Don’t really have a title because I just started writing…

January 22, 2012

Stumbling down a dark alleyway, drunkenly stumbling along. The two run past couples caressing in the dark corners. She laughs and he pulls her arm a little harder, further away from the safe lights of the Taxi cab. Somewhere off in the distance a bottle shatters and sirens wail. He presses her up against the cold wall. Flailing arms, gasping breaths. She slumps on to the ground, the sound of tearing satin and dying breaths hanging heavy in the damp air. He picks up his jacket off of her shoulders and takes off his gloves, walking away, tossing them down a sewer drain, and dissolving into the shadows.

Flashing red and blue lights as the others pull up to the scene. I’ve been here for about fifteen minutes, standing in the cold, watching my breath escape between my lips and envying the people who have normal jobs with normal hours and can sleep in on Saturdays. There they are, all warm in their beds and here I am. Waiting for my sister and my coffee, not really knowing what is around this corner. Bea steps out of the car, juggling the coffee, smiling somehow.

“Bea, its 5:30 in the morning on a Saturday in November, there’s a dead woman around the corner, and you’re smiling?” She looks at me, still smiling. I guess she didn’t hear the November part. Or the dead body part. Or the Saturday part.

Categories: I'M TO LAZY TO CORRECTLY CATAGORIZE MY STORY!!!!!!!!!! :P, Modern Fiction.

Saving A Life

April 6, 2011

Hey, Everyone! This is another assignment for language class. Actually, its pretty safe to say that half of the stuff I put up – at least – is an English assignment. I just wanted to get some feedback and see what you think. Thanks! (By the way, I believe this is my shortest “short story” yet! Less than two pages on Word! )

I gasp, the lingering feeling of the ice cold water still on my skin. I blink, my vision slowly clearing. I hear voices, see the sun shining brightly, a jumble of sound and activity. Suddenly, I can’t keep my eyes open, and they close with a terrifying kind of finality.

I panic, trying to fight and flail, but I couldn’t move. Am I dead? I wonder. I struggle to open my eyes, to kick, to move my lips, anything.Finally, I resign to channel all my effort into wiggling my finger. It’s not working. The only confirmation amid the blackness is my overwhelming sense of fear. Now that I’m thinking about it, so was the blackness. My fear, however, was at this point far beyond all rationality. I feel the sensation of being moved drift past my consciousness. I try to struggle, scream, cry – all unsuccessful. Finally, the effort exausts me and I slip into unconsciousness.

I don’t dream, or if I do I don’t remember any of it. At first, as I drift out of unconsciousness, I want to retreat back into sleep. Then I remember that it’s the last thing I want. Terror threatens to grip me in more impenetrable blackness.

Then, I open my eyes.

My head’s throbbing. I reach up and feel dried blood on my hair. There’s some on my clothes, too. I must’ve fallen into the river and hit my head on something, I guess.

Owwww, something hard and sharp.

I take a deep breath, then gasp as my head throbs harder than ever.

Okay, then. Something really hard and really sharp.

I look around at my surroundings. I’m laying on a thin mattress, the pure white sheets tucked underneath my arms and greatly contrasting the blood on my hair and clothes. There’s a bedside table next to me, completely clear. I sit up, gripping the metal hand rails on both sides of the bed , my feet pressing against the one at the base. Everything seems so sterile, so clean.

It’s obviously not my room.

I can see through the window out into a large parking lot, filled with cars, and, to my left, a separate wing of the tall brick building I must be in. As I watch, a flashing ambulance pulls into the lot. Two men leap (LEAP or HOP here? I’m not sure.) out, wheeling a limp form on a stretcher.

I wince once more at the pain in my head, lying down again. I squeeze my eyes shut, assuming the worst is over. After a few minutes, the main in my head begins to recede, making room for a slight pinch in my arm. My eyes flutter open, flying to a small needle stuck into the vien on the inside of my arm. I want to pull it out – I hate needles – but I’m afraid to. What if blood comes spurting out? No thank you.

