Writing Battle: History Repeats

Of all the writing battles I have done this may have been the easiest prompts to work with. To the point where my greater challenge was making the story interesting and unique in spite of what could so easily become an Indian Jones retelling.

It is thanks to my dear friend and fellow writer Mitchell that I was able to come up with this perspective — a high school student who dreams of being a historian and uncovers a cursed object in a school time capsule.

While the word limit is challenge I actually find the 1000 words more fun to write than 2000. It really forces me to focus on the point of the story, to be tight and concise with my story telling. I love stories that get right to the point. That being said, I haven't found the interest or the bravery to attempt the 250 word stories... that's just too short for me.

Coming up with any new story idea generally begins with a question of, "What if?". What if this story took place in a different time period? What if the villain won? What if this character was gender-swapped? A lot of great new ideas start from that simply question and grow from there. Read more about how to generate your new story ideas in my blog post about finding inspiration.

I hope you enjoy my take on a very classic set up.

History Repeats

Detention sucked, because it meant Ingrid had to spend her lunch time with the insufferable, entitled Leah. The queen of Grade 9 slumped into a chair with a performative sigh. “This is so stupid.”

Ingrid did her best to ignore her and focus on the task at hand. Before the supervising teacher Ms. Baker had been called away, she left a tin box on one of the desks with instructions to sort the items inside.

A musty smell bloomed in the air as Ingrid pulled off the lid. At first glance there was a newspaper, a notebook and a tape recorder at the top of the time capsule. All pieces of history from their school.

“Oh gawd, you’re not enjoying this?” Leah asked with a taunting laugh.

Ingrid stiffened, erasing her small smile. She remembered all the times that laughter had chased her down the hallways, and for the stupidest reasons: her shirt was ugly, her haircut stupid, or because she was so lame for not getting her ears pierced.

But the time capsule did make Ingrid happy. She dreamed of being a historian. Ingrid looked nervously at Leah from the corner of her eye and asked in her mousy voice, “What if I am?”

“Because it’s lame.”

Ingrid dipped her chin, tuning away.

Leah clicked her tongue from behind her. “Don’t expect me to help. It’s your fault we’re in here, anyway.”

Just because Ingrid had told Leah to stop throwing paper at the back of her head a little too loudly did not make detention her fault, but she wasn’t about to say that. Instead Ingrid picked up the newspaper, her eyes widening at the title on the front page. “Local school girl stabbed by ‘friends’,” dated 1956. The picture of the victim showed a blonde, curly-haired girl with glasses and a hateful expression.

Suddenly Leah stood up, and looked over Ingrid’s shoulder, making the girl flinch. “Dark stuff.” Leah snorted. “What great friends. Bet she deserved it.”

Stomach twisting, Ingrid put aside the newspaper. Before she could take out another object, Leah snatched up a small wooden box. It looked like there was a name carved into the top in cursive, but Ingrid couldn’t read it with Leah moving the box around as she spoke. “What about this one, smart-ass?”

Ingrid shrugged, struggling to look Leah in the eye. They were the same height, yet Ingrid could never stop herself from cowering next to her.

Leah opened the box and let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s just a stupid button.” She shoved it into Ingrid’s unexpecting hands.

Nestled in the cream-coloured satin lining was a narrow broach, with a square plastic diamond in the centre and two branches of intricate golden swirls on either side that looked like French fleur-de-lifs.

It was gaudy, but there was something enchanting about it. It was a piece of history after all. Ingrid couldn’t help but wonder who the owner of the broach might be; She was probably someone confident, if she wasn’t afraid to wear something like this.

“This is lame. Cover for me, kay?”

Ingrid looked up to see Leah at the door. Her breath caught in a panic. “Where are you going?”

“Detention was your fault. I shouldn’t have to be here.”

“But-but. You can’t.”

Leah glared at her, the anger in her eyes radiating across the room like the heat from the sun. “Are you going to stop me?”

Ingrid half-started to say something, but couldn’t find the words. Ms. Baker would be furious, but facing Leah later if she tried to stop her was far worse. Ingrid’s eyes fell to Leah’s shoes as she shook her head.

“I didn’t think so.” Leah slammed the door behind her.

Ingrid’s hands trembled, her grip tightening around the box as her cheeks burned. All the things she wanted were tangled in her throat, making it swell. Leah always played the victim, she was always right, and she was never at fault no matter how miserable she made everyone else in school. She just got to walk out without giving a thought to the rules that everyone else had to follow.

The image of the broach blurred as Ingrid’s eyes coated with tears. She picked up the dainty piece of jewelry, turning it over gently in her hands like it was treasure. The girl who wore this broach probably wouldn’t let Leah walk all over her. She had probably been popular, and beautiful, and all the things that Ingrid was not.

Ingrid sniffed back her tears. “It’s not fair.”

So do something about it.

The voice was feminine and soft. It was different from her usual inner voice, but it felt like it could be her own. It was gentle, like Ingrid was. And it made a good point. Ingrid held up the broach to the fluorescent light of the classroom. What would the girl with the broach do?

She has no right to think herself better than you, than everyone.

Ingrid felt the gentle vibration of the thought through her body, like she was suddenly aware of the blood crawling through her veins. Her chest tightened, her lungs fighting her next inhale, but they softened for the one after that. It was strange, but she felt calm now. Her emotions subsided under a wave of assurance.

You can be strong too.

She could. She just had to find the right way to do it. And she didn’t have to do anything about it right now — it wasn’t as though Leah could hide from her. Ingrid would crush her absolutely and then would no longer have to hide, have to cower. She could take back what girls like Leah had taken from her.

Fixing the broach to her sweater, Ingrid found herself smiling for no particular reason. With a newfound sense of curiosity she turned back to the time capsule. She would deal with the bitch later. How nice to see these things again.