Friday, August 17, 2012

"In a perfect world, there is lightning the color of my heart"



I freeze. The voice is high-pitched. Young. A kid? When had they gotten in the house? I swallow my tears as best I can and look up.
“Who’s there?”
“Down!” The voice chirps. I incline my head. “More!” The voice says again. I look at the floor. “Almost there! Great Code, you humans are slow with those big watermelon heads of yours.”
The carebear is standing up, fuzzy arms folded over one another, a scowl tinting its muzzle, black bead eyes narrowed. I scream and my leg kicks up instinctively, punting the carebear across the room. I pound my fists against my temples. Wake up! Wake up! Hurry, before it grows teeth and starts chasing you –
“Ow! Is that your idea of a warm welcome?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and rock on my heels. No, no, this isn’t happening. Wake up!
“You could at least try to be nice! I’ve been living outside in some squirrel’s body, and then a little yappy dog’s – the lady who owned it put me in pink sweaters. Pink. Sweaters. All my pride killed by a fluffy knitted pullover.”
“Shut up!” I scream and pinch my cheeks so hard they numb.
“Hey, hey!” I hear the carebear pad over. “Be careful with your human skin! That stuff is fragile!”
“You’re not exactly armored yourself, fuzzball,” I snarl, “Oh God. No, I’m not having this conversation. This is not happening. You are not real.”
“I am too!” The carebear’s muzzle frowns. It opens like a real mouth, shapes each word realistically. I dive under my bedcovers as it takes a step towards me.
“Stay away!” I reach for the nearest blunt thing – a chem textbook – and wave it threateningly, my head barely peeking out of the covers. Like cloth will protect me from an insane talking bear. If it goes for the kitchen where our knives are I’m jumping out of my window.
“Just calm down, okay?” The bear pleads, paws out and black eyes morose. “I know it’s scary. Just breathe! In, out. You humans are good at that!”
It takes another step forward, and I lunge out and slam the textbook over its head. Once, twice, three times, four, five, keep slamming, keep slamming and it will shut up and go away and you’ll wake up and everything will be fine if it just dies, die, die, die –
“Ow!” Slam. “Hey, cut it –” Slam. “Out!” Slam. “Please!” Slam. “You’re really hurting me!”
“That’s the general idea!” I shriek, and the bear keels over after my last slam, making little groaning noises. Before it can start talking again, I pick it up by the foot and rush to the front door. I have to punt it into the next state, stick it in the local incinerator, donate it to a dog kennel, something, anything to get it away –
I wrench the door open and come face to face with Caden. His eyebrows shoot up, looking between my no-doubt crazed expression and my hand that holds the bear like it’s poisonous.
“Won it at a carnival or something?” He tries.
“Get out of my way. I need to burn it,” I snarl. I push past, but he blocks me.
“Whoa, what? Burn it? Why? It’s a perfectly useable stuffed…thing.”
“It’s a monster and it needs to die.”
“Girls are supposed to like these kinds of things,” He counters.
“Get out of my way!” I scream. I can feel the bear wiggling in my hand. I don’t want to be touching it when it starts talking again. What if it tries to bite my throat?
“Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?”
“If you don’t get out of my way right now -”
“What are you –” He starts. I give him a cursory kick in his black-jeans crotch. He doubles over, wheezing, and I cross the lawn. Where can I destroy this thing? A lawnmower buzzes from across the street. Perfect.




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YO WHAT
this book is called 'a girl reacts realistically to crazy fantasy shit going on in her suburban life'
alternatively it can be called 'magic knight rayearth with more blood and drugs'.

probs not gonna focus on writing it much longer, since I'm sort of in the track to be a 'creepy, literary thriller YA' writer. (MY EDITOR'S WORDS) At least for a while. My penname can do whatever she wants though, isn't that snazzy.

oh my god if they get John Green to blurb my shit I will just straight up lie down and die 

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