Well, sometime last week I issued a challenge to the FFML, to write a 
short fanfic using words of only one syllable.  So far there has been one 
reply (which I liked :)), which is actually better than I expected.  But 
here's my response to my own challenge.

Next Challenge:  The characters we love to hate...

The Curse
a Ranma 1/2 fanfiction 
in words of just one S-Y-L-L-A-B-L-E :)
by bengman


     I stare at the pool, not sure what to think.  This is where
I drowned.  I came close to death, so close that this pool is now
cursed.  One day there might be a man who falls in this pool, a
man who does not know the curse of this place.  He would come up
with a splash, and look down at his new self -- at me -- and
scream.  That is the way it has to be.  Time is a loop, it will
come back to this place years from now, tens of years from now,
who knows when?  But it will come back, the wheel spins on and
on.
     That pool on the far side of the grounds... I had thought it
was sad that a girl who had died so far in the past would have
her face and form stuck like a mask on a boy who could not help
but call it a curse.  But what if she did not die?  What if that
girl lived, just as I now live?  Did she go back to her home, go
on with her life?  Did she wed?  Bear a child?  Does her blood
now run in the veins of a girl who does not know of this place? 
Most of all, did she know that she was now the root of a curse,
did she think of the man who might one day take on that curse?
     And what if she did die?  What if I had died?  Would I mind
my face in front of some strange man's mind, when I had not lived
out my own life?  Would I then live on in some way?
     I think... I think that I would not mind.  I think I might
be glad that my face was not lost for all time.  But all the
same, I am glad that I do live, that I have my own chance.  And
though there is no way I can know for sure, I think that girl,
long gone, might have felt the way I do.
     I lift my head and look at him, there by the pool he fell in
just last year.  The rain runs down his face to mix with the
tears that I know are there.  He says he does not care, that he
did it just for me, not for his own cure.  I know that's not
quite true, that he does care, but his pride won't let him say
it.  Just as he loves me, and can not say it, not to my face.
     I once thought that his curse was just that, a curse.  But
now I am not so sure.  I think that girl, who may have died or
may have lived, would like to live on in him.  If that were the
sole way in which I could live, I would grab it with both hands. 
And I think she could do far worse than him.
     And so could I.
     It's odd that these pools, which made me hate him at first,
have now brought us close.  There is a bond now.  It will take
time to get used to, of course.  I have my pride, too.  I can not
say it out loud, but I can say it deep in my heart, where none
but I can hear it.
     I love him.
     I hope that girl loves him too.


mata ne,
bengman

bengman           *"Nanika kuwasero, tonikaku kuwasero, zenbu kuwasero! 
Bridget E. Engman * Demae mo ii ze! Henshin shichau to yubi ga futosugite,
b-engma@students. * Pizza no chuumon sae mo denwa dekinai!"
   uiuc.edu       *   ---Wan Dabada, "Can't Stop Eatin'"