Squidboy - Anonymous
Honorable Mention
The walls were an oppressive salmon pink- why would anyone paint the walls salmon pink?
Their long squid arms rest uneasily at their side and pile sloppily on the floor in a knotted conglomerate- they don’t know why their arms are like this, they kind of have just been that way for awhile now. Squidboy really thought that they might be okay with the appendages if the other kids would stop pretending like they didn’t exist, like the long tendrils that hung dead at their side didn’t make them incorrigibly alien. This is not the case, but Squidboy has to manage.
The teacher is passing out 8.5 x 11 inch sheets of yellowed computer paper. The abysmal olive of Squidboy’s eyes meets the glare of the teacher’s condescension. They see his lips move. They hear the wet smacking of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He is subconsciously mad at Squidboy, but he truly does not believe this- he is an educator, an altruist.
Squidboy does not understand what the paper’s eldritch symbols and characters mean. Regardless, they furrow the brow above their giant squid eye in concentration. This would be easier if the vessel of their sentience wasn’t of a squid
The hands of the children loosely grip their pencils. The graphite of twenty seven sticks smash against papers and desks. The noises are aleatoric. They are an orchestra. Squidboy is still trying to grasp their pencil. The yellow cigarette of its body was made for fleshy pink digits, not squids. Squidboy can’t help but to fantasize about what life with fingers and arms would be like. This dream is barmecidal, they need to focus on their test.
The fluorescent lights above Squidboy’s head are divine. Electrical halos illuminating the pinks of the room. They hum simple melodies based on triads- their ambience is infernal. Squidboy cannot concentrate, the world is too beautiful.
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