March Writing Challenge: 100 Stories, 1 Month

[Sean *]

This is my favorite challenge of all the livelong year, because penguins live in colonies, and this is a collaborative project.

For newer players unfamiliar with how this works, here is our site history: Four years ago, Tony and Mads challenged each other to write 300 prompts, which they completed in under three months.

Three years ago, Hammel was given the challenge of doing 100 prompts in one month, and we completed it with flying colors. Two years ago, we were challenged to do 150 prompts, and we completed that within two months. Last year, we did 100 in one month again and did it like champions.

This year, we are trying again to do 100 prompts in one month’s time.

The rules:

• Characters must be Hammel-related, but the ficlets are not site canon unless explicitly stated.
  
• Alternate universe interpretations of characters are allowed.
  
• Entries must be at least 300 words.
  
• You can enter as many ficlets as you wish
  
• Ficlets must be titled with the prompt and prompt number.
  
• Staff will update the prompt list as often as possible, striking through filled prompts.
  
• Do not write a prompt that has already been filled. Do not write a prompt claimed by someone else with an active claim.
  
• You may claim a prompt by posting in this thread with that prompt. You then have 24 hours to complete it and edit the post. After 24 hours, the post will be deleted.
  
• Please do not claim more than one prompt at a time. This promotes and preserves fairness to everyone.

1.Beauty 2.Love 3.Mythos 4.Haunted 5.Memory 6.Fragile 7.Bleed 8.Youth 9.Promise 10.Innocence 11.Moonlight 12.Whisper 13.Virtue 14.Jealousy 15.Sin 16.Lies 17.Regrets 18.Trust 19.Game 20.Beach 21.Midnight 22.Confessions 23.Crush 24.Chocolate 25.Rewind

26.Rain 27. “Nobody’s perfect” 28.Cold 29.Dark 30.Addiction 31.Flower 32.Snow 33.Temptation 34.Autumn 35.Unity 36.Hurt 37.Truth 38.Rogue 39.Champagne 40.Tulips 41.Glitter 42.Fearless 43.Proposal 44.Together 45.Heartbroken 46.Loss 47.Holiday 48.Roses 49.Sparkle 50.Change

51.Fire 52.Thunder 53.Vanilla 54.Sick 55.Forever 56.Imagination 57.Warmth 58.Weary 59.Family 60.Bright 61.Rumors 62.Bells 63.Red 64.Doubt 65.Mirage 66.Perfect 67.Butterfly 68.Kiss 69.Subtle 70.Progress 71.Mistletoe 72.Locket 73.Mercy 74.Poppy 75.Glasses

76.Key 77.Hatred 78.Rainbow 79.Diamond 80.Drunk 81.Balloons 82.Tears 83.Sunshine 84.Cinnamon 85.Lonely 86.Mask 87.Pebbles 88.Surprise 89.Gravity 90.Wild 91.Ghoul 92.Let Loose 93.Intense 94.Flying 95.Forest 96.Betrayal 97.Apologies 98.Snapshot 99.Taboo 100.Horizon

[Rhea Hartman]

1. Beauty (Canon)

Zoe Stewart was growing increasingly desperate. She was getting married in a month and a half, they were pushing hour six of dress shopping, and they still hadn't found a bridesmaid dress that would fit everyone. And by everyone, she meant Rhea.

The current option was a short scoop-neck with frilled sleeves, fitted in the bodice and flared at the hips. Their semi-hysterical salesperson said that the style looked flattering on anybody, and on the other four bridesmaids it was lovely. Light, feminine, modest, perfect for a spring wedding.

And then there was Rhea, looming at the end of the row like a cross-dressing linebacker. She hadn't been able to zip the dress up all the way, and the straps still didn't sit right on the muscular, biplane-like span of her shoulders. It was simultaneously too small in the waistband and too large in the chest, and the empty cups pooched and stretched awkwardly under her armpits. At least they'd been able to find a size large enough to get over her hips this time.

This was as good as it was going to get. The bride-to-be took a deep breath, pasted a smile onto her face and chirped, “That's the one, ladies! Everyone all right with it?”

There was no agreement, only sighs of relief. As everyone shuffled gratefully back to the changing rooms, Zoe grabbed Rhea and the tailor and steered them all into the private dressing room. Zoe talked over Rhea's protests and turned to the tailor with a battle stare. “There's got to be something you can do to fix this.”

The tailor raised one perfectly penciled eyebrow first at Zoe, then at Rhea's shoulders. With a small click of her tongue, she took out some pins and set to work.

Zoe sighed. “I'm sorry about this, Rhea. I'm sure we'll be able to do something to make you look...less...”

“Like a giant dyke?” Rhea lifted her arms to let the tutting tailor around behind her.

“Don't say that,” Zoe snapped. “I wish we could find a dress that--”

“Zoe, seriously, don't worry about it.” Rhea smiled crookedly. “I know the dress looks awful. I'll just wear a shawl and stand in the back for the photos.”

“I don't want you to stand in the back! We've been friends since second grade, I don't want you hiding behind the groomsmen at my wedding.” Zoe began pacing back and forth in the tiny stall. “There's got to be something we can do. Maybe if we order the larger size, and take it in at the waist and shorten the hem--”

“Zoe.” Rhea grasped her friend gently by the upper arms. “Seriously. It's fine. I was six foot by the time I was fifteen, I know what works and doesn't work on my body. Yeah, I've got no tits and man-arms and a giant ass." She grinned. "But if you take the most drop-dead gorgeous person who shows up to your wedding, I bet you fifty bucks that I could knock them unconscious in thirty seconds flat.”

