Dear Vanquisher of Anonymous-ness,
For reasons that confuse all of us, you have asked for a description. You have no name and no face. Writing a description for you would be a challenge I would readily accept.
But I need two things: your gender and your eye color.
The way I am prepared to accept these answers are odd, but the reasons will not be revealed.
You must email me at my hotmail account: firstname.lastname@example.org. I know it's Tim's thing. It's a long story.
Your email must be either from a Hotmail or a Yahoo account. I will accept nothing else.
Your email must be in the following format:
[gender], [eye color]
Nothing else is to be written.
Meanwhile I will continue posting descriptions after you until my wishes are fulfilled.
Okay so who is next? My good friend CARISSA! Here you are.
Carissa was one of those people who hated attention. She avoided the spotlight, hated being called "smart", and tried to be the smallest part in a skit.
Sam didn't really know how she managed to live.
Carissa was a genius. Her grades were exceptionally high, she was a grammar genius, and she was a level above the highest math. You wouldn't know by talking to her; she was just like everyone else.
Her hair was also a tribute to her personality; it was simply dark brown tied back in a tight ponytail. She called as little attention to it as she could. It matched her hazel eyes exceptionally well. They were not unusual, but Carissa was a sight to see when she was laughing. Her face crinkled up a tiny bit and her eyes glowed.
She was one of the tallest girls in the grade. She was also on the skinny side, so she seemed even taller, but managed to be nondescript about it. She didn't go bowling her way through people like some of the other tall people in our grade, and rarely referenced her height.
She was quiet, so the only way you could tell she could be hyper was by her occasional sugar rush. It was always funny when she was on a sugar rush.
I feel that one was a tad lacking.