O'Ryan closed his eyes. He thought of the sunshine and began wishing for it over the dimly lit, musty smelling room that he was in.

"Mr. O'Ryan, remember that you're on the clock."

"So I am being timed!" exclaimed O'Ryan.

"No, it's just -"

"Just what?" he interrupted.

"Why are you so concerned about the clock?"

"No, why are YOU so concerned about the clock?"

"Mr. O'Ryan, clock or no clock, we are here to discuss what you can recall about yesterday's incident. And we are not leaving until you tell me what you know."

O'Ryan leaned over and stared at his interrogator.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"What?"

"I don't think I'm the one on the clock here."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what? I'm not gonna tell you anything." 

And with that, O'Ryan reclined in his chair, put his hands up behind his head, threw his feet up on the table in front of him, and closed his eyes.

"Nothing?" asked his interrogator.

"Nothing."

"Alright. I think I'll just punch out then."

The interrogator stood and put on his jacket, which has hanging on the back of his seat. He checked his watch and turned toward the door. Without saying a word, he opened it, turned out the lights, closed the door behind him, and locked it.

The End

One of the ideas that I shared with Caris is how I wanted to open this up to anybody who would want to contribute. I have this vision of working the night shift and constantly developing and sharing stories, one after another, all based off of tiny morsels of the creativity of others. And I am inviting you to take part in it.

Come up with something. Anything. Whatever comes into your head. Be creative. Have fun coming up with this small bit of information. You can choose from one of these criteria:

• A title for the story
• The name of a character in the story
• The opening line of the story
• An object that is used or may have significance in the story

When you come up with something, let me know (by commenting below or by some other means) and I'll add it to my list of story ideas (start with one idea at a time). I'll write one story at a time (first come, first serve), and post it when it is completed. At a minimum, I'll be posting one story a week. The stories could cover any genre, and could be about anything. It just depends on how your idea strikes my brain. Some will be better than others, but I hope to just keep writing. If you see your idea posted as a story, send me another idea. 

This is all an attempt to bolster creativity and the sharing of it, so I would love for you to be involved in it. This may be a long shot, but hopefully, you'll take part in it.