Come one, come all, and join in the November issue of the monthly ‘what if’ game.

Rules are simple: All you have to do is read the below scenario, then imagine it is YOURSELF in there and leave a comment detailing what YOU would do.

You do NOT have to be a writer to participate. This is NOT a contest. This is purely for FUN and ALL are invited to play.

Okay? Ready?

Here’s your scenario:

You’re fifteen (again). You’re in senior (high) school. And Angela Blacksmith is annoying the crap out of you. It’s not enough that she spent the entire Math lesson drawing pictures of you with rats on your head and their tails hanging down as your hair. It’s not enough that she stood side by side with Bethany (Beefcake) Morris and Mel Cambry outside the toilet cubicle you used and created a human barricade that made you late for Biology. It’s not enough that she stole a cod fillet from the school kitchen and planted it in your locker, which she expertly broke into using her sharp-as-all-get-out nail file.

No … she had to go and trip you over, too—just as Carlton (Sweetcheeks) Monroe happened to be walking along the same corridor and smiling at you for the first time since second year when he let you share his cookie at the lunch table.

So now you’re mad. Real mad. You lift your face, from where it’s squidged against the tile, to a hoard of laughter and mocking expressions.

Right there, at the forefront, pointing her polished nail at you is the little [insert choice word] responsible.

Your teeth are grit. Your mind is blazing. You know you shouldn’t let yourself get mad. You know you should rein it in. Especially after what happened to your little brother last week when you caught him showing your underwear to his friends. But you just can’t help yourself.

Before you know it, your hands are free, you’re pointing your fingers right at Angela and, with a mumbled curse beneath your breath, you let fly a stream of ….

What? What exactly have you recently discovered you’re capable of?

Feel free to create your own ‘what-if’ scenarios for people to participate in. Simply tag them as #whatifgame on Twitter and ensure they’re posted the first Monday of every month.


13 thoughts on “THE ‘WHAT IF’ GAME! #3

  1. Yahoo! I love these things! Gets the creative juices flowing. So here goes…and I’ll try not to go crazy this time 🙂 *cough*

    unusual…chanting. [Wait. Chanting?] I glance around at the faces of my classmates; all standing silent with mouths hung wide open. My eyes continue to scan the crowd and fall on the spot where Angela and her side-kick Bethany were standing not less than ten seconds ago. In their places are two adorable kittens, climbing on one another in play. [What the…] Slowly lowering my finger, I swallow a gulp. If a pin fell to the floor, the sound would echo down through the halls. I clear my throat.
    And run…straight out the front door. I shoot across the lawn; hop the fence and take off down the narrow path through the woods that cut straight to my house. My legs burn and dryness scorches my throat. My thoughts are an endless stampede, pounding at my brain. [Oh my gosh. What did I do? It wasn’t me. I don’t even know what those words mean! It was….someone else’s voice. Oh mom’s gonna kill me.]
    With heaving breaths, I skip up the stairs to the front porch and scramble for the key under the mat. It’s gone. I rise slowly, scratching my head. I was certain that I’d left it there this morning. I turn the knob and the door opens. [That’s strange. Mom would never leave the front door unlocked.]
    Tiptoeing through the foyer, I peek around the wall to the living room and make my way to the kitchen. My heart leaps into my chest. A peculiar woman sits at the kitchen table with a very elaborate hat atop her head. Long grey locks cascade over her shoulders. But her face is free of wrinkles; her skin glowing with youth.
    “Keira?” she asks. Her smile stretches wide.
    “What…who…why are you…?”
    She chuckles. “I’m a very distant relation child. My name is Anna. Don’t worry, I mean you no harm. I’m here to help!”
    [She couldn’t be talking about Angela. No one would know about that yet. It just happened. Unless. Oh gosh, is it on the news already?!] “Help? With…what?”
    “I understand you’re in a wee bit of a pickle, sweet.” Her eyes narrow. “Angela Blacksmith and Bethany Morris,” she says, shaking her head. “Atrocious girls. Poor manners! Ladies in my time acted like ladies or we simply turned them into toads.”
    “Your time?”
    “Well, it was some time ago. Three hundred years to be exact.”
    “Three hundred years? Manners? Toads?” My knees are buckling; tunnel vision is setting in. Anna rushes over. Her arms shoot out and settle me into a chair. “I don’t feel so good.”
    “Your first time will do that to you!” She stands over me, patting me on the back. “You’re a fledgling witch. You have much to learn my dear!”
    “Witch?” I rest my head on my folded arms to keep the room from spinning.
    “Yes! You come from a long line of witches, darling. Your family is legendary!”
    “Oh boy. This day just keeps getting worse.”
    “Now. Before we get into the details, what do you say we turn Angela and Bethany back into themselves?”
    I lift my head and curl my lip. “Anna…do we have to?”

    I put brackets around the words that should be italicized. Great prompt as usual Julie 🙂

  2. O m g, I had a continuation to the ‘what if’ all typed up and was just tweaking it when my laptop decides to shut down and do the updates that I’ve been putting off doing!! Arg!!

    Fingers crossed that I can somehow recover it

      1. Mine usually does too…except when I put off the updates for so long, then my laptop just shuts down. And I swear it’s saying neener neener neener in the process!!

  3. I wanted to try my hand at ‘what if’ since I love reading everyone responses. So here goes…again **cracks knuckles**

    …unintelligible noises that can only translate to that of pure rage. My blood boils to the point where I start shaking. My hearing narrows and my vision hones in on one thing…Bethany. I roughly shove her against the lockers. The deafening thud silences the crowd as it echoes in the hall but I don’t notice. All I see is her and that quick hint of terror in her eyes. She’s putting up a front but she doesn’t have me fooled, I know she heard the rumors from last week and she’s afraid. She better be. It takes every last ounce of will power but I somehow manage to walk away but not before telling her in a harsh, barely audible vioce, that I’m not through with her. I have her right where I want her and I WILL get my revenge and revenge for everyone she has ever bullied. That one second when she lets her guard down, I’ll be there. And she’ll be sorry.

    Ok, that’s not super original but hey I’m not by any means a writer so go easy on me, haha.

    1. Wheeeeeeeeeee! Jen came back to play.

      Dude, you’re scary. LOL. Remind me never to get on your bad side. 😛

      JK, great ending. Thanks for joining in. 🙂

  4. something. Something that does all sorts of wicked things to Angela. First her falls flat, Slowly losings it curls and shind. it turns into a frizzy, mousy mess. Then all her makeup disappears. icluding the heavy concealer she uses to cover up a large mole and her acne problem. Next her clothe s turn frumpy and hang off her frame. And lastly, the chicken cutlets things she pust into her bra to make the boys drool disappear completely. Than to top it all off, up pops a pair of black plastic framed glasses to perch on her now greasy nose.
    Everyone in the hallway has been holding their breath. Now they just stare for moment, first at her, then at me. I get up off the floor preparing to race off.
    suddenly the silence is broken. By a laugh. It booms down the quiet hall. Everyone jumps startled. I zero in on the person laughing. It’s Carlton, and he is walking over to me. I freeze.
    He drapes an arm over my shoulder as he turns me around to walk the other way. “Good one,” he says out loud. “Love her new look!” We walk out the front door to the sounds of Angela being taunted.
    Justice served.

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