Make Up! (Not what you put on your face)

Time to write!

Did you know that writing is hard for me to remember to do when it is Christmas and the weekend and I'm at home? Yes. It is a problem. However, I think there is some news worth noting. While I haven't been diligent here on the blog I have been diligent in a novel I've started. I completed the 50th page last night. It is going incredibly well! But now I need to get back on track for this challenge... Here goes nothing.

Day 6: Begin your story with "He glanced at his watch impatiently."

He glanced at his watch impatiently. Where was she? She had promised to be here, and this time he had actually believed her.
Snow was falling and sticking to his long black coat, and freezing in his well combed, dark hair.
To anyone passing him on the street, he would look like a handsome, successful businessman. He was clean-shaven, with thick dark hair and eyebrows. He wore an expensive black suit under his coat, and his briefcase was free from any scuff marks or scratches.
Despite all appearances, however, Mr. James Wright - for this was his name- did not consider himself successful, and he carried with him a lot more than just a briefcase. Day by day he carried with him pain and the sting of failure.
Where was Sheila?
She should be here.
This time meeting had been her idea. He just needed a chance to talk to her, to see if he could make things alright again. Rose missed her mommy, and James just wanted his wife to come home.
He was already late for work, and he had missed the bus, but still he stood on the corner, waiting for Sheila to arrive.
A tinny song began playing from his pocket. Pulling off one wool glove, James reached his hand into the pocket to retrieve the cell phone.
Opening up the text message, James' heart sank.
Sorry James. Cant make it this morning. -S

Day 7: Create a superhero. Have your hero save the day.

BubbleBeam was not a very well known superhero. That's because BubbleBeam was never bitten by a radioactive spider, nor was she from another planet. Another thing BubbleBeam lacked was billionaire status, with access to insane amounts of weaponry and technology.
The truth was, people didn't really think BubbleBeam counted as a real superhero. She was looked down on by all the other heroes. One day there was a Superhero conference, and BubbleBeam wasn't a bit surprised to find herself not invited.
While all the other superheroes were packing up their carry on bags and boarding a plane (or flying themselves in the case of Superman, Ironman, Thor, and various others), BubbleBeam was sitting alone in her apartment, drinking a mug of hot chocolate and trying not to think about how this always happened to her.
Heroes, with no thought for her feelings, whizzed past her New York apartment window. By midmorning she knew she was the only one left. A terrible sense of loneliness overwhelmed her. It just wasn't fair.
In an effort to distract herself, BubbleBeam flipped on her television, settling comfortably into her couch and trying to find something amusing. Nothing amusing was to be found, however, instead on almost every channel a news broadcast was playing.
The words "Breaking News" flashed on the bottom of the screen in red letters. BubbleBeam sat forward, wondering what was going on. She gasped as the screen flashed a picture of MuckMan, the terrible mud monster from the swamps of the Everglades. The story was that Superman had cleaned up his act and banished him to where he could no longer do any harm, but the screen showed differently.
BubbleBeam waited for the image of a superhero to flash across the screen, but none did.
This was her big chance!!
Luckily she was already wearing her bright blue spandex suit, so she hopped in her bubble hovercraft which was parked just outside her 30th level window.
Bloop bloop bloop the little hovercraft sounded, it's propellers spinning and expelling multicolored bubbles behind it as BubbleBeam drove off toward the street where MuckMan was ravaging the city.
"Hey! MuckMan!" she shouted.
"Raaaar!" the goopy monster responded, waving his sticky, dirty hands in the air above his head.
"It's time for you to take a bath!" BubbleBeam stuck out her hands and shot streams of bubbles at the monster, which was at least three times her size.
It was beautiful and ever so effective.
The bubbles engulfed the mud monster, bringing him falling to his knees in despair. He was shrinking, as the bubbles removed layer upon layer of mud.
BubbleBeam kept shooting until the MuckMan could no longer be referred to that way. Now he just looked like a little mud baby.
Civilians were clapping, and the police stepped in to take MuckBaby into custody.
"We'll keep him in the cleanest jail cell possible where he won't be able to grow anymore," the police said. 'That way our city will be safe."
"Thanks to BubbleBeam," another police office chimed in.
BubbleBeam beamed. She was a real hero after all.

