Scribble Ninjas

I hid under the table, holding my breath and hoping that he wouldn’t find me. Sweat dripped down my cheek and fell to the grass. Why did summer have to be so hot? I wondered as I shifted my position to fit under the table more comfortably.

“Eep!” I heard a yelp from an area not too far from where I was. I slightly lifted the tablecloth and peeked out from the picnic table; there was nobody in sight. I let out a sigh of relief but placed my hand over my mouth quickly, afraid that someone would have heard me. I quickly dropped the table cloth and turned around.

I flinched at the sight I saw when I turned around. On the other side of the picnic table, somebody else had lifted the cloth. A broad grin was plastered on his face and he said the two words that I had dread to hear.

Found you.

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Narration of the still-face experiment.

She had my arms around her shoulder, supporting my weight by leaning slightly to the side. This was always how she carried me. I liked it.
A man led us to the room. Almost everything was white: the walls, the ceilings, the window blinds, even the men were dressed in white coats. They had black boxes pointing at her and I, with a square tube that jutted out towards us – it was shiny.
She talked with the man for a bit before putting me in the chair, and then she began playing with me.

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Melly's in Korea right now so I'm posting her story, yo.

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Usually, summer is my favorite time of year; after all, there’s no school, which means there are no teachers, which means there are no classes, which means there’s no homework, which means there’s no detention – all of which sounds awesome to a kid who’s not that into all that education stuff.

Usually, I get started right away with the fun and games: the pool parties, the beach days, the movie marathons, the mall hang-outs, the carnivals – all the typical summer festivities that, eventually, get old but still happen anyway for lack of better things to do.

Usually, summer means I go to bed late and wake up late. It means I don’t eat lunch until I feel like it (which could mean I won’t eat until 4:30 in the afternoon), and it means some days I’ll just sit around and do nothing but watch cartoons from the 90s.

Usually, summer is my favorite time of year.

But not this year.

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A/N: I've been wanting to write a story based on Greek Mythology for a while, so this be it! You might want to brush up on Persephone and Hades before reading it, though.

He waits for me on the mattress, smiling that wicked smile of his. Any trace of gentleness in his expression is poisoned by greed and want.

“Well?” he asks.

“I will not be your plaything,” I say. My fingers move on their own accord, out of my control. Unbuttoning my blouse and tugging down at my skirt, removing one article of clothing at a time until I lay bare.

“I will not be your wife,” I say, taking one step forward. My mind tells me to stop, but my feet move forward. I am drawn. I am chained. I am trapped.

“I will not love you,” I say, slipping into the mattress next to him. His weight rolls over me, hot – too hot – and crushes me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and his voice whispers to me in the darkness.

“Welcome to Hell, Persephone.”

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