[Carleigh Davidson]

83. Sunshine

With the familiar Cali sun on her tanned back, Carleigh stared at the endless Pacific ocean. The sounds of the ocean lapping against empty shores brought back the feeling of coming home. Sitting down on the warm sand, Carleigh picked up a handful of it, letting it run out of her hands, slowly, before letting her hand drop back down on the ground. The nineteen year old was back in her home state for the first time since departing for Hammel, managing to avoid all means of contact with her parents and brother. It had taken a lot of will power, but she'd manage to do it. And now, she was here, within miles of her childhood home... if they were still around.

Peering up at the sun, Carleigh sighed, the memories coming back to her. Memories of adolescence spent figuring out who she was, all away from her family. The sun reminded her of the people back in Vermont, maybe elsewhere at this point. They all had big dreams and aspirations for their future. But how many people could actually say they got out?

There was Sammy, oh Sammy. Her beautiful best friend. Always cheerful and warm, like the rays of the sun on her back. There was Callie, her other stunning best friend. She was a sweetheart with a contagious smile. The three of them made it through high school together, a happy 'sunshine' trio. The group name was kind of obvious, as all three had blonde hair. Together, they all survived heartbreak, crushes, homework, ability problems... like all teens. Except the last part, maybe.

Already it had been a year since walking the stage at graduation. The happiest moment of their lives, they had declared. Then, fear and life had taken over and consumed their lives. No longer were the weekends spent at air conditioned shopping malls with the trio, gossiping and giggling, but instead, of planning their own respective future. Anytime the unknown possibilities were brought up, all three quieted down. Nobody wanted to think or speak all the of the 'what ifs.'

What if they didn't get accepted to their top choice of university? What if they failed a class? What if this and what if that. Carleigh had mentally shut down, isolating herself that summer, which was unusual for the blonde. Instead of partying and living life as a graduate, she stayed in her room and cried for her own uncertainty. Cried for her friends. Cried for her family. Cried for herself.

Bringing her knees up to her chest, Carleigh stared at the sun, swallowing the lump in her throat. She had made the decision to leave Vermont and head back west to California. She was going off of gut instinct, a feeling inside tugging at her to head back. Maybe life had something in store for her here instead of with her Sunshine Trio.

Even with the endless miles of separation, Carleigh knew that with each passing day, her friends would be looking up at the same sun in the sky. And that itself was enough for right now.

[Odion Martins]

78. Rainbow

Cameron Osiris glanced over the top of his dad’s trailer after the rain had died. There, off in the distance, was a rainbow so stunning, it would make anyone say ‘wow’, or at the very least, cause their mouths to turn into ‘o’s’ of wonder. But not Cam. He sighed, looking down at his shirt clinging to his ribs because even though it had started raining an hour ago, he hadn’t gone inside. It wasn’t like he was waiting for the rainbow to come out or anything, he just didn’t care.

He thought coming back home to spend time with his dad was a good idea. But really he hadn’t come to California to do that, he had ran home. He had taken the new truck Chester had given him and driven it to the ground. There was too much pain inside of the blond and he hadn’t been himself for months. He thought he would be better without the memories, but now he was simply stagnant.

Everyone he had left behind: Chester, Declyn, Tak, his roommates... God, he made it seem so easy! He took another swig of his beer, now mostly water, and didn’t care that he was now the epitome of trailer trash. Somewhere his baby was in existence. Born in July. And he hadn’t even met her, or him, he wasn’t sure anymore. And somewhere the love of his life was parading around in luxury. And here he was, a runaway, too afraid to do anything when he had once been so fearless.

“Cam! Hey! What the hell are you still doing out there?” His dad was at the door, rubbing at his eyes. Yeah, that was the life. Sleep all day and not do anything. Cameron really wasn’t any better though. He threw the beer can down and stood up, feeling his knees pop as his hands stretched up to the sky, saluting the sun. "Coming!"

It was hard to believe he had once been the ray of sunshine that made beautiful rainbows.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

11. Moonlight.

Lucy struggled to sleep at night. Rarely did it happen in the company of the psychometrist, but from time to time it was impossible to shut her mentality down long enough to find such comfort.

The summer air was still cool in the mind of the Australian, but she didn’t mind the breeze that carried through the opened window. She trailed her fingertips along the arm of the girl tucked into her side. For a time, the ink manipulator simply stared at the ceiling; the crime that had been the white wash this very girl had inevitably performed. Not a trace of colour remained. The first time her eyes had settled on the missing galaxy, it was such a heartbreaking sight. Destructive in every sense of the word. But it all seemed trivial now. All of it. The ceiling. The misread memories. The indulgent hatred.

Her hand shifted slightly, traversing along her arm before periodically running through her hair. The simple act caused the Brit to stir, but when she did, she pulled herself in closer as if some distance still actually existed between them. She held on a little tighter before falling away from the conscious act.

Making sure she knew the Australian still existed – always.

Her breathing had settled. She could feel it on her skin; she was settled again. Lucy looked away from the ceiling, towards her.

The pale iridescence of the light of the moon reflected on each inch of her exposed skin, unhidden from the folds of the sheets she’d wrapped herself in. Wrapped them both in. Shades of blue. Muted, almost overtly restrained blues.

Under the faded light poured in through the window – that which barely managed to coat a third of the room – Penelope Blaise was absolutely radiant.