Possibly the most touching and emotionally charged thing I've ever written.

Captain Sparky Pants

Time to write!


Well. If you insist....

Captain Sparky Pants missed the glory days. Truly he did. Used to be that whenever he'd don his suit, children would run up wanting his autograph and the citizens would cheer, for he was their hero. He was the magnificent Captain Sparky Pants.

Of course, it also used to be that his suit was a brilliant shade of blue, and fit him fantastically, his muscles bulging beneath the extra-durable fabric.

But those were the fifties.

Now his suit was a faded, stormy blue, veering on gray, and didn't fit him nearly so well. The only thing bulging beneath the now thinning suit was his belly, and it wasn't something Captain Sparky Pants was proud of.

His only consolation was that once when he'd pull his mask up over his eyes, an effective method of concealing his secret identity- mild-mannered Jim Betrowski- he did so a the peril of covering up his exquisite head of dark, wavy hair. Now his cap covered his bald scalp. That at least was an improvement.

Captain Sparky Pants missed the old days so much that every Wednesday afternoon he'd put on his super suit, even though no one cheered anymore, and the only kids who ran up to him told him he looked ridiculous or kicked him in the shins. He'd put on his suit and he would walk down to Velma's Diner. Velma was gone now, she'd passed away back in 1977, but her daughter ran the place and she always smiled at Captain Sparky pants and passed him a bowl of oranges.

And so there he'd sit, in his super suit, peeling oranges and eating the segments. Feeling the juice squish onto his fingers and the softness of the fruit's flesh between his teeth, he would sit and reminisce, becoming nostalgic in the way that only truly old men who were once truly great can.

He missed the glory days, that was for sure, and he missed Velma, and he missed Barb, and he missed his old sidekick, Nick Thunder Drum, who had grown up and become a cartoonist and a lawyer on the weekends. He'd give anything to have those times and those people back.

TMI

Time to write!

Write about someone with a super power.

The first thing you need to know before we go any further is that being able to read minds is not as cool as you would imagine. Sure, it has it's perks. I mean, who wouldn't like being able to read the teacher's mind to come up with the right answer when they try to call you out for daydreaming during class? And the idea of being able to know what your friends, let alone guys, really think about you seems like this great phenomenon. But really? I hear a lot of crap I really could have gone without knowing. And aside from that, being able to read minds causes seriously killer headaches.

Before we really jump into what my English teacher would call "the meat and potatoes of this storyline" let's skim over the FAQs. Origin story? Gosh. Well I wasn't bit by anything, didn't have anything dumped on me, wasn't caught in some type of freak weather accident. If they made a movie of my origin story, it'd be a pretty dang boring one. It would go like this:

A girl with medium long chestnut brown hair sits up in her bed. She can read minds. She couldn't the night before. She knows, because her mom just stuck her head in to see if she was really getting up and even though her mom smiled and her mouth said, "Please get up now, sweetheart," the words which sounded in the girl's head, in her mother's voice, were, "Get out of bed! How are you going to function in college? And did Dan leave the stove on last night? Something smells funny."

I mean, I'm no film critic, but I can recognize that as a pretty lame story. Hardly any dynamic. The mom character's pretty fun though.

Essentially, I have no idea what happened. I feel like something must have happened. People don't just wake up, suddenly able to read minds. Except for when they do. Those are strange times. The best answer I can get you though is: working on figuring out. Will get back to you.

How long have I been able to read minds? A whole week now, and it just keeps getting even more fun friends. Each day I get to see more and more how sad the human race really is. Know what they say about everyone having a secret that if you knew it, it would break your heart? Well that's true. And that would make me feel really bad for a lot of people, except another truth is that everyone has a little jerk inside them, and the judgments people pass and the lies they feed to each other...it's sickening, folks.

Does anyone know I can read minds? Not yet. I feel like I should tell my mom though. I'm scared though, that if I tell her she'll want to get my tested, or that she'll think I'm just trying to get attention. As for friends...well after hearing what goes on in their heads, I don't really want to tell them anything, let alone something this big.

The truth is, reading minds makes me somehow feel responsible for every bad thought I hear. And there's a lot of bad things. And it's honestly just too much information.