At my high school, I helped pick submissions for a student-run literary magazine. Many stories were angsty and overwrought, and some (such as, ahem, my own) were mildly entertaining, but the only ones that were actually a joy to read came from Ariel Kraakman, a sweet, shy freshman who demonstrated that the secret to good writing comes not from technical talent but creativity. To my horror, some of the editors believed her stories were too lightweight for their "serious" high school publication, and actually tried to veto them—pearls before swine!
I didn't tell her I've printed these here. Keep it a secret, okay?
Whheeeeeeewhh. The wind is blowing quietly in my ear as I walk across the silent Cambridge Common on this chilly night. The stars twinkle peacefully, and it feels like they're wishing me good luck. But despite the calmness of the night, I shiver nervously. Five more blocks till Alana's house. Yes, I reassure myself, I'm pretty sure I heard her say she doesn't have a date. She'll probably be there, and she'll... she'll come with me. I got her a rose, and I'm attractive compared to the average... well, never mind. Focus on peace of mind, that's what I need to do. I already know she loves me, we've danced together in the past, she's held me in her arms. She likes my company. I'm always the one who cheers her when she's sad. And yet... asking her to the prom seems like... I'm telling her that I feel something more for her than simply companionship. Okay, two more blocks now. Why am I nervous? I've been to this house millions of times. Well... I live at this house.
I am at the front door now. I take a deep breath, and reach up to the doorbell. It is a good five feet up from the porch floor, and I can barely touch it. I manage, and sit to wait. I am briefly distracted by the smell of roast chicken inside, but I can't eat now. Truth is, I never can. I'm not allowed. After three minutes, I hear Alana run downstairs and wonder aloud who is outside. Figures, I didn't think she expected me. As she opens the door, she looks around. I gulp in anticipation. I notice that she is wearing a gold satin evening dress, and some rhinestone hair barrettes. Looks like she was planning on going by herself this evening. Or is it possible that...? And then she sees me.
"Mr. Meows! Where have you been, baby? Mumma missed you. Mumma has your Meow Mix all set up for you in the kitchen!" No, no, no! I don't want to play right now! I want to tell her how much I love her! I just want to sweep her up and take her to her prom. I have loved her for a very long time now. And I have waited for this moment. I hoped she'd see it in my eyes. The love, the desire, the passion, the longing to be near her...
Then I watch as her eyes open wide in astonishment. "...Is that a rose? Did my widdle Mr. Meowy-Wowwy bring me a rosy-wosy? You're such a thoughtful cat!" I nod my head, but she is heading out the door and doesn't see. She bids her parents farewell, then turns to me and lets me in the house. "Mumma's going to go dance with some hotties now, be a good kitty."
And then she leaves. I stare at the closed door for a long time. My moment had been shattered, my dream broken. Why can't I tell her my feelings like human boys can? Maybe I'll be one in my next life. Right now, I'll just eat my Meowy Mix, and go to sleepy-weepy.