Hello, and welcome to The Acrostics Series, which gives notables from around the lit community the opportunity both to sum themselves up in an acrostic of their username and to pretend they're back in the third grade!

Next up we have HaveTales-WillTell, who got his tick in the latest round of senior announcements and looks very fancy with it on. He's been in the deviantART business five years now, and for all you trivia bods out there, he's a big fan of duckpin bowling (which is apparently way less cruel to animals than I initially thought). He joins us now live from the Grave Accent On Your Head Sartorial Convention, and his acrostic goes something like: 

Blessed with abnormality
Of individuality,
Recalling triviality:
Non sequiturs prevail.

But preaching practicality
Leaves out originality;
I have a personality
That hates like hell to fail.
Zealous visuality
Embraces whimsicality,
Defenestrates reality...

(..and thus concludes my tale.)

100 Words: NestedHe shuts her in a box.
She is (a flawless white pearl atop a lapis silk cushion (snoring softly beside him after accepting his proposal. Her breasts are (a pair of tuberoses, as lifeless now as they were erect an hour ago. They sway ever so slightly as she breathes, and much more as she rolls onto her side, facing him) the keepers of every promise of their future together: love, lovemaking, children) far more perfect in his memory than in real life. Moreso once she took her half) a rueful distraction, to be set out only on special occasions. Trouser, SnakeA natty pair of trousers came upon
A gracile set of stockings, quite by chance.
"Milady, say the word and I'll begone,
But firstly I must ask if thou wouldst dance."
"Of course, milord; but only if romance
And not a one-time fling dost thou propose."
"Thou hast my promise," acquiesced the pants,
Even as he sidled toward the hose.
In a manner unbefitting gallant clothes
He sought to lay himself upon her silk;
"Stop, cad!" she cried, "So thou'rt one of those!
My mother said to watch out for thy ilk."
Much wiser heads have voiced it best and first:
Those Worsted wools have always been the worst. Alzheimer'sHis house is made of crumbling slats
    of rotted knotted oak
  peeling paint
and weakened joints.
  The wind blows unfettered
through unshuttered apertures
   dragging fresh sunlight in
      and memories away.
Even on the clearest days
       he visits the front porch
    less and less often.
        He prefers to explore
    those rooms further in
where tide and time have yet to reach.         Sometimes
                                     he might be gone for a week.
And one day, too soon
    (not soon enough)
  his ramshackle dw

If you'd like to nominate someone for participation in The Acrostics Series, either because they're a fascinating person or because they have a really, really long username, drop zebrazebrazebra a line. In the meantime, check out HaveTales-WillTell's work! Fan letters can be tucked into his hat brim.