Happy Birthday, Writing.Com

Written for the "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt: Write a story or poem with the following title: Happy Birthday, Writing.com.
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“Oh, shiny website. Stare at it hard enough and your brain’s bound to explode.”

“Shut it,” I muttered absently, while reviewing a particularly long story with no end in sight and with so many errors, I could die. I was beginning to have double vision, some words blurring to become one, making less sense as I went along.

“Writing dot com,” my annoying little brother continued as he hovered behind me like a bee, reading the words off the screen as loud as he could. “Happy sixth birthday. No wonder it’s looking so shiny.”

“It’s not shiny, doofus.” I struck out the word your. It should have been you’re. “In honor of the birthday celebrations, the site has been decorated with colorful banners and streamers and balloons and--”

“Ooh, cool! They have games!”

He finally got me to tear my gaze from the story, wondering if the Storymaster had set up a new tab for actual video games. I blinked and smacked myself inwardly for being so stupid. Why would he set up a video game? Although that idea didn’t seem too far-fetched. There have been so many new and awesome features lately, it’s a bit hard to keep up.

“Quizzes,” he corrected himself quickly, now pulling up an extra chair to sit beside me. Usually I would have kicked him out of my sight, but there was an eager look in his eyes now – a curiosity that I couldn’t resist. Heh, I even felt a bit smug.

“Yeah, quizzes,” I said, leaning back and eyeing the page like a proud queen surveying her domain. No one actually knows I have an account on WDC. It’s just something I’ve never had the guts to share with my family yet. My parents would think it was a waste of time, and my brother wouldn’t understand. However, looking at him now—

“And they also have crosswords, word searches and look.” I clicked a link. “Madlibs. I know you like those.”

“Yeah, madlibs are cool!” My grin widened at the excitement on his features. My brother might be a C student in English at school, but there was no harm introducing him to WDC. I could even guide and make him hone his writing skills.

“Would you like to open an account? It’s free.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe he was actually blushing. That was a surprise. “I wrote something…” he mumbled, not really looking at me. “But I don’t think it’s that great. Mrs. Summers said it sounded awful.”

“Hey, that’s what this site’s for,” I replied, pointing to the story I was currently editing. “Check this one out. He’s not that good either, and yet he was brave enough to post it online and request for help. That’s the best thing about WDC. People are willing to help you, no matter who or what you are. Whether you just started writing today, or you’re a veteran with thousands of novels under your belt, there’re tons of forums and writing groups with newbies who can be adopted and taught the ropes. Besides, Mrs. Summers is a jerk.”

“But…” He stared at the site. “It looks so…big.”

I laughed and ruffled his hair a little. “At first it does. There’s just so much to do here. You could spend hours in here and not even know that time’s passing.”

“No kidding. You’ve missed dinner several times because of it. I think Dad thinks you’re looking at porn.”

“What?!” I blushed. There was just something so wrong about putting the word ‘WDC’ and ‘porn’ in the same sentence.

He shrugged and clicked on the ‘Reading’ link. I think I can forgive him for breaking the ‘Never You Touch My Computer’ rule today. “Wow! A Superman fan fiction! No way!”

“Way!” I usually stayed away from that genre, but hey, if he liked that then…

“Wanna read?”

“Sure!” He all but pushed me out of the way, and buried himself in the tale. I figured it was time for me to get a break anyway, so I left him to his devices. I went downstairs, made myself a sandwich, chatted with a few friends on the phone, and decided that his time was up. Unfortunately—

“Nooooo, not yet!” he screamed at me, waving his hand impatiently. “I’m almost done with this one.”

“It’s been three hours, Dennis! Go to your room and use your computer!”

But I might as well have been speaking to a brick wall for all the attention he paid to me. So here I am, stuck in his room with his computer filled with enough PC games to drown a small country. It’s taking me forever to open up the WDC page, and my patience is wearing thin.

There’s a blur behind me. “Hey!”

“I gotta post up my story,” my brother pants as he darts into the room and yanks a few notebooks from his school bag. “I’ve set up my account and everything. Whoo! Happy Birthday WDC!”

He darts out again like a mini-hurricane, and I can’t help giggling. Writing dot com has claimed yet another victim, but then again, the more members we welcome in, the bigger and better our family becomes.

So thank you, Storymaster and Storymistress for creating such a wonderful website, and to all the unique and special individuals who make this place our home away from home. Oops, looks like I have email. Oh yeah, and I’ve got to check on my bid for that auction. I can’t afford to miss out on getting more reviews and a merit badge. Hmm…I wonder if I should set up my own contest...



Word Count: 937