The Yellow Tassel

The yellow tassel looks at me with a glimpse of wonder at what I’m writing. I will not tell it, nor will it know what I’m suddenly writing about! How foolish a creature pinned to a wall thinking and wondering at the unknown. Its yellow faceless figure stares a never-ending stare in my direction, or is it staring in all orders; no, no, that’s a preposterous thought; it's only looking at me, the one writing right next to it. It will never know the bland, bright McDonald's mustard yellow trying to read what I write. I looked up from my laptop and stared for a minute, and it shifted! I swear it did! I look around and see the door has just been flung open to allow my RA to enter the lobby; he sits down, but what does it matter; this is about the yellow tassel, or it was as the light shifted into darkness. I'm sitting here on this couch, looking from the tassel to my computer. Finally, standing up with my things, I decided to be done writing for the day. Well, until next time!

It’s quiet. The yellow tassel stares at me from across the room, visible behind my six friends sitting on the couch and my RA beside the tassel. I almost forgot about the tassel only half a week later, but now, it's staring again. It’s an ugly stare looking into my soul. The tassel disgusts me; it’s haunting, never seizing glare. I’m unsure what to do; its gaze is ever-growing, the mustard yellow glare driving a shiver up my spine as all I can do is look. I stare intently until one of my friends looks over at me, which I notice immediately. I diverted my eyes from the tassel for a second, and suddenly, the feeling of terror left me. Looking back at my laptop, I finished this sentence and went to bed.