Wait! I Wrote That? A Collection of Old, Horrific Stories

Dang, What Am I Doing?

Song: "Barking At the Moon" - Jenny Lewis

        Well, I did it. I joined Quotev, one of the writing websites T-Meister recommended, merely to store my stories. I was mighty comfortable using it as my workshop, so what was I doing, creating an account for Wattpad, too? @CroodsGirl. There we go. That was the best I could come up with for my username. If that wasn't cheesy enough, I did not know what was.

I propped my feet up on one of the college's leather couches. It was quiet in the library, as any library should. I'd rather be there than be stuck in 100°F any day. It was so freaking hot in the South when August rolled around. I just wanted to lay up sorry and write my stupid stories. Timothy owned me for getting me interested in posting them online. Although I have to admit, my writing was getting better. Perhaps it was publishing material, after all? Nah. You're going cuckoo, Vika. One too many hits with a pencil and paper, am I right?

There we go. I clicked Create on the website. I was officially part of the Wattpad community now. I was a prisoner about to get beat up by all those published authors.

Crap! What had I done? I already wanted to delete my account, but something stopped me.

My chewed-down nails hovered over my computer's mouse. They shook when a bullet of nervousness struck my fingers. What was that Three Days Grace song? Oh, yeah. "Misery Loves My Company".

I was an expert at making myself miserable, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop writing. I swear, it was a curse. I really should have considered changing my Major to English, but no. History was a lot like English. You were a sophomore in college now, Vika. It was time to let your amateur writing go.

But wait! Perhaps I could transfer Through the Wormhole from Quotev to Wattpad as an experiment? I doubted people would read it, but it didn't hurt to try.

Okay, done! My crappy sci-fi piece left the protective, white light of Quotev and now drowned in the infrared of Wattpad. I was going to regret this, wasn't I? Who on Earth read stories about futuristic boys traveling through wormholes to prehistoric times? That was Back to the Future ten times worse.

Hell's fire returned to my insides, burning them to a crisp. I did not know if I was excited or scared. Or maybe I was a little of both? No, no. Nothing would change my mind about refusing to get my books published. That was unless, somehow, COVID-19 came to the states. If I was stuck at home, I would have no choice but to write. I had nothing else to do. I had no friends and no boyfriend. Some twenty-year-old I was, eh?

I removed my shoes from the couch and set my computer down before me—on a square-shaped glass table top. My mouse searched the orange-tinged website for five minutes before it landed on a plus sign on the drop-down menu under "Write". The second I pressed it, a blank story page popped up. It had the options Title, Description, Main Characters, Category, Tags, and Target Audience. Aw, yeah! I did it! I had the power!

Setting up my Wattpad account took up most of the time I was supposed to be studying, but when I finished, it was like I had taken a whole new step in my career.

It was okay that I was still an amateur. I just hoped my jealousy wouldn't overtake my moral ambiguity.

Seeing all those published authors, I felt a pit in my tummy. My face burned crimson, but I shook my head. I doubted I would ever be as good as them.

I ducked my head into my shell and stepped outside to the college's busy campus. It was full of students who probably didn't know about my hidden world. Like George Washington, I settled under a tall oak tree and pulled up Word on my computer.

Write, write, Victoria, the siren whispered in my head. You do not have to deal with school.

You know, she was right. I had As and Bs. I didn't need to do work, not when I had my imagination. Screw that test tomorrow. I wrote a new chapter of Illusion and put it on Quotev and Wattpad. Dad didn't need to know I was ditching school. He just needed to hear my stories.

Matthew, too. The other day, I got a call from him that brightened my fatigued writing brain.

"So, Vika," asked his deep, mesmerizing voice, "please tell me you've uploaded your masterpieces!" His excitement was enough to tell me where my heart belonged.

"Do you think I can be a writer?" I asked my big bro.

"I sure do!" he said with a small burp. "Sorry. I'm fixing fish tacos for my girlfriend. Mmm, doesn't it smell good?"

"I can't smell what I don't see," I giggled.

"Ah, that's right," Matthew said, slightly embarrassed. "Well, I've gotta go. Give me a holler when you become famous. I'll be the first person at your book signing."

The call was short but sweet. Every time Matthew reached out, I briefly left the world of writing and entered my family world.

I didn't regret joining Wattpad. While I didn't expect to compare to those Wattpad Creators, at least I had my older brother supporting me behind my back.

It was time for me to listen to my secret siren. Let's toss those dusty, old-school books to the side. Who needed them?

The Internet was a dangerous place.