Once realised; impossible to forget.

[Gryphon Matsuoka]

56. Imagination

One single book, sealed between some cheap plastic sheets and bound with black metal rings. Who knew something so seemingly blank, boring and dull could hold such raw wonder and memory.

Since the age of who-knows-when, little Georgina Speer had such a book. Not quite a diary... but not along the lines of a sketch book either. It was just a book, her book. You could flick to any page, and there would be something new. That day when she made her tooth come loose because of a crunchy creamy chocolate bar, which detailed how much she wished to see the tooth fairy and fly away with her into the night. A rough attempted sketch or seven of the school grounds at Hammel - a view of the school at the front, some trees, anything minorly interesting that caught her 14-year-old eye that artistic day.

In an almost odd, unexpected way, however, the magic, the childlike happiness and the wonder that was reflected in each of her writings, or drawings, or whatever else was in there, it grew over time. One would expect the years to seize that flickering flame of almost ignorant, innocent magic and toy with it until it dwindled into nothing but the musky shadows of the past, but time had been kind to George, and gave her the oppurtunity to let her imaginative conscience grow into something bright and warm.

The dates clocked up in that little book, and you could find amazing creations of mystical creatures, exciting adventures and awe-inspiring feats. Recounts of good and bad days, all of the emotions that teenagers hit like a speeding car to a solid brick wall were evident (especially in that one page at the back which was literally just full of pen scribbles from everytime she had been angry and wanted to let it out)

George is a creature of imagination, one of the lucky children of God that is able to see the light in every corner, and a new discovery to be found everyday. She's one of those that some could be jealous of, or feel glad that they are not. Her unique attitude to life is questionable, but not at all bad, in the simple senses of the term.

George found herself writing in the last page of this book today - yes, writing. She found herself doodling random patterns around the edge of her curvy handwriting in worn black ink. She was writing a short story; to any outsider at a first glance, it would seem scatterbrained, confusing, hard to follow. But to her, it made perfect sense:

Lion's Den
To be a feline was a difficult task. You held all the whiskers of that all the other cats did, plus, you had your own image it uphold. The posture, the confidence, the sass. Also, you had to be ready to pounce and confuse the bloody stupid dastardly dogs that came lurking in your territory. You see, all of the other purring creatures ran to the high hills if they heard ever-so-much as the signature breathy pant of the canine.

But Jo was different. Jo stood up to the dogs and looked fabulous doing it. In fact-

Her hand slammed down the cover of the book not-so-subtly, looking up and around. She wasn't afraid of anything, really. But that was probably enough imagination for one day. Jo could wait.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Not canon, for obvious reasons

#90 – Wild

“Oh Jesus, what has he done this time?” Cade sighed and rolled his eyes, the fingers of his right hand rubbing his temple in agitation. The phone was held up to his ear and he could hear Ferris' frustration and anxiety down the line, and before the American had spoken more than a few words Cade knew that his little brother had done something worse than usual.

“He won't come inside. He just... yelled and screamed and turned into a badger and ran out into the trees and wont come in.”

Devon was often very fiery and vocal but he didn't tend to get that dramatically worked up, and Cade arched an eyebrow half in curiosity and half in mild disbelief. Part of him found it incredibly hard to imagine Devon getting quite so worked up about anything, but another part of him wondered about what on Earth would cause such a furore, if indeed it had happened at all. “What sparked that off? Has someone been stealing his pies?”

“This isn't funny, Cade! I can't get him to come back in. He's been out there all weekend and he's got work tomorrow and he's be-”

“What started it? What was he yelling and screaming about?” In all the conversations they'd had before, Cade had never heard Ferris this worked up. He had to admit that it was starting to stir an anxiousness in his own stomach, and he switched the phone to the opposite hand as he shut the door to his office, making sure he couldn't be overheard.

“He said something about paint in the classroom. Kids throwing it everywhere and leaving the place a mess and ruining other students work again. He was pissed. I thought he was going to punch a hole in the wall, but then he just... exploded into a badger and ran outside.”

Having seen first-hand the chaos that usually resulted from Devon's fursplosions Cade could sympathise with Ferris, but he himself had never seen Devon angry to the point of complete breakdown. However, from the tone in Ferris' voice Cade now had no reason to doubt him. What the hell was that job doing to his baby brother? “Is he still in the area? Can you maybe yell at him that I want to speak to him?”

“He was skulking around in the trees earlier but I haven't seen him for about an hour. Give me a minute.”

Cade could hear the phone being put down, followed by some footsteps and the sound of a door opening. He didn't quite catch what it was that Ferris yelled into the darkness outside, but he heard the footsteps returning and the phone being picked up again. “Is he coming?”

“I don't know. I couldn't see him and he didn't respond, b- put some clothes on Dev, Christ!”

The older Wentsworth brother couldn't help but chuckle softly at how bizarre a scenario this was, but his mirth was quickly halted when he heard his brother rasping down the line.

“Not doing it! Not going back! Not going back you can't make me!”

