Writing Prompt: Day 165

165.jpgDay 165 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a party.

Erin: I looked over to the corner the bar and saw the last person I expected. “What are you doing over here birthday girl?”

“I don’t feel well,” she grumbled.

“Did you drink too much honey?” I stooped down and rubbed her back.

“No,” she nearly spat at me. “I don’t want to be 30.”

“Why not,” I cautiously asked.

“This is basically a party for the end of my life,” tears started to pour from her eyes.

“No, it’s not,” I took the drink from her hand. “You’ve got so much life left.”

“Yeah, but the parts that determine my future are over. I’m never going to have my dream job, I’m never going to have a family and I am never going to get out of this dang town.”

“Your only one day wiser and farther than you were yesterday girl, and you have so many happy surprises ahead of you,” I encouraged but she just continued to cry. “You want a margarita,” I offered and she immediately perked up.

Shannon: Each of the rooms was lit up with the soft glow black lights, illuminating the neon paint designs on everyone’s skin. They’d only invited artist, so each design was beautifully executed. Everyone was a dancing, breathing art piece and I was captivated by the whole scene. Everyone had become their art, and isn’t that all we ever wanted, even if it was only for a night?

Give your character a chance to party.

2 thoughts on “Writing Prompt: Day 165

  1. “Party tonight only!” read the screen, the incessant blinking finally ceasing as I opened the message. The text was sent to a group including the entire school, apparently, but it didn’t specify where or when the party was actually going to take place; it had been sent an hour ago so I assumed it was accidentally sent to me. Turning off the screen to help me concentrate, I began flicking absently through my textbook as I watched an odd light dancing across the words. When I’d read through the same two passages four times without understanding anything more about criminal law, I slammed the book shut, rustling the droopy leaves of one of possibly a hundred plants scattered about the enormous library. I sighed heavily and rested my aching head on the thick tome for a short nap, but I was feeling about to drift off to peaceful, weekend dreamland when the vibrating of my phone shattered the fog of sleep.
    Grumbling nonsensically, I lifted the annoying device and clicked it on again to read the text. “Student lounge at nine pm. Doors close at ten, but the party don’t stop til the sun comes up!” The strange words shimmered in my eyes like stars, confounding and indecipherable, as the sudden daze faded away. As the realization dawned that the invitation was to some real event planned for the first Friday of the term, I laughed out loud and ignored the text completely. Who would attend an all-night party not a week into classes?
    As I pulled out a notebook from my jam-packed backpack and spread it open to the schoolwork I was supposed to be working on, a small cluster of giggling girls strutted past murmuring excitedly. When I opened my textbook again one of the students glanced down at the dry reading material, muttering something derogatory under her breath. Studiously ignoring their superior tone, I tapped my pencil rhythmically against the pages of the book and attempted to digest the words. The phone buzzed again, followed immediately by the cluster continuing on in hushed voices as they, too, received a text.
    It took me a moment to realize one of the girls, a freshman without much in way of intelligence, was staring intently at the blaring light on my phone. Irritated with her attention, I checked to make sure the message was from the same unknown number before I felt warm fingers encircle my wrist lightly. Glancing at me with a rosy blush spreading across her face, she smiled and asked, “You’re going to the party, right?” Without appearing to see the poisonous look her friends were giving her, she continued nervously, “’Cause I have a class with you on writing essays and stuff so I figured you’ve gotta be pretty smart. And, I mean, if you’re good with going to a party this early in the term it can’t be that bad an idea, right?” Acting as though we were the best of friends, she took up the seat across from me and pulled out a pristine notebook with some little heart doodles in the corners. “How about we get some of that essay prep done before we go? That way we don’t have to do it after we’ve had fun.” With a sickly-sweet smile, she waved off her real friends and cracked open the book with a look of deep-rooted triumph in her eyes.

