Christmas in the Movellas Air

One day, there was a Movellas convention...


1. One BAD Book Review

“The voices got louder. Louder. Julia looked at the dark with horrified eyes. There was not only horror of fear in their glassy cover, but also a load of trembling guilt. There was no way she could ever be forgiven for what she had done, and now… Now she was going to pay. She was going to pay in the most murderous way there could have existed. Her eyes shot at the bed and, just when the voices seemed like they were just gonna get her, she dived under it.”

Snow clapped her hands together and threw them open to gesture the horror in the story as she spoke. The audience, to say the least, was not bored. It was rather showing signs of patience, even if a smile appeared on their faces now and then.

“There was darkness for a while… And then quiet. There was no sound except that of her heart beating like insane.”

Someone rolled their eyes, but obviously, she was too much into the story to notice who. Not that she didn’t know eyes had been rolled at her story. Her playful gesturing hardened and she forced herself not to clench her fist. No one dared to dare to try and show any insulting gesture towards her work. That was one of the billion things that ticked her off.


Taking a deep breath, she started speaking again. The story was nearly finished, anyway. She could, and would, deal with that damn idiot later.

“Tears were streaming down her pale face. But with all this silence, she thought she may just have a chance. Seconds ticked by… Seconds turned into one minute. One whole minute of silence and Julia felt like she was forgiven. Breathing shakily, she started crawling out of under her bed…

Only to feel a tap on her shoulder.”

Snow clapped her hands one last time and grinned at the people in front of her. “So what’d you think, you guys? Good to go? Thumbs-up? Likeable? C’mon, give me some news!” she asked hastily, throwing herself in the magenta armchair right behind her.

The audience, in all honesty, was small. There were three girls and two boys, all in flamboyant clothes and messy hair. Snow pursued her lips at them and one girl, Belle, with beach blonde hair in something of a messy bun, shrugged.

“It was… good,” she breathed, with a small shrug.

“Good?” Snow asked, encouraging her to go on.

“Yeah, it was good. Oh, what else can I say, Snow? It was good, okay?”  Belle said in near frustration.

“It was kinda cliché,” another girl with short, cropped black curls – named Olive – interrupted.

Snow frowned at her, an unbelievable look on her face.

“Cliché? Oh, God, is anything I ever say not cliché to you?” she said, trying not to bark the words out.

“You are a cliché type of gal,” Olive snorted.

“Alright, please. Ben, Joseph, Melanie? Do you guys have anything to say?” Snow ignored her, whisking her head at the three people who just clicked their tongues dismissively.

Snow had never been more wide-eyed and she gave a slow blink.

“What!!?” she spat, “You don’t have any feedback? Why the hell do you think I spent a goddamn half hour narrating my bloody story in front of you? What the goddamn hell are you guys- idiots?”

Ben, a tall guy with long, brown hair, sighed. “Okay, okay, it was just normal, okay? Just normal. Nothing fancy, nothing less,” he tried.

“Just normal, huh? Wow, how helpful,” Snow hissed sarcastically and then jumped to her feet, staring at them angrily.

“You guys are pathetic,” she barked, “Pathetic. Useless. Idiots. I stood here for a long time, telling you my story, and you have not ONE goddamn piece of advice. What kind of Critique club are you, anyway? You pathetic losers!”

She shoved a fist at them, but got back in shape before she actually punched the daylights out of someone. Exhaling loudly, she bared her teeth and hissed, “I am never coming back here, you get that? Never. Take that in your goddamn face and get out of my life.”

With that, she stormed out of the small flat and walked crudely in the evening air as she went home.

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