Write a story about getting a scar.

“Are you going to shower or what? The heating will be off any minute now – do you want to come out of the steam room into the cold?”

She had a point, but my mom usually does. Not that I like it one bit, mind you, but it’s there – pity. So I said ‘brb’ to my co-chatters, both of them (one of the only two internet shorthand terms I can actually bring myself to use, the other being ‘gtg; all the ‘lolz’ and ‘ttylz’ belong with the tweens), turned my messenger status to ‘Away’, and headed for the bathroom.

Towel draped over the radiator, to soak up the remains of the heat, and water temperature regulated, I stripped quickly, tossed everything into the hamper, and stepped into the tub. My westerner friends are amazed that we still do the handheld shower head and bath tap in one gig here, but that’s the way things work in Llamakistan. I’m not sure I’d have them another way, honestly. Shower cubicles feel claustrophobic, while tubs without showers make me wonder how to rinse and avoid soap burns.

Now, I reminded myself, no time to dawdle, the heat is running low. Lather up (whoever invented the bath puff is a genius), scrub down, almost ready. I just need a shave. And damn – I should have checked the razor beforehand and grabbed a new one. I never remember to do that when mom puts my razor together with hers in the nook, rather than leaving it on the windowsill, where I let it dry. Ah well. Gotta do it, and gotta do it with the frayed one, just add more soap and be careful.

I was careful, I swear. It was only when I felt that sharp sting of pain right over the outer right ankle bone that I realized I hadn’t been quite careful enough. That never happens with a new razor, only with old ones that snag instead of gliding.

I checked the nick, a tiny spot of red, figured it would take care of itself like so many times before, and moved on to the left leg. It took me a couple of minutes to finish that too (ironically, I never nick my left leg, whether I shave right-handed from an uncomfortable angle or all-around uncomfortably left-handed), and only then noticed the water around my ankles had turned decidedly red, and getting redder.

Half-panicking, I checked the nick again, to find a steady dribble of blood feeding into the tub in two or three separate ‘threads’. Okay, nothing I’d bleed to death from, but still an alarming quantity of blood, to turn about three inches of water visibly red. I rinsed quickly, all enjoyment fled, then blasted the cut with cold water, hoping to seal it as quickly as possible. It stung awfully; not to mention that the cold numbed my foot almost instantly, before starting to creep upwards. Not an enjoyable sensation at all.

Several soaked sheets of toilet paper later, I had managed to dry myself without smearing blood all over my towel (no small feat) and slap a band-aid on. Only then did I consider the case closed. Of course, the offending razor was at the bottom of the bathroom bin already. I opted for a dark pair of socks, slightly paranoid lest the blood seep through the bandage, and went on with my evening, a bit shaken but not much the worse for wear.

The scar didn’t appear immediately, nor the following evening, when I took off the band-aid. I’m not even sure if it was the cut that caused it – perhaps the band-aid aggravated it too much. It never bled as much again, but when socks no longer covered it, there was a little silvery white crescent left behind, like a nail mark, to remind me. Bloody hell, not even a cool scar I could show off.



Write a short story about ninjas and pirates.

“Remember, mateys,” the Captain boomed, looking at each of his crew members with his stern eye. “Keep yer senses sharp, and don’t say I didn’t warn ye.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!” his crew replied before they scurried off to their duties.

The Captain grunted as he turned back to the sea. They had just stolen the biggest treasure of the century – a Japanese china set made of pure, unadulterated gold. Embedded around the rims were gleaming diamonds, sparkling at every hint of sunlight. Making that trip to Japan was worth it; but alas, every pirate has their enemies.

A girly scream erupted from the deck below. The Captain sprinted towards the stairs, fearing the worst. Indeed, the men in black have come. And outnumbered his crew.

As quick as lightning, they slashed his men, one by one. The Captain, instead of feeling cowardly like most would, grew angry – enraged, even. How dare they sneak up from nowhere and attack his men! He spat on the ground and charged at the nearest black-clad men.

“Not so fast,” one of the men said, and suddenly the Captain was feeling numb. He fell to the floor; fell victim to these vile beings. What have they done to him?!

“I have struck your energy points in your body, and you are incapable of movement. Tell me, Captain, where do you hide our treasure?”

“Your treasure?” the Captain spat. “It is ours. We stole it; it is rightfully ours!”

“If you insist.” The man looks down at the Captain and pokes his finger on his back. A paralyzing shock went through the Captain’s spine. “Where is your treasure now?” the man chuckled.

The Captain gritted his teeth. “Never. I will never tell-”

“Master, we have found the treasure,” a man in black said from behind him. The Captain’s eyes grew wide. Impossible! How did they manage to open his heavily guarded safe without the proper key?

“We have our ways, Captain,” the man replied, reading his mind. Then, his eyes twinkled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Captain.”

And just like that, they were gone like smoke.

