murdrum_doyle: (fiction)
[community profile] daily_prompt Prompt #533: "Dynamic"

"Tyler who, Brittany?!"


"L-m-a-o, he's a random."

The last locker door slammed shut as the girls trickled out of the locker room. So indulged in merry gossip were they that everyone failed to notice a lone figure hidden behind the side of the lockers.

Sam furtively peeked around the corner and made sure that the coast was clear before darting over to locker #118, the gym locker of one Paulina Perfect. Almost violently, she jabbed her hand into her pocket and dug around for her lock pick, then paused. Great, just great. She had a combination lock. How could she possibly. . . .

Oh, ho, ho! Seriously? This was too easy. Let's see, "D" would be "4," so then "A" should be "1" and--a few more snigger-punctuated clicks later, and she was staring at a hot-pink shrine to her boyfriend's alter ego. She plopped her own tattered, black bag on the floor, tore open the zipper, and yanked out the blouse, not taking but half a second to toss the shirt in the locker with as little grace as possible.

Closing the door with more force than necessary, she stepped out into the hallway and prepared to face the rest of the day with full confidence.

And who could blame her? She had no way of knowing the forces she had just set into motion.
murdrum_doyle: (fiction)
[community profile] daily_prompt Prompt #532: "Proposal"

"So what's got you all frowny-faced, Starshine? You look like your dog just--" Horror dawned on Kwan's face. "Shi--, that's not what happened, right? Pluto's O.K., I mean, oh, I am so, so sorry, I. . . ." he stopped, grimacing.

This elicited a small, tinkling laugh and was followed by an even smaller sigh. "No, it's just, Paulina, and on top of all this other crap, I just, I dunno." Star's shoulders slumped, and Kwan noticed the neckline of her strapless dress shift downward with her movement.

"Um, well, let's start with what Paulina--" Star's laughed turned bitter.

"What?" Kwan asked, somewhat hesitant. He realized that he had put his foot in it again, but did not quite understand how. "What did I say?"

She stopped laughing enough to say, "Paulina first, typical."

Eyes widening, "No, no, I just meant that whatever she did might be easiest to fix, and--" Star rested a hand on his forearm, halting him with a gentle smile.

"Nah, I get it. Look," her eyes darted about the room, pupils dilating. With unprecedented strength, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him behind a nearby column. He followed her like a confused puppy. When she was finally satisfied with their level of privacy, she leaned against the streamer-wrapped column and whispered, "She thinks I stole my shirt from her."

"But you're wearing a dress," he said loudly and incredulously, not reading the atmosphere.

"Shhh!" she bit her lip and checked their surroundings, just to be safe. "No, like, she took this shirt that my grandmother gave me--"

"The one that's gone?" She glared at him.

"Yeah--wait, are you talking about the shirt or my grandmother?"

"Um, both?"

"Just shut up and don't interrupt and you'll find out, 'kay? So, like, we were looking at stuff in my closet and she finds this shirt that my grandmother--yesthegrandmotherwhodied--gave me just before she, ya know, kicked it. And it's a really pretty shirt, silk and everything, so of course Paulina takes it and says that she's going to wear it to the formal."

"But she's not wearing a--"

"SHH! And what did I say about interrupting me?"

"Sorry," he whispered sheepishly.

"Right. Anyway, so, like, she spent the night at my house, which is fine because we, like, go to the same school so mom doesn't have a problem. So she puts the shirt in her backpack and just, like, keeps it all squished and wrinkled there all day with all those candy wrappers at the bottom of her bag and it reeks of perfume and urgh. But, yeah, when she got home from school, the blouse was gone. And she's blaming me because she thinks I stole from her and she had to plan a new outfit. It's just so totally not fair, right? Am I right?" she repeated.

Kwan's glazed eyes sparked back to life. "Right! That's, like, totally not fair. But, you know her. She'll probably forget all about it after Dash proposes."

"HE'S GOING TO PROPOSE?" Star screeched. A few heads turned in their direction, but the music was too loud for most of them to comprehend what she had announced.

"Um, I think so. He was saying all this weird stuff earlier, so I asked my sister and she said that's what her husband was like just before he proposed to her."

"Ohhh, my gosh. Who else knows?"

"Well, Dash, me, you, and my sister." Star crossed her arms and tapped her foot, eyes expectantly fixed upon his face. Rubbing the back of his neck, he continued, "And maybe Trixie, and from her Veronica, so probably Tad and Chad, Mr. Lancer, the entire football team. . ."

Sighing, Star dropped her pose.


murdrum_doyle: (fiction)
[community profile] daily_prompt Prompt #531: "Rowdy"

Desperately, she rounded on Sam. "How did you even get that? You stole it, didn't you!"

"No, I saw it spilling out of your bag and I--"

"Liar! It was, like, gently folded deep inside my bag, and I would never leave my bag unzipped around creeps like you. Ever. You had to have broken into my house--that's a felony! Or you got your undead minions to get it for you or something. That's, like, probably even more illegal, right?" Paulina said.

"No, I--"

"How exactly did you come by the blouse, Miss Manson?" Paulina's mother intoned.

"Er, that is. . ."