The pain in my head begins to slip away a little more. I shut my eyes, a wave of calm rushing over me. My head no longer hurts. When I open my eyes, nothing is new, but it seems to me that I see a shimmering mist. I shake my head to clear it, sure I’ve gone crazy. I must have hit my head really hard. Yeah, that’s it. But then, I take a look at the once-bare bedside table next to me. There, seeming to tell a very different story, lay a small black Bible.

Categories: Fiction, Inspirational Fiction, Modern Fiction, Short Stories.

Tags: Abby, Bible, Saving a life

Sometimes There Isn’t A Miracle

January 20, 2010

by Miracle for her creative writing class.

She stared at the rainwashed sky and did not cry. A quiet scent of opening flowers shivered in the air before it was swept away by the rich cry of satisfied earth. Worms squirmed from their muddied tunnels into the clean air and the birds, who had been patiently perched among the leaves, descended to pluck at their warm bodies. The dog chased some rat or mole across the field, announcing his find with gusto. The calico cat slunk away in exasperation.

She noticed all these things because they distracted her from the others. The sagging, brown house at the end of the horizon. The long, dusty road running from it. And the two classy vehicles halted in the dust by three cows who were determined to graze at the pockets of trampled grass that grew there. Perhaps the cows were fighting in their own way. She smiled, then clenched her fists. She was thinking about it again, she had promised herself she wouldn’t. Not yet.

“Ma’m?”

She turned, saw the worn face of Abraham. His wrinkles were in all the wrong places. They were arranged around a smiling face, not a frowning one.

“I’ll be fine, Abe,” she said in a voice that sounded almost confident. “I’ll find a job somewhere, maybe the city.”

He rubbed the dry handle of the wheelbarrow he had been pushing to the stables. “You won’t be happy in the city.”

She stood straighter, stared directly into his eyes. That was the only way to lie to Abraham. “I’ll manage. My sister called, she said there’s a position for a nanny. I’ve always been good with children.”

“But what will you love?”

She shrugged slightly, tilted her head sideways to look at the big, beautiful gray sky. She would miss the sky. “I’ll find a handsome actor to love and a best friend to drink coffee with.” She smiled. “Most people get along fine just loving people.”

“Not you,” he said.

“I’ll manage,” she replied, looking back at him. “I can’t stay with the farm. If I could, don’t you think I would? But there’s not enough money. Even you have been working on half a paycheck for the past year. Don’t you want a new situation, some place you can actually live fat on?”

He shook his head. “If I wanted that, I wouldn’t be here. But I don’t.”

She stared down at her rough hands, calluses and dirt jammed under her fingernails.

“It’s falling apart anyway without my father,” she said. “After all these years, to think it was him who kept the place up, him and his greenbacks.”

The cows had been finally coaxed off the road. They chewed lazily at the green-yellow grass beside it, content. Ignorant. The cars finished their journey to her house. It looked old and used next to their sleek professionalism.

“I have to sell it, Abe. I need to go.” He watched her as she tensed with determination, locked her eyes on the old house, and walked.

Categories: Modern Fiction, Short Stories.

Don’t Forget How Your Muse Works!

January 16, 2010

last night i happened to run across this old thing that myth posted back in april… man. i laughed my head off. anyway, if you never read this, YOU MUST. and if you already did, well, read it again! it’s so hilarious i almost DIED laughing… myth does have a way of doing that. this post must not be forgotten! it shall not be lost in the sands of… posts! WE MUST REMEMBER HOW WE NEARLY DIED LAUGHING!

~Sandy (and i couldn’t decide what to post it under, so it’s in all the categories )

http://theworstending.com/?p=2178

——-

Dedicated to:

Em-you helped me come up with this on the phone. Well, you didn’t say really any of it (a line or two), but you still inspired it Miss ya, ’sis’! (And yeah, Sandy, you got on the phone later or I dunno…but the point is you heard it too LOL!)

The way I see it, your muse is like a person.

To be more specific, it is like a human in the sense that it has different moods and different sides.

If your muse whispers to you “Kill this person” or “Make this horrible thing happen that you really don’t even want to make happen”, then it is being evil.

On its best days, it is a majestic eagle, or a graceful unicorn.

On its worst days, it is like a munching parasite, or a greedy termite.

When it is evil, it eats at your mind and turns what it eats into dark energy.

