How Charming

Note:
Just so all of you know I DID NOT WRITE THIS, my sister did this one too. It's a skit. Once again not wanting to accidently be taking credit for things that aren’t mine. I did edit and help a little, though. Not much, but still... enjoy!

Characters:
Sam
Cinderella
Sleeping Beauty
Charming
Rapunzel
Random customer (Charming, double-cast)

Costumes

Random customer: jeans and the shirt will be under a barber’s bib so he can ware his price shirt
Sam: plain colored t-shirt and jeans black/blue and a black apron with big pockets filled with hair supplies.
Cinderella: large blue princess dress and crown, hair in bun
Sleeping Beauty: not as puffy, pink dress and a small gold triangle in hair
Rapunzel: Large puffy dress of any color
Charming: the classic Disney prince costume, poofy pants, tights underneath (a must), and a tunic with puffy sleeves, plus a cape (also a must)

Set

The skit takes place in the hair salon that Sam works at. There is a large mirror sits up left stage. Just in front of the mirror is a small work table with hair care supplies on it. There are three chairs in center stage, a small table by them on witch to set thing.


(Customer X is in a chair and Sam is behind him doing hair. They are at center stage in a spotlight.)

Customer X: So, Sam, how’s your week been?

Sam: You would not believe what happened yesterday afternoon! (Pause.) You know that one street just past Curry Lane, with all those castles on it?

Customer X: Yeah.

Sam: There are these three major ditzes that live there. So they all came in yesterday, and they were talking (walks away and the spotlight follows and he comes to down left and behind him X is in darkness and taken off stage. Cinderella takes his chair and the other two roll in on their chairs. All are in barber bibs. Meanwhile Sam is in the spotlight)

Sam: Apparently they were all going to get married this weekend. They were all talking about how they met their fiancés. (As Sam walks back to center stage the spotlight fades. The stage is lit. All the girls are talking and giggling.)

Cinderella: I can’t believe we are all getting married on the same weekend! (All giggle.)

Rapunzel: I know! What a coincadink, right? (Sam rolls his eyes.)

Cinderella: I remember the day he proposed. He said the funniest thing!
Rapunzel & Sleeping Beauty: What did he say?

Cinderella: As he was slipping on my shoe—which I had left at the ball, clumsy me—I said, “Does this mean we’re gonna get married?” And he said, “If the shoe fits wear it!” (All giggle.)

Sleeping Beauty: I remember the day my prince came to rescue me! It was my birthday and I had just sat down to do some spinning on my spinning wheel when I fell asleep. You see, I have a terrible case of narcolepsy.

Rapunzel & Cinderella: What’s narcolepsy?

Sleeping Beauty: It’s where you randomly… (Falls asleep and starts snoring loudly.)

Rapunzel: What is narcoripsy, anyway?

Cinderella: I think I read a book on it once. Oh wait, I don’t read! Except magazines, of course. And then I only look at the pictures! Oh my gosh, that Justin Beiber kid!

Rapunzel & Cinderella: So hot! (Giggle.)

Rapunzel: Wait. What were we saying? Oh yeah! What’s narwimsy, Sam?

Sam: .(in an annoyed voice) Narcolepsy. It’s this thing where you randomly fall asleep.

Rapunzel & Cinderella: Oh!

Sleeping Beauty: (Wakes up. Yawns.) Oh. Sorry about that. What was I saying? Oh, yes. When I woke up he was right there staring into my eyes. And we just knew!

Cinderella: Oh, that is so romantic!

Rapunzel: Not as romantic as my rescue! I was sitting in my tower one day, when along comes my prince! “Let down your hair, Punzie!” he said. “Oh, anything for you, baby face!” I said. As they say, the rest is biology.

Sam: History, you mean. The rest is history.

Rapunzel: Right, whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here, to get all that hair cut off. I do think Sam did a rather good job, don’t you? (Looks into a hand held mirror and poofs her hair)

Sleeping Beauty & Cinderella: Fabulous!

Sleeping Beauty: It’s really great, Sam!

Sam: (still annoyed) Thanks.

Cinderella: I am just so excited! I’m picking up my dress after this!
Sleeping Beauty: Really? I’m picking up my flower arrangements. (They giggle and talk randomly about wedding plans. Meanwhile Charming walks in.)

Charming: I’m here for my appointm…(Sees girls. Says, startled:) Oh... (With surprise/ realization) Oh... (With worry)Oh... Psst, Sam, over here! (Sam walks over.) What are they doing here?

