Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING
ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more
speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective
eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..."
Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc.) and
then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant,
nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see
fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them. Regarding Fantasy, this insight was
startling: “I see the fantasy genre as an ever-shifting metaphor for life in
this world, an innocuous medium that allows the author to examine difficult,
even controversial, subjects with impunity. Honor, religion, politics, nobility,
integrity, greed—we’ve an endless list of ideals to be dissected and explored. And
maybe learned from.” – Melissa McPhail.
F Trope: Comic
Fantasy
Sein Ryoo held Yi
Ling Guinto’s hand tightly as she spun out from him. The light panel, extremely
sensitive to the magic generated by motion, glowed a cool, mint green.
They were both
panting. Yi Ling bent over, planting her fists on her knees. A few minutes
later, she said, “If we want to get on ‘You Think YOU Got Dance Magic?’, then
we’re gonna have to turn that traffic light green – and just as intense.”
Trying to pretend
there was no stitch in his side, Sein said, “We’ve been working all summer.
Dance Magic’s gonna be here in forty-eight hours. What can we do in two days
the we haven’t done in three months?”
With a flick of
her finger, Yi Ling changed music tracks on her tablet computer from the sober
beginning of the fandango to the wild exuberance of her current favorite metal
band, Cursed For Cash. Sein whooped, grabbed her arms and they danced until the
panel glowed like a magic spotlight. They collapsed into each other’s arms,
laughing. She kissed Sein’s cheek and he pushed away, laughing as well. He
said, “You know better than that!”
“I keep hoping,”
she said, stepped forward and hugged him. “Let’s call it quits for today. I’ll
see you tomorrow morning. Mom says to tell your dad that we’ll be there at five
am.”
“Ugh!”
Yi Ling sniffed
then said, “If we lived in a real city, we wouldn’t have to drive so far.” She
sighed, for the thousandth time, wishing she lived somewhere other than Duluth,
Minnesota. Hardly a hotbed of dance magic, she was glad she at least had Sein.
She relented, “But then we would never have met.”
He hugged her
back, “I’ve got no idea what I’d have done if you weren’t here.” He shook his
head. “Not only would I NOT be heading to the Dance Magic tryouts and I would
have failed pre-calculus and physics.”
“No,” said Yi
Ling, “I would have failed.”
“No, I would
have,” they headed home. As the magic faded from their practice room, the panel
grew dark, only occasionally flickering as flocks of Canadian geese flew their
ancient dance to the south, overhead and far away.
Sein’s dad shot
over his shoulder, “Five more kilometers to Chicago!”
In the back, Sein
and Yi Ling squirmed. The ceiling light flared for an instant as did the dash
light. Yi Ling’s mom sighed as her tablet readers glared brightly for an
instant. “Stop it back there!” If the two of you keep back-seat dancing, you’re
going to short out every light from here to New York!”
Sein’s dad
squealed with laughter and squirmed in his own seat. But no lights flickered.
The illumination stayed the same. Sein blushed furiously, pale skin under
red-dyed and permed hair. Leaning to Yi Ling, he whispered, “I hate it when he
screams like a girl.”
She pushed him
back, saying, “I don’t sound like that when...”
“That’s cause you
hardly ever scream.”
Sein’s dad heard
nothing as he exclaimed, “Chicago’s flashing like a lighthouse beacon!”
Looking between
the front seat headrests, Sein and Yi Ling gasped as golden light pulsed from
the Windy City – as if welcoming them home.
Names: ♀Singapore, Philippines ; ♂ Burma, South Korea
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