Snatch It

[Samantha]

Basically, the first person writes a short story, then the next person takes something out of that story to write theirs. maybe its the topic, name of a character, a line someome says, the topic. just "snatch it" and use it to create a piece of your story. here, I'll start;
If the world was a marble, what would it be like? Would the sky shine as if a newly polished shoe, or the light have to be filtered through the hard outside? If the world was a marble, would my life really matter? Would you be able to see me, living my life, from the eye of a microscope? Probably not, my life wouldn't matter to the owner of the marble. Is a Tsunami really water from a sink? Heat waves caused by being in someone's pocket for to long? Or, is pollution just the marble getting old? Have we lost our shine? Are we the one in the bottom of the box no one wants to play with, alone and forgotten? If the world is a marble, does that mean that I could possibly hold the lives of millions in my hands? Guess I better be careful with my marble box.

[Dana]

Have we lost our shine? It was the question on everyone's minds. Have we lost our shine?
Perhaps we looked crazy, a bunch of elderly men and women, crowding into the nostalgic brick building that was our high school. We were all veterans to this strange game of life, but it had been a long time since we had last competed. When I turned around I stared into a set of familiar eyes that I could no longer place. They had crinkles at their corners, but the warm tones among the blue had not changed. She had aged well.
We had always attended our high school reunions, me and Quinn. I was always afraid, of course. At this point there is nothing but worry for the other contestants. What if this year Quinn, or Melissa, or Tony, or Fiona, stops playing?
I saw Quinn, for the first time. Her hair was white at the roots but the rest of it was a beautiful silver color. Her fingernails were freshly painted, in that youthful red she'd loved as a teenager and still loved, but her cuticles were saggy. Her lipstick went slightly beyond her lipline, shakily, but she was still Quinn. She was still the girl I had known.
We stepped into the room together. For the first time in forever, I wasn't afraid, anxious, or worried...