Sam: Oh, Charming, we were just talking about you. I told you to come at eleven. Why weren’t you there?

Charming: I tripped and broke a nail! (Sam gives a look.) It was an emergency! But that’s beside the point! What am I going to do?
Sam: They’re your problems, not mine. (Charming walks on stage carefully, hiding behind the work table.)

Cinderella: Charming! It’s you! I’m so looking forward to this weekend! (Winks and blows a kiss.)

Sleeping Beauty: What’s going on this weekend?

Cinderella: (Jumps up and links arms with Charming.) We’re getting married, of course!

Sleeping Beauty: That’s hippopotamus!

Rapunzel: I think she means rhinoceros.

Sam: She means preposterous.

Sleeping Beauty: That’s what I said.

Cinderella: How can you marry all three of us?

Rapunzel: At the same time!? (Pause.)

Sam: He can’t. (The girls scream and cry.)

Cinderella: (Unlinking from Charming) I thought you meant it when you said that I was your only triple-decker cake with frosting on top.

Rapunzel: You called me your only triple-decker cake with frosting on top!
Sleeping Beauty: (Standing up.) I didn’t get any frosting!

Charming: You were…asleep.

Sleeping Beauty: Oh. Oh, good. You had me scared for a minute there.

Rapunzel: But you’re gonna marry me, right?!

Cinderella: Don’t be silly. He’s going to marry me! Everyone knows that I’m the one with the fairy godmother.

Sleeping Beauty: He’ll marry me! I’m the one with the looks!

Rapunzel: I cut off all my hair for you! I better get my reward! (All start crying etc. and start pushing Charming off stage left. Sam hurries and takes the bib things off the girls and is putting stuff away when they are all gone. A spotlight shines on Sam, who walks to down left.)

Sam: I haven’t seen Charming since then. Last I heard, Cinderella got a hold of her fairy godmother and she turned him into a frog. He’s probably sitting in a swamp somewhere trying to catch the eye of another lovely, empty-headed princess. (Walks to middle stage where Customer X is waiting.)

Customer X: That’s pretty crazy.

Sam: Yeah, I know! I’m just wondering what’s gonna happen next week.

Customer X: What do you mean?

Sam: Well, the Mad Hatter is supposed to come in at two on Thursday, and the Queen of Hearts is supposed to be here at three. But you know the Hatter. He’s always late.

Drop Out

I’m waiting.

Usually I’m a good kid. I try to be “mature” for my age, which just means I don’t like the idea of coming off as your typical, temperamental teen. But right now I don’t care. I jam my headphones in and crank the music up way louder than normal. I’m slumping terribly in my chair, glairing off into a corner. I kind of wish it wasn’t summer so I had a hoody, to complete the look. Cause right now I want to do everything I can to post the sign. I want it to be all over me: DANGER! Teenage rebel at work! Because I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want any of these people to think I’m OK with being here, cause I’m not. At all.

And else than that I don’t want any of them to know anything about me.

Watching Out For You

Hello? Police? Hi, my name is Tyler Stockton... Yes, I’d like to report a missing person... Name? Emily Janet Durben... Her hair? It’s blond, a really light blond. Straw colored, I guess you could say. Just past shoulder length and straight. She normally wears it down... Eyes? Brown, kind of a light brown, with green flecks. She’s a little short, slender, and I guess you could say she looks sort of athletic.

Oh. When I last saw her, um, a white t-shirt with "cutie" written on it in light blue. The “I” was dotted with a little heart. And she had on straight legged genes, the dark ones, not the light blue type. And boots. She normally wears white sneakers, but she was wearing brown boots instead, with tan fur at the top. Tan pom-poms too. Actually, I think she had a purple jacket too, but she wasn’t wearing it. She almost never wears jackets.

Hu? Well, she’s at the skating rink a lot, the one by Bethany Park. She has figure skating lessons Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 4:00 to 5:30. Actually, her coach normally lets her go early on Fridays, like at 5:15ish. And then school, of course. She goes to Maple Ridge High. I have her class schedule if you need it… No? You sure? OK.

Um, she’s around her house a lot too, of course. She lives at 764 North, Mayflower Drive. It’s sort of a medium sized house, white with a dark brown roof and a nice lawn and little rosebushes in the—

Oh, right. Yes, of course you’ll be able to find it by the address. Right, sorry.

What?... No! I’m not related to her.

From school, sixth period math. If you’d let me give you her schedule you would’ve known that. She always answers the geometry questions, but she—

Last time I saw her? Yesterday. At 3:33… yeah, right after school.

