#exquisite corpse fya

[cifya]

Prom: the final frontier.

Prom: the final frontier.

This year it was actually going to happen. This year I was finally going to conquer my fear and participate in something most of my friends thought was fun. I couldn’t begin to understand how something so anxiety inducing could be fun, but then again, they didn’t have my problems, so I guess it was understandable. The thought of it actually turned my stomach, but I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t go to prom this year, I might end up dead. Literally.

The reason I’m so opposed to prom dates back many years ago in my preadolescence. For now, living in this small town for so long has really started to get to me. It feels like the world is caving in on itself, and the bubble is about to burst. Prom is only one of the ridiculous traditions that is of the highest importance here, and my group of friends, though not exactly the most popular crew, fully expected each of us to pair off and attend the social function together. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about finding a date.

At least, that’s what I thought. My date-to-be, Cam, came down with the chicken pox three days before the dance, so he’ll be staying at home on Saturday night with oven mitts taped to his hands. (Side note: Who in the hell gets chicken pox at age seventeen??) Naturally, the town crier sent up the alarm: “HEAR YE, HEAR YE! MARIA ESPOSITO SEEKS HER PRINCE CHARMING FOR THE BALL!” At least that’s what happened in my head. In reality, the town crier was my best friend Emily posting a message on Facebook that sounded a little too much like a Craigslist Casual Encounters ad. I begged her not to click “Post,” not to destroy what dignity I had left, but as with all best friends, there was no convincing her otherwise. But to my amazement, it worked. Within minutes, I had a new prom date. If only I had known that it was Tony de Luca, son of Italian mob boss, Dominic de Luca.

@cltfya you’re up!

[fyavanwa]

I’d known that this tryout was going to be hard, but I had no idea it would be impossible. I mean, basically impossible. I’d spent all summer training, focusing on my reaction speeds just like EJ warned, only to show up and find out that everything had changed. Like, CHANGED. Overnight.

My big competition for goalkeeper, Taylor, got bit this summer, the night of the Fourth of July. She and her brothers were lighting illegal fireworks out on the basketball court, late, after everyone had gone home from the city-sponsored show, and when the cops showed up she ran blindly into the woods toward the park, and that’s where it happened. I didn’t find out until I showed up at tryouts, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have come, or I would have went out, maybe, for volleyball instead. Because if you’ve seen Teen Wolf (and who hasn’t) you know that no one can beat a werewolf on a court or a field. No one. I looked like an idiot out there.

You’re up @vancityfya

[lrfya]

If you want to find out where Benedict put the cloak...

Things calmed down a lot after that night. There were no more reports of werewolves kidnapping people. In fact, some weird stories began to surface about vigilante werewolves: showing up and saving younger kids from bullies, tackling burglars and returning stolen belongings to grateful families, that kind of thing. Maybe Dacey had turned over a new leaf. Emily didn’t seem to think so, but I didn’t see her as often now because I was spending a lot of time with Diana. Once Diana had her brother back and we had more time to actually get to know each other, she turned out to be a really incredible person. After a few months of skirting around the issue, I finally got the courage to ask her out. I took her to this wild lesbian rave. Just kidding. It was your typical high school date: dinner and a movie and home by ten. I insisted on walking her to her door when I dropped her off. “That was more fun than I expected!” she beamed. “I’m happy that I get the benefit of your low expectations.” I was trying too hard to be funny. She was smiling at me, and it felt so good to see her happy. Of course, then I managed to ruin it. I leaned in to kiss her on the forehead, but at the same time she leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. We bumped faces awkwardly and I panicked and decided to SHAKE HER HAND. What is even wrong with me? She gave me a puzzled look, but then we both laughed. “I’ll see you at school on Monday,” I said, and turned to walk back to my car. As I turned, I thought I saw her wink at me, but I wasn’t going to risk another giant awkward failure by turning back around. As I made my way down the sidewalk, I was feeling ok about the date. The handshake was … pretty awful. But then she maybe winked, right? I can recover from that. Should I text her when I get home tonight? Normally I’d text her, but maybe I shouldn’t? I was too lost in my hopeful speculation to even see it coming. I slammed into the ground and felt a rough cloth slip over my head. I was too scared to yell, but the arms holding me down were covered with coarse fur. Shit. “Look what do you want? I don’t know where the cloak is!” Was it possible Dacey was still after that stupid cloak? I felt them--at least three of them?--shove me into a car and pile in after me, still holding my arms. A few second later the motor started. “Hello?” No one answered me. None of them have said a word. I was in no position to fight back, so all I could do it wait and see where they were taking me, and try not to freak out. My shoulder was sore from where it hit the pavement, but they hadn’t really tried to hurt me. Yet. They drove for less than five minutes before we stopped. I was trying to pay attention to as many details as I could, but this stupid bag was still on my head. They pulled me out of the car. I planted my feet, hoping one more time that I might get some answers. “Look, just tell me where we’re going? I don’t have anything you want. What could Dacey possibly want with me?” Suddenly I heard a low snarl that seeped into a deep, breathless laugh. “Where have you been?” one of them finally said. “We don’t answer to Dacey anymore. I would think that’s obvious.” What the actual heck? I mean, I guess it would explain the recent spate of good deeds. But kidnapping me was most definitely NOT a good deed. None of this made sense, but just as I was about to ask another probably dumb question, one of them pushed me in the back and I stumbled forward. “Get moving. The boss demanded to see you and we’ll be in trouble if we waste any more time.” As they led me forward, I heard what sounded like a massive door swinging open. I could tell we were no longer outside when the wind stopped making the bag on my head smack into my face. Inside wherever we were, I could hear breathing from all sides of me. There must have been hundreds of them. I got scared all over again. Finally we stopped walking. “We brought her, unharmed just like you said.” One of my captors was apparently reporting to the boss, whoever that was. “Good. I may change my mind later, but right now I just want to ask her a few questions. You know how protective I can be of my family.” And whatever I expected the boss to sound like? This was NOT it. It sounded… well, it sounded a LOT like Diana. But that was impossible! I was wrestling with that quandary when I felt them yank the bag off my head. It took me a second to realize I had my eyes closed, and then another few seconds to adjust to the light once I opened them. I was in an enormous cave, and I couldn’t even count the number of werewolves but suffice it to say there were roughly a bajillion. At the front of the room, commanding everyone’s attention, was a small figure sitting on a… I mean, I guess it was a throne? It was a big chair. As my eyes began to focus, I could finally see the person sitting in that big chair. It was a boy, no more than 11 years old, wearing a bright red hooded cape. He was the only one in the room who wasn’t a werewolf. I gasped, “Benedict?”

[avlfya]

Prom: the final frontier.

Prom: the final frontier.

This year it was actually going to happen. This year I was finally going to conquer my fear and participate in something most of my friends thought was fun. I couldn’t begin to understand how something so anxiety inducing could be fun, but then again, they didn’t have my problems, so I guess it was understandable. The thought of it actually turned my stomach, but I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t go to prom this year, I might end up dead. Literally.

The reason I’m so opposed to prom dates back many years ago in my preadolescence. For now, living in this small town for so long has really started to get to me. It feels like the world is caving in on itself, and the bubble is about to burst. Prom is only one of the ridiculous traditions that is of the highest importance here, and my group of friends, though not exactly the most popular crew, fully expected each of us to pair off and attend the social function together. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about finding a date.

@cifya you're up!