A Day In The Life Of An Ormondian

Posted by | October 15, 2013 | Creative, Ormondian | No Comments

I found a perfect miniature doll of myself clipped to my door when I woke up this morning. Her eyes blinked but her lips were sewn together. I put her in my sock drawer and went down to breakfast before the pancakes ran out.

Mary has been such a moody bitch lately. I text her sometimes just before dinner to see if she will come down with me- I hate walking into the hall by myself- and after a good twenty minutes or so she’ll respond with something clever like ‘haha sry already went’ and I’ll open a tin of tuna and eat in my room by myself. When I see her around campus she won’t look me in the eye. Even when I walk straight up to her so our noses are pressed together, she won’t look me in the eye. That’s no good way to treat a friend.

Lunch was tandoori baked fish with cucumber and mint raita. There was no ‘cucumber and mint raita’ by the time I reached the servery, so I had to put sweet soy sauce on instead. When I sat down and peeled the flakes of fish apart, I found a whole, perfect white pearl. Third time this month I’ve found a pearl in my fish. What are they doing about this? Seriously?

 Rob Leach’s dog returned to its human form a few weeks ago when his nine year enchantment came to an end. In dog time that’s sixty-three years, so he’s quite stooped and white-haired. His kidneys gave out the other day so they took him to the hospital, but everything worked out fine and he’s back at college now. I wrote a card but forgot to send it. He wishes he were still a dog. He won’t say so, but I can see it in his eyes.

What do you think your reflection in the mirror does when you’re not looking? Are you sure?

Word is someone’s been up to no good in the vegetable garden! Took a half-pound of rocket and the three cabbage heads with the largest hearts, and left a criss-crossing trail of cloven hoofprints trampling down the radishes.The Sustainability Committee is most unhappy. I can hear them now, fletching arrows and grinding iron spearheads almost down to the quick. Best to lock our doors tonight. Death stalks these corridors.

It’s formal dinner tomorrow. I haven’t seen my academic gown since last week’s formal dinner, though I’d swear I put it on the clothes hook. The one I always put it on. On the back of my door, that one.  It’s the first formal dinner of the month so someone will go missing after. Someone always goes missing after. Someone will go missing and the one who went missing last month will be sitting at High Table with different-coloured eyes. They always do. I sure do wonder where my gown’s went to. Maybe they’ve seen it at reception.

The doll’s not in my sock drawer any more. I looked into the mirror and there were eyes in the wall behind me staring back. No one came, no matter how long or how loud I screamed. No one ever comes.

Wonder where that doll’s went to.

HSF midsemester coming up so starting tomorrow it’s study, study, study. Won’t have much time to go out, but it hasn’t been me writing in blood on the walls for the last week anyway. Got to do something. It’s very important. Mother always said it’s very important not to forget, but I can’t remember what. Very important to remember to do it. Better get that eight hours if I want to get any work done tomorrow.

I might post on Spirit to shoot me a message if anyone sees that doll about.