I really don’t know why her parents haven’t called about her being missing.

What do you mean how do I know?! She wasn’t at school today!

No, she never misses! She has perfect attendance.

No, I don’t think she’s sick. I checked. She wasn’t in her room and the bed was all made and everything, and if you’re sick enough to stay—

Oh. Well, it’s kind of hard because her room is on the second floor. But her neighbors have this great tree. It’s a really easy climb...

Known her? Three months, one week, and four days. I could tell you the hours too, but I figure—

Why would you need to come to my house?... Well, I suppose so, if you think it would help… I live at 769 North, Brickey’s Lane. One street over from her and five houses up.

Yes, alright. See you in a moment then, officer... Yes, thank you, bye.

Seeing Double

I don’t know. I mean, you can’t really understand it unless you’ve experienced it. I even have a hard time really being able pin it down or anything when it’s not going on, like, when I’m not right there in the moment. I guess you might try to compare it to looking in a mirror. And it’s like that, sort of. Only it’s totally different. Sorry. It’s hard to explain.

For one thing it’s not flipped like a mirror. You know, like, where right is left and left is right? Like, if I lift both my right hands at the same time they’re on different sides.

That’s the other thing. That would probably never really happen, not unless you planned it, like said “Raise your right arm, OK? Ready? One, two, three, now!” Because there are two of you. And even though they’re both you, you’re two separate people. Does that make any sense? It’s like you’re looking at yourself and it is you, almost like the you in the mirror, but it’s you facing the other direction, so if a cat runs in back of you or something then one you can’t see it but the other you can, so they react different, because they can see it. The cat, or whatever it is. It’s not like an alter ego or anything. It’s you, like, it looks like you and acts like you and thinks like you, because it is you, but it’s a you in another place reacting to that place, that angle. You just react different, cause you experience different stuff. That’s really all it is. It’s just being in two places at once. Like, for real, literally.

But, the two places at once idea, that almost makes it sound simple; it’s not. It’s weird. Like, way weird; like, have you ever had a conversation with yourself? Like, full on, with body language and listening to your own tone of voice and everything, and maybe even shaking your own hand. Of course you haven’t. Because you can’t really do that without multiplying, without really having your physical self right there, right out in front of you, not just the copy-cat in the mirror. You can only imagine what it’s like, like, to have your thoughts, your feelings, being said to you, and you mostly know what you’re going to say, but sometimes you surprise yourself. You can only imagine it.

Can you? Imagine it?

A Very Short, Slightly Pathetic Explanation of Umbrella Boy

The general idea for umbrella boy came from a role-play game a friend of mine was doing. It was based on a high school for kids with useless super powers called Ocean View High. I absolutely loved the idea and asked her to give me some of the info about it, including the character profiles (I never joined the game, I don’t do role play) and from there I started to put my own spin on the story and some of the characters, including making some of my own. The story my sister wrote obviously takes place before Braden gets to Ocean View, but believe me, you’ll be hearing more about him, as well as other kids at his new school! :)
(BTW, I have an art blog, if you wish to visit!)

I'm Still Here!

This post exists simply for the purpose of actually having a post this week. I haven't had time to work on what I wanted to post next, which is an explanation of Umbrella Boy and the story that he comes from. It's one of my favorites, and I promise it's coming soon.

Just one more thing that I'd like to mention for no good reason: if you haven't read Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians then you aught to, just because it's awesome like that. :)

Behind Closed Door

It had become very quiet in that big, ageing house after everyone had left, and presently Lydia sat in the large, draped bedroom, listening to that pressing silence. She was used to it now. Years of loneliness taught her to be, but that’s not to say that she didn’t, occasionally, hear things, some of which, she had often thought, might be purely imagined. All the same she felt a bit of a kinship with the place, it being almost as old and empty as she was.

She watched the moon hanging outside her window and sighed. Oh, how she missed Henry. It was such a pity that he had died so young.

Several creaking sounds, seeming very loud in contrast to the silence, stirred her from her musings. They sounded familiar, quite a bit like the hallway stairs, she got up to see if a cat, or perhaps a homeless man had somehow crept in, but when she reached the stairs there was nothing. Perhaps it had only been a rat.

Then she heard a shuffling from behind the door at the top. What if it where a burglar? The thought made her nervous. She tried to creep up the dark staircase as quietly a she could, and held on with both hands to the railing.

At length she reached, and, with a shaky hand, reached for the door. The knob was cold against he fingertips, but it did not affect her, she was already a little chilled, and as she turned it she wondered why the thought of her dead husband had just reappeared in her mind.

