Synopsis:
Oh no! All of the cliches in Happily Ever After Land are disappearing! This means witches are suddenly beautiful and good, frogs are no longer princes, and happily ever afters... are disappearing. Thyan Braveheart, a cliched prince who has diminished into a bumbling, awkward average teenager, is on a mission: to return everything back into the cliched way they were and most importantly, get himself back. But as he continues, he wonders if returning everything back to cliches is what is actually best...
*Note: A fair amount of tongue-in-cheek.
In a wonderful kingdom in a far away land called Happily Ever After Land, there lived a wise and gentle (and not to mention handsome!) king called King Lyon Everheart, who was the sole ruler of this land. He was a king beloved by all, and his decrees were just and impeccably accurate. Although his wife had died a few years into his kingship, he had a daughter, Meridian, who he loved more than life itself, and lavished upon her great gifts and presents to be envied by all of the kingdom’s ladies. She was as good looking as he, and together they were a father daughter pair which ruled the kingdom with dignity, justice, and gentleness.
In another kingdom a little further away from the kingdom far away, there lived a prince whose name was Thyan Braveheart. He was as brave as his name suggests, and had already surpassed all of history’s greatest heroes; for although heroes here and there might have saved one or two princesses, he had already saved his fiftieth princess, with many more to come, because he was still a young man with years in front of him. He was fearless and smart and had little problem defeating the greatest of giants and dragons and monsters. With his faithful sidekick Gil, he conquered the east and west and all of the land surrounding his father’s kingdom, building and expanding its domain.
Occasionally, Thyan visited King Lyon and his daughter Meridian in between his conquests because his father and Lyon had been great friends and classmates in the Hero’s Academy, the central and necessary school for every aspiring hero. As Thyan and Meridian were of the same age and mind, they grew closer and closer until there was very little doubt that they would marry some day.
Here in the world of bright summer days and easily obtainable success, they lived happily—but not happily ever after, because their story was far from over.
-
“Help me! Oh, someone, help me!” The cries of the captive princess echoed harshly against the dungeon walls, and the huge dragon cackled at its prisoner’s screams.
“It’s useless,” it told her. “No one can save you now!”
The dragon opened up its mouth, wider and wider, to engulf the hysterical, kicking, struggling princess. “Princesses always taste the best,” it cackled.
“Stop right there!”
“Who—what?” The dragon stopped in the midst of its eating and turned. “No way!” it gasped. “No one should have been able to get into my cave! I made sure of it!”
Thyan grinned and tossed his ever shiny blond hair, like a model. “No dragon can prevent me, Thyan Braveheart, from rescuing a princess in peril! I will stop you!” He rushed towards the dragon, sword unsheathed, and gave a hearty battle cry worthy of a Grammy. “I’ve come to save the day!”
The dragon breathed in deeply, preparing to incinerate the prince into ashes, and the princess screamed. “My prince!”
“Gil, now!” Thyan ordered, and the huge, muscular Gil came down from a hole in the roof of the cave and landed on the dragon’s head.
“I got ‘im, sir!” Gil shouted, but it was an early triumph, and one hastily made.
The dragon tossed and turned, trying to fling the boy off, and finally managed to fling Gil straight across the cave—but in the meantime, Thyan, with his great sword, The Hero’s Sword, hacked and struck at the fearsome dragon’s neck.
“Oh, why did I ever steal a princess?” moaned the dragon as it collapsed onto the ground and loosened its grip on the princess.
“My hero!” exclaimed the princess, who flew upon Thyan and hugged him and kissed him gratefully.
“Yur sure the best hero in all the land! No one can stand up t’ya!” exclaimed Gil, rubbing his own wounds and staring at his master admiringly.
Thyan laughed, and the three exited the cave. All in another day’s work for Prince Thyan Braveheart, the hero of Happily Ever After Land.
- - - -
Gil heard his lord’s scream from down the hall, where his bedroom was conveniently positioned in the case of an emergency. This could hardly count as an emergency, but neither did getting Thyan a cup of tea in the night, giving him a backrub in the morning, or getting a plate of mid night snacks for him.
