Battle of the Snowflakes: Part One

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this at two in the morning. Expect there to be mistakes. I might go back through and fix them. I might not. Eh.

This is part one of a series. I am planning on writing more.

Inspired by this post:

marysuebattle

from  el-squidacabra to Mary Sue Problems (which is a ridiculously sweet blog you should totally check out if you’re into this kind of thing). If you have no idea what the term “Mary Sue” means, do your homework here (for the definition of a sue) here (for common types of sue) and here (for an example of one of the worst sues in existence). You can jump right into the story if you so choose but if it doesn’t make any sense, I can’t do much to help, sorry. (It might not even make sense anyway).

Anyway, have fun and please enjoy:

Battle of the Snowflakes

–story after the cut–

Part One: The Games

For many years now the universe has had a problem: me. Well, not just me, but people like me. Reality warpers. The best of the best. The chosen ones, the unique snowflakes, and the impractical-ball-gown-wearing destroyers of worlds.

We were too powerful for ordinary people to deal with and yet our very existence was tearing the universe apart at the seams. Someone had to do something. Someone did do something.

This is that story.

Hi there, I’m Corralynnne Esperosa Diagon Marchess of Hundor, princess of those who refer to me as princess and ruler of the seven sanctums of Telnotsho. You can call me Corrie.

I have long coral-colored hair (where my name comes from) that sometimes changes color because not all coral is the same color, duh! My eyes are ebullient turquoise orbs with specks of purple in them that match my pair of purple converse and the highlights in my hair as well as the nigh indestructible battle-ball gown I am currently wearing.  Since I’m incredibly fascinating, I’m sure you want to know more about how I got here, why I’m lying on the ground staring at nine other girls, and–most importantly–where I got such a cool dress. Well, let me tell you.

It started out as an ordinary day on my adopted home planet. So far, I had been the center of a parade in my honor, thrown confetti to thousands of starving peasants who adore me, turned down the advances of five of the men of my dreams, and had become an expert archer upon picking up a bow for the first time ever. All was as it should be.

Then, only moments after I had changed from my cute archery outfit to my cute, custom-made, purple mountain’s majesty colored battle-ball gown for the assassin’s dinner I was hosting that night, a brilliant white light enveloped me. Next thing I knew, I was in a giant circular room with walls of white marble. Naturally, I panicked at the sudden change of scenery and tripped, nearly landing on my face. A loud slap sounded throughout the room, and I looked up to see nine other girls who apparently had appeared at the same time as I. We were all arranged in a neat circle and the others appeared to have tripped and landed on the ground in unison with me. We all stood shakily, eying one another warily and combing our hair fussily.

The girl to my immediate left suddenly steps forward and interrupts my spellbinding recap with a deep, pleasant voice.

“I demand to know the meaning of this,” she says, flicking a few strands of long black hair over her shoulder as her red eyes bore into each of us in turn. “Who has dared to interrupt my conquest?”

“Oh my gooooood,” a normal looking girl with medium-length brown hair says while rolling her eyes. “No one here interrupted any of your gothventures, we’ve all been kidnapped ourselves. Obviously.

“Well, you’re all in luck,” a third girl with mesmerizing rainbow hair that constantly shifts colors says. “Thwarting plots happens to be a particular skill of mine.”

“Like, no way,” a purple-haired girl says. “Me too.”

“And me,” the rest of the girls say in unison, then glare at one another. I remain silent, as does the normal looking brown-haired girl.

“Well, let’s do this then!” a busty yet scrawny young blonde says excitedly and starts moving towards the wall. Four steps in, a flash of blinding green light appears. There is a shriek and a noise like an insect hitting a bug zapper and the girl slides back across the floor to her original position, literally smoking.

Several clicking noises echo through the room in the stunned silence that follows and a monotone voice blares out from seemingly all directions.

“Welcome, greetings and salutations!” the voice says. “Now, before you get your custom-made panties in wad, please allow me to inform you that you cannot escape. You are surrounded on all sides by invisible three-dimensional walls, impenetrable by your kind. If you look around you now, you should see lines of red tape indicating where the walls are located.”

I glanced at the floor. I was standing in the center of a slim circular sector marked with red tape, as were all the other girls in the circle. My own personal slice of the crazy pie. Fantastic.

“I assure you that the walls, ceiling and floor outside your three-dimensional walls are made of even tougher stuff. Now that you have not given up hope of escape but are inclined to hear me out, I will inform you as to why you are here,” the voice continues, “which is, to put it plainly, taxes.”

At this, everyone in the room goes deathly still.

“You have all in the past year claimed a complete tax exemption under junction 1IX73, stating that you are ‘The One’ to whom rules do not apply. Unfortunately, with all of you gathered here, you can no doubt see the problem. There can only be One, yet ten of you have applied. You have been brought here to determine which of you is in fact, The One we seek.”

The voice pauses long enough for all of us to shoot looks at each other before continuing, “should you chose not to stay and participate, you will be returned to your respective homes and the full amount of your exempted tax will be due by the end of one standard planetary rotation. Should you stay, you will be entered into a series of one-on-one battles to the death. Winner is tax-exempt for all eternity, gains the universal title of Mary Sue Princess, and wins a pair of limited edition high-heel converses that change color to match anything you wear. If you’d like to step out now, please speak up.”

Silence fills the room, broken only by slight sizzling noises coming from the blonde who hit the third dimension wall and is still lying motionless on the floor.

“Very well then,” the voice says, “let the Sue Games begin!”

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Posted on June 18, 2013, in Battle of the Snowflakes and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Battle of the Snowflakes: Part One.

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