This is bad.

When your muse runs away, it is like a disobedient child. It leaves you feeling empty and confused, and it loves to make you feel so. It relishes your discomfort.

It will come skipping home, an evil grin on its face. You may think that punishing it will just make it run away again, but really that will only make it think, “Well, ‘Mother dear’ didn’t punish me. It must she doesn’t really care…which means I can do whatever I want, all the time!!!!”

Trust me-that is a bad idea.

When it does come home, you ought to spank it and send it to bed with no supper.

Sober it.

Then hopefully by morning it will come to you with its hands clasped behind its back and its head down. It will say, “I’m very sorry.”

You can then forgive it and give it breakfast. It will be quite hungry by now.

However, I am not telling you to punish it eeeevery time it does something-because there will always be a time it does something. That’s the way most muses are. They are rebellious, and they like to have their say and go their own way.

But you do need to punish it every now and then to remind it who is in charge.

Because you ought to be in charge.

Most of the time.

I say ‘most of the time’ because there are, in fact, times where you can let your muse lead, and when you do so, you will find it leads you to a most agreeable place.

But don’t let it rule you.

You’re boss.

Step up.

Crack down.

When it runs away, don’t coax it. Don’t write a poem that says:

Musie, Musie, where have you gone?

Musie, Musie, please come home!

Musie, Musie, I feel so alone!

Musie, Musie, please hear my song!

If you coax it, it will make you pay some price to get it to come back. You don’t need to pay to use your imagination or muse.

You own it. You get to say whats what in good ol’ Museville.

‘Musie dear’ is your child. You are its mother.

You are its ruler.

You are its owner.

Let’s all remember that, shall we? Because if we don’t, we’ll let our muses take over.

Very, very bad thing to do.

Usually.

Also, if it runs away, don’t go looking for it. Just let it come.

Of course, if it really won’t budge, then you can always get a friend or two to threaten to kick its butt into next week.

Next year.

Next century.

And try to pick some of your more intimidating, stronger friends.

That oughta scare little ol’ Musie good.

*Ghostbusters theme song*

When Musie runs away

And you can’t find him

Who can you gonna call?

Buttkickers!!!

(Your friends would be the Buttkickers by the way-and you would also be one because I’m sure you’ll wanna kick Musie’s butt when it runs away and then comes home and acts like nothing happened.)

So, when Muse acts up, you’re just gonna ignore him.

When he tries to get attention, you’re gonna pretend he doesn’t exist. Never did.

When Muse runs away, you’re not gonna panic.

Because you know your muse the best, and you know how to trick him into coming back.

Besides, you can always tell him you’ve just met a new muse and might forget about him now. The new muse is soooooo nice…

Trickery might sound terrible, but your muse is really untameable. So you can only do to it what it does to you.

Remember, your muse is like a disobedient, rebellious child.

Maybe it’s going through puberty.

Whatever the case, you’re its parent.

You’re in charge.

When it comes home, ya spank it and send it to bed with an empty stomach.

And ya move on with life.

Muses may seem to come and go, but there will never be a time when they’re gone completely.

They’re just hiding around the corner, waiting to see if you’ll come looking for them, stinky little buggers that they are.

Don’t.

Curl up in your LaZBoy, sipping your hot cocoa (in the dead of winter; your muse will probably be quite cold wherever he is hiding from you, and if its summer, he’ll be hot). Wrap yourself in a blanket and read a book.

Muse’ll come back.

Always does.

He can’t resist.

I’m done singin’ ma song now.

Oh wait.

*dorky weather person voice (imagine dorky weather person with dumb smile)* The weather today was hot and sunn, and tomorrow should be the same! Yay! Partaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Now I’m done singin’ ma song.

Peace out, ya’ll, and remember not to let Muse control you!

And if it tries, who ya gonna call?

*faint in background* Buttkickers!!!!

Yeah. Random. I admit it.

But still…

Peace out!

Categories: Fantasy Fiction, Historical Fiction, I'M TO LAZY TO CORRECTLY CATAGORIZE MY STORY!!!!!!!!!! :P, Journal, Lyrics, Modern Fiction, Nonfiction, Poetry, Romance, Science Fiction.