“What now?” Gil muttered, and rolled over in his bed. He listened to the scream for a couple of more moments, suffering in agony over the sound. But he realized that Thyan was not the one to solve his own problems and, giving a disgusted sigh, he rose and walked down the hall to his master’s room.
“Sir?” he asked, pushing open the door.
His first thought was Woah, Thyan sure got a makeover. “Hey, Thyan!”
Thyan stopped screaming and turned to him, nearly in tears. “Gil!” he cried, and launched himself at the giant, who caught him awkwardly and tried to push him off himself.
“Uh, yeah?”
“Look at me!” Thyan gestured to his face.
Gil looked at his face. It was strangely normal, he thought. Thyan’s blond hair stuck up in every direction unlike the perfectly brushed it always was. His face was pale and wait a minute, was there—acne on his face? His eyes were still their sapphire blue, but not as bright as Gil remembered—but maybe that was because of the redness from all of the crying.
“You look ridiculous,” Gil said finally, and meant it.
“I know!” Thyan cried. “My face is pathetic! It’s un—un handsome! It’s horrid! I hate it! This is horrible!”
“You know, it’s your own face,” Gil said.
Thyan burst out crying.
Feeling that he was with a complete idiot, Gil gave a weak attempt at consolation. “It’s... it’s not that bad.”
“Yes it is!”
“No it isn’t. Just look at yourself!”
“I already did!”
Gil steered Thyan over to his huge mirror and they stared at the two figures there: a tall, dark haired boy and a somewhat lanky blond boy with swollen eyes and tears.
Gil turned Thyan back. “Nevermind.”
“You see? You see?” Thyan asked hysterically. “I’m—I’m ugly!” After hearing it from his own mouth and the realization of it all, Thyan wordlessly collapsed onto his bed with an arm over his eyes. “Just leave me. I’ll die in my bed, ugly and pathetic.”
Gil stared at him. “You are pathetic,” he observed. “But I can’t have you like that forever. Come on,” he said, and pulled at his master’s arm.
A muffled refusal came from the bedcovers.
“Come on. You’re being childish.”
“I don’t care.”
Groaning, Gil dragged Thyan off of his bed and onto the floor. “Get up.”
“No!”
“Okay, you’re getting up.” Hoisting Thyan up, Gil set his master none too carefully onto a nearby chair.
Thyan was still hiding his tear stained face. “Don’t look at me!”
“I’m not,” Gil said, looking at him.
Looking up slightly, Thyan glared accusingly at him. “You are.”
Gil looked away. “Am not.”
“You were.”
“I was not.”
Thyan stared at the mirror and his frail, shivering form. “I hate it!” he cried, and threw a nearby hand mirror at the mirror.
It hit the mirror and bounced off harmlessly.
“What is wrong with me?” He stared at his hands.
“Come on, Thyan,” Gil said, and pulled him to his feet, which thankfully, he stayed on.
“What are you doing? H-hey, stop! Let go of me, you jerk!” Thyan tried to retrieve his arm from Gil’s steel like grip, but it was in vain.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but let’s take you to someone who does know.”
Thyan hesitated. “Kirina the fairy?” he asked.
“Yep.”
He stared at Gil, and then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Hey! How come you’re suddenly thinking?” Thyan demanded.
“I don’t know, I just did,” Gil said, “and I can’t believe I didn’t start sooner.”
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Long update
I know, I know. It's like, gasp! Misamiera has finally updated her blog with something other than a contest entry or a little drabble thing! Gasp!
It's the end of the world, I know.
Guess why I haven't been posting lately? Yeah, that awesome writing challenge, NaNoWriMo. It's like, even if you never do anything related to writing at all during the year, you should do this. What's to lose? Everyone who participates wins. And I don't say that lightly. It's like, whoah! I wrote so and so many words over the course of November! Unless you write regularly, you will probably write more in NaNo than you will during the other 11 months. So you win your novel and bragging rights for a week.
Although if you actually reach 50K, you get a free book of your novel and even more bragging rights.
It's my first year and yeah, I was pretty nervous about writing 50,000 words in a month, but actually, I'm doing pretty well. I've more or less kept up with the word count and have one novella under my belt with another in the process.
