WRITING OBSTACLE
Write a dialogue that includes an example of verbal irony.
Verbal irony is when someone says the opposite of what they mean, often with the intention of being humorous or sarcastic. For example, "Great, just what I needed, another headache."
Hunter’s New Stalker: Unfortunately, It’s a Ghost"
_"To my buddy of 10 years—_
_For surviving my chaos, tolerating my nonsense and still somehow sticking around._
_May this story serve as a proof that despite all our adventures, at least I haven’t summoned anything super natural… yet._
_This one’s for you and another decade of unknown”_
_—————————————_
Natt wasn't surprised.
Three sharp knocks. Short. precise. _Exactly_ how he’d knock.
But this time it felt different. The hallway felt colder. The air was thick.
She rolled off the bed, crossed the room, and sighed as she opened the door.
_Of course_, it had to be him.
Hunter Cross stood in the corridor, dripping rainwater—tiny droplets collected on the sleeves of his leather jacket. Water pooled around his boots.
He blinked the water trickling down from his black hair into his eyes. His usual lazy grin stretched across his face.
"Good Morning, Natt." His voice dripped with nonchalance like he had all the time in the world.
"Good grief, Hunter.” She pinched her nose. "You know, normal people drop a message before showing up at 3:00 AM."
"That’s what best friends are for."
Natalie resisted her urge to slam the door in his face.
Then— she paused.
Her eyes fell on Hunter's white-knuckled grip on his jacket. His whole body was stiff against the door frame. His grin tight. Too staged. He took a short breath-- A fraction too quick.
_Something was wrong_
Natt silently cursed at Hunter's emotions being tightly linked ot his powers.
A crack in the facade and they'll blow up.
Her grip on the doorknob tightened.
"Why... exactly are you here?" A new pit made its way in Natt's stomach.
Hunter's smile faltered. He glanced behind him and then back at her.
"Funny story." He strolled in casually — _too casually_ for someone scared. "I don't... really know."
_He knew._
"_Hunter....?_" Natt's voice hitched in her throat. "_What did you do?_"
His smile twitched.
"Nothing..." Hunter muttered with uncertainty. He left the words hanging in the air, debating whether to continue.
He pulled his arm out of his dripping leather. Stopped. And then:
"Nothing yet..."
A chill surged up Natt's spine like electricity.
Not from the cold.
Not from the rain.
From something _worse_.
His eyes flickered green. A brief second. Like something inside him misfired.
_That was bad._
Natt's fingers went numb, gripping her doorknob.
"Hey Natt?" Hunter laughed, but it cracked from the edges.
Natt's pulse spiked.
_It sounded wrong_
"Uhh.. No pressure.... but," he swallowed, "**You may wanna lock your door**"
His facade fell off.