Tags: buttkickers, disobedient child, muse, Myth, sandy

Cuts and Burns

October 9, 2009

by Roxanne

The last act finally came to an end, and the guitarist left the stage. We all clapped and Coach Gerry jumped onstage.

“Give it up for all of tonight’s performers,” he said enthusiastically. It was the much-anticipated end of the school year talent show and formal. We were all dressed up for the occasion, seated around numerous round tables on the Hilton’s fifth floor. We had eaten, watched performers, and listened to seniors drone out stories from their “high school years”. We were ready to hit the dance floor.

“The teachers have gone to tally up this year’s talent show results,” Coach Gerry continued. “And I’m sure you all are ready to get moving!” At that the music blared and we stampeded towards the floor. Seniors first, of course, next us juniors, and then the lower classmen.

“Keri!” My best friend, Diane, called, pulling me towards a less-crowded corner of the dance floor. Most of my friends were there and we laughed and danced to the song the D.J. had played. I saw Coach Gerry lean his head wearily against the wall in the banquet area. He was expected to retire before graduation next year.

The next song started and the teachers still hadn’t come back. We continued to dance and I felt it getting increasingly warmer in the room. I asked if anyone else noticed and they said they did but, we decided with a laugh that it was just because of how hard we’d been dancing.

A few minutes later, I walked off the dance floor to get a drink. My friend, John, was with me. We got some punch and sat down at a table. I happened to glance towards the door and see smoke seeping out from under it. I nudged John, “What in the world is that from?”

“I dunno. Maybe they brought in a fog machine for the winner,” he mused. I stood.

“No, that stuff is rising. Fog doesn’t rise, smoke rises,” I said. He nodded and we walked over to the door.

“John, Keri, where are you going?” Coach Gerry called.

“Look, Coach,” I said, and cracked open the door. I got a glimpse of flames and a blast of heat on my face before I closed the door. It was hot to the touch.

“Oh my gosh, John. This hotel’s on fire!” I said, he stared at me blankly, then said:

“We gotta pull the fire alarm,” and leaped across the room in two long strides. He pulled down the red handle. I braced myself for the siren but nothing happened. We looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Something must be wrong with the alarm system,” Coach Gerry whispered, a bit at a loss.

“And the sprinklers for that matter,” I added. The other kids were beginning to notice the smoke whirling in from under the doors.

“What’s going on, Coach?” A line-man boomed from across the room. Everyone started moving around.

“We’ve got to find a way out of here, Kids. What can we do?” Coach Gerry muttered, then yelled: “Everyone stay calm and stay where you are!”

“Call 911!” A kid shrieked.

“Yes!” Coach Gerry said in that general direction. He seemed to be moving slowly. Sweat coated my body, I began to feel the heat. My dress had become confining.

“Girls with long dresses!” I screamed over the music, the D.J. having run out of the room in a panic seconds before. “Rip off the top layer around the bottom of your dresses! It’ll hinder us on our way out!” Girls all around bent over and struggled to pull off the silky fabric, revealing the more flowy, second layer. The air tightened around us and I knew we had to get going.

“All the freshmen to that door! sophomores to that one!” Coach Gerry wheezed. The thinning oxygen was affecting him more than the rest of us. Many of the kids began to scream or cry. A basketball player said, “I’m out,” and sprinted out of the “sophomore’s door”, starting a stampede.

“Stop!” I screamed, but it was too late. Chaos had won out. People were pushing others out of their way to get out of the room. I saw a cheerleader fall and several of her friends brush past. I ran over to help her up. Diane was there before me.

“What do we do?” She asked, mascara dripping down her face. I lifted up the cheerleader and told them both to take the stairs at the back. I knew that it might be smokier, but there would be less people.

“Get her out!” I told Diane and she guided the smaller girl out the door. Chaos still reigned in the room. Kids everywhere were pushing through others, and getting stuck in the doorways. I spotted John helping Coach Gerry. “Is he okay?” I asked. John shook his head. I refused to believe the worst and looked around. “You! Um, Jimmy Trent!” A burly athlete turned at my call.