    In the short time I’d been at the university, never once had I seen, or heard mention of, a student lounge in any capacity. It was immediately clear that the girl who was sitting across from me, by name of Diane, hadn’t been to this mythical place, but was very eager to find it. I suppose it was beginning of class delusions, but my curiosity over powered my need to stay ahead of the came in my courses; I helped Diane start her essay preparation, which wasn’t an easy task, and we split up to get changed. Cringing as I typed my cell number into her phone, I bid Diane a short goodbye and trekked back to my dorm room having decided to blow off the party in exchange for a good night’s sleep.
    When I opened my door after much jiggling of incorrect keys, I found my roommate trying on different dresses in the smudged mirror, frowning at her appearance. “I can remember every detail of every piece of clothing I’ve ever owned, but I can’t think what I should wear to this thing,” Cari whined, staring at the vibrant shade of scarlet that made her eyes sparkle like embers in the dark. Dropping my bag heavily on the bed and flopping down beside it, I groaned when my phone dinged from the depths of the waterproof, synthetic carrier. Cari, laughing darkly at my annoyance, mocked, “Well, student I’ve already told I’d go, I don’t really feel like prying myself off the bed to attend a party I’m likely to hate. Instead,” she continued in a squeaky voice, “I’m going to do some more of my schoolwork, then get a good night’s sleep so I can do more schoolwork-” she cut off suddenly as a frost-tinged pillow hit her in the face. Devolving into a puddle of hysterical laughter, she attempted to throw the cushion back at me, but missed in her current state.
    “Yeah, yeah, Cari, at least I’m not going to be up all night and ruin my second week of classes,” I replied, pulling the metal clips out of my hair and coiling a glossy strand around my finger absentmindedly. “You know,” I began in an amused voice, “I didn’t even give the school my cell number. When they asked, I just gave them my landline at home; I don’t like people having my personal phone number.” Having finished with one menial little curl, I sat up and threw the clips, tiny pencils carved into the tough metal, on my desk with perfect precision.
    Suddenly, the spunky red-haired girl was wrapped in a multi-coloured dress that flared about her hips and fell right to the floor, draping over her open-toed shoes. She looked like a vengeful demon out for blood as she fixed the deep eyeshadow about her eyes and plucked gently at the edge of her braided hair. When she noticed my intent gaze, a vibrant flush ran across her freckles, drowning them in colour. “Take a picture, why don’t ya’?” she called over her shoulder as she fumbled around in search of something that was clearly important. After a minute, she glanced back with worry lines creasing around her dangerous eyes, “Okay, have you seen my phone?”
    With a shrug, I bounced off the bed, golden waves falling into my eyes, and helped with the search; there was still a sliver of me that longed to let my hair down, just not literally. “Aha!” I shouted triumphantly, pulling a shiny black case containing one cell phone out from under a small mountain of dirty shirts. “Alright, I guess I’ll go to this party thing. Just gi’mme a minute to find something decent to wear,” I shouted back to Cari, already shifting neatly-folded dresses around on my pristine shelves and yanking a silver number that reminded my parents of a high-class lawyer. After a quick glance at the disapproving look on my roommate’s stunning face, I put it back and brought out a backless shirt that shivered when I moved and received an enthusiastic thumbs up.

    We stood outside the largest dorm building along with twenty or so other students, all glancing around nervously and texting their late friends. Apart from Cari, who had fire coursing through her veins, I seemed to be the only one comfortable in the dewy wind. Sending spirts of ice through my body, I dropped my body temperature to meet the air and felt perfectly at ease in the revealing party clothing. After a few minutes some vaguely familiar faces showed up, clustering around in the tight-knit group before they vanished before our very eyes.
