The Paper Dress (Sample)

Hey, all.  So, I had this story idea floating around in my head, and I was afriad of forgetting it, so I wrote...and wrote...and wrote.  And here I am left with a short story that could possibly be more.  Now, since I'm currently writing The Cat Life, and I'm afraid of being sidetracked and loosing the story all together, I need some REAL love on this short story to graduate it to the real deal.  I'm talking 150+ votes on this alone--a high goal, but if it's not popular, I need some time to focus Cat Life.  And I'll be here on Wattpad pretty much forever, so there's an unlimited time restricition on this crazy vote poll. 

If you truely do want to see it as a real book, go right ahead and vote.  But I don't want pity votes or bribe votes for anything--just if you really like it.

Now that that's out of the way, I'll tell you that this is not some random chapter taken from the unwritten book, but a short story in itself that has build up, a climax, and a good message.  So don't treat it like scraps. 'Cause it's not.  (And a warning, this was originally an Engish report that just sprouted wings and grew far beyond what was needed, so it has some fancy-dancy words in it...if you don't like educated writing, I am so sorry--cause that's what this is. :P )

So, read away.  Vote if you like.  Comment for anything--like or hate or just a stray passing thought.

OXOX

~Noelle

(Cija= "Ki-Zha")

(Therkoma=Th-err-coma)

I finished the last fold, lifting the bold creation, lips curled in jubilancy.  For the first time in ages, I might add.  Origami was the only skill that came perfectly innately to me.

Oh, and here was one of the baleful people that liked to remind me of that.  Routinely--repeatedly.  Many times in a single day.

Cara, a pretty upright brunette, stalked up in the spotlight.  She had previously been my closest—and only—friend, but, with the addition of stunning violet wings in a trimming of silver, her ego, confidence, and popularity had skyrocketed…leaving me on the ground watching her ascent to the heavenly life without me.

With her popularity around the other teen fae also came an attitude change—looking down on anyone who’s not it.  That anyone, namely, was me; creating what was easy to see was more than a small rift in the friendship.

By now, with my sixteenth birthday looming, I should have grown my wings about three years ago.  And without my wings, I was nothing.  Another constant reminder.

Cara had at first been hesitant about picking on me, but with a little prodding, she was now the leader in the quest and not a one qualm about it.

“So, stuck eating lunch alone again, huh, Cija?” Cara purred, sliding closer.  “Well, I’m just glad you’ve finally learned your place—to think you tried to sit with us when I first flew.  Disgusting.”  She was now leaning over the table on her long arms, hell-bent on invading my personal space and making me uncomfortable.

But I wasn’t buying any of the crap she was selling.

I slowly looked up and locked eyes with her—she flinched just a little at the venom in my voice when I spoke, “And to think you used to beg to sit next to me—how sad.”  I leaned over my lunch tray.  “But what’s even more sad is the thing you’ve become.”

And with my part said, I leaned back in my chair and turned my attention from her—something sure to rile her up.

But, for once, and what took me completely by surprise, she raised no remonstrance.  She stood quickly and waltzed away.  I almost sighed in relief—until I looked down, and realized she had crushed the beautiful paper rose I had just crafted.  With a snarl I slammed to my feet—but thought overcame the rage, and I lowered myself back into my seat with a sigh.  It was futile.  Cara would never change.