“Carry him down!” I screamed. Jimmy looked at me like I’m crazy and started to turn away but John was there in an instant, pulling him back.

“I got to get out of here,” Jimmy coughed, even as he lifted Coach Gerry. Another athlete passed and I grabbed her. She helped Jimmy with Coach. I pushed through the crowd in front of them.

“Look out, guys, Coach Gerry’s coming through!” I rasped. We entered the hall and the smoke was blinding. We followed the hall to the back stairs and I propped the door open so the two athletes could get through with the unmoving form. “Get him out in the air as quick as possible!” I yelled after them.

“What about you?” Diane said, squeezing past on her way up the stairs.

“What about me? You were supposed to get the cheerleader out!” I replied as we directed more kids towards the back stairs.

“I did,” she replied.

“I’m going back in to help John!” I said. She nodded and continued helping kids find the exits.

That’s the last time I ever saw her.

Categories: Inspirational Fiction, Modern Fiction.

Kind of…Prolouge… to new story? -Kira

October 6, 2009

Lemme explain. This is Kira. Mhm. I’m back now. I am still writing piano, but its been really slow and today I had this new idea…which Kind of connects to the art work I’ve been doing all the time now. Photography. Each chapter is called “roll” for example chapter one is called “roll one” . Each chapter has a picture with it that goes with it. This isn’t a full chapter its the beginning of one. So, I just put a picture with it to give you the idea of the format. The girl is me, but pictures of me represent the character (Michelle) in the book. Okay so yes I’m back please give me feedback. Even though this isn’t much yet!

hmm

Roll One

I place the roll of film on the check-out counter, and wait as a clerk with a pouted bottom lip and dull eyes picks it up and scans the price.

“You want a bag?” she says, holding up my film, change, and receipt.

“No,” I say, and for a moment we fall silent, our eyes awkwardly scanning the floor. I notice a tiny ant crawling across the ground, and watch it until it disappears from view. I look up to see that the clerk is holding out my things, an impatient smirk distorting her face. I blush as I take them. People in the line watch me as I walk to the front doors of the store and leave.

Once outside, I find a bench and drop my items next to me. The change slips through an empty space in the bench, and I hear the familiar sound of falling coins. I sit back and think about my somewhat frivolous encounter for a moment, then let out a giggle. The giggle results in a fit of laughter, and I clutch my sides, digging into my ribs.

Again, people are watching me. I wonder if anyone can mind their business anymore. In a startlingly brazen outburst, I meet someone’s eyes – a boy I have never seen and will never see again. He stares back with confusion in his eyes. I break into a smile, cross my eyes, and proceed to laugh some more. He slowly turns, but walks away briskly.

It is then that I realize I am insane.

end. yep its really short but i wanted to post something….

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Kira

Chapter One

September 23, 2009

“Skye Yvonne Iris!” Mom hollered. I heard footsteps coming upstairs.
No…no…no...I thought over and over. Just go away. Don’t come in here. Leave. Go. Please.
“Young lady, you are in major – ” Mom started to say as she slammed the door open.
She looked at me, her jaw all but dropping to the ground.
Her lips moved – she was trying to speak – but nothing would come out.
“I…I…” I stammered.
But I simply could not explain why on earth I was hovering five inches off the ground.