Never before had Cade heard such distraught frustrated ranting from Devon and it actually took a few long moments for him to recover from the sudden shock and try to find some form of words that could maybe help snap Devon out of this wild frenzy that he seemed to have become locked in. “Devon... Devon, listen to me. Whatever is wrong, we can talk it out, okay? You don't need to run out into the woods. You can be inside and fed and warm and safe an-”

“NO! You can't make me go back to those selfish arrogant arseholes! They ruin everything for everyone! Thieving lying aggressive little bas-”

“DEVON WENTSWORTH!” The sudden change in his tone spooked even Cade for a moment, not expecting the words to come out quite so sharp, but he knocked the odd feeling back quickly in order to actually be able to deal with the issue. “You are going to grow a spine and deal with this like an adult! You are going to call up the school in the morning and say you are sick, and you are going to spend the day calming down and speaking to someone and getting over this STUPID temper tantrum? Do I make myself clear?”

“But Ca-”

“No but's! Do I make myself clear?”

“…..Yes.”

Cade let out a low breath that he didn't realise he had been holding. The sound of defeat in Devon's voice was painful to hear, but it needed to be done. Hopefully he would be able to calm down soon enough and get over the stress that had caused him to go quite so feral. “Good. Now, go and apologise to Ferris, go home and have a shower, and then go to bed. Understood?”

“Yes... m'sorry, Cade.”

“It isn't me you need to apologise to. I'll phone you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” Cade heard his brother's muttered apology to Ferris and the sound of the phone being handed over, and he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair as Ferris came back on the line. “Well, that was eventful...”

[Adam Deulane]

10. Innocence (Canon)

Somehow, Adam was able to pick out their footsteps among the hundreds of other high school students streaming out of the front doors. They came in a group, moving quickly. Adam didn't look back and forced himself to remain at a walk. He'd need a clear head for this.

He jerked to a stop as a hand caught his shoulder and turned him around, and Adam found himself facing David, Thomas, JJ, Leo, and Philip. The goofy members of the football team. His friends. Or they had been, anyway, until Adam realized that doing other people's homework for them while they made fun of you at lunch was not a standard definition of friendship.

His stomach climbed into his throat. No, not now, they weren't supposed to find out like this...

“Hey, Adam, buddy,” David pulled a folded piece of paper out of his coat. “We finally got our tests back, remember, that one you helped us study for? Took forever.”

Adam swallowed. “Really? And what was the cause for the delay?”

“Mrs. Michaels broke her foot the weekend after the test, and they were stuck in her house.” David’s grip tightened on Adam’s shoulder, though his tone remained jovial. “A sub finally got permission to get a key. Guess what I got on that test?”

Roughly 44.9 percent. Adam shook his head.

“I got an F. 'F' for fucking F. And I used every single one of your fucking answers. Want to tell me who slipped up, buddy?” Now both hands were gripping the shoulders of Adam’s coat.

Adam’s palms were slick and he could feel his knees shaking. He had tried for months. For months he'd pandered and researched and tried every way he could think of to be included. He'd memorized popular bands, summaries of TV shows, done hours of other people's homework, but there was something he was just...missing. Some sense that everyone else in the school seemed to have, how to make yourself interesting and likeable, how to make people not break eye contact with you when you'd been talking for three minutes.

It wasn't fair. He was never going to fit in and they were going to beat him up regardless of what he said, so why lay down and kiss their feet while they did it? “You!” he squeaked. His voice was thin at first, but it gained volume and ferocity as he spoke. “You’re the one who’s asking for test keys from someone four years younger than you are. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to tell how bogus those answers were.”

Victory rose in his chest as he saw David's face twist with furry. Adam's feet were jerked off the ground. “You should know better than to talk to me like that, you little fag.”

Adam was dragged off the courtyard and half a block away from the school. Like a pack of crows, David and his friends swooped in. Adam tried to run, but they caught him by his backpack and shoved him back into the circle. And Adam found out exactly what it felt like when a fist moving at a velocity of ten meters per second hits you with approximately seventy kilograms of force on the side of the face.

They punched him until he lay curled on the ground with blood pouring out of his face. They tore open his backpack; they sent his papers of hobby equations flying into the sunny blue sky. They broke his glasses, beat him with his textbooks; they kicked him onto the grass and left him lying off in the shadow of a crummy apartment building. And then they left.

It took Adam several minutes to pull himself upright in a curled crouch. His remarkable mind flickered in and out of focus, now drowning in pain, now lamenting over the loss of his notebook of equations, now calmly resigning itself to the doom of never, ever, ever being able to fit in. But he couldn't just sit here, he needed to get home, somehow. The bus had left ages ago. He tried to stand, but his abdomen split with pain and he fell back to the ground with a soft gasp.

His mother found him. When she hadn't come home on the bus, she knew something was wrong. Tears were pouring down her face as she crouched next to her son and gathered him into her arms. “Oh my poor baby, my poor, sweet baby… what happened?" Mary pushed her son's dark hair back over his forehead. "Who did this to you? Oh look at you, you’re covered in blood!” She touched his swollen nose and wiped away the tears gathering under his eyes. “Darling, my blinding boy. It was those football kids, wasn't it?" Her eyes suddenly flashed with anger. "I am going to call the school and I am going to have every one of those little shitheads expelled, arrested if I can manage it. Here, don't talk about it," she said as Adam opened his mouth to protest. "Let's get you into the car. I'll call Brent when we get home.”

The first thing he saw when they pulled up in front of the house was Nora Marie’s face pressed against the front window.

His mother helped Adam inside, and the next few minutes were a hazy flurry of sheets, blood and crying. Everyone finally got him moped up and settled in his bed, though no one had yet asked him what had happened. Either they wanted to spare him the trauma of recounting the incident or they had already guessed.

Adam assumed the later. Late at night, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, he lay in bed, nursing his wounds and wallowing in despair.
 