    Several horrified shouts followed the sudden disappearances as our number dwindled dangerously; there were only a few people left by the time something touched my shoulder and the world went blank as the inside of a block of ice. Stifling my scream, I blinked furiously as reality began to shift back into focus in the form of a loud group of people dancing to a thundering bass beat. There were flashing lights in every colour imaginable flaring up around the surprisingly cavernous room. I glanced around for the culprit of the party trick just in time to see Cari appear beside me with a tall gentleman blowing on his burnt fingers; evidently she’d burned him in the process.
    Bopping her head with the contagious beat, Cari took my hand and led me away from the glaring man and into the throngs of partygoers who were oblivious to the world outside the room. Everyone on the entire island could probably hear the enormous racket and we’d be shut down soon anyway. I decided to take that stance, reminding myself I should have fun before the cops showed up, and let myself be led around to where drinks were served in reflective containers with light-emitting ice cubes and swirling straws. While Cari ordered us a couple simple shots, I glanced around at the room.
    Stairs rose from amid the dancers on either side of the bar with a second level full of writhing students and even more neon lights. Above our heads was a series of glass panels that made up a huge skylight I couldn’t remember seeing anywhere on campus. Moonlight fell through it, but was overwhelmed by the unnatural lighting and dance music vibrated the glass to a dangerous degree. Random beams and posts were set into the floor, ceiling and walls to create a kind of labyrinth in the air that the sound and light could bounce off of.
    Tapping me on the shoulder, Cari shoved a small glass of shimmering, silvery liquid that had the appearance of mercury into my icy fingers and smiled warmly. “On the house. It’s apparently their specialty; everyone’s supposed to try it,” she shouted over the din, sniffing the liquid lightly and shrugging at me. She raised her eyebrows and drained the whole thing in one go, tilting her head back and scrunching up her face. After a minute, she laughed, “Bottom’s up, Lynn!”
    I watched her eyes for a minute, making sure nothing was happening with the pupils, before taking a tiny sip of the strange liquid. Slipping down my throat was liquid ice mixed with the essence of fire and a bit of crumbled up orange shards for good measure. Quickly tipping the rest across my tongue, I shook out my head and let my hair down. If I was going to attend one party this year, I suppose I’d better make it count. “That was really good!” I yelled in Cari’s ear, turning around to see if I recognized anyone else in the crowded room.
    As I watched the guy who’d brought us through shifting through the waving crowd, my head felt light and dizzy for a moment before becoming clear again. I was about to ask Cari if she’d felt anything funny when the music cut out and the lights flickered off, setting the room into a terrible panic, while I gripped my roommate’s arm with icy talons. Suddenly there was a tiny light beside me, casting strange shadows on the slowly-shifting crowd as everyone noticed the flames held in the bare hands of a few fellow students. I stared at Cari with astonishment, but her expression was completely blank, as though she wasn’t in control of her emotions.
    “Hello everyone and welcome to the party! Just needed to get your attention,” in a high, booming voice, a girl in a gauzy dress that made her seem as ghostly as an apparition on the second floor captured everyone’s attention, laughing in the stunned silence. Clearing her throat, she hopped lightly onto the thin railing and walked across it with spectacular grace before remembering she had a captive audience that was beginning to shift around nervously. “I am Mira and I have the ability to be very persuasive,” she explained, still balancing on the handrail, “but sometimes I need a bit of help. See, my friends and I have some tough plans to make happen and we need some of your help. Some of you, the ones who aren’t affected by the spell that is, will be allowed to return to your dorm rooms presently with no memory of your experience.” Deafening silence met the strange woman before there was a bustling crowd rushing toward the doors between statues of students scattered about the room. Perhaps twenty people made for the door and were gone before I could blink; they must be the normal people. “Ah! Brilliant. Now begins the fun part.”