Umbrella Boy

Note:
I DID NOT WRITE THIS, my sister did, I did sort of help come up with the story, which is part of why I’m posting it. The other reason is that this kid is one of my favorite characters of all time. Sadly, he was completely borrowed, neither me or my sister came up with the original idea of him. We did change him a bit, though. Any-who, the whole reason for this note is that I didn’t want to accidently be taking credit for things that aren’t mine.

Oh, and the reason I did the pictures is that she did it in this really neat format so that it looks like a worksheet or an assignment or something. You’ll have to click on them to make them big enough to read, sorry.







“Tami! He’s here!”

“I’ll be down there in a second mom!”

Tamela walked down the staircase in her light olive green dress. Her hands where covered with elbow length Wight opera gloves. Braden thought she was beautiful. He pushed his fears and nerves away and held out his hand. She took it and they walked out to the waiting car. They drove for a long while till they reached the creek, Then climbed out of the car, and Braden looked to the sky.

“I wish I had an umbrella,” he said quietly but cheerfully.

Clouds rolled away to reveal a silver moon. A huge black umbrella flew from the moon towards them. He caught it in mid air and popped it open, then set the umbrella upside down on the water, handle up. It looked like a strange cane floating above the surface.

“Shall we?” He asked. Tami grinned as Braden stepped onto the slick surface of the umbrella. He held out his hand and helped her step onto it with him. They sat and Braden shoved off the bay with his foot. The two sailed in their umbrella-boat under an arch of trees. As they passed under the dormant branches they exploded into pink blossoms, leaving a magical trail behind them.

Other stars

Sometimes it happens, always when the sky is darkened to a deep blue-black, and a star touches the earth. I breath in the fairy dust it leaves behind, and save it in my heart. It is almost time. We are almost there. As for those of us who wait, we are ready.

And the night reaches dawn.

Baby Kitties

Mommy says
We are going to my neighbor’s house
To see new baby kitties.
The wheels on my trike
Make funny noises against
My neighbor’s rocky driveway.
Then I go in with my mommy
And there’s a paper box
With funny noises coming from it.
They sound squeaky
Like my bath toys.
I walk over to see inside
And there is pink and white and grey
Roly poly things all next to
The most cutest kitty ever
And I say, “What are these?”
And stick my finger out at them.
“Those are the baby kitties,”
Says Mommy.
I feel a tickle in my insides
And laugh.
“Those aren’t kitties,”
I says,
“No fur!”
“They are too little to have much fur,”
Says Mommy.
I poke one and it is soft
Like our new baby brother
And the mommy cat is mad so I
Poke a different one
And the mommy cat is mad
So I almost poke her
But my mommy says to stop
And I am good
So I stop.
When we leave
I ask Mommy when the babies
Will turn into kitties.
Mommy says in
Some days
and maybe
I will have one of them.

Online

I definitely am a gamer, but I never play at school, anything computer there is painful. To many people, to many eyes. I can’t get away with anything. Even typing’s bad there. It’s not like I didn’t learn, I had to at one point, but it’s been so long now all I can do is hunt and peck. It makes me feel like an idiot. Here’s this computer genius, this total geek, typing slower than your typical third grader.

But then I think of when I was first learning to type the way I really do, and how all my thoughts used to spill out onto the page. I’ve got all that down now, all tamed with practice, and now I only dump words down like that when I actually want to, like if I’m getting a really amazing idea, or when I just need to brainstorm. Then I reach into my pocket and settle my hand against my iPhone. Touch screens are incredibly easy to penetrate and work with, it gives me great control. I find the notes app without really thinking and start letting it flow. All I have to do is keep my hand in my pocket against my partner in crime, and everything else for that matter, because when I touch anything with computer chips and circuits, even if it’s not a touch screen, I’m in complete control. Unless, of course, I get a little to...absorbed.

Petty Remarks

My pet is doing her strange ritual again. She does it every sunrise. I have not yet ventured to understand it, and I decide, for lack of anything better to do, to study it today. She is doing something with her bit of mane. Is she grooming it perhaps? It is such a small patch of fur, it doesn’t seem much worth the bother of grooming; but, I suppose, it’s all she has. I often pity my pets for the lack of pelt.

She is using something long and flat and, on a wider end of it stick things protrude from the surface. It looks rather painful. Perhaps she is doing a form of penance for her wrongdoings. No, not every sunrise and she is not intelligent enough to think to do so anyhow. I remain with my former hypothesis of grooming.

