Young Writers Society

Baba perked right up. They loved talking about their family.

"Yeah, I got one! I started out as an old skeleton, what Mr MacGregor the wolfman found on the barn roof. Then he made me into a scarecrow, an' his neighbour, a witch called Eartha, used an animation spell on me so I could scare the crows proper. It was just a simple spell, the sort you use on brooms. It's not supposed to bring things to life. But for me, it did! Even Eartha don't know why.

I live on the farm with Mr MacGregor, but I still visit Eartha, babysit her cats, help her with her mending. She taught me all I know about fixing things. And MacGregor is big, and strong, and wise, and he looks after me. Even though my crow traps sometimes cause him trouble. Yeah. I got me a good family." Baba said wistfully. They might have closed their eyes, if they weren't buttons.

Marciella blinked, the only sign that she was at all surprised by this answer, and responded with her usual grace, "You certainly seem to," she said, being careful not to sound at all skeptical, "I haven't seen my own family in quite some time. I'm certainly glad that you get along so well with yours."

That kind of magic wasn't possible. Wasn't supposed to be possible. Internally, Marciella questioned her studies. What else hadn't she been taught? What else was she missing?

“Oh,” said Bettie, after Tobias had fled, “He’s shy, for a host.” Her voice was sympathetic, but the amused curl of her lip threw it off.

“It’s you.” said Guy, features vacant. Bettie’s charm did little for him, not out of any stoic strength of will, but because he was insulated by a thick bubble of emo.

“Yes.” she sighed proudly. ‘It’s me.” As if on cue, a mirror floated by, and she fluffed her curls for five seconds before it went somewhere else. She finished off with a little stretch.

“Welp. Time to subject some more poor innocents to my dazzling brilliance. Care to hit the bar with me?”

Guy was already gone. Bettie scanned the room back and forth, to find him on an antique couch in a cobwebbed little nook not far from the pool, chatting up a skeleton. One of the prop skeletons. Bettie sighed. No, she wouldn’t bother to tell him it wasn’t sentient. He could figure it out.

“Hey hon’,” she said to the bartender, “Ya got any stomach acid? Crocodile stomach acid? With a strawberry. -Oh, and if you have it, in diet, please.” She winked at him, and flashed a wave and smile at the hosts just down the bar. Oh, and some more guests. How nice.

Rowenna's sharp hearing picked up the voice of a girl. She looked over in time to see the girl fix her hair in a floating mirror and then walk over to the bar. Rowenna's eyebrows arched and she rolled her eyes. She was reminded of why she didn't have any friends, aside from the fact that vampires were a dying breed.

Maybe now that Marciella had heard about Baba, now she'd be willing to talk about herself? Baba hoped so.

"What are they like? Where do they live?" Baba asked, beginning to rock excitedly back and forth.

"Hm?" Marciella blinked, "My family?" Baba couldn't mean that. There were a few topics one just didn't ask the mer about, family was one of them. But Baba wasn't from her world, and they certainly weren't human or mer, so perhaps they just didn't know about the rules of ettiqute that had been so thoroughly drilled into Marciella's head as long as she'd been alive.

The bartender nodded, and inwardly tried to get over his surprise at the request. He had been warned that there would be some unusual requests, but hadn't realized just how unusual those requests would be. He went to get what was requested - the occasional skeletal set of nonexistent eyes landing on him as he did so.

They had all been allowed their own form of costumes. While almost everyone there had picked some outfit from a time long ago, he had opted for something much simpler. The blame could easily be put on the woman who had thrown this entire party together, as she was the one who had showed a group of skeletons that game and approved of that idea. A simple bartender's outfit and a flaming head - the skull was still visible underneath, but one would have to squint to see it.

He returned with the demon's request.

He smoothly handed it over to her.


"Well," Kate said, glancing around at the people scattered throughout the room, "I think it's time to turn on some music - are you ready for some dancing, Tobias?"

Tobias gave a small smile in response. Anyone who didn't know him might have thought he was reluctant to dance, but the three that did know him there knew that he had no qualms with joining his best friend in a dance.

Kate muttered the words to a spell underneath her breath. The Ghostbusters theme song started playing throughout the room. If any of the guests had tried to find the source of the music, they would have been unable to. It was like it was coming from everywhere at once.