Okay, I know you're all DYING to know what my stories are about - well, maybe you are and maybe you aren't, but even if you aren't I'll tell you anyway. So the first one is called Repercussions, and in a sentence, here it is: a compulsive liar whose lies suddenly become reality discovers that the consequences are much more dangerous than he thinks. If you look down the list of past posts (and think, "Hey, this was months ago! She is a horrible updater!"), you'll see one called Repercussions. That's somewhat of my intro. I didn't actually use it in my story since that would be cheating (writing some of your story before the actual month begins), but it's the basic idea of the story. I'll post an excerpt later.
My second story is completely ridiculous. Absolutely nonsensical. And since I find that I can't describe the novel in a way that truly gives it justice, I'll copy and paste the synopsis I wrote on my profile... (Yes, copy and paste. Don't you just love that tool?)
Oh no! All of the cliches in Happily Ever After Land are disappearing! This means witches are suddenly good, frogs are no longer princes, and happily ever afters... are disappearing. Thyan Braveheart, a cliched prince who has diminished into a bumbling, awkward average teenager, is on a mission: to return everything back into the cliched way they were and most importantly, get himself back. But as he continues, he wonders if returning everything back to cliches is what is actually best...
I hope that peaks your interest. It's mostly satire/parody and tongue-in-cheek and such fun to write. I'll post an excerpt of it later.
It's the end of the world, I know.
Guess why I haven't been posting lately? Yeah, that awesome writing challenge, NaNoWriMo. It's like, even if you never do anything related to writing at all during the year, you should do this. What's to lose? Everyone who participates wins. And I don't say that lightly. It's like, whoah! I wrote so and so many words over the course of November! Unless you write regularly, you will probably write more in NaNo than you will during the other 11 months. So you win your novel and bragging rights for a week.
Although if you actually reach 50K, you get a free book of your novel and even more bragging rights.
It's my first year and yeah, I was pretty nervous about writing 50,000 words in a month, but actually, I'm doing pretty well. I've more or less kept up with the word count and have one novella under my belt with another in the process.
Okay, I know you're all DYING to know what my stories are about - well, maybe you are and maybe you aren't, but even if you aren't I'll tell you anyway. So the first one is called Repercussions, and in a sentence, here it is: a compulsive liar whose lies suddenly become reality discovers that the consequences are much more dangerous than he thinks. If you look down the list of past posts (and think, "Hey, this was months ago! She is a horrible updater!"), you'll see one called Repercussions. That's somewhat of my intro. I didn't actually use it in my story since that would be cheating (writing some of your story before the actual month begins), but it's the basic idea of the story. I'll post an excerpt later.
My second story is completely ridiculous. Absolutely nonsensical. And since I find that I can't describe the novel in a way that truly gives it justice, I'll copy and paste the synopsis I wrote on my profile... (Yes, copy and paste. Don't you just love that tool?)
Oh no! All of the cliches in Happily Ever After Land are disappearing! This means witches are suddenly good, frogs are no longer princes, and happily ever afters... are disappearing. Thyan Braveheart, a cliched prince who has diminished into a bumbling, awkward average teenager, is on a mission: to return everything back into the cliched way they were and most importantly, get himself back. But as he continues, he wonders if returning everything back to cliches is what is actually best...
I hope that peaks your interest. It's mostly satire/parody and tongue-in-cheek and such fun to write. I'll post an excerpt of it later.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Steph's contest! And this blog is not dead!
I am not dead. This blog is not dead (although it's pretty darn close). I happen to like cute tees, so here's the link to Steph Bowe's awesome contest. (Although, by advertising for this contest, doesn't that decrease my chances of winning? Something to think about. Math people, how many points should be gotten in order to maximize your chances of winning?)
Here's the link.
http://heyteenager.blogspot.com/2009/11/win-1-of-5-10-gift-certificates-for.html
Absolutely freakin' fantastic.
Here's the link.
http://heyteenager.blogspot.com/2009/11/win-1-of-5-10-gift-certificates-for.html
Absolutely freakin' fantastic.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Coincidences... not really
Challenge: Failing at a ridiculously simple task.
Extra points: This turns out to be a positive thing.