  2. (I started writing, aiming to write short, then my fingers slipped and this became of it.)

    Once the ship was at a safe distance and on its way to Earth, King Thor decided to have a celebration, to commemorate the victory and a send off for Heather. Heather is present for the declaration. She asks Thor how she’ll get home when the assembly is dismissed.
    “Lady Heather,” Heimdall says, “I cannot use my power to bring the entire ship to Midgard, but I can to send one person.” Heather is in shock for a moment, then smiles widely. She hesitates to hug Heimdall, but he opens his arms anyway. She hugs him close, then looks at Hulk.
    “What about Hulk?”
    Hulk looks at her, “Hulk stay. Like space ship. …Earth don’t like Hulk.”
    Heather walks over to him. He doesn’t react, but then she curls her hand around one of his fingers. “Okay, buddy. I won’t force you to.”
    Hulk nods, smiling.
    “Well, friends, the celebration will start in half what would be an Earth day,” Thor states.
    “Of course, Your Majesty,” Heather curtsies.
    Thor bawfs at her teasing. “Princess Heather,” he responds with similar teasing.
    Heather looks up, “I’m not a princess, Thor.”
    Thor just chuckles. “Ah, but you represent your people among mine.”
    “What does that make Hulk, a prince? That doesn’t make me royalty,” Heather crosses her arms.
    Thor walks forward, “The way you hold yourself, you could be among the finest kings and queens, and still be the picture of confidence.”
    Heather raises an eyebrow at him.
    “From great toil, comes great strength,” Thor says.
    Heather walks backwards, “Wise words from the person that challenged me to a wrestling match because I said fighting a Flanderwrith was hard.”
    Thor laughs at the memory, “If I can recall, you challenged me, saying you could have done it as well.”
    “Banner was so mad at us.”
    “Hulk don’t remember that,” the large green friend commented.
    Heather smiles and without anything else, leaves to get ready. She finds a group of girls going over dresses that were brought with them, or found on the ship. Heather starts to walk away, but a girl a few years younger than her pulls her back. Another girl suggests a dress for Heather. After a few moments of shyness, Heather loosens up and gets ready with the group.
    Heather steps into the main area. The area wasn’t decorated much, but there were tables with some food and some decorations were put up to seem festive. Heather kicks the simple faded green dress as she walks forward. The girls she was with go ahead, smiling broad. Thor is on the chair by the window, Valkyrie on one side of him, Heimdall on the other. He doesn’t seem to see her yet.
    Heather looks at the Asgardians enjoying themselves. She looks down, feeling very self-conscious about her leg, even if it was mostly hidden. It wasn’t only that; these are not her people, and she did not help defeat Hela. And though Thor also said this is for her, to send her off, she doesn’t believe she deserves it.
    She skirts around the room, keeping herself out of Thor’s line of sight. She grabs some food, listening to the music as it starts up. She taps her foot a little, but tries not to gain attention. …It doesn’t seem like anyone is looking at her, anyway. She sees Thor lean over to Heimdall.
    ‘Probably asking where I am.’ Heather decides to leave. She doesn’t want to get a panic attack from the attention. But as she leaves down the hall, someone grabs her hand and spins her around.
    “Where are you off to?” Loki asks. Heather stares at him.
    “Off,” Heather replies, “I don’t really like… parties.”
    “What’s wrong with a party?”
    Loki peers at her, “You were fine on Sakaar.”
    “That’s because no one was looking at me,” Heather says.
    Loki steps back and looks her over, sighing, “Well no one’s going to look at you in that.” He then ignites magic on his fingers. He twirls them, causing Heather to move as well.
    She spins in a circle and is set back down. She looks at her dress. It is now made of lace, with the sleeves and skirt shorter. The neckline dips just a little, making a V without showing any cleavage.
    “Much better,” Loki decides, “now, Thor is waiting for one of the guests of honor, and, it would be rude to refuse a king.” He extends his hand to her.
    Heather looks back at the party, then at Loki. “…I’m not comfortable showing my leg.”
    “It’s just a leg. No one will stare,” Loki says, impatient. Heather hesitates. “It is also rude to refuse a prince.”
    Heather rolls her eyes. She takes his hand. He tucks her arm in his and leads her back. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
    “It’s charm,” Loki states.
    “No it’s not. One less guest of honor means more attention for you,” Heather explains, “it doesn’t add up.”
    “One thing you need to know about me,” Loki says. He leans close and whispers, “I an not predictable.”
    “Yeah, well don’t get attached,” Heather says back. She takes her arm back and decides to find Thor. “I’m taken.” She smiles bright at Loki before turning. Thor is looking at her now, beaming. She steps through the crowd. Thor meets her near the edge of the floor. He holds his hand out.
    “May I have this dance?”
    “Will I know the song?” Heather asks.
    “Am I hearing correctly? Or did the Heather Morse, lover of music and dance-”
    “Okay,” Heather says. Thor lets her pull him to the floor, “But you should still show me the steps.”
    Thor smiles, “Of course.” The song starting up is slow. Thor leads Heather through it. There are pairs of dancers all around them. Heather follows easily. “You could easily be the goddess of music, Heather.”
    “Highly doubtful.”
    “Always humble.”
    “I’ll stick to being my Daddy’s princess,” Heather smiles. Heather spins, stomping at the end with the rest of the girls.
    “Heather,” Thor says, getting serious for a second, “I’m glad you are more yourself since I last saw you.”
    Heather nods, “I agree.”
    “I have one favor.”
    “Name it.”
    Thor leans in, “Get my brother to appreciate dancing.” Before Heather can answer, Thor spins her into someone else’s bubble space; Loki’s. Both are a little surprised. “Hurt her and I’ll throw you out the hatch,” Thor says casually.
    “How kind of you,” Loki mutters. Heather chuckles.
    “He doesn’t mean it,” she assures.
    “How do you know?”
    “Because he loves you. Simple.”
    Loki scoffs, “No he doesn’t. I have betrayed him many times.”
    “And yet here you are.”
    “…So, we’re supposed to dance?”
    “It’s not that hard.” Heather breaks out a couple moves. Loki doesn’t look too impressed. Heather half-glares at him. “Really? You’re going to stand like a statue in the middle of the dance floor? What were you even doing there?”
    Loki shrugs. Just as Heather was going to say something, a new song comes on. She finds Thor by the music, a thumb up. “What song is this?”
    “Midgardian,” Heather shrugs. Everyone else is looking around. Heather starts moving to the beat. A few people start moving to and sooner or later, Heather’s got the room dancing. She looks at Loki, and he still looks unimpressed. Heather starts singing the words along.
    Loki rolls his eyes, but starts dancing a little, even if it’s a bit hesitant. Thor joins them and makes Heather laugh as he tries to move Loki’s arms more. Loki just goes with it. Thor then mimics Heather’s movements, being a little more clumsy but no less enthusiastic. The floor shakes as Hulk dances a little. Heather closes her eyes and lets the music soothe her soul. One look to Thor is enough.
    ‘Thank you.’


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