Last prompt for awhile.....

What I’m Reading: Madapple by Christina Meldrum

What I’m working on: Tossing around an idea that was supposed to be a short romance story, but it’s morphing into a YA. The protagonist is clearly a teenager. (Damn it.)

Word count Friday: 297
Word count Saturday: 115
Word count Sunday: 181
Word count today: 398
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Next time, I'll post a regular blog. The prompts have been really good for me. I needed a boost to my creativity. And I got it. I hope I'm ready to tackle some edits and hard-core study of Slayer now. And then.... maybe I'll write this story. It's rough (be warned), but I've been really leaning toward first person lately. And YA. God help me....

Prompt: I did tell one person. God help me. She ….

I did tell one person. God help me. She eventually freaked.

About a year after the bite, I started hearing things – really weird things that I shouldn’t have been able to hear.

There’s nothing like being sixteen and waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of your parents having sex – on the other side of the house.

I could hear it all – every whisper.

“Shh, we don’t want to wake the kids.” Moans, panting, everything.

And then other things got weird. My hands would change. At first I couldn’t control it, but later I could form claws at will. My fingers would shorten and the pads of them widen out. My fingernails would morph into … something not right.

I told Sophie. Of course she didn’t believe me.

We were huddled together in her bedroom and she was excitedly giving me a play by play of how far she went with her boyfriend last night. She was pretty sure they’d do it soon. I was pretty sure, too.

“So, how ‘bout you, Em? Have you kissed Brady yet?” she asked.

“No. He hasn’t even asked me out.”

I knew what she’d say next.

“You could just hook up. It’s great. You don’t have to date him. He looks like he’d be a great kisser.” She eyed me earnestly while she spoke.

I was right. Word for word. Almost.

“Look. Soph. I can’t even think that right now. I’ve got other things going on.”

Immediately she took my hand. “Tell me.”

I hesitated for a long time. She squeezed my hand with a concerned half smile on her face.

“It can’t be that bad. Tell me,” she pleaded.

“Ok. But you can’t tell anyone. Ever. None of it.”

She swore and I believed her, mostly because I had to tell someone.

I slowly pulled my hand away, closed my eyes and focused on changing it.

When I opened my eyes and looked up, Sophie was staring admirably at my clawed hand.

“That is so cool. You have to show me how. Do you know how great that would be for Halloween.” She nearly bounced with excitement.

Of course this would be her reaction. This was the girl who rigged it to look like she’d been beheaded and impaled for costume parties. Of course she’d think it was a trick.

“It’s not a trick. It’s real.”

She huffed back, sinking solidly into the pillows on her bed. “That’s wrong, Em. I share all my tricks with you. You have to tell me how you did it. It’s so cool.”

I immediately changed it back to a normal hand. I’d gotten quite good at it by now. And I didn’t hyperventilate anymore and nearly pass out. I still worried about it, though, about what freaking sort of cancer I must have.

But deep inside, I know. I know it’s because of the bite. I worried quite a bit that maybe I was a werewolf. But if so, then I have to believe in all that stuff – like vampires and faeries and witches … and werewolves. I wasn’t there yet.

Then I heard the giggling and hushed whispers from the far end of the hall – from her brother’s bedroom.

I blushed, but tried to cover it up by asking a question. “Does Vin have a girlfriend?”

“Who would go out with Vin?” Soph thinks her brother is a geek just because he’s president of the chess club. But a lot of girls think he’s still hot. He lifts weights, and chess or no chess, muscles are hot.

“Someone did.” And I tilted my head toward the door, straining to hear. Their murmurs are very soft, and then there is nothing but a quiet rhythmic panting.

Sophie looks at me with squinted eyes, like she’s just witnessed something she doesn’t quite understand.

Good. She shouldn’t understand. I don’t. And I’m the one it’s happening to.

“They’re having sex.” I just blurt it out as I realize what the panting is all about.

Sophie spits on me as she erupts into laughter.

“No way. Not Virginal Vin. No way.” She nearly chokes and laugh-coughs the last word.

But I just smile and nod. “It sounds like they’re having sex.” It sounds they way my parents sound, only Vin sounds a little more enthusiastic.

“No way,” she says again and grabs my hand, hauling me down the hall. She raps hard on Vin’s door. No hesitation. Now, even she can hear the shuffling, like he’s trying to hide something.

Her eyes widen and meet mine. “I bet he’s just smoking pot instead.”

Vin doesn’t smoke pot. I know everyone at school who does. Even when they think they’ve gotten rid of the smell, I still smell it. Another one of my anomalies.

Vin cracks the door just then.

“What!” He yells, red-faced and just a little sweaty.

Now I know I’m right. And I know who it is. I can smell her.

Sophie shoves hard at the door and catches Vin off-balance. He was probably trying to hide the fact that all he’s wearing are athletic shorts. But now we’re in and there’s no mistaking why he didn’t want us in the room. He has a tent in his thin shorts which he tries to hide, unsuccessfully, by crossing his arms in front of him.

At Sophie’s glance towards me, I nod slightly towards Vin’s closet door. I can hear Mary Beth – Mambo Bear, as we cruelly call her – panting behind the door.

In three quick steps, Sophie’s there. Vin tries to stop her, but I lunge into his path and he nearly topples me. Sophie yanks open the door, and there’s Mambo Bear in all her under-weared glory.

“No fucking way.” But Sophie’s not looking at Mambo Bear or Vin. She’s looking at me and then at my hand. And then she goes white.

She’s beginning to understand the truth – my truth. And it isn’t pretty.