Word count: >1000 words
---
"So how have you been, Mack?"
I turned. It was George, a man with a simplistic view and enough stupidity to not notice my annoyed expression. He had always been the Curly of our Stooge trio back in highschool. I hadn't seen him since, and frankly I'd forgotten about his entire existence until he addressed me.
"What? Fine," I said. "Just dandy these days."
"That's good." Apparently he still couldn't read the sarcasm in my voice. "Still in the business?"
"What business?"
"You know," George said, making an odd gesture I did not recognize. At my blank face, he was shocked. "You aren't in it?"
"In what? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh. I was sure I'd heard... well, nevermind."
George was not making any sense, and I dared not to be near him any longer. I of all people knew how clingy and irritating he could be.
"Let's walk outside," he suggested. "You're turning right, aren't you? I"ll go with you to Market Street."
I stared at him. "How did you know that?"
"Eh, no reason," he said, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes.
We reached the door. I pushed against it, expecting it to swing open easily, but nothing gave way. I rattled the handle, but it seemed securely locked.
"Must be locked," George said, not sounding dismayed at all.
I risked looking back at him and saw an expression I'd never seen before on his face. It was some sort of demented amusement; eyes squinted and laughing, smile wide and bland. It made me furious.
I grabbed his necktie. "What'd you do?"
"Me?" asked George innocently. "Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. You saw me; I've been standing by you this whole time. And I was also in the conference you were in just now."
"You - no you weren't. I would have remembered."
"I was right behind you, Mack," George said quietly with his same huge, stretched smile.
It was creeping me out.
"Shut up," I said, and rattled the door's handle again as hard as I could. I was so close that the handle might have broken out of the door itself, but it was useless. The door remained closed.
I looked at George. He had the same infuriating expression on, as if I was his plaything or something. "George, you - "
A lady screamed.
I turned back to the door and stared as a massive balcony came crashing down right in front of the door, literally three feet away from my face. Pieces of concrete flew towards the door and little spiderwebs cracked all over the glass. Dust flew everywhere, clouding our entire view of the outside.
At that moment, the door swung open.
I stared at George, who shrugged. "Divine intervention, perhaps?" he said, passing me and walking outside as if nothing had happened.
I felt a chill up my back and it wasn't from the cold.
Extra points: This turns out to be a positive thing.
Word count: >1000 words
---
"So how have you been, Mack?"
I turned. It was George, a man with a simplistic view and enough stupidity to not notice my annoyed expression. He had always been the Curly of our Stooge trio back in highschool. I hadn't seen him since, and frankly I'd forgotten about his entire existence until he addressed me.
"What? Fine," I said. "Just dandy these days."
"That's good." Apparently he still couldn't read the sarcasm in my voice. "Still in the business?"
"What business?"
"You know," George said, making an odd gesture I did not recognize. At my blank face, he was shocked. "You aren't in it?"
"In what? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh. I was sure I'd heard... well, nevermind."
George was not making any sense, and I dared not to be near him any longer. I of all people knew how clingy and irritating he could be.
"Let's walk outside," he suggested. "You're turning right, aren't you? I"ll go with you to Market Street."
I stared at him. "How did you know that?"
"Eh, no reason," he said, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes.
We reached the door. I pushed against it, expecting it to swing open easily, but nothing gave way. I rattled the handle, but it seemed securely locked.
"Must be locked," George said, not sounding dismayed at all.
I risked looking back at him and saw an expression I'd never seen before on his face. It was some sort of demented amusement; eyes squinted and laughing, smile wide and bland. It made me furious.
I grabbed his necktie. "What'd you do?"
"Me?" asked George innocently. "Nothing at all. Absolutely nothing. You saw me; I've been standing by you this whole time. And I was also in the conference you were in just now."
"You - no you weren't. I would have remembered."
"I was right behind you, Mack," George said quietly with his same huge, stretched smile.
It was creeping me out.
"Shut up," I said, and rattled the door's handle again as hard as I could. I was so close that the handle might have broken out of the door itself, but it was useless. The door remained closed.
I looked at George. He had the same infuriating expression on, as if I was his plaything or something. "George, you - "
A lady screamed.
