Good morning and welcome to the midweek writing prompt. I know, it is also the first of June. Deep breath in, deep breath out. May is gone, washed clear from our lungs and thoughts. A new month begins and it will be glorious. Or at least better than May. And really, that is the goal. Better than may. So let’s kick off this June morning with a new writing prompt. Are you ready? Then let’s go.
I kind of like it. It isn’t throat grabbing must finish writing now, but I could see coming back to it after i figure out what is up with Mr. Dixon.
Wednesday, June 1st: No, no, no this is all wrong.
“No, no no, this is all wrong,” he proclaimed as he studied the setup of the exhibit.
Andre glanced at Mark who was easing back in an attempt to draw less of the director’s ire. Andre sighed and held up the sheet of paper.
“We followed the instructions exactly, Mr. Dixon,” he said. Andre extended his arm, the paper instructions that came with the packed art. He held it in front of him like a shield. It did no good.
“Instructions?” he proclaimed. “This is art not a book case from IKEA.”
“The instructions came from the artist,” Andre said. He shook the paper a little bit hoping that Mr. Dixon would see they were hand written and signed by the artist himself. “This is how he wanted the items placed. He said he would adjust them for final presentation once he arrived if we would just place them where he wanted.”
Mentioning the artist and his intent had more of an impact than mere packing instructions could and Mr. Dixon tugged his shirt straight. “Those are the instructions the artist sent?” he asked. He pointed to the paper and Andre suddenly felt as though he was holding a dead rat he took from a trap.
“Yes, Mr. Dixon,” Andre said. He kept his voice even and level.
“Clearly you read them wrongly,” Dixon said. He strode forward and snatched the page from Andre’s hand. Directions passed, Andre backed out of range as Mr. Dixon moved around the exhibit space inspecting each of the items and checking it’s placement.
In truth Andre was glad of the break. The sculptures were mostly composed of steel and other very heavy to move metals. To avoid scraping the floor tiles they each had to be carefully lifted and maneuvered into place. It hadn’t helped that the balance was strange on most of them so they couldn’t be moved as easily as something like a book case. He and Mark had several near scrapes with both gravity and the ceiling lights in their attempts to arrange things as ordered.
Andre watched the clock surreptitiously. It was soon time for him to make his escape. He had class tonight as Mr. Dixon knew. It meant that he couldn’t stay late. If the sculptures needed to be moved they would have to be moved in the next three minutes or wait until someone else could come in and help Mark.
As Andre watched him slowly move around the space, Andre wondered if Mr. Dixon would try to make him stay late. It had happened before and Andre had always been threatened with termination of he didn’t comply. A compromise was reached where Mr. Dixon felt he was being obeyed yet Andre could get to class on time. Tonight was finals night and he could not afford to be late.
‘And he hasn’t threatened to fire me lately,’ Andre recalled. He tried not to frown. It was usually Mr. Dixon’s go to threat. But lately, even though Mark had been threatened repeatedly, Andre was no longer faced with threat of termination. He wondered what had happened. Over all though he tried not to question it. This was his last final and in two weeks he would be gone. He hoped to work until it was time to leave for his internship, but if Mr. Dixon fired him now it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. The clocked ticked over.
“I need to go check these,” Mr. Dixon said. Without looking back he strode to his office, taking the instructions with him. Andre used it as his chance for an easy exit.
Ten til Midnight 