Stories are driven by characters. You must have lots of characters. Add another. Add another. Add another. You need more characters. You’ll never have enough characters. Why can’t you come up with more characters?
The tea kettle whistled, and she shuffled over to her stove, paying no mind to the cat circling her ankles. They knew each other too well for either of them to get tripped up. She turned off the burner and waited until the water was not quite boiling and poured it into her waiting mug, letting the earl grey steep.
They cuddled up under the blankets and talked about their weekend plans, dreams for the future, and briefly argued about the absolute best way to cook an egg. They laughed and snuggled, pressed against each other under a dozen blankets, perfectly content while the sun faded over the horizon and the stars came out.
Reported by Diane Weathersby
It’s that Helmetball time of year again and I’d be remiss if I didn’t scour the planet to find you all the Helmetball facts1 and fantasies2 that will enrich your viewing experience and help you ace your AP History exam.
They sat in Rosa’s room and drank together. Alistair excused themselves fairly quickly. Then Reginald, then Francine. Barcy and Abilene stuck around. Barcy had another bottle of wine for each of them, and by 10 o’clock they were all pretty tipsy. Barcy laid on the floor with her head in Rosa’s lap while Rosa stroked her hair. It was nice to not have to think about leaving. She could get used to this.
I am a purple mushroom. I am also the world’s leading researcher on the effects of sleep deprivation in the modern world and it’s detrimental effects on society. These things are not mutually exclusive.
The moss was soft beneath her. She felt it pressing into the backs of her legs, holding her arms, cradling her back. The soft, sponginess provided comfort and the firmness reminded her she was real. She had her arms flung wide across the forest floor, legs stretched out, bare feet tilted outward. She imagined tree roots slowly working out of the ground, wrapping around her limbs and sinking her just below the moss, allowing her to be wholly swallowed up, finally free from the problems that had led her here.
The pumpkin sat on the floor. Orange, of course, but the pumpkin hated being a conformist. It was surrounded by plastic leaves, artfully scattered to look like they had just fallen from an oak tree but devoid of the flaws and bugs that nature carries. Next to the pumpkin was a miniature bale of hay with an equally miniature scarecrow sitting on top. The pumpkin knew for a fact that the scarecrow had never, and would never, actually scare a crow but the pumpkin wasn’t about to be an asshole and tell him that.
They sat in silence for a while. Rosa sat with the story and wondered what it meant for her. Did Barcy know something that Rosa didn’t? Finally, Barcy let go of her hand and pushed herself up off the floor. “I think it’s time for you to go home,” said Barcy softly.
This is an early scene from “The Inexplicable Phenomena of the Stars”, a story about a magical planetarium, shortly after the main character starts her employment there. This story was written during NaNoWriMo 2019 and features magic, intergalactic conflict, and found families.