What would he do at school? He’d have to go back eventually. A month still remained in the year, and his injuries would only render him bedridden for a few days. He supposed he’d just have to make sure he always traveled in groups. A few more tears leaked out of him, and he wiped another smear of snot across his pillow.

“Adam?”

He looked up and through swimming eyes saw a tiny, blue-eyed figure in a Dora the Explorer nightgown crouched at the foot of his bed. Nora Marie edged closer inch by inch, and he saw that she had a piece of purple paper clenched in her hands. “I—I—I drew you a picture.”

Her hands pressed it onto his chest, and Adam took it with one shaking hand, holding it close to his face to get it in range of his near-sightedness. It was a drawing of two blobs, a big one and a little one, and the little one had two lines sticking out of it that circled around the big one.

“Can I put it on your wall?” Nora Marie’s eyes were wide.

“Yeah.” Adam handed it back to her and she came back a moment later with tape. She stood on tip-toes and anchored it as high as she could reach. Then she came back to his bedside.

“What happened to your head?” she asked in awe.

Adam gingerly touched the bandages on his face. “Some kids at school beat me up.”

“Why?”

“Because I gave them fake answers to a test.”

“Why?”

“Because I was sick of doing their homework for them. Also, they were assholes.”

“Oh.” Nora Marie reached out and took his hand. “Mom's really angry.”

“Yeah.” Adam sniffed and wiped his nose on his sheets. His head felt like it was about to explode. “And she's going to be mad at you too if she finds out you're not in bed. Come on.” He tipped his head towards the pillow next to him.

A smile lit up Nora Marie's face, and she crawled gleefully into the bed. Adam repressed several more curses as she scrambled over his tender midriff, then she curled up in the blankets next to him. Adam poked her a little closer to the wall, and she rolled over and began whispering. Even at one in the morning she had something to talk about. After about ten minutes, the rapid hiss began to die into wandering thought, then sleepy murmurs. Adam wrapped one arm around her, and fell asleep with the soft, sleepy lull of her voice in his ear.

[Zxaine Fisher]

Number 49 - Sparkle

---------------

It was darker here then back home, here in this quiet town, and the unfamiliarity of it shook her deeply. Still, for the time being, this was home, she'd best get used to it. Chocolate eyes glanced up at the blanket of stars that littered the sky, flickering softly in their nightly dances. The stars always comforted her, she wasn't sure why, but it made her feel safe to know that they were unchanging and always there. Something about the stability of it she supposed. Her hair was still damp, ice clinging to the ends as she sat in the courtyard. The moon caught the mist of her breath and lett her see it spiral before it vanished.

Fingernails curled into the dark gray wool of her jacket, a crimson scarf hanging loosely about her neck and curling in the snow to either side of her. She missed home, even calls to her mother and brothers did nothing to ease that ache, but she had to be strong. Put up a bold face in light of this situation she'd been cast into. Sliding her booted foot through the snow she watched the moonlight shimmer across the piles of snow the limb tore through the unbroken expanse, a small smile curling her lips as the light bounced back into her face. She hated winter, but it had it's beauty and it's place. Here, in the quiet of a midwinter night, she could appreciate it. Her palms lifted in front of her, forming a bowl-shape and she narrowed her eyes slightly, concentrating. Flames flickered before springing to life, the yellow-white light dancing off the icicles around her and sending warmth coursing along her cheeks. She smiled at the creation and for a moment the girl lost herself in it's dance before catching herself and curling her palms tightly, crushing the tiny flame within. She was different now. There was no going back, how was she going to shine when she was marked so? When she was so different from everyone she knew, everyone she cared about, everyone she had loved. Cold reclaimed her fingers, her knees pulling up to her chest as her head dipped to rest upon them.

Eyelids half closed, arms wrapping slowly around her legs to keep out the icy chill. How was she going to sparkle when she felt so closed off? Isolated. Alone? So cold. Tears welled in her eyes, and the young girl wished she had someone she could go to, someone who would understand and accept what she now was. She'd made friends, a few anyways, but it wasn't the same as back home. She didn't know if she could let them in. She was afraid to. She could feel herself trembling and for a moment she wasn't sure if it was the night air or emotion getting the better of her. Hot tears slid across her cheeks to land on the tops of her knees as her eyes cast up towards the stars. Still flickering, shining down on her like beacons.

“Zxaine. You know better. What you can do or not do doesn't change who you are. Doesn't make you somehow different. It just is another facet. Each new discovery about one's self only brings out your brilliance, making you sparkle in whole new ways.”

She heard the words in her head like a mantra, her father had said them to her on the phone before she'd come to the school, somehow knowing she felt like a stranger to herself. Lifting her head she turned her chin to the sky, tear trails freezing to her cheeks only to be brushed away quickly.

“Get a hold of yourself Z. You know better then this.” She whispered, her father would scold her for being so disrespectful to herself. “Make this work for you, after all, nothing makes a diamond sparkle brighter then a bit of inner fire.” Standing up slowly she brushed the snow off her legs and back, clenching her fists and letting the wind catch her hair, sending it swirling around her like a mane of flame. She'd get her sparkle back, nothing would keep her down. She looked so strong, so confident, even though inside she was deeply afraid. She'd learn how to shine bright again, she'd figure it out somehow. Or she'd meet someone who could make her not be afraid of herself anymore. After all something had to give.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

#15 – Sin

There was a small Italian restaurant in the East Village that had no menus. Instead, once the party had been seated and had their beverages, the chef came out to their table and asked, “What do you want?”