I turned back to the door and stared as a massive balcony came crashing down right in front of the door, literally three feet away from my face. Pieces of concrete flew towards the door and little spiderwebs cracked all over the glass. Dust flew everywhere, clouding our entire view of the outside.
At that moment, the door swung open.
I stared at George, who shrugged. "Divine intervention, perhaps?" he said, passing me and walking outside as if nothing had happened.
I felt a chill up my back and it wasn't from the cold.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Dialogue
The light clicked on. A scraggly, starved man was sitting under it, looking sullen and depressed like a man in chains should. His posture described surrender; but his quietly fuming eyes were tracing a crack that led from his chair to the door.
“Gerald Davis. You were found guilty of multiple attempts of mass murder, the deaths of five people, and the custody of fourteen bombs and three machine guns. You have pled guilty already. Why did you do it?”
The man did not respond.
“Did you hear me? Why did you do it?”
“I was angry,” the man said slowly.
“At who?”
“Everyone. Everything. All of it. I was angry at everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“I don’t believe you. No lovers? No grudges? No unpaid debts?”
“No. I was just… unsatisfied. With everything.”
“Why were you unsatisfied?”
“They were all… Everyone was hypocritical. They contradicted themselves daily. ‘I gave that homeless man a donut, isn’t that nice?’ And then, ‘Give me the money, or I’ll do something you won’t forget.’ It was all so… ridiculous.”
“Not everyone is like that.”
“Oh, no. Everyone is.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen everyone.”
“I’ve seen enough to know.”
“Well, what about you? If you say everyone, aren’t you including yourself in that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it explains the suicide note we found at your house. But why would you leave your wife and daughter behind?”
“They were part of it, too.”
“The whole contradiction conspiracy thing?”
“Yes.”
“You were going to kill them, too?”
“They were part of it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” And then softly after that, the officer muttered, “You’re mental.”
“No. They were.”
The officer sighed and paced around the room. “This whole dialogue is going nowhere.”
“No,” the man said. “It isn’t.”
“What’d you say?”
The man rose slowly out of his seat, ropes unwinding by themselves, and clamped his hands around the officer’s neck. The officer tried to call out, but there was no noise; then he struggled and fought and kicked, but his attacks on the man’s brute muscles deflected off harmlessly.
“Except this ain’t a dialogue,” the man growled. “It’s a monologue.”
Crack.
The End.
“Gerald Davis. You were found guilty of multiple attempts of mass murder, the deaths of five people, and the custody of fourteen bombs and three machine guns. You have pled guilty already. Why did you do it?”
The man did not respond.
“Did you hear me? Why did you do it?”
“I was angry,” the man said slowly.
“At who?”
“Everyone. Everything. All of it. I was angry at everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“I don’t believe you. No lovers? No grudges? No unpaid debts?”
“No. I was just… unsatisfied. With everything.”
“Why were you unsatisfied?”
“They were all… Everyone was hypocritical. They contradicted themselves daily. ‘I gave that homeless man a donut, isn’t that nice?’ And then, ‘Give me the money, or I’ll do something you won’t forget.’ It was all so… ridiculous.”
“Not everyone is like that.”
“Oh, no. Everyone is.”
“How do you know? You haven’t seen everyone.”
“I’ve seen enough to know.”
“Well, what about you? If you say everyone, aren’t you including yourself in that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it explains the suicide note we found at your house. But why would you leave your wife and daughter behind?”
“They were part of it, too.”
“The whole contradiction conspiracy thing?”
“Yes.”
“You were going to kill them, too?”
“They were part of it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” And then softly after that, the officer muttered, “You’re mental.”
“No. They were.”
The officer sighed and paced around the room. “This whole dialogue is going nowhere.”
“No,” the man said. “It isn’t.”
“What’d you say?”
The man rose slowly out of his seat, ropes unwinding by themselves, and clamped his hands around the officer’s neck. The officer tried to call out, but there was no noise; then he struggled and fought and kicked, but his attacks on the man’s brute muscles deflected off harmlessly.
“Except this ain’t a dialogue,” the man growled. “It’s a monologue.”
Crack.
The End.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Penny
If you need prompts, check out the site Oneword.com.