I need to write a story. And this should be easy, right?!

Well, Plinky, I’ve gotta hand it to you. You’ve done a lot for me in the past week. But this response…I don’t know. This scares me. So, Plinky gave me the prompt, “Tell a story with dialogue. Your characters: Two cops in Alaska.” I’m not quite sure how I want to go about this, but I think I can, I think I can, I think I can…

Continue reading

The people that sit in jail with me.

The next prompt is: “Who is your best friend and why?” Plinky, Plinky, Plinky. You know I can’t pick just one! I have at least…three.

My first best friend is Anna, who I’ve known and loved for ten years now, and I’m only fifteen. She is always there to support me, gets all of my jokes, tells me I really am a good singer (because not many people think so), and joins in on a lot of the useless crap I do (aka Rockband) and the useful treasures I’m a part of (aka Nerdfighteria). So, for that, she’s the first I’d like to put on the list. Also, I’d like to include her boyfriend, Matt, as one of my best friends, because he’s just…awesome. There is no other way to put it.

Second, we have Nick Kim, for obvious reasons. He’s my “personal therapist,” even though he gets the fact that I’m crazy (and yes, Nick, I know you love it). He’s somewhat willing to listen to my new songs, I guess. Somewhat. We have become so (for lack of better words) comfortable around each other, that we can have three-hour phone conversations switching from complete silence (because we’re too busy reading) to dying of laughter, and then back again. He is my person, even though he wants to replace me.

Third, we have Emma. I am happily obligated to put Emma here, because she has just always been the sweetest, greatest, most cheerful person I know. And we are just music buddies, so eat it. :)

Well, I have a fourth, but this ones gonna be mushy (not that the above three weren’t, but this is…probably worse), so if you’re Nick Kim, skip this paragraph. My boyfriend is my best friend. He’s always there to give me a hug. What else can I say? He’s my boyfriend. He’s there for me, no matter what. When I get mad at him for no apparent reason, he just says he’s sorry (even though he didn’t do anything wrong and thus is apologizing just to make me feel better) until I forgive him (for doing nothing wrong) and give him a hug. Yes, it’s dysfunctional, but I love everything about it.

So, there you have it. Four best friends and an awesome person. I love my people. I couldn’t ask for anyone better. So, without further ado, catch ya on the flipside. -Rachael


So, Plinky wants me to write a poem only using words that start with the letter ‘s’. I say, screw you, Plinky. I’ll do every line starting with ‘s’ instead. I’m too lazy to deal with that kinda crap. Well, here we go.

Somewhere under the great blue sky,
Sits a little girl with a small tear in her eye.
She wants to be anything but this sad.
She wants a new friend that will make her feel glad.

So this little girl finds a shy little boy,
Skip in her step, she’s filled with such joy.
She sits down beside him and tells him her name,
Still shy as can be, his silence can’t be blamed.

Scooting somewhat closer, she nudges his arm.
She tells him she will not cause him any harm.
She looks in his glare that appears very dry,
Still sitting hunched over, he lets out a sigh.

Soaked in the sunlight and warm summer air,
She breaks up a cookie, two halves she can share
She drops the big half into his tender hand,
Smiles appear at the gesture so grand.

Stare now very deep, he gives her his thanks,
Shit, I can’t find anything that rhymes with “thanks.”
Son of a bitch, this shouldn’t be hard.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucckkkk, LARD! :D

Until I wonder again, I’ll catch ya on the flipside. -Rachael

If I was a superhero, your cat would still be in that tree.

Hello, world. It’s your favorite procrastinator! I’m doing another Plinky post, so this should be fun. I’ll start doing these more often. Today’s prompt is, “If you were a superhero, what special power would you have and why?” Well, here’s my answer:

Firstly, I’m definitely going to say telekinesis would be pretty freaking amazing. I would be able to pick up a rock and drop it on someone’s head, and I wouldn’t even have to get my ass off the couch to do it (well, that’s one way to win Rock, Paper, Scissors). Now, I believe that this alone would make me the best superhero on the planet. However, because of my laziness, I’m probably not getting your precious Fluffy out of a tree, because a) it’s a cat. It’ll land on it’s feet; and b) the fire department can handle that.

Moreover on the mind game powers, I’d like to say that second place would go to mind-control in general. So, instead of dropping a rock on someone’s head, you could just make them shoot themselves, or change their behavior to that of a good person. That, in my opinion, would be great.

Of course, there’s one more power I’d like to throw in the mix. I’d like to be able to manipulate sound. I could create sonic barriers and use sonic pulses and booms in super-fights, and apprehend criminals using supersonic disable-frequencies, and I could use it to create various invisible forces to manipulate and move all kinds of objects and make myself fly. And that’s pretty kick-ass in general.

That’s it for my superpowers. Until I wonder again, I’ll catch ya on the flipside. -Rachael