On 13 December 2017, these three words were chosen:
And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!
“Only a word?” he recited. “Why not couple it with something? Make it a word and a blow!” At this, Christian stood up, brandishing his sword at Bryan, who was supposed to leap back in a display of cat-like ability. Bryan was playing Tybalt, after all, prince of cats, and he needed to show that he deserved the title. The audience would need to see it.
Of course, Bryan’s reflexes were more dog-like than feline at the moment, and he stepped back awkwardly, knocking over the table where Christian had been resting his feet, lounging as his character Mercutio was supposed to do until he jumped up and Romeo arrived and the real fight started.
The table fell with a crash, a few drinks spilling and bouncing around on the floor. Marie made a note to not fill them with anything on the night of the performance. Bryan may be adorable with his lean limbs and long brown hair, his face offset by the streak of white blonde just down one side. He swore it was natural, but Marie doubted it. The line was just too perfect. No doubt he went to the hair salon each month to get it colored. She just couldn’t picture him doing it at home, standing over the bathroom sink with a strip of foil scrunched up around his face, waiting for the timer to ding so he could rinse it off.
No, surely Bryan didn’t do such mundane things as stand in front of bathroom sinks. But as she thought about it, she decided that maybe he did. And he would be adorable as he stood there. Everything he did was adorable, even knocking over tables and spilling drinks. That’s what happens when you are infatuated with someone.
She had a streak of pink down her hair on right side and I couldn’t tell if it was natural or not. People here might think me dull by that comment but honestly where I’m from, her hair colors could easily be natural. I thought about blowing from this hang, but she was just so cute. And she had these little fangs sitting on her lips. I wondered if those were real too. If they were, she would be a really fun time.
“Check her out,” my friend Carson said and pushed his long jaw toward my pink girl. I was about to growl at him when he continued, “she’s got that thick dark hair that I would love to wrap my hands in.”
“I glanced over and saw that pink girl was sitting next to a raven-haired girl with rosy cheeks.
“Oh yeah, for sure,” I commented. I think it would be easy to be infatuated. I wondered if other people were curious about my pointy ears. Did they think I got plastic surgery? Or did they know with certainty that I was born with them. Pink glanced up and met my eyes. She smiled and those teeth, man, fake or not, I’d like to play with her.
Ever since she could remember, she had been infatuated with the stars. She would sit for hours just watching the skies, with the glittering diamonds streaking and falling. And then one day they were just gone. All of them. She went out every night and waited for their brilliance to return, but all she had for company was the chill wind blowing through an empty sky. The others were scared, and set alight huge pyres to appease the gods, but the stars did not return. She was not scared, but she was sad to lose her sparkling friends. For a long time, she wondered where they had gone, and continued her nightly ritual though it was a cold and lonely time without the stars. After a while, she no longer went out every night, and then not every week. Finally, she no longer noticed the flat black sky that was left when the sun disappeared behind the horizon, and her childhood wonder never entered her thoughts. That all changed when the man with the silver eyes arrived in the town, at his side a massive wolf.
As Mari looked across the table at her friend she could tell she was totally infatuated with her new beau Brad.
Cara’s look could only be described as swooning and it was making Mari nauseous. Honestly Brad was a player. A horrible flirt and Mari knew that Cara was just the latest in his long line of conquests.
Brad, for whatever reason, like the thrill of the hunt. Making the girl fall head over heels so when he merely entered the room you could blow the girl over like a feather because the only life raft was him.
He was on a real streak too. This was his third girl in less than a month. Mari usually didn’t care because the vapid airheads he normally chose to pray on were better gone from the circle but this was actually one of her friends.
“… and then he told me his heart beat only for me…” Cara was finishing looking even more wistful. Mari decided she had to do something.
“I am infatuated with it, yes,” he said, sitting there, his face only slightly red. “I mean, everyone’s got something right? Don’t shame me.”
Kyle shook his head slightly, working words he could say around in his head until they fit what he thought was a good way to put it. But, none came to fruition, so he just went with: “Yes…sure…but most people don’t do that…most people do not have a streak of ruined parties.”
“It wasn’t ruined,” he protested, his voice somewhat shrill.
“Will they ever speak to you again?”
“Some of the kids did…” He trailed off and looked out the window, trying to find a counter-argument to the accusation.
“No,” came the flat answer.
“Well, alright, so you admit that you should not blow—”
“Now wait,” he interrupted, standing up and raising his hand. “That’s not—that’s not…I need to, don’t you understand.”
“Then get help.”
These words seemed too heavy for him, as he fell back down into his seat without much defense. Eventually, he mumbled out: “It’s not like it is hurting anyone really. What’s a few…people make exceptions for your eccentricities all the time.”
“Yes, but I am allergic to cats and I am afraid of knives—different entirely. You can’t do what you do.”
“Henry, you cannot blow out every birthday candle you see in sight. Little Timmy will never get over this.”