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Question: HEY, HEY, HEY EVERYBODY. I HAVE A NEW STORY OUT- VIOLET HILL: A PMD3 STORY. IT IS A DARKER RETELLING OF THE PMD3 STORYLINE. I WOULD LOVE YOU IF YOU CHECKED IT OUT.
My Answer: Please?
Characters:
Summary: Today is Feb. 1. It's my birthday today: my fifteenth birthday.
Full title: It started out shitty, but it's really nice now : )
Fifteen
If you're me your day starts like this: you're running late and having to catch up with your friend later, since you left your script for Drama at home and have to retrieve it. A math midterm and tetanus shots loom in front of you, sinking your already low spirits even deeper.
But then you receive a Kaoru drawing from a friend and find out that your best friends decorated your locker, and things start looking up. You're splashing through heart-shaped puddles and receiving cards and smiles from people you didn't realize cared, and by the time you get home the sun is shining down on you to make up for the rain this morning.
Then you get on the computer and see that Ebaz has drawn you an adorable Steven Stone as congratulations, and after dinner you ride in the car, hear the song 'Dynamite' begin to play, and laugh long and loud at an inside joke that no one with you knows. You just tilt your head back and smile at the sky, and your own personal star of regret winks back down at you, soft and shining.
See, if you're me then your day starts like this- but you're not me, so maybe you don't realize that some moments last forever, and that no day ever truly ends.
"Thank you," I say, to everyone and no one in particular. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
.
.
.
.
"-Happy birthday to you!"
I laugh as my reviewers finish the song, clapping along with them. "Thank you," I say, my cheeks screaming in protest as my smile stretches ever wider.
"Make a wish, Odile!" they shout, placing a cake in front of me. The sparklers leave trails of fairy dust in the air, and I suck in a deep breath, ready to huff and puff and blow down all fifteen of the candles-
I wish that my soulmate will find me, and that he will love me back.
I wish that I'll become an author.
I wish that I won't fail math.
I wish…that all of my wishes will come true.
-and I exhale, snuffing out all of the little lights. There is wild applause, and I feel my heart swell like the Grinch's did when he realized the true magic of Christmas.
"What did you wish for?" someone asks.
"Not telling," I laugh back.
I cut everyone a piece of cake, and we eat around conversations of everything and anything that we would talk about if we ever met each other. Then, once we're finished eating and are drunk on cider and good conversation, we uproot the sparklers from the candied remains and run weightlessly through the cyber world.
We link hands under a canopy of web addresses and twirl until we all fall down. We fly, laughing and screaming, through my favourite anime worlds. We spear snarls of our hair with the sparklers because this is our world and nothing can hurt us here, and dance through Youtube until the fire has spread all the way down our bodies and we're nothing but glowsticks in the dark.
We're the reason the moon has craters, you know: we keep aiming our bullets at shooting stars, but they always miss and carve yet another hole into the moon's surface. This time we're not using guns, though; we're using lassoes, and are wrangling ourselves wishes because we're sick of waiting for them to pass us by.
And then we crush the stars between our hands, and make our own wishes come true. We play Fifteen Minutes in Heaven and kiss all of our pokemon-world crushes; we fold one thousand paper swannas and send them soaring into the night sky to replace all the stars we've stolen; we spin each other round and take pictures with our mind's eye and grow wings and fly away from here.
"Happy birthday, Odile," my reviewers carol, and I give them my very best smile, because even though I'm just another enigma to them somewhere, someplace, I'm real.
"Thank you," I say, to everyone and no one in particular. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."