Cecil

This one’s not a story, per se. Mr. Wendig’s challenge  this week is to create a character in 250 words. For once, I’ve actually stuck to the suggested length, although only just. 

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If you were to ask Cecil to describe himself, you wouldn’t learn much. You’d get awkward, mumbled noises and few phrases designed to hide more than to reveal like, phrases like “I don’t know, I’m pretty average, I guess.” You might better off asking his friends to describe him. If you did that, you’d find out that they all agreed on three things:

1) Cecil didn’t care much for the name “Cecil.” He spent his sixth grade year trying to give himself nicknames, but none of them stuck. His middle name was “Martin,” but even Cecil couldn’t imagine anyone calling him “C.M.” He resigned himself to his fate when he was fourteen, but he’s never been comfortable with it and he jumps a little when people call him by it.

2) Cecil doesn’t like calling attention to himself. He’s not the class clown; he’s the guy who feeds the jokes to the class clown. He’s not the only senior at the school who hasn’t been on a proper date, but you can kind of tell he feels like it sometimes. He’s reasonably athletic and he wouldn’t be too unattractive if he’d do something about that bowl haircut and he could find pants that fit his 6’3”, 140 pound frame.

3) The strange thing isn’t that people tended to wind up doing what Cecil wanted. The strange thing is that they think it’s their own idea.

There was not magic to this third item. Cecil was just a very clever boy.