He would then proceed to make whatever the customer requested, within reason. The restaurant was a little pricier than some of the other Italian bistros in the neighborhood, because of that novelty, but it was wonderful for special occasions.

Robert Hopkins had a teaching convention to attend in New York; he and Beth decided to add a few additional days, so that they could take a short vacation. When Sean Neville had learned of this, he’d offered to take them out for lunch/supper. While he would take no for an answer, the older couple had accepted because it had been a while since they’d last seen the young telepath. Robert wanted to catch up with him, and Beth had never turned down the opportunity to spend time with the boy who was more like a son to her than merely one of her husband’s students.

Sean had given them the address of the restaurant along with the name and a time to meet. He’d stopped off at the florist on the way there to buy a bouquet for Beth as a polite gesture. He had presents for them as well, back in his apartment. There would be time for this at some other time, a place that was more appropriate where it wouldn’t make the Hopkinses feel awkward.

Arriving early, he’d gone to the table so as to arrange to pay himself, as well as to place drink orders. A scotch for him, and wine for both Beth and Robert.

He sensed the arrival of his mentor long before he saw Robert’s tall form. When Robert and Beth arrived, hand-in-hand like a couple still so in love after all of these years, he felt a knot in his stomach. Sean wanted that so much. More than anything; more than getting into medical school.

“Robert!” He greeted the elder telepath with a smile, before embracing his mentor. “And Beth,” he said, turning his smile on her before hugging the older woman and surrendering the bouquet. “These are for you. I hope the hotel room has a vase.”

“It does,” Beth assured him, smiling in return. She brought the flowers to her face, inhaling. “They’re so fresh! That was very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s nothing,” the college student assured her. He waited for both Beth and Robert to make themselves comfortable, before he resumed his seat. “About ordering here, this place is a little unorthodox, but I promise the food is divine.”

Their server brought their beverages, as well as a plate of assorted breads and a bowl of olive oil. The restaurant prided itself on Southern Italian cuisine, after all.

Before Beth could inquire into the absence of menus, the chef appeared at the table. “What do you want?” He asked, looking at Beth first, because she was the only woman in their party.

She shared a glance with her husband. Sean projected to both of them, Don’t worry. That’s just how they do things here; it’s fun.

“Why don’t you go first?” She asked the college student, since she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I’d like penne ala vodka with sausage, please. With a small house salad.” Admittedly, the young telepath wasn’t always able to eat vegetables out (his diet consisted of so much pizza and Chinese food), and so he made a concerted effort to eat salad when he could.

The chef accepted that with a nod, and then turned back to Beth. Robert spoke up, biding his wife more time. “I would like chicken marsala, with a side salad as well, please.”

“Sure,” the chef replied.

“Could I please have a cup of pasta fagioli and an order of lasagna?”

“Cheese, vegetable, or meat?”

“Spinach, if you have it.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

The three of them shook their heads, and the chef repeated their order before retreating to the kitchen to begin the preparations. That left them to their conversation.

“How was the conference?” Sean asked, as he handed the bread basket aloft for both Beth and Robert to partake first. He fully expected to go through two baskets; he’d been out to eat with Robert before, and the psychic need for glucose intake was what it was.

“It has been fine, so far. The cultural sensitivity workshops seem genuine, which is a start.” Robert smiled and turned towards his wife. “Beth has been museum hopping.”

“Oh? The museums here are great! Where have you gone?”

“Yesterday was the Museum of Modern Art, and this morning I went to the Museum of Natural History.”

Sean quickly swallowed the bread in his mouth so as not to be rude when he asked the follow up question. “What did you see?”

Beth began to relay the different exhibits that she had enjoyed. As she spoke, Robert quietly projected to the younger man, You seem anxious, Son. Is something wrong?

Nothing’s wrong. This was true. In fact, everything was very much right, even if he’d been stressed for a while leading up to this. Sean hesitated a moment, making sure that he only projected back to Robert because this could not pop into anyone else’s mind. It didn’t matter that the Village was more liberal; there were no guarantees here. ...I slept with another man.

Robert’s expression didn’t change. It was a testament to his saintly caring and understanding that he could accept that at face value in the middle of a crowded restaurant and in front of his wife. After lunch, you and I should talk about that.

Sean offered the telepathic equivalent of a nod. Then he returned his full attention to Beth.

*****************************

After lunch, the two telepaths accompanied Beth to the New-York Historical Society, before they excused themselves to take a walk together.

Despite the cold conditions outside, they cut through Central Park.

When they had the privacy, Robert asked, “Who was it?”

“Is,” Sean corrected with a smile. They were dating; it had not been a casual encounter never to be repeated or mentioned again. “It’s my friend, Josh.”

Robert nodded his understanding. The younger telepath had made his fondness for the freshman well-known in their conversations throughout the semester. It was quite evident that they had become fast friends, and Sean had never judged other people for their orientations; his blond roommate was proof of that.

At the same time, in the nine years that Robert had known the younger telepath, he had never demonstrated the slightest inclination towards members of his own sex.

That didn’t concern Robert, because people were complicated. He couldn’t say that he expected it of his protégée, but he was no more concerned about the development psychologically than he would be if Sean had announced his engagement instead.

What did concern Robert was Sean’s family. The trainer had met the other Nevilles many times while Sean had been a student at Hammel; they were not liberal in either definition of the term.

As such, the older man asked, “Have you told anyone?”

