Pedantic Signs: Trifecta Writing Challenge

Holy Blonde-Cheerleader-Batman!


I wrote Trifecta again. I am freaking writing again. I am not staring at a blank Word document wanting to bang my head against the wall anymore. Holy holy holy holy crap. (As you can see I am way too happier than any sane person should be)


God, I love Trifecta. Honestly, this entry is just crappy and weird, but I'm happy there's an entry.


This week's prompt:PEDANTIC (adjective)
1 : of, relating to, or being a pedant(see pedant)
2 : narrowly, stodgily, and often ostentatiously learned
3 : unimaginative, pedestrian


(a.k.a what my writing has been for the past few months)


MY ENTRY:

The girl raised her head to look around at the world.


There were three glass birds pecking at a lamppost. The lamppost was wriggling around trying to admonish them, but lampposts couldn’t speak. Beneath a laburnum tree, two girls were helping their sister to break free of the roots her feet had pushed into the earth. Little leaves were sprouting all over her arms and the rooted girl was crying large green tears. The trees shook their branches in protest every time they tried to heave her out, sighing and howling and shedding leaves in annoyance.


(Trees liked new neighbors.)


Two steps in front of the girl, her boyfriend paused and turned around to look at her.


“What is it?” he asked, worry turning his large wings teal-colored and full of jumbled letters. When he was thinking, they had the tendency to shimmer with the words running through his mind, so she never had to ask what was bugging him. The only hitch in their relationship was when he thought in purple prose.


She pointed. “It says ‘please don’t create your reality recklessly’.”


He looked at her gravely, his dark hair windswept. “Are you going to comply?”


She shrugged. “It says ‘please’. And we’re in their neighborhood.”


Looking a little pissed, he disappeared in a sparkle of light, and so did the glass birds. The snowflakes with the stories written on them turned to regular snowflakes. The three sisters began playing skip-the-rope and the trees were silent. The lamppost did one last wriggle but stilled when she glared at it.


She hoped the sign was happy with this reality. It didn’t look very reckless, but realities could sometimes be deceiving bastards.


She walked a few paces before she saw the next sign.


It said “Thank you.”


Some signs are just tragically pedantic.