Word: Penny
She was merely a few pennies away from freedom, from life, and from everything. There was a cold, dark feeling surfacing from the bottom of the ocean in her heart and she gulped, tears springing to her eyes. I was so close, she thought.
Her friend glanced apologetically at her. "Sorry, Tammy. Guess I'll have to go to the mountains by myself, huh?" She smiled a sort of half smile and boarded the train.
In the cold, harsh night, Tammy watched the train disappear out of sight.
A/N: I'm not even sure where this was going...
Word: Penny
She was merely a few pennies away from freedom, from life, and from everything. There was a cold, dark feeling surfacing from the bottom of the ocean in her heart and she gulped, tears springing to her eyes. I was so close, she thought.
Her friend glanced apologetically at her. "Sorry, Tammy. Guess I'll have to go to the mountains by myself, huh?" She smiled a sort of half smile and boarded the train.
In the cold, harsh night, Tammy watched the train disappear out of sight.
A/N: I'm not even sure where this was going...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Repercussions
A/N: Inspired by Raksab's plot bunny in the Adopt a Plot thread at the NaNoWriMo forums.
For Neil Jackson’s third grade introduction, he said, “Hello, my name’s Edgar Moncherant, my family consists of ex-Mafia members, and I have three snakes and a zebra for pets. Nice to meet you.” For his fourth grade introduction, he said, “Hello, my name’s Alexander Christy, I’m a model and singer when I’m not studying and I’m secretly on the list for the next Grammy award.” And for his fifth grade introduction, he said, “Yo, I’m Black Jack Red, and I come from the alleys of New York City. The part you don’t even wanna know about.”
No one knew quite what to do with him. They told him lying was bad, of course, but that had no effect on him. His lying habits seemed to have no basis—he simply found lying fun. His family, a perfectly normal family, tried punishing him for lies, but that seemed to tell him only one thing: it’s only bad if you get caught. So Neil started disguising his lies with the truth, and soon even his own family couldn’t tell what was what.
He had few friends; no one liked the idea of a friend who wasn’t completely trustworthy. He had sworn a total of seven different times to seven different people that he would never tell a lie again, and proved all seven promises to be lies. And he kept lying through his teeth with a smile on his face, all the way to the beginning of his sophomore year.
Neil started the year off by responding to other students’ friendly introductions, “Hey, my name’s Neil Jackson, and oh—is that a spider in your hair?” There hadn’t been, but it had created a lot of panic and resentment for Neil in the classroom.
The next school year was going to be just like previous years, he thought. Full of gullible and uninteresting classmates.
Neil had no idea that this next school year would be stranger than any lie he could ever tell.
******
“Neil. Are you listening to me?”
Neil snapped his head up so quickly the teacher flinched. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be listening?”
“I just asked you a question.”
“Oh,” said Neil. “I was trying to figure out the best answer to your question.”
The teacher stared at him expectantly. “Okay,” she said. “Tell us your answer.”
He paused. “Yes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes,” Neil said slowly, his mind racing back to their class lesson. What had they talked about again? “That is the answer to my question.”
“Yes,” repeated the teacher, giving him a strange look. “Elizabeth the First became queen in yes.”
A few classmates snickered.
“Yes. November 17, 1588.” said Neil.
Her lips quirked in an effort to conceal her smile. “Well, Mr. Jackson,” the teacher said, turning away from him. “I hope you’ll pay attention in the future.”
“Yes… ma’am.”
As the teacher resumed her lecture, he sat back and let his mind drift. History was easy enough if you were good at memorization. Neil glanced at his watch and sighed. Twenty-five more minutes to go.
***
After the class ended, Grant, a bleached blonde with thick glasses and enough personality to fill a shot glass, caught up with Neil as he was walking out the door.
“That was a close one, Neil!” said Grant. He was also arguably the only friend Neil had.
“I know!” Neil said. “If I hadn’t known the date I would’ve been in big trouble. Miss Brady has seriously been out for me ever since school started. Actually, I bet all of them are out for me,” he joked.
“Well, your lies certainly don’t help. You’ve got to admit that.”
“Didn’t you see back there? My lies saved me!”
