short stories, Writing

The Only One

“There used to be six of us. Now, I’m alone. Sitting in the small room in a group wasn’t so bad. Although it was tight, it was comforting to be in there with other people. Now, I was by myself. The room was silent. Lonely. Agonizing.

Malcolm Wilson was the first. Eyes as light as a feather and skin as dark as night, Malcolm was a big softie. He came across as a burly figure, and I for one didn’t want to be on his bad side. It took a while to realise that Malcolm didn’t have a bad side. Malcolm Wilson was a big teddy bear. Like those ones you see on the internet that are big enough to fit a person inside of them. That person was Malcolm. I guess he just wasn’t built for the big life. He didn’t have the air in him to complete our crucial tasks, and so he left.

Delilah Witney was the second. She was about ten times taller than me, but two years younger. Lengthy as she was, Delilah was what I liked to call a stick insect. Not because she wore colours that resembled army tanks and could camouflage against just about anything, but because she had the skinniest pins you could imagine. So skinny that when she dropped the most important object in our team on her foot, she never returned. I think it broke her, but I’ll never know. No-one’s seen her since.

Mike Houston was the third. Mike was none other than the most annoying person I’d ever met. I’ve known him since I was five, and usually you’d expect people to grow less immature as they got older, but not Mike. The older Mike got, the more immature he got. This didn’t work in his favour. Mike was kicked out of the team because he didn’t have the right brain capacity to complete our set tasks. Sorry to say I don’t miss him a bit. He deserved what he got.

Angelina Bartoli was the fourth. Don’t get me wrong, Angelina was nice. She had long blonde hair that she always tied up on top of her head. She had pretty blue eyes and straight teeth. She had more than double the brains that Mike had, and thicker legs than Delilah. She wasn’t a teddy bear like Malcolm, but she was soft enough for everyone to like her. Everyone except the leader of our team. We were provided with uniforms to make us look more professional, but Angelina decided she didn’t like them because they made her look fat. She left out of choice. Like I’ve always said: if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.

Grace Atkinson was the fifth. She was short and had a good sense of humour. Her dark hair was never brushed, but the smile on her face was always wide. I got along well with her. She was easy to talk to and even easier to laugh with. The only reason Grace left was because she sucked. She sucked at being on the team, and she sucked at what we were doing. She was probably the only person I was sad to say goodbye to. Not only because she was my friend, but because she used to bring me lunch every Thursday.

And so, we’re left with me. The sixth and final member of the dream team. Frank Waters – the one who held it all together, right until the very end…”

“Frank, are you telling those poor kids about how you’re the last member of the trumpet ensemble again?”

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