So I dug up an old story the other day that was just a spur of the moment recount of something strange that happened to me at a party. It was written on a whim as my way of remembering - I've never been big on diaries, but some memories you want to stick around. I was rather surprised, as I wrote it: I could vividly remember the scene, the way people were standing, the looks on their faces and how they moved. There's something unique about rereading it again, years later, because the memory seems to come alive. So I wanted to share it: and issue a challenge, in some capacity. A writing exercise. The next time something interesting happens to you, write it down. See what you remember well, what blurs into nonimportance. See how you feel about it. And post here, of course. - Spoilered is the story I mentioned: it was written when I was sixteen and is 850 words or so, if you feel like reading. All names have been changed. Spoiler [storybody]The first time I met Launa, it was to stop her throwing a cat onto the fire. “Launa!” I echoed the name that I'd heard called behind me, running up the massive even-spaced wooden steps by leaps. “Launa!” The people who'd been trying to stop her hauling the cat up there hung back, knowing I'd get the job done. Or, quite possibly, just complacent enough to know that someone would stop her throwing the damn cat into the bonfire. “Launa, put the cat down,” I told her with some caution. She cooed over it, raising the tense, tightly-gripped feline to her face. I manoeuvred myself before her, blocking the fire. “I'm just going to warm her up,” the girl told me. She didn't quite slur. There was, however, a breathless, whining, quality to her voice. Her foot shifted and her body dipped sideways, in a little stagger. I stretched out my arms, prompting her to release the cat. She didn't. “Launa,” I warned her again. My tone wasn't exactly threatening; I don't really do threatening. I tried for reasonable. “Give me the cat.” Her eyes slid off me like water over oil and latched onto a couple next to us. I had this awful sinking feeling that suddenly we were no longer having a conversation. The couple she was staring at stood near the fire, watching her and the cat awkwardly, not exactly sure what was going on. The girl staggered over to them, feline smothered tightly in her arms. I sighed, and followed. Launa wore a very small black bikini. She wasn't wet; good news for the cat, I suppose, as her breasts were pressed against its soft yellowish underbelly. Its claws dug into her skin as it fought to escape, but she didn't seem to notice, or care. “Hello!” she interrupted the couple's space with a cheery drunken stagger. “I'm Launa. Who're you?” “Er,” The taller of the two had his arm wrapped around his girlfriend's shoulders. He spoke with a French accent, immediately noticeable in how the simple noise rolled off his tongue. I recognised them as the couple that had come with my friend; French exchange students. Handily enough, a pair. “I am sorry?” Launa perked up considerably. “Oooh, are you French? I just love the French. You guys have the sexiest accents.” Abruptly she seized the French man's arm, snuggling up to it. “You guys are so hot. We should have a threesome.” The couple, bless them, didn't say anything – too polite and confused to throw the drunk girl off. She turned to me, and I blinked, having thought I'd been forgotten entirely. “The French have the best accents, don't they?” I had another horrible sinking feeling. Oh god. She was going to invite me to join her threesome, wasn't she. I took one look at the awkward French couple, Launa clinging like some ball and chain on their arms, tittering about how much she liked the French with that huge grin of enthusiasm on her face, and my only reaction was to spite them all. “Not really.” I told her. “No one likes the French.” There was a brief laugh from behind and Launa paused a little, off-pace. I seized the opportunity, and pried the cat out of her arms. It still wriggled as it was transferred; I didn't put it down because of the proximity of the fire. Not that I thought a cat would be stupid enough to actually jump into a fire or something... just more cautious of whether Launa would chase it, which I felt entirely justified in thinking would happen. Launa, drunk off her tits and my acquaintance for all of five minutes, was batshit insane. Someone came close to me, looking vaguely useful, and so I delegated the cat to them. They retreated back down the large steps without comment. Leaving me face to face with Launa. Both of us tensed, staring the other down. Thankfully, the girl still had the attention span of a goldfish. Her gaze slid off me once again and onto her next poor, unsuspecting prey. At once, her eyes gained an unnatural gleam: she'd done it. She'd found the black guy at the party. Launa at once darted over and snuggled up by my friend's side, pressing bikini-clad boobs into his arm. “I'm Launa.” she announced, tone expectant of a reply. There was a long pause. I saw my own thoughts, there, mirrored on his expression. This girl was insane. Probably a danger to both herself and everyone at the party. And she wanted the D. He looked down at her. It was a very long pause. “...I'm Cole.” he finally said. It was his first mistake. Launa buried her fingers in his clothing. Cole just remained rigid, stepping away slightly. “I'm fifteen!” she announced cheerfully, again expecting a response. Her chosen one had a moment of horrified insight. “...I'm not.” [/storybody] Spoiler They did indeed bang.