She shook the scenario from her head. That, Sam, is a very good question. If she told anyone about Paulina's doings, then she would have to explain that she skipped a mandatory assembly, disobeyed and lied to a teacher, broke into a classroom, invaded the privacy of her classmates, and even stole from one. Yeah, that would go over well. On the other hand, if Paulina really was involved in something unsavory, then it would not be very difficult to catch her in something again. She just had to be a little more vigilant, maybe tail the popular wh--er, girl--for a while, find some irrefutable but honestly obtained evidence, and bam--everything would be over for little miss perfect.

Sam leaned back in her chair, feet pumping against the edge of her desk, and indulged in a rather villainesque cackle. Yes, all would. . . . she thought, and crashed to the floor with an OOMPH.

"Sammikins? Are you alright sweety? I know how terribly you wanted to go to that dance. . . ."

"I'M FINE, MOTHER," she said, and picked herself up from the floor, victory somewhat tainted.


Adolescents crowded the floor, sweaty from dancing and half drunk on excitement and alcohol. Suddenly, the queen of the ball sneezed, and her date balked. "Gesundheit," said her satellite.

"Heh, someone's talking smack about you, Polly." Glaring at Kwan, Paulina snarled a rebuttal that was drowned out by the rowdy throng, dragging Dash behind her.

Left alone, Kwan smiled at the satellite and said, "It's just you and me now, huh."

Ever so faintly, Star returned the smile.

murdrum_doyle: (fiction)
[community profile] daily_prompt Prompt #530: "I apologize for the confusion."

"Sorry for the confusion," she murmured demurely. "I saw this spilling out of someone's bag and I simply had to know what label it is." She smoothed her designer skirt, meek smile dropping and a worried frown taking its place. "Only, I couldn't help but feel a little shocked when I saw that this was touting to be Golce & Dabbana. Why, anyone knows that a Golce & Dabbana piece would never, ever use this method of stitching. Ma'm," Sam paused for added drama, "I have reason to believe that your daughter is involved with counterfeit."
 "¡Dios mio! My dear, what an accusation. . . ."
"I am sure that, should you ask, Paulina would confirm that she had this shirt in her possession." 

"I, I do seem to remember her---Paulina!" she turned her head, calling toward the stairway. Through the gap between Paulina's mom and the door facing, Sam could see Paulina's voluptuous form tripping down the staircase. At her name, she looked up, her mane of dark curls swishing behind her. Her eyes met those of her mother in what was, for once, confusion that was not feigned. Magically, her electric eyes slid from her mother's worried face and aligned with Sam's smirking face. Sam, in response, held the blouse where Paulina could clearly see it, and casually swung it from her pointed index finger. 

Paulina paled, and her mother did not fail to notice. "What--! Get off my door step before someone sees you, freak." 

"Paulina," said her mother, who then moved aside, allowing Sam's body to be seen in her full designer, made-over glory. "That is no way to speak to anyone, much less a concerned classmate. Mama didn't raise you like that." 

"No, Mama," she said, although her heated glare belied her true opinion. Crossing her arms and tossing her hair, she addressed Sam. "What do you want, Manson? And what are you doing with my blouse? You better not have gotten any of your geek germs on it. Do you even know how much that thing costs?" 

Paulina's mother tensed, lips parted, and Sam took the chance to edge in a few words. "A hefty fine and a few years in prison, I would think." 


"Relax, they'd probably go easy on you because you're a minor. Oh, no, wait. . . You turned eighteen two weeks ago, didn't you? That's too bad." 

Huffing, she demanded, "What are you talking--" 

"Selling counterfeits is a serious crime, Paulina. I've had this shirt analyzed by experts--which you know I can afford. There's no way this is a genuine Golce & Dabbana." Paulina imitated a fish. 

"It's not mine! I borrowed it from Star," Paulina cried, pleading with her mother.
murdrum_doyle: (fiction)
[community profile] harry100 Prompt #138: An Ending and a Beginning

Severus thought that he must have lived through one crisis too many, because this scene was all too familiar for him to find comfortable. A glass of Ogden's rested in his palm, his feet upon a dingy footrest, and the dying embers of a fire sparked in the hearth. In his eyes were the reflection of the red whiskey bottle, that same red he remembered dancing in her hair.

Tonight he should have been free of her. But he was no fool--

She had died from him years before.
murdrum_doyle: (school)

[community profile] daily_prompt Prompt #430: The Chosen

Every college acceptance letter shoved in my mailbox bore some generic congratulations: ". . . You are among the select few. . ." ". . . accomplishments merit acceptance into our family" ". . . we CHOOSE YOU to join our class of 2014. . ."

Dear Colleges:

Who the fish do you think I am, Pikachu? You picked me? Oh, no, no, no, no-No. I chose you. What right has a school--an establishment contingent upon student attendance--to mandate who is and who is not worthy? I sent my repertoire to you. I knew that you would accept me, and then I would chose from you.

Colleges were established to educate those individuals interested in higher learning, not to discriminate between who deserves your mascot on his or her résumé.  How dare you the audacity of assuming that I serve you, you who walks crippled without my tuition and alumna donations?

Some of you hide behind the excuse of research to fuel your elitism--and all the more woe to those who do not. For what good are you if my professor doesn't even have the intention of earning his doctorate?

And don't deny it: some of you set your tuition and fees according to the rank and reach of your prestige. So now even America allows birth circumstances to dictate who steps foot in the future ruling class?

Higher education, straighten your priorities. Students don't exist to inflate your grandeur, you exist to make your students shine.


murdrum_doyle: (Default)

September 2013

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