Little wonder we stumble in life.

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Character Sketch #4 – Andrea

She knocked on the bathroom door. “Seth? Can you let me in?”

She thought she heard him banging around in there. “Please, I want to see you.”

He opened the door, looking agitated. He looked her in the eye demandingly, then looked around desperately, the fear of getting caught clear in his eyes. His fly was undone.

“Oh, just come in.” And he stood aside for her, twisting and closing the door behind her as soon as she was in.

“What do you want?”

“I want to see you,” she repeated, this time her meaning clear. His eyes dropped immediately down to his exposed waistband and scrotum, and he zipped hastily up, blushing uncharacteristically.

“I knew it. You’re a liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You do like me.”

“Look, I’ve had fantasies before. You just weren’t in any of them.”


“Don’t bullshit me!” he said, self-consciously doing his button up on his black slacks.

“Yeah, right,” she rolled her eyes. “Fantasies, huh? Don’t you ever just wanna make it reality? What they ever involve?”

Caressing. Touching. A little more, but he wasn’t ever gonna tell her. He had enough experience avoiding the media to avoid that. He was too smart for it.

Still, her smirk grew. “Right. Just, why didn’t you ever wanna tell me?”

“I can’t afford to,” he said, by no means making a confession, only a point, whether or not she chose to see it that way. “I would’ve been a creeper. Even though I never did anything, that would be the perception. I didn’t want violate you. Even having those kinds of thoughts are violations. If you could just picture it, you’d understand…

“Or maybe you wouldn’t. You’re the type of person who never would, anyway, so desperate to be accepting, rather than face rejection. Desperation makes you rather weak, Andrea. I can see right through you.”

“That rough, was it?”

“Don’t celebrate rape, Andrea.”

“I wasn’t. And anyway, I’m not weak. Desperation is truth, not weakness. I can already guess what truth you’re afraid of.”

“You are wrong,” he said. “No matter what you think.”

“No matter what anybody else thinks, you can’t let it rule you.”

“Like you have a say in it. People talk. It isn’t about them, it’s about their power. I simply can’t afford it.”

“But all of this, it’s a confession –”

“No. All people talk. Even you, apparently.”

He glared at her with a look of loathing, and finally she saw who he really was now. Just a broken, bitter man, resenting a judgemental world.

She could tell it was time to go. She had been in his headspace before, and she knew the only solution was solitude, temporary though it was.

Wordlessly, she left out the door, with barely an aided gesture from him.

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Rebellion is for Losers

She grinned from ear to ear, admiring her wavy blonde hair and her soft pink dress in the mirror. Today was the day she was going to meet the prince who she was arranged to marry.

She’d heard from her mother that he was a little bit older than her, but he was handsome and kind. From her father, she heard he was powerful, and had wide tracts of land.

She placed her tiara on her, forcing herself to calm down enough to gracefully float downstairs to meet her parents.

He arrived at a little past ten. He had a goofy grin that was out of place with his regal attire. His hair was black and curly, and would’ve made him look ordinary but for the style, all trim and smooth, like he was wearing a silk wig.

He had high, soft cheekbones, and a small gold crown that could’ve matched her own. It was like destiny.

“Royals of the court, I present Prince Benedict.”

Even his name was regal. She melted.

Her mother lead her out towards him. She felt butterflies. “I am Queen Margaret. This is my daughter, Princess Elizabeth.”

“It’s a pleasure,” said Benedict.

She learned more about each other at the lunch table. He was 35, and she was 23. Not a bad match, to be fair. And he was rather handsome and approachable. She’d never met someone so kind.

“I love the court politics,” she told him. “I hope to one day make my country proud as queen. The only thing I’m looking forward to more is marriage. It’s such an exciting adventure, don’t you think?”

“You certainly strike me as adventurous,” he told her. “And you’re very loyal.”

“I need something to do all day. I can’t let myself become idle or I might get lazy.”

“Oh, I think you’re in no danger there,” said her mother. “You’re so ambitious.”

“Maybe you ought to slow down a bit sometimes,” suggested Benedict. “Sometimes the people want someone to relate to.”

“They want someone to look up to.”

“See, this is why you’d be such a good match,” interrupted her father. “You fill each other out so well. For the good of the kingdom.”

When they were together, she was so respectful. He never pressured her. It was in moments like these she knew her father was right.

They were just destined for each other. She couldn’t wait for the wedding.

Yes, I know it’s a bit Tangled meets Benedict Cumberbatch, but whatever. I like this one. A response to a dare: create a non-rebellious princess.