Writing: Embarrassing Stories

Whoo! I was finally able to get back into my routine last night! I finished a whole chapter of my third book! Sadly, I’m only ever able to write on weekends… So yeah, not a lot ever gets done during the school year, especially now that I’m taking Latin. (I am dreadful at learning languages, never doubt that.)

Okay, so today I’m gonna switch it up a bit. I’m going to post a one-shot of my third book, currently named A Haunting Melody, to let you into the minds of those characters, despite the fact that you haven’t even met them. I think it’s cute, personally, though I did write it so I’m sure I’m biased. It’s a short attempt at humor, but ha, I’m not funny. So, I hope you like it!

“Tell me the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done,” Riven suggested, lounging further into the couch across from me. I dropped the piece of cookie I was picking up from the silver tray and looked up at him blandly.

“Which month of which year?”

His lips twitched upwards amused. “The most memorable.” I nodded, thinking for a moment on which one to choose. Then I had it.

“Okay, so back in sophomore year, Alyssa got a job,” I started, cringing internally. “It was about a ten-minute walk from the school and already, she drove me home almost every day. Well, this was one of those days. So I walked to where her job is and find her. The place is pretty empty and Alyssa is the only one working the register. A couple minutes after I go in, she decides to go get her stuff out of the back room so we could leave as soon as she got off her shift.

“‘But what if someone comes up?’ I had asked her and she just waved it off, assuring me that she would be back before that could happen. Of course, with my luck, as soon as the door closes behind her, a man who was already inside comes up to the counter.

“‘Where’s the spoons and forks?’ he asked, and me, with my social ineptness and lack of any communication skills when put on the spot, shouts ‘Aisle seven!’ then ducks behind the counter before the man could say anything else.” Riven looked on the verge of cracking. “Alyssa worked at KFC.”

He burst out laughing, then tried to smother the noise with his hand. I cracked a grin at him when he took one look at me then turned away again, doubling over and clutching his stomach as he wheezed.

“I can see you doing that,” he chuckled once he calmed down, and my grin instantly turned into a frown. I glared at him.

“Rude,” I mumbled, turning away and propping my face on my hand, covering my mouth to hide my small pout.

“Sorry, dearest,” he replied, a smaller, fond smile on his cheeks as he stared at me. I stuck out my tongue in one last show of immaturity, then straightened with a devious grin. Now it was my turn to ask, and I’m sure a two-thousand-year-old demon has a lot more embarrassing tales to tell.

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