#PromptFiction - The Forgotten Nymph
So, my prompt for the week was more or less a title from my lady, Dixie. At first she sent a picture, and while some may have called it art, to me it just looked like a spider crapped its web all over this model. Couldn't do it without laughing, shuddering, and having bad dreams. Instead, this prompt came from that.

Prompt: Forgotten Nymph


The Forgotten Nymph

She stands but five foot two...in three inch heels. Kate just took her short height as a blessed curse and was grateful the rest of her body matched in proportion. Tiny, pale skin, slim waist, pixie-like features with wide eyes and cropped, wispy hair.

It was no wonder her friends called her a fairy.

And she always ended up being just that at Halloween, too. After all, sexy costumes that were meant to showcase legs and curves didn't look so cute when they hung below the knees.

Of course, that was only some of her friends.

Her very best friend, the one who lived only two doors down growing up, well, he called her the nymph. When she was older, and maybe understood what it meant a little better, the nickname could have bothered her, but by then he'd used it so much she didn't know if she'd react to him calling her by something different.

Called her that when no one was looking, when others wouldn't hear. Whispered it in her ear as he walked by her in the school hallway, reaching out to tug on a strand of hair with a glittering grin plastered over smug cheeks. Laughed it out on the edge of her bed before he climbed back out the window and jumped down the oak tree that lined her house.

Reed said it all the time. Too many times. Said it until Kate thought that's exactly what she was, but only his.

Maybe it didn't help at fifteen when he kissed her sweetly, or at seventeen in the back of a Honda Civic with jeans on the floorboards and fumbling hands learning a whole new thing. It certainly didn't help when words like beautiful, always, and love were slung around like candy.

Pretty boys with popularity complexes broke hearts more often than they understood.

High school kicked ass in ways that shouldn't have mattered. Friends were pushed aside and lost for the sake of the popularity game. New rules applied every which way you turned. Mean girls took on a different meaning every day of the week. Style, speech, and possessions suddenly determined your rank of class.



She had all of that. Not that she tried to.

And anyways, they'd be gone in less than a year before anyone knew the difference. What would become of them then? Stumbling, fumbling almost-adults trying to make their ways through university, crappy jobs, or one mistake after another.

Kate didn't want to care.

She really, really didn't.

So, perhaps the high school seniors' Halloween party at the football captain's house wasn't the smartest idea. Turning cheek was becoming difficult and tiresome. Making a scene seemed worse.

Pretty girls with indifferent goals didn't play that way.


That voice had her head turning to the side, eyes seeking out that familiar curve of lips that screamed a cocky seventeen. With a single raise of her vodka filled Dixie cup, she gave her hello back without saying a single word.

Fingers ghosted over the sparkling wings that donned her back and spread out to the sides. Eyes appraised the tiny costume she had on. It wasn't too long before his gaze switched to the head cheerleader across the room with tits that all but spilled out of her black cat costume as her drunken body swayed. Smeared gloss, high eyes, and airless laughter.

Dumb girls with attention complexes ruined everything.

That's what he wanted. That's exactly what he could have.

"Thought you wouldn't show."

Kate smirked, lifted the cup to take a sip, then handed it over.

Tired. Bored.

Wishing he would stop climbing her tree in the dark of night and ignoring her in the day. Betting his girl would hate to know Kate slid into the backseat of his Honda every Friday game night while she was shaking her ass with pompoms high.

High school sucked.

Mean girls didn't always have to be the obvious ones.

Sometimes they were just fucking sneaky, too.

Done playing the game.

"A fairy again?" he asked.

"Nope. The forgotten nymph."


1 Response
  1. Anonymous Says:

    "Pretty girls with indifferent goals didn't play that way. .."

    Love, love, love....


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