Test Scene A
Nicolette stormed out of the second-floor apartment, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder and anger simmering just beneath her purple-hued skin. The echoes of her shouting match with her now ex-girlfriend still rang in her ears. She wanted to slam the door, to punctuate the end of their relationship with a satisfying bang, but experience held her back. She’d learned as a child that slamming doors often resulted in her tail getting caught. A mistake she was not willing to repeat. Instead, she closed the door with a firm, restrained push, the click feeling feeble compared to the rage boiling inside her.
She strode toward her car parked at the curb just past the apartment’s lawn, chin held high in an attempt to preserve a shred of dignity. Her tail swayed sharply with each step, betraying her emotions. Just as she reached the pavement, her ex’s voice pierced the air. “You forgot your stupid hoodie!” Nicolette froze, then turned just in time to see a balled-up hoodie hurtling toward her. It unfurled mid-air and flopped unceremoniously into the bushes. Her ex leaned out the second-story window, laughing derisively and throwing up two middle fingers before slamming the window shut.
For a moment, Nicolette considered leaving the hoodie where it lay, tangled among the branches. It wasn’t worth the effort or the humiliation, but practicality won out. She muttered a curse under her breath and doubled back, plucking the garment from the bushes. Shaking off a few stray leaves, she continued toward her car, her steps heavier now, her pride bruised.
Reaching her old sedan, she tossed the duffel bag into the back seat and slid into the driver’s seat. Ensuring her tail was safely inside, she slammed the door with a resounding thunk that provided a small, fleeting sense of satisfaction. She jammed the key into the ignition, her hands trembling with frustration, and turned it. The vehicle let out a screeching whine, refusing to start. She gritted her teeth and tried again, the sound mocking her with every failed attempt.
"Come on, girl, don’t do this to me," Nicolette pleaded, her voice wavering as she turned the key once more. This time, the engine started as if nothing was wrong. Relief washed over her, and she patted the dashboard gently. "Good girl," she murmured, forcing a faint smile.
She shifted the car into reverse and stepped on the gas, but instead of rolling backward, the vehicle lurched forward and collided with one of the wooden posts that separated the parking lot from the lawn. "Shit!" she hissed, slamming the brake and throwing the car into actual reverse. This time, she carefully backed out, her cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Nicolette drove aimlessly for a while before pulling into the back end of a department store parking lot. The lot was nearly empty, its desolate corners offering her a semblance of privacy. She grabbed her phone and stared at the screen for a long moment before texting her brother. "Hey. Jenna kicked me out again. Is your couch still available?" She hit send, knowing he wouldn’t see it for hours and hating herself for being a burden on him and his wife.
Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel, her tail curling around her ankle in a gesture of despair. Hot tears pricked at her eyes, but before they could spill, she angrily slammed her palms against the steering wheel. The loud thud echoed in the empty lot, a futile attempt to vent her frustration. Only then did she allow herself to cry, the sobs wracking her body as she curled into herself, alone in the cold, unfeeling car.
Test Scene B
It was hard for a Tel’ani to slam the door. Not due to mass, sure the average Tel’ani was smaller than the average human, but it was the long sinuous black tail that got in the way. Tel’ani children learned early on not to slam doors. Slamming doors caused a lot of pain. This was a good thing for Nickolette as the Apartment’s Entry door wasn’t hers to accidentally break just because she was pissed. She marched forward with a bag full of her clothes, green eyes focused on the parking lot and totally trying to ignore the sound of the second story window opening.
“Hey Bitch!” Jenna screamed.
Nickolette did not look back. She was going to walk out to her car and leave with as much dignity as she could muster.
“You forgot your stupid hoodie!”
Well shit… Nickolette turned just in time to see the balled up fabric of her favorite hoodie unfold mid-flight and drop into the hedges along the building. Jenna flashed Nickolette a double bird and slammed the window. Nickolette hung her head as she walked back to the building to fish her hoodie out of the bush. She threw the bag and hoodie in the back seat of the car and only after making sure her tail was securely inside the vehicle, slammed the car door with a satisfying thud. She angrily shoved the key into the ignition, an action that took a couple tries, and turned.
The car made a horrific grinding noise. “No, no, no, don’t do this to me now.” She begged as she turned the key again and winced at the horrible sound. “Please start, I need you to start.” She gave it to the count of ten and turned again. The car turned over and Nickolete rested her forehead on the steering wheel while patting the dashboard. “There’s a good girl.”
Nickolette put the car in reverse, looked behind her, and pushed on the gas only to lurch forward and into the wooded post that separated the parking lot from the grass. Nickolete grit her teeth, put the car in actual reverse, looked behind her, and carefully pulled out. It was a two minute drive to the parking lot of the local department store where she parked in a distant spot and screamed her frustrations into the steering wheel. She then pulled out her cellphone and navigated to her brother’s number.
“Hey. Jenna kicked me out again. Is your couch still available?”
He wouldn’t see it until his lunch break and she wasn’t fond of being a burden on him and his wife, but she was homeless again. Nickolette prepared herself for a good cry, but spent the first minute or so beating on the steering wheel in anger.