“Greg, our other friends.” Sean paused for a moment before he added, “Nobody else. That would put us at risk because it’s illegal.”

It shouldn’t be. What two consenting adults did in private should be no concern of the law. Robert agreed with that sentiment, which was why he had been happy when those laws had been repealed in Vermont the year before, despite the opinions of some of his co-workers.

They reached a bench and sat down. “Does he make you happy?” Robert asked, his full attention on the younger telepath.

Sean’s smile couldn’t widen further. “Very.”

The trainer nodded his understanding. He paused for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, before he asked, “And spiritually?”

Sean’s Catholicism had never been a secret. It had been a defining trait of the younger telepath throughout his young life.

The college senior spread his hands in a gesture he used to substitute for a shrug. “Love is love, and love is everything.” It was his turn to pause before he added, “I don’t agree with everything the Vatican says or decrees and it’s never stopped me before. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t see why this should be any different.”

Robert nodded again. That was what he wanted to hear, because he didn’t think that the younger telepath should have to choose between a satisfying, healthy relationship and his childhood religion. He was proud of Sean for finding a balance between the two that didn’t involve self-denial.

“Tell me about him.” More than the mentions in letters or the occasional telephone call, Robert was asking for all of the important, and less important, descriptions that Sean might want to provide.

The younger telepath’s smile widened, whole face lit up with enthusiasm and affection. “He’s smart and very passionate...”

Sean would sing his boyfriend’s praises all afternoon if he could. Robert didn’t mind; he wanted his protégée to be able to share his infatuation with someone, and who better than him?

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

69. Subtle.

It’s a look.

The psychometrist's dark eyes usually look around and almost never see anything. Not because she misses anything, but because she’s captured everything. She doesn’t need minute details when it comes to the rest of the world. Not if they don’t affect her.

But to the ink manipulator, she always offers something worth catching.

Lucy was notoriously the type to stare. To scrutinise. To collect the minute details others left for her, intentionally or not. Too often when the Brit was busy, the Australian was caught up in looking at her. There was always something about her she didn’t seem to completely understand; how was it she went from hating someone so intently to caring for them with equal – if not greater – intention.

When Penny finally glanced away from the book before her towards her counterpart, she caught her staring. It wasn’t the first time. It likely wouldn’t be the last. But it was a rarity. Lucy had better tact than to so openly stare. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t look away from her face, though she did catch her eyes. And she grinned towards her. For her. Or perhaps simply at her.

“What?” Penny asked, though not harshly. Her voice sounded curious. She was curious.

At first, Lucy shook her head and breathed a laugh. Like she didn’t want to answer for her own sake. But Penny continued to stare back at her. And under the weight of her gaze, the eldest Serrano conceded.

“I saw that.” Lucy said. At the sight of the ink manipulator’s staring, the corner of her mouth had pulled into a small, almost insignificant smile. One that’d be difficult to catch if it were handed to anyone.

Anyone but herself.

“What?” Penny repeated anyway, oblivious to whatever it was Lucy was keeping from her.

In the end, Lucy resided to the fact that it wasn’t worth alerting her to. It was something she herself carried; “Nothing.”

But nothing ever means nothing. Not when it’s between them.

[Kristina Novak]

30. Addiction

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Kristina stared at her bulletin board, pinned with photographs. A curious, yet intense, expression was on her face, analyzing each and every photo there. She plucked one photo, the subject a tourist. It wasn't uncommon seeing tourists in Prague. They were always around, taking photos of the beautiful landscape and interesting buildings. Kristina decided it would be funny to be ironic and take a photo of them, instead of it being the other way around.

She took a couple of steps, seated now at her small table. It was great to be back home in the Czech Republic. Sure, with her savings, she was only able to (barely) afford a cramped studio apartment but it was part of the city charm. Kristina smiled, inhaling from her cigarette one last time before putting it out in the ashtray. She raised the photo up to the sunlight, squinting slightly behind the frames of her glasses. This would do.

Kristina pinned it to another bulletin board, set up with other chosen photographs. For the moment, this was only a hobby. After moving back to the city, she made her meager wages working in one of the many tourist trap shops. Hopefully, one day she could share her talent and knowledge to a wider audience. The shop was nice enough to feature Kristina's photographs and art work for a small cut. It gave her some pocket change but she still wasn't a lot.

With a sigh, Kristina grabbed her pack of cigarettes and wallet, slipping it into her one purse. She slipped the strap of her camera around her neck, deciding to make use of the couple of hours before starting her shift at the shop. Get a few more new shots to print out and display at work.

This was her addiction, and she couldn't get enough time behind the lens.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

5. Memory

“Ma, what's wrong?”

Lucy's gaze pulled away from the broken cup in her hands, dark eyes falling on the teenage boy who had walked in. As she looked up, her lips pulled up into a smile. “Nothing, Link.” the ink manipulator replied casually, offering an explanation by simply holding up the cup, the handle in one hand with the rest of the cup in another. Really, it wasn't the first thing she had broken in this house, nor would it be the last.

Lincoln, however, looked slightly more concerned. His lips pulled down into a slight frown. “Mum's gonna kill you.” he nodded to it, “That one's her favorite.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows before bringing her attention back to her hands. “What makes you say that?” Honestly, the ink manipulator rarely had seen Penny using this particular cup, let alone often enough for it to be deemed the Brit's favorite.

“It's the one she uses when you're in Paris.” Lincoln commented as he grabbed an apple off the counter. He tossed it in the air, catching it it as he continued; “Every day.”

