The First Boy She Would Ever Kill by Annie Le, inspired by tumblr users nickcarragay and ptgreat

http://my-name-is-really-neil-mcneil.tumblr.com/post/95854873347/dustinmathisen-ptgreat-nickcarragay

dustinmathisen:

ptgreat:

nickcarragay:

petition to make young adult authors stop writing about girls whose lives change when they meet a boy

When she saw him time slowed to a stop.  He was so perfect and she knew her life would never be the same because she had finally found him.  The one.  The first boy she would ever kill.

-----

And then everything started moving again. She breathed breathes like they were her last. But no, these would be her first.

How would she strike? Not her gun or knife; she needed something quick and inconspicious. Poisons. Her ring would do. Slow acting. Small dose. Rhododendrens. It was 5:14pm, the poison would start around 10 or 11, and no one would be around. (She lamented the fact that she wouldn't see him die. It would be slow. He wouldn't even notice until it was too late. Until his throat clogged. Until his body shook. Until his heart stopped and-)

She smiled contently as she absently played with the ring she was wearing. (Carefully switching the cynacide with the rhododendren capsule.) Glancing around at the park in the hot summer, she rested her head on the palm of her hand. (Reaching back to click the button on her earring.) Her phone rang, and she fumbled in her giant purse to find it, gasping lightly at the text on the screen.

Tossing the nearly empty cup of Iced Chocolate Chai Tea Latte, with extra whipped cream, into the trash as she jumped from her seat, she pretended to reply to the text distractedly as she hurried down the park sidewalk. Right into him. Her phone fell to the grass, and she brought up a hand to cushion the impact, but only succeeded in slapping the boy's arm. (His sleeves were rolled up in the sticky heat. How stupid.)

"Ohhh my gosh, I'm sooo sorry!" she exclaimed, backing up, grasping tightly at her hands (and closing the cap on the needle).

He laughed and said, "It's fine," and picked up her phone, handing it to her. She smiled sheepishly.

"Thanks." As she ran off, her lips curved, and she pressed her big thick glasses up. Baggy shirt, short shorts with a high waist, clunky boots, and plain brown and blonde hair in a messy bun. She was just another clumsy summer hipster.

She disappeared into the city crowds, just a drop in the sea.


-----


First off, I'd like to talk about how I had to google: "how to kill someone in public with poison", "how to assassinate someone in public", "poisons without traces", "slow poisons without traces", and "polonium poisoning".

...

I had to google those things.

Writing is hard and researching is typically filled with the paranoia that the NSA is over your shoulder.

Also, I've been sick since Friday. I was deliriously functioning on meds yesterday. I am coughing my left lung out, and also tearing a bloody hole in my throat.

Sorry if this isn't my best work.

The story is based on the idea above, and continues off of it. Honestly, it's such a great idea. For this story, the main character is a girl that has been trained to be an assassin since birth, and, at the age of 17, takes part in her first hit.

I Broke a Leg, but Then Kept Walking

(I Lost My Head, but Then Kept Talking)

I had a dream once. An actual dream. While sleeping. It was a really crazy dream. I have dreams fairly often, but this one always sticks with me. I’m not entirely sure why, but it had been especially notable. I was told that most dreams consist of daily life, and are usually forgotten about because of that.

It had started in a large cafeteria, like a mix between a very small, clean, fancy plane hangar, and a normal school cafeteria. It had a slanted beige ceiling, and huge windows in the triangle formed by the slanted ceiling and walls.

I remember my hair was long and black, with short bangs, and a red shirt and black shorts. I had been sitting with my friends, talking and eating lunch, when a boy burst through the windows.

He was wearing a baggy gray pull over hoodie and black jeans, his eyes were gray-blue, and his hair was light blue. He was holding a katana.

Everyone was running out of the cafeteria, screaming, and I pulled a katana from beneath the table, and leapt at him. It was like something from an anime. The cafeteria emptied out, with the clashing of metal, and several long tables were destroyed as we fought. Suddenly, I had the upper hand, and took his head off.

In the moment of calm, I spoke with him. I am not sure how he was still talking at this point, besides dream reality. He had been sent to kill me. But he didn’t want to. I sympathized with him.

“Let me take you to the nurse.”

Now let me just. Pause.

Okay. The school nurse. Will. Fix. Your. Decapitated head from body. Situation.

I am still so confused. Dream reality is so weird.

Regardless, I did not know my way around the three floors, more than 20 hallways, school building. After wrapping the head in a magically appearing towel and running through the cafeteria double doors, I managed to find the front office. The lady there gave me directions to the nurse’s. I ended up in the wrong room, however, because I am not the best at dream-navigation. I put the blue haired kid’s head down before entering.

It ended up being a pitch black room with reflective wires everywhere. I was hell-bent on making it through them, under the illusion that the nurse’s office was through the wires. The room slowly drew me into a trance, and I tried dancing through them, but a wire hit me almost every time I moved. It was as though I was slowly falling asleep, or being paralyzed.

But the boy’s voice brought me back, and I made my way from the tangle of wires, back to the door, and continued the search for the nurse’s office.

I finally opened a door to a porch. And the elderly school nurse sat at a cabana set with another lady, laughing at the sunlight and bright green grass and sprinklers outside.

“Help! Please help him!”

The nurses pulled me in for conversation, even as I tried to tell them that the head in my arms needed help. Finally, they asked,

“What’s in that bundle of towels you have there?”

Opening it, however, there was a Barbie doll with a black swimsuit and bright, curly red hair. I was so confused, and the elderly women said,

“Oh! How fun!”

What.

“Here, just add water!”

Soaking it, suddenly the Barbie grew into a young girl with red hair and a colorful bathing suit, who ran through the sprinklers in the grass while screaming in delight. I was confused. I was very confused. I was trying to find the boy.

I woke up.

I have no idea what in high heavens that dream was a result of.

I’ve had other dreams.  I was a boy with a white shirt and brown hair and a clone that was trying to kill me, until we were fighting on a pirate ship in the middle of a storm and I saved their life and they promised to look after my friends. I was a free runner, swinging through an abandoned metal city of fire escapes and metal sky scrapers covered in red and rust. I was a magical girl, with shoes that let me jump through the air for ever and ever.

This dream, though. There was something about holding a dangerous weapon, throwing myself through the air as though I was beyond human, flashing through the air at speeds that no one could see, forcing metal against metal, and the shrill sound as the blades slid off of each other.

It was… amazing.

 Alternate Title by Mrs. Calland & Sam(?)