Mae Admin replied

654 weeks ago

[[Since I'll be judging, my entries won't count towards the contest.]]


Wednesday Mornings

“… I can’t find my bag..!”

“Did you check under the kitchen table?”

Sophia blinked, then dashed out of her room and slid across the linoleum kitchen floor, dropping to her knees to peer under the table. Just like her sister had suggested, her book bag lay on one of the chairs. She grabbed it with a sigh and crammed her homework into the back pocket.

“… Sophe..!” Ms. Sant, the school nurse and Sophia’s older sister, stopped as she exited the hallway and stared at Sophia. “We have to leave in two minutes, and you’re still not dressed!”

“What do you mean?” Sophia looked down at her clothes. Baggy grey hoodie over a green tanktop, tastefully-ripped-at-the-knee carpenter-style jeans with green-and-white striped tights underneath and a pair of well-worn hiking boots, there was no way she could’ve been mistaken for still being in her pajamas. “Sis, you feeling okay?”

Ms. Sant sighed as she smoothed the front of her chocolate-brown knee-length pencil skirt and adjusted the collar of her cream coloured blouse. “One day, I’d like to wake up and see you wearing something that doesn’t look like I make you rummage through dumpsters for your clothes… But that’s beside the point. Today is Wednesday.”

Sophia blinked and then groaned as she spun and ran for her room. She hated uniform days.
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When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.

"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."

Mae Admin replied

645 weeks ago

Lunchtime Woes

Sophia winced as she stopped in front of the door to the music room; it seemed Mr. Sant, her older brother, was holding voice trials for the school musical (which he had yet to formally propose to the administration, and in his mind was going to be on stage in just another two weeks) during lunch period… and the current applicant wasn’t doing very well. She knew that opening that door would get her involved in a project that she had no interest in, but at the same time she had a duty to perform. Her brother had (as usual) left his lunch in the Teacher’s Lounge. Normally, her sister would bring it to him (a request from his wife; her brother was absent minded to the point that he would forget meals unless placed directly in front of him), but an emergency had pulled her away. Which meant it fell to Sophia to take care of it.

“—again, from the beginning.” Mr. Sant looked up as the door opened and blinked. “Sophe? What brings you here?”

Sophia ducked her head as she hurried to the front of the room and handed her brother his lunch. “You forgot this. Again.”

“Oh.” Mr. Sant took the bag and plopped it on the upright of the piano. “Sophe, while you’re here, why don’t you give the boys a demonstration? They’re trying for the part of the Revolutionary Leader.”

Crap. “… That’s a tenor role, Mr. Sant.” Sophia was always careful to address her brother formally during school hours, despite his irritating habit of using her pet name in front of her classmates. “I’m a mezzo.”

“I’m looking for the emotion behind the role, so sing at whatever range you’re comfortable with. Go ahead: ‘Lamarque is dead,’…” Mr. Sant pulled out his sandwich and started eating.

Sophia stared at him for a minute, then sighed and squared her shoulders. She couldn’t be disrespectful during school hours, but once school ended there would be a very nasty phone call. She ran a few quick practice scales, and then opened her mouth. “Lamarque is dead/Lamarque! His death is the hour of fate/The people’s man…”

Mr. Sant smiled around his apple. Between bites, he put the boys up against Sophia by using her familiarity with the musical. Since the idea of the musical had popped in his head the week before and he announced it to the students, in a rare moment of attentiveness he had noticed that Sophia had been skipping classes. He didn’t quite understand why; she, their sister, and he had done the show years ago as children in a community theater. Sophia had wanted the role of the Waif, but she had been far too young and been cast as the Revolutionary Child. He had been a Revolutionary Student, and their sister had landed the role of the Redeemed Criminal’s Daughter. He had expected Sophia to be excited about the announcement and immediately apply for the role she once wanted, not… this avoidance.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. As the students quickly packed up, Mr. Sant waved a hand. “Tomorrow, I’ll be holding trials for the Love-Struck Man. It’s a similar vocal range, you’re all welcome to try out for that as well. Sophe, I’ll need you back here as well for that; I need someone to sing the Waif’s part.”

Sophia stared at Mr. Sant for a minute, then stomped out of the room. She had only gotten a handful of strides down the corridor when Ms. Sant stopped her.

“… I thought I asked you to bring him his lunch…” Ms. Sant jerked her head back towards the classroom and held up a paper bag.

“I did.” Sophia muttered.

“Then why is his lunch is still in my offi…” Ms. Sant stopped, opened the bag, and then sighed when she recognized Sophia’s typical lunch choices. “Of –course- he kept you. Go eat in my office, and I’ll give you a pass back to class when you’re done.”
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
When the hero enters to kill me, I will ask him to first explain to my grandchild why it is necessary to kill her beloved grandma. When the hero launches into an explanation of morality way over her head, that will be her cue to pull the lever and send him into the pit of crocodiles. After all, small children like crocodiles almost as much as Evil Overlords and it's important to spend quality time with the grandkids.

"How hard did you hit him?"
"Quite hard, actually. For some reason he irritated me." They stared back to where the Grolim lay.
"You're getting to be more like Belgarath every day," Silk told him. "You do more damage out of simple irritation than most men can do in a towering rage."
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