Lucy offered nothing but a look of mild confusion; her eyebrows knitted together as she continued to stare at the cup. She shifted both of the pieces to one hand, bringing the other up so she could scratch the line of her jaw. “...Every day?”

“Yeah. I think it reminds her of you.” He paused, realizing that Lucy really hadn't known this before. His mother's reaction drew a smile out of the teen. Still, he decided to let his mother think over the new information on her own, and he quietly withdrew from the kitchen.

When Lincoln did leave, Lucy's expression softened, clarity hinting in her eyes as she stared down at the pattern imprinted on the teacup. She knew this cup. The moment associated with it. A smile spread across her lips as she ran a thumb over it. “You.”

She had to find some glue.

[Mia Bell]

20. Beach.

Mia stepped onto the soft pale sand of Hawaii, barefooted, the hot sand made it’s way through her toes, and it was a weird feeling. She never imagined it would feel quite like this. Then again, she never imagined she would be on her honeymoon in Hawaii either. No, she did not want to come to Hawaii for her honeymoon, she rather be in Antarctica, but apparently that wasn’t an option. The pink haired punk never thought she would ever step onto a real beach, yeah Alaska had beaches, but it wasn’t like this. The water was either really rough or really calm, the sand was usually either mud, or snow, it was never actually sand like Hawaii. Vermont had rivers, but that also wasn’t the same, the sand was different, it was more dirt than sand; and the water never had waves. It was magical to her, magical and beautiful, and when she stepped back to think about it, she was glad they had came here instead of Antarctica.

No one needed to look around to know this state was full of love, with people coming here for vacation, or honeymoons, and also the natives. There was love everywhere, which made this experience so much more to Mia. She was not used to feeling so much love and calmness in one place. Not ever her home state had this much love. It made Hawaii all the more beautiful. The natives didn’t care that she had pink hair, and had a wife instead of a husband. Yes, the heat was an extreme turn off, granted it wasn’t like they were out and about often as of yet… She was really only at the beach now because her partner wanted to come down to swim. Being scared of water because she didn’t know how to swim was the least of her problems right now though.

Mia was wearing a bathing suit, a one piece but still, however she had skinny jeans, yes she was wearing pants at a beach, with a tank top and her usual gloves. The state might be friendly and kind hearted, but she was still afraid of the looks, the judgment, and the whispers that come with having her type of scars. As her anxiety, and paranoia kicked in she felt arms wrap around her midsection, it didn’t freak her out because she knew who it was, and it put a smile on her face as she turned around to see her one true love. “Hey Amelia. “ The Asian girl behind her gave Mia one of her famous wide smiles. “Hi love. Are you okay?” Mia looked out into the water again with a heavy sigh, which made Amelia frown. Amelia knew how hard it was for Mia to be on the beach, and even here in Hawaii. For the pink headed girl to come here showed Mel just how much Mia loved her. It made her feel all warm and tingly inside. ”You know, they aren’t going to care. At least not for very long.” Mia chuckled, “You have strange pep talks..” Mia felt like with Mel by her side, she could do anything she put her mind to. Even though that really seemed unrealistic. “You don’t have to do this… We can just stay on the shore, and take long walks.” Mia shook her head, “No, I have to do this; and not just for you… But mostly for me, I have to get over these fears, they’re just holding me back.” Smiling at Amelia she walked down closer to the water.

After they had set up the beach blanket, and the rest of their stuff, Mel ended up going in the water first. Mia took a deep breath, taking off her tank top first, then her gloves, then her jeans. She never felt more exposed in her life, but that was the point of this wasn’t it? For people to get over their fears, they needed to expose themselves. Walking to the water, with every step she felt more confident, it was like her father, and brothers were with her, holding her hand through one of the toughest things she had to do.

[Odion Martins]

39. Champagne

The UK – New Year’s Eve – 2013

“Hey mate, would ya mind passin’ that sham-pag-knee?”

Odion rolled his eyes, grabbing the bottle by the neck and passing it over to the man with the strange accent. Usually the bar keep didn’t like it when the bottles were touched, but everyone seemed to be loose tonight. It was New Year’s Eve and already he wasn’t sure who he was, all he knew was that the music was loud, so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. Thinking got him into trouble, and trouble made him forget. If he was going to forget, he wanted to choose to forget via drinking.

“It’s pronounced sham-pain,” he said, leaning closer to the stranger so that he would hear him.

The stranger laughed and shrugged. “Whateve’, ya don’t get tha joke!” And with that, the remainder of the drink disappeared down the man’s throat. Odion smirked to himself and shook his head. It felt wrong to be here, and yet it felt right. But as soon as he started to feel ok, something felt missing. Someone... Dark, stormy eyes would pass through his mind but he pushed them away. Those eyes made him forget.

“Hey! Can you ‘ear meh ova tha music?!” The stranger had gotten closer.

Odion shook his head, then put his lips to the champagne flute in his hand. It was free tonight, he may as well finish his before somebody else did. “Sorry!” He said, lifting his drink in the air by way of explanation.

The man laughed and raised his own glass, toasting Odion. “Doesn’t matta where you are mate! It’s the same thing in Australia!” Odion wasn’t sure what was the same, but it made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

Pretty soon they were laughing together, singing together, dancing together, leaving together... This was where he belonged, in the arms of someone else. If Odi could just keep drinking and keep filling the void, he would never have to be alone. He would get his midnight kiss, and then some.