"We'll leave the king and the queen of the underworld for a bit," Kate said, giving Ryan and Azalea a grin and a wink before bringing her best friend more into the center of the room. Ryan and Azalea watched the two start dancing for a moment before heading over to the drinks.

"Hi," Ryan said.

The bartender stiffened.

He gave the flaming skeleton an awkward but warm smile - it didn't seem to help much. "Can I have a glass of milk, please?"

"And I'd like a Sprite, if you have any," Azalea added.

The bartender looked like he had died at the request, but still managed to stiffly get their drinks and just as stiffly hand them to the two.

Paul watched as Carter stumbled across the dance floor. It was mostly free of people dancing and instead was filled with small huddles of chatting monsters. He continued to sit by the pool side, letting his legs rest, and hoping that someone might come over to him.

On the other side of the room, Carter glanced back once or twice to check on Paul and nearly tripped over a small bat. It had been coming in at low range and he hadn’t seen it at all. He thought about apologizing to it but walked on to the bar with no question for the bartender but, “Do you serve hard cider?”

Rowenna smiled slightly when the music came on and watched a few people dancing. She really wanted something to drink, but didn't know what. What she really wanted was most definitely not served here. Shrugging, she walked over to the bar, waiting as that well dressed smoking guy asked for something called hard cider. She scanned the shelves, looking for something that sounded interesting and something she might be able to drink. Nothing.

"Water with tomato juice if you have it, please." She said with a defeated sigh.

Marciella quietly excused herself from the group and slid back into the water. Her legs were killing her and she suspected that it was the soreness of her fins leaking through from her other form. They needed much more of a stretch than she'd initially guessed.

Once submerged, she reverted back to her more comfortable form and returned to the surface. There was someone at the edge of the pool. With a flick of her tail, she made her way over to him and grabbed the side of the pool next to where he sat to keep herself in place, "Hello," she greeted, forgetting to don her smile, "I am Lady Marciella Filis of Freyellot." When she extended her had to him, she remembered the smile.

Bettie sipped at her diet crocodile stomach acid, content.

"They have blood. No need to be shy." She said to the poor vampire woman.

"I can smell it. Juuust under the counter." She whispered.

Rowenna's head whipped around, her hair flying back. She started for a moment and then turned back to the bartender. "Scratch that, make it a cup of blood please." She turned back to the woman who had told her. "Thank you. May I ask your name?"

"I'm Bettie. Capatalist scum, pop idol export from Hell. It's sweet to meetcha." she said, voice like honey. She already had her drink, but she leaned over the bartop gratuitously nonetheless.

-----

"Maybe people like to dance because we wanna forget that we're gonna die, you know?" said Guy to the skeleton sat beside him on the couch, which was dressed as a beautiful medieval princess.

She had listened faithfully to his waxings about death, life, the universe, and brands of eyeliner for almost half an hour. Not once had she fiddled with her skirt. Not once had she groaned. Clearly, a kindred spirit.

"-And every day we have to struggle, to decide wether we'll give into the illusions of the world, or if we'll make a stand for ourselves, cos we can't be fooled by the... by the, the kitten poster-isms of the world. But sometimes, even though we know better, we still join the fold, you know? Every once in a while, we'll put down our pens and we'll join the happy, happy fold, and try to think we're still the smart ones- because we wear spikes, instead of flowers."

He ended this solemn truth with a bow of his head. He remained still for a moment to let it sink in, and then looked up again, throwing in a casual little hair flick.

"So, wanna dance with me?" he asked the skeleton.

Her skull sagged. Her jaw fell into her lap.

Guy leaned forward, resting his face in one hand. "You really get me." he sighed dreamily. He put his other hand on the skeleton's, and smiled at the coldness of her fingers. It was giving him lyric ideas. Ah, what a night.

He gazed lightly over at the scarecrow child, who had skipped over to join the dancing masses. He smiled. What fools.

"Rowenna Silver Dracula." Rowenna returned the greeting, sipping her drink. Her eyes watching everything. Baba had joined the dancing, someone had just asked a skeleton dressed as a princess to dance. Rowenna's eyes narrowed. She did not like the look of that guy. At all. She looked around, really wanting to meet the hosts, but they were still dancing.

Bettie's eyelids lifted just a millimeter higher. "Ooh. An original Dracula? My stars. Is the old man still kickin'? -If you'll forgive my nosiness."