Who Am I?


There’s two definitions for the word “glamour.” The most popular definition is about a person’s charm, beauty, and extravagant persona.

I’m here to tell you about the definition I have come to know.

My name is Clarisse. My city and school and life are all exactly like any other teenagers’. At least, that’s what my parents and the whole adult community of this city would want me to tell you. But I’d be lying (and I actually am lying a teensy bit. I don’t have parents; I’m an orphan). My whole city works in the life of Glamour – and if you don’t know what that is, you are missing out on a major high.

Glamour is energy – pure energy that can take over every fiber of your being and make it hum and laugh. What you probably know it as is magic – some kind of unexplainable power that people use to control the world around them. That’s true, but it’s a lot different than JK Rowling made it out to be. There are no wands and it’s actually very easy to learn and use. You don’t need to go to school for seven years unless you plan on being a Psychologist or Pharmacist.

But technically I’m not even supposed to know about using Glamour yet. I’m still a junior in high school (I wish! I’m actually a freshman), and there are big-time rules about when and how you get your Glamour license. If someone even thinks about using Glamour before they get enrolled in college, they supposedly get jailed.

Everyone knows that’s not true, though – especially the high schoolers. That’s why we do whatever we want when it comes to Glamour – like delving into the darker forms. The deadlier forms. Just the other day I watched my two best girlfriends battle in an old-school contest to the death. Rez won – which I expected – but I do sort of miss Quinn a bit.

Okay, sorry. Quinn didn’t die. She’s actually alive and well, but her parents are making her move to a new high school.

Anyway, my overall favorite piece of Glamour is warping my skin and clothes. Ripping all of my body and life apart so that no one can see me. It hurts like hellfire and dragon bites, but I’m used to it. It’s not like Rez likes me anyway.

But, you don’t have to believe me. I am a compulsive liar after all.

Sincerely,

Ariel xx

_____________________________________________________________________________________________

Okay, so I am neither Clarisse or Ariel and I do not go to a high school that does illegal Glamour activities. However, I am a 17-year-old girl named Krista, who just so happened to think that blogging publicly would be a lot of fun.

I’ve got so much in store for this blog – loads of ideas. One of them being to post some short stories for fun every now and then. I’ve always been into writing,  and I really want to be an author at some point, so I think that doing this kind of project will be good for me.

But there are other things I’d like to write too – like reviews. I am a big nerd girl and I have a lot of tv shows, movies, and books that I’d love to write about. The two that instantly come to mind are Harry Potter and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but I’m definitely going to be writing about some of my lesser interests like Doctor Who and the thousands of other books crammed into my bookshelves.

But I think one of the best things that might come out of this blog is the feedback I’ll get. I hope that I’ll be able to learn about more fandoms or books and have my interests grow. I guess I just have a thirst for stories. 😉

Regards,

Krista

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6 Comments

Filed under Short Stories

6 responses to “Who Am I?

  1. Loved that short story! You get a kind of eerie feeling when you reach the end and discover she’s been lying the entire time, haha. She’s probably locked up in a loony bin somewhere. ;D

    • Thanks! I was really surprised that the whole story came out so well, though. I had a lot of trouble trying to put in hints of her being a liar without giving it away. I worked on it for quite a while, haha.

  2. I was told to come here and give you some love.

    I loved this story. Ultimately creepy.

    And I love you. Ultimately.

  3. Wendyyyy

    So, I sort of love you. Why are you such a good writer?

    • Aww, thanks Wendy! And I only wish I was a good writer. Every single thing I’ve ever written has been looked over multiple times by friends. I could never write something fantastic on my own!

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