“Sure,” Grant scoffed. “Although I bet ‘What was the question again?’ would have worked just fine, too.”
Rolling his eyes, Neil shrugged. “You know that’s not my style.”
“I do believe you have no style,” announced Grant.
“The best style is no style,” Neil said philosophically, shaking his head and trying to fight a smile that threatened to break out.
Grant laughed. “But seriously, Neil,” he said. “I really think you need to cut the lying. Or at least some of it. You’re gonna land in hot water someday.”
“As if I weren’t already?"
A/N: Definitely needs some work, but that's the beginning. Hope you liked that.
For Neil Jackson’s third grade introduction, he said, “Hello, my name’s Edgar Moncherant, my family consists of ex-Mafia members, and I have three snakes and a zebra for pets. Nice to meet you.” For his fourth grade introduction, he said, “Hello, my name’s Alexander Christy, I’m a model and singer when I’m not studying and I’m secretly on the list for the next Grammy award.” And for his fifth grade introduction, he said, “Yo, I’m Black Jack Red, and I come from the alleys of New York City. The part you don’t even wanna know about.”
No one knew quite what to do with him. They told him lying was bad, of course, but that had no effect on him. His lying habits seemed to have no basis—he simply found lying fun. His family, a perfectly normal family, tried punishing him for lies, but that seemed to tell him only one thing: it’s only bad if you get caught. So Neil started disguising his lies with the truth, and soon even his own family couldn’t tell what was what.
He had few friends; no one liked the idea of a friend who wasn’t completely trustworthy. He had sworn a total of seven different times to seven different people that he would never tell a lie again, and proved all seven promises to be lies. And he kept lying through his teeth with a smile on his face, all the way to the beginning of his sophomore year.
Neil started the year off by responding to other students’ friendly introductions, “Hey, my name’s Neil Jackson, and oh—is that a spider in your hair?” There hadn’t been, but it had created a lot of panic and resentment for Neil in the classroom.
The next school year was going to be just like previous years, he thought. Full of gullible and uninteresting classmates.
Neil had no idea that this next school year would be stranger than any lie he could ever tell.
******
“Neil. Are you listening to me?”
Neil snapped his head up so quickly the teacher flinched. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be listening?”
“I just asked you a question.”
“Oh,” said Neil. “I was trying to figure out the best answer to your question.”
The teacher stared at him expectantly. “Okay,” she said. “Tell us your answer.”
He paused. “Yes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes,” Neil said slowly, his mind racing back to their class lesson. What had they talked about again? “That is the answer to my question.”
“Yes,” repeated the teacher, giving him a strange look. “Elizabeth the First became queen in yes.”
A few classmates snickered.
“Yes. November 17, 1588.” said Neil.
Her lips quirked in an effort to conceal her smile. “Well, Mr. Jackson,” the teacher said, turning away from him. “I hope you’ll pay attention in the future.”
“Yes… ma’am.”
As the teacher resumed her lecture, he sat back and let his mind drift. History was easy enough if you were good at memorization. Neil glanced at his watch and sighed. Twenty-five more minutes to go.
***
After the class ended, Grant, a bleached blonde with thick glasses and enough personality to fill a shot glass, caught up with Neil as he was walking out the door.
“That was a close one, Neil!” said Grant. He was also arguably the only friend Neil had.
“I know!” Neil said. “If I hadn’t known the date I would’ve been in big trouble. Miss Brady has seriously been out for me ever since school started. Actually, I bet all of them are out for me,” he joked.
“Well, your lies certainly don’t help. You’ve got to admit that.”
“Didn’t you see back there? My lies saved me!”
“Sure,” Grant scoffed. “Although I bet ‘What was the question again?’ would have worked just fine, too.”
Rolling his eyes, Neil shrugged. “You know that’s not my style.”
“I do believe you have no style,” announced Grant.
“The best style is no style,” Neil said philosophically, shaking his head and trying to fight a smile that threatened to break out.
Grant laughed. “But seriously, Neil,” he said. “I really think you need to cut the lying. Or at least some of it. You’re gonna land in hot water someday.”
“As if I weren’t already?"
A/N: Definitely needs some work, but that's the beginning. Hope you liked that.
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