Eight hundred milligrams, the doctor said. Two white discs stare up at me on the counter, small beside the glass of water. Stupid little things. I look away.
On the window sill above the sink is a row of jagged chess pieces, carved from dead trees. Mostly uneven pawns of all shades, but at the end is a neatly sculpted queen.
“Have you tried carving yet?”
It was August when I met her. I went for a walk, because the house was too small a place for all my emotions. She stood just outside that creepy old house on Nullen…
I first heard the buzzing while I was considering whether or not I could pull off a male voice. I had a typical day-off setup. I sat on my bed in my small, cluttered room, leaning against the wall behind me, computer opened on my lap. Hoodie and sweatpants, hair greasy and unbrushed, you get the idea. I was browsing voice acting auditions, as was a hobby of mine, and one particular role struck me as something that could be fun. The only problem was, the character was male. I’d done male voices before, but typically for little boys. …
Truth. Truth is all I wanted. Well, that and a box of Andes Chocolate Mints. At that moment, with my stomach growling, and my mind racing, I couldn’t figure which one was more urgent. But either way, it caused me to walk willingly into a sketchy gas station downtown that smelled of smoke, and sour milk.
Hilly’s Gas and Goods was a sad, gray building squatting in the middle of nowhere, a few miles outside city limits. Surrounding it was a massive plot of sand and weeds. …
By the time I step outside, the leaves are on fire. Autumn has arrived, and it’s going to rain. I hate autumn, and I hate the rain.
It was raining when she left.
It was october.
I hurry to the bus stop.
As far as I know, I’m the only one that can hear them. Though “hear” doesn’t seem like the right word for it. It’s more of a feeling. A feeling with words.
You’ve probably got one, too, whether you realize it or not. A chant. A phrase or word that you subconsciously repeat like a mantra…
Meg knew she was a background character. Or a side character, on lucky days. But never a protagonist. Never a love interest. Never a villain. And thank goodness for that, she told herself. They seemed to have the most troubles.
Despite the rain, Meg biked to the coffee shop. Her dark hair stuck to her forehead, nearly blocking her vision more than the helmet she’d strapped on. Had she been a main character, she wouldn’t have bothered with the helmet. …
Olive drummed her fingers on the wood grain with suffocating impatience.
“Well it’s obvious what we should do.” she said at length, “We ought to organize a playdate so we can spy on him. Simple.”
“Playdate?” Gabe scoffed, “What are we, four? Besides, he’s sixteen! Why would he want to hang out with us?”
“Two years difference isn’t so bad,” Olive defended, “My parents are four years apart in age.”
“Yeah, that would be great advice, if we were planning to marry him!”
Olive sighed. “Did we have any other jobs?”
Gabe shuffled through the papers. “Yeah. All from her…
Another embarrassment. Gregory Weller rubbed his tired eyes. He’d gotten so far this time.
“I- terribly sorry, but I forgot- I’ve a train to catch.”
“A train?” Abilene frowned. “Where on earth are you going? You’ve never mentioned a train before.”
Gregory tried his best to ignore the sweat gathering about his forehead. “Of course I have- you must have not been paying attention. At any rate, I must be off. Gooday.”
“I’ll see you again soon!” And he left, without a glance behind him. …
The whole mess began like a domino effect the moment Jolin spat in Gunner Keggin’s face. The Dead Dog Saloon was a bar notorious for outbursts and fights, and Keggin did have a talent for pissing people off, so Jolin’s mistake shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to everyone watching. (And believe me, everyone was watching). Only this wasn’t just any loser’s face. This was Gunner Keggin. You don’t mess with Keggin.
Jolin was new, see, and hadn’t yet grasped the unspoken rules of Blake Dunes. Rule number one, for instance, stated that it just wouldn’t do to…
They were out of strawberries.
And Mom wanted to make strawberry pie. Avery couldn’t think of a reason for why his mom suddenly needed strawberry pie, but he didn’t question it. What he did question, however, was his ability to do what was necessary. Go to the little grocer just around the corner, and buy them. He’d never gone to the store by himself, and he was almost ten. He hated approaching people. He could barely manage to ask permission to use the bathroom in school, let alone ask where one might find the strawberries. But mom was insistent on…
Sometimes, dumb characters are iconic, fun, and memorable. And sometimes… well, sometimes we get characters like Jar Jar Binks. So how do you give your audience a character that’s dumb enough to be funny, but not annoying? Here’s a quick guide to get you started.
The dumb character in your story will typically serve as the comic relief. This means they have to be a clever kind of funny, not just clueless. Your audience is not likely to laugh if most of the character’s personality is them not knowing what’s going on.
Think about it. In the sitcom The Good…