Archives, circa 1995: “My Desk”

**This one is the equivalent of a doodle in a boring class in high school.**


It’s a normal room, or so it seems. The desks, neatly lined in rows on the hard, wooden floor. The floor, cold to the touch, holds no warmth. The walls, painted a sheet of cold, snow-like whiteness create the feeling of sitting in the middle of a snowstorm. The teacher rises from her desk and walks to the front of the room. Her words flow out from her mouth as if she is in an icy trance, flung toward warm bodies, but instead, they freeze in the air like icicles. As I sit at my desk, shivering, watching the words pass me by, I suddenly find a smirk spreading across my face. I know something that nobody else knows. I will tell you, but only because one day you, too, might share in the adventure.

My desk, isn’t really a desk. The seat I sit upon is really a saddle. Its flat, cold writing surface is really the head of a mighty beast. Its long, narrow legs, frozen to the floor, break free as warm blood courses through their veins. Nervous hooves stamp majestically and I find my wintry chair has evolved into a massive, warm-blooded steed, and I proudly sit astride the saddle. Great, powerful wings sprout from its sides and I think only a prized sculpture could compare to their beauty. Each detail is exaggerated in such a way, one could see the carefully carved lines from miles away. Impatiently, the mighty nostrils let out a loud snort of hot air, telling me he is ready to take off. I grab the reins and watch as the awesome wings stretch and cleave the air with an up and down motion. We fly and break through the winter walls as the icy room is suddenly one desk short.

My massive, winged Pegasus takes me to an enchanted land high up in the clouds from where the ground seems made of cotton candy. In the sunny skies, other horses fly around me and smile knowingly. As we touch down in this enchanted place, I walk through green, grassy fields and lie down next to a quiet stream with my horse. We talk about the wonders of the universe as we eat from exotic fruit tress that never go bare, because, in this land, it is always spring, and the days are always sunny with an afternoon thundershower. Soon, the sun begins to set and the light fades, not to be seen until tomorrow. I gaze up at the stars in the sky as they blink me into a deep sleep where dreams are plentiful.

When I am awakened by a rush of cold air, I see my classmates scurrying out of the classroom, all bundled up in the winter clothes. I, too, gather my things as I rush to my next assigned class where there is yet another special seat, and yet another adventure awaits me.



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