The Wiggler

United States of America

Message from Writer

Hello!
I go by Marie on the internet, and...hm. I'm sixteen years old, but I've spent the last three years of my life roleplaying obsessively, and I think it shows because my characters' speech patterns leak into the narration half the time. I'm bad at leaving reviews, but I want to at least get some of my work out there in case something happens to me, so I'm hanging out around here.

Published Work

Novel Writing Competition 2019

Following Chance

    There was something uniquely personal about close up magic, the magic that feigned intimacy by pulling off ploys right under the audience’s nose - perhaps literally, in certain cases.  Done right, it could awe a crowd just as much as any flashy performance could, and innate flair was part of the craft. These all made it exceptionally rewarding, but for Leopold, the best thing about it was the lack of complicated props.  All he’d need today was some dice, a deck of cards, and a chalkboard with chalk, and he wouldn’t be bringing the dice himself. Someone in the audience would inevitably have a pair of dice with them, because many of his ‘fans’ were gamblers, and he knew the crowd.

    Luckily for him, that meant there wasn’t too much pre-show work to do once Olympie volunteered to put up the flyers, so he had time to relax before his sister burst in their boarding room again.

  ...

Sapphire's Halo

    “Hey, hey!  Did you hear?  Did ya?” Yoichi called, slipping on socked feet into the living room to see--Yes, exactly who he was looking for:  His Mom and Dad, both huddled around the gadgeted, jacked-up recliner (thanks Dad) that was smoking suspiciously.
    “Hear what, kid?”  Momiji asked, leaning away from whatever was up with the chair. (She was also known as Mom, but Yoichi called her Momiji if he could get away with it.)
    Yoichi huffed, throwing himself against the side of the wall.  “The Thief of Time’s next heist, duh.  He’s totally gonna hit the Matsunashi Gem and Mineral Museum tonight, and I told you guys that already!”  He glared at them accusingly, but neither Momiji nor Magnus (Yoichi’s Dad) looked impressed by his slump against the wall or his excellent point.
    Momiji sighed, curling her knees up with what looked like an indulging smile.  “And? Lemme guess, you want to...

Sapphire's Halo

    “Hey, hey!  Did you hear?  Did ya?” Yoichi called, slipping on socked feet into the living room to see--Yes, exactly who he was looking for:  His Mom and Dad, both huddled around the gadgeted, jacked-up recliner (thanks Dad), which was smoking suspiciously.

    “Hear what, kid?”  Momiji asked, leaning away from whatever was up with the chair. (She was also known as Mom, but Yoichi called her Momiji if he could get away with it.)

    Yoichi huffed, throwing himself against the side of the wall.  “The Thief of Time’s next heist, duh.  He’s totally gonna hit the Matsunashi Gem and Mineral Museum tonight, and I told you guys that already!”  He glared at them accusingly, but neither Momiji nor Magnus looked impressed by his slump against the wall or his excellent point (“Magnus” meant Yoichi’s Dad--and hey, wasn’t that alliter...alliteration?  Neat!).

    Momiji sighed, curling her knees up with what looked like an indulging...

Human Connections Essay Competition 2019

The Butterfly Effect

    When I was a child, I was always told that my actions always had further-reaching effects than I could ever realize.  This concept is a common one--just look at the very idea of a “Butterfly Effect,” where something as small as a butterfly flapping its wings can cause hurricanes across the world.  You find it in media and aphorisms, in the nuances in how people treat you. You find them in the consequences of your actions.

    And that is, for lack of a better word, scary.  Not terrifying--that’s a bit too strong of a word for it--, but unsettling, once you think about it.  Really, though, I didn’t until a few months ago, because before then, I had the half-baked notion that I was invisible, or at least that people would forget about me once I was out of eyesight.  Think of it as a very peculiar lack of object permanence. That didn’t mean that I wouldn’t overthink...

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

Bystander

It was a Spring day.  A man stood at a crosswalk.
A pair of students hurried down the street.  One of them tripped and fell, but he only watched.
It was Summer.  The man was still there.
An outgoing, bombastic girl attempted to converse with him.  He froze before he could say two words.
Then came Fall.
Children flooded the streets, asking for candy.  He didn’t have any. By the time he went to buy some, they were all gone.
Winter.
A woman walked through, tripping on the sidewalk.  He helped her up. She smiled before leaving.
“Thank you.”

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

Bystander

It was a Spring day.  A man stood at a crosswalk.
A pair of students hurried down the street.  One of them tripped and fell, but he only watched.
It was Summer.  The man was still there.
An outgoing, bombastic girl attempted to converse with him.  He froze before he could say two words.
It was Fall.
Children flooded the streets, asking for candy.  He didn’t have any. By the time he went to buy some, they were all gone.
Winter.
A woman walked through, tripping on the sidewalk.  He helped her up. She smiled before leaving.
“Thank you.”

Flash Fiction Competition 2019

Bystander

It was a Spring day.  A man stood at a crosswalk.
A pair of students hurried down the street.  One of them tripped and fell, but he only watched.
It was Summer.  The man was still there.
An outgoing, burly man attempted to converse with him.  It was a lost cause from the start.
It was Fall.
Children flooded the streets, asking for candy.  He didn’t have any. By the time he went to buy some, they were all gone.
Winter.
A woman walked through, tripping on the sidewalk.  He helped her up. She smiled before leaving.
“Thank you.”