She pulls the thing through her mane in repeated up and downward motions. As she makes these motions she recites sounds from their primitive language. The sounds are familiar ones but they are not any of the few words I have been able to learn such as food, no, goodcat, and badcat. “Won, too, three, for” she says. She continues for a very long time then ends with “wonhundred” and puts the pointy tool down, stops staring into the shiny, rectangular dish of still water that is mounted on the wall, and turns to me.

“Wont sum food, Oreo?” I am not entirely sure what she means to say, but I hear “food” and my name (or “Oreo”, what they think is my name) and I kindly show her to the place I store my food. I watch her as she serves me. My pets are so ignorant, but they serve me well. I suppose I shall keep them in spite of their strange habits.

Rain Dance

Large round droplets tap against the windowpane, and tiptoe over the lawn like black cat’s feet. The air is sweet with the smell of earth and sky as the dripping creates visible music in the puddles.

A longhaired girl dances through the miniature ponds and towering trees. Bliss rushes into her open heart below the weeping heavens.

Living Hearts

March 7th, 2803. That was the date, memorized in school. The date that had meant that everyone was independent. Perfectly free to their own life. No one had a soul in the world to take care of…or to take care of them. No one carried anyone else’s burdens. All were singly powerful.

It had taken years, even decades to achieve. Wasted years, Kimberly thought to herself. They first had to secure a way to make life a thing without end, therefore creating no need for a new generation that would have been dependent on others until they grew. The existing generation must also be kept from a knowledge of their relatives and, until they were old enough to fend for themselves, were taken care of by an entirely new person everyday (so as not to create an attachment).

Having friends was forbidden. A harsh word she thought. But she had not heeded it.

She let herself drift back then, and tryed to wrap herself in the warm feeling that Onna had called love. Onna, she smiled, her friend. No, Her…Mother. The word was astonishingly deep and cozily comforting. Quietly she touched her cheek, where the mark lay. The red mark that the government had tried to take away. The only thing that let them know, because Onna had remembered it from giving birth to her. She recalled the last meeting she had had with Onna. Before Kimberly had hid, before they had taken Onna away. She was not killed, of course, they couldn’t afford to kill anyone; but taken far, far from here. In that meeting she had touched her cheek gently, as Kimberly herself was doing now, and she spoke, with tears in her eyes.

“I love you, my child,” she had said, “My child.” And they had embraced.

“I love you, too!” Kimberly whimpered into the warm shoulder that was becoming damp.

A tear rolled down her cheek now, in reverent remembrance of the others she had shed. How had they let it come to this?

They both had known that their plan must go through. They must break free of the chains that held them. They must teach others to love.

Now and Then

We have just put the children to bed, and now we sit watching a TV show that neither of us cares about, with the volume down low just like the lights. Suddenly he turns to me.

“Do you believe in chance?” He asks, eyes sparkling with active thoughts, and my mind is pulled back a few years to the day we met.

My life was in danger of becoming boring, and I felt the need to wake myself up from the sleep walk of routine, so I picked a new place for lunch. It was a small sandwich shop that I assumed was good, since it was always fairly busy.

Today it was even more packed than usual, but I decided that the crowd would be good for me. I soon found that it was so occupied that many who wished to stay to eat were force out of their comfort zone to sit by a stranger. Today I was comfortable with that. It didn’t take long for a dark haired boy with a permanent grin to appear to share my table. As we ate we talked, because he was the talking sort, and made a handful of discoveries about each other and finding the common thread of a love for the mandolin.

By the time the lunch hour was over we had exchanged numbers and promised to look into having a jam session with each other. The fact that we actually remembered to follow through a few weeks later was half a miracle.

And now I am back on the couch, looking at him, the screen reflecting on our faces. Do you believe in chance?

“No,” I say.

He smiles.

Consolation Prize

A letter. Wednesday cookies, Thursday flowers, yesterday a teddy bear, and today a letter. I’m glad my husband is not home to make things unsettling. I don’t blame him for being a little suspicious, but the truth is I have no idea what’s going on either. These seemingly ownerless gifts keep appearing on our doorstep addressed to me. I suppose it is a kind gesture, which is most of why I am sitting at the table opening the little powder blue envelope. The rest is curiosity. It is a card; it says “Thinking of you” on the front with a soft watercolor illustration of hearts and flowers. I open it in search of an explanation. It gives me one. In neat, unfamiliar, cursive handwriting is written “Sorry about your loss.” My mind races.

I snatch the envelope off the table and search it again for a return address; the only one I find is my own written beneath “To Sophie Headweather” all in that same careful hand. I begin to look for more clues. I find that the brand on the card is an unfamiliar one and, being desperate, I look it up. It turns out to be a useful clue. It is a family business that exists only in one little town on the east coast. I then turn to my address book, but it tells me that I know no one near the place. Still inflamed with curiosity and worry I search for the latest of the obituaries in that town’s newspaper. I stop on one belonging to a girl who is the spitting image of a picture I’d seen of my mother before she was married. As well as owning mother’s face she owns her maiden name...

Worth Beans

“It worries me to death, Albert. It really does,” Mrs. Taylor said. She twisted her apron, nervously in her white hands before going back to cooking.

“There, there,” Albert Taylor attempted to calm his wife. “He’s a smart boy, and old enough to take care of himself.”

“I know, but…” her voiced trailed off.

“Now see here, Edith! He’s not your little baby anymore, like I say, he’s older now.”

Mrs. Taylor let out a melancholy sigh as her husband proceeded to smoke his pipe. A chilled silence filled the room. Finally she spun round.

“Oh, Albert, what if something happens? We haven’t got a thing to our name ‘cept our son, and what if – what if we lose him too? Why couldn’t you ‘a gone?”

Albert gave her a stern look from where he sat, leg propped on a nearby table, and took his pipe out of his mouth.

“For the same reason I can’t work! There’s nothin’ I can do about my leg, and believe me if there was I would do it in a second and go up to sell the cow myself. It’s a short trip and he’ll be home by mornin’ so stop fussing!” he put the pipe back in his mouth and puffed it angrily.

The night went on as such until the couple wore each other out enough to sleep and finally morning came.

Mrs. Taylor had gotten up to prepare breakfast but was unpleasantly surprised to find the cornmeal almost gone. She had known that this day would come soon, but found it hard to believe that it was actually here.

When her husband found her sitting at an empty table he know what had happened. Slowly he moved towards her and put his hand on her drooping shoulder.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, trying to sooth her. “When Jack gets home we will have the money and we’ll buy some more. We’ll be fine.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

Then the rumbling noises of a nearing wagon shook both of them from the melancholy state in which they were. Thoughts of their returning son flooded their minds and hushed their stomachs as they ran toward the door and flung it open.

The Entrance

The small room feels black and empty after you turn out the lights, but they are standing somewhere nearby in the darkness and reassure you that it won’t be dark for long.

They’ve been telling you other things too, but you still don’t understand why they brought you here, or what you are supposed to be doing. They say that it will be well worth your time, and you believe them because they’re your friends, and they are good people.

There is the buzz of a zippered bag and something that sounds hollow and metallic is placed on the floor. Some scuffles, then, all at once, the middle of the empty room is set ablaze. You have to squint to see anything near the long, blue column of light, but it is very localized and lets the corners of the room remain black. The light pulses quietly and its glow makes everyone’s skin look pail and slightly alien. You are about to ask some of the many questions that are flooding into your mind when Kenny steps forward and proceeds to walk through the shaft. Only, he doesn’t come out the other side.

Others go as well, and all of them disappear. They soon command you to follow the others and will not listen to your panicked protests. They try to remind you of the trust you’ve had in them, and promise that it’s nothing harmful. You hardly see their faces, your eyes are fixed on the light, and as you stare into it a strange thing happens. A feeling of persisting curiosity begins to prod you and though a part of you protests you are overwhelmingly intrigued with the dazzling glow. Your friends plead with you one last time to “just try it”.

Against your better judgment you step through.

Explanation:

Hello, and welcome to Portal Space-ways, the fastest transportation network in the universe.

O.K. here’s how it works: the boring grey titles, such as the lovely example featured above (picture Vana White doing her thing) are the ones under which I ramble about writing and the weird theories I come up and what have you. The pretty blue ones, on the other hand, are the "portals", AKA what this blog is actually supposed to be about. They’re short excerpts that aren’t necessarily guaranteed a beginning, middle, or ending, in fact some will simply be descriptions of places, societies, or characters. The general idea is that you’re popping in and out of portals at random (hence the name), simply catching little glimpses of things. And for those of you who like completed stuff you will get that sometimes, so don’t get in a huff right off.

Alright. We are about ready to take off now, so we would ask you o please fasten your seatbelts. We know you have a choice when you travel, and want to thank you for choosing Portal Space-ways. Hope you enjoy your trip!