My parents – and I – had been completely creeped out by my strange new ‘ability’. They had heard of the scientists in Tricity who experimented on people like me – figured out what was ‘wrong’ with us. They claimed it was for the good of all Tricity that they did these experiments. They claimed it would help them come up with a ‘cure’ so that no one else would get our ‘disease’.
So, my parents – who I’m not sure ever really loved me all that much – gave me to these scientists for experimenting – ‘for the greater good’.
“Please…don’t send me away!” I had begged, tears streaming down my face. “I don’t want to go! Please let me stay with you! Please!”
My mother, in a cold voice, had said, “Skye, this way is the best way. Better for one to have a horrible life than many – than everyone.”
That had hit me like a punch to the gut. “What…what did you say?” I breathed.
She looked at me for a moment, almost seeming to feel guilt, before simply turning and leaving the room.
And so, that was how it had been.
They had decided to just give me to the scientists and let me be experimented on.
I had tried running away, of course, but my ‘father’ had caught me, brought me home, and kept me locked in my room (and I couldn’t get out the window unless I wanted to jump and break both legs – my ‘room’ was in the attic – so on the third ‘floor’) until the scientists came.
I still remember when they got there. I heard the door to my room open as I sat on my bed, crying my heart out.
I brought my head up, my heart pounding with fear. Someone was coming up the steps.
Finally a woman, tall and slender, came into view. She was wearing – you guessed it.
A white coat.
Typical scientist garb.
Eish.
Anyway.
“Skye?” she said, slowly approaching me. I had gotten off the bed when I’d heard someone coming up the steps and backed up against the wall. “Skye,” she repeated, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.”
“N-no,” I croaked. “No, you don’t. You’re lying. You want to kill me.”
“Oh, Skye,” she said, smiling sympathetically. “We don’t want to kill you! We just want to do a few tests on you – to find a cure for you and fre – mutants – everywhere.”
“You were going to say freaks,” I said, my hands curling into fists.
“No, no, I wasn’t,” she said in the same calm tone. “Really, Skye – we just want to help you.”
Go by your instincts, Skye – they’ve never led you wrong. Never, my mind suddenly seemed to say.
“I – I won’t go with you,” I said, my voice shaky. “I won’t.” My voice was steady now – I wasn’t backing down.
“Please, Skye – just make this easier on everyone by cooperating,” the woman said, coming toward me again.
“Stay away from me!” I hissed.
“Now, sweetie,” she said. I cringed at the word – it was positively terrifying coming from someone like her. “Just come quietly. No one’s gonna hurt you – I promise. I will see to it myself that no one lays a hand on you.”
“I. Will. Not. Go. With. You,” I spat.
“Alright,” she said, defeated. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but you really made up my mind for me.” She suddenly pulled something out of her jacket…a gun.
Screaming I tried to throw myself to the ground before the bullet (at least, that’s what I thought it was) hit me.
But I was too slow.
The next thing I knew I was waking up in a completely white room on some sort of metal bed. There were were more than five people in the room – somehow I figured that out even though I was so groggy – and they were all wearing white. White scrubs, white gloves, white masks, white things covering their hair…there was so much white my eyes screamed for relief. I needed darkness…everything bright – or white – felt like it was searing my brain right now. What had that woman shot me with?!
“She’s waking up,” I heard a voice say frantically.
At that moment I lifted my arms up – only to find they were strapped to the bed, as were my legs. I strained against those straps with all my might, but what did it do? Nothing.
“She’s trying to get up!” a different voice said.
“L-let…me…g-” I tried to speak, but that was a failed attempt too. What were these creeps doing to me?!
“Give her another shot – and fast,” a man’s voice said. “If she wakes up entirely she could die.”
What? Die? my mind screamed.
But then I felt a quick, pinching pain on my arm…and I was falling back asleep…

And so, now you know how I got here.
I’m still here.
And I don’t know if I’ll ever get out.

The metal door swung open, and my heart began to pound in fear.
Experiment time again.
“No! I will not go!” I shrieked. If I had to go through experiments again I would die.
I just knew it.
“Shot – give her a shot!” one of the freaks in white shouted at another.
It was coming – that little pain and then I wouldn’t know anything until I got to ‘the Lab’.
Then every pain imaginable would visit me.
Except this time I wasn’t going down without a fight.
This time they weren’t going to be able to take me down.
Before the three freaks in white (as I so lovingly began to refer to them) could react, I jumped and delivered a beautiful roundhouse kick right to the one freak’s chest. Gasping, she doubled over, a few moments later falling to the ground.
Here it was…my chance! The door was open – if I could jump over the gasping woman and get past her two startled accomplices I could make it!
“Get her now!” one of the men shouted (I had figured out it was two men and one woman by their voices).
They both (the two remaining freaks – the two men)reached out to grab me at the same time, but I nimbly danced away, jumped over the woman, and bolted from the room.
Skidding on the slippery white floors, I raced down long, twisting hallways. My pursuers were catching up…
I could see kids looking out of their ‘cells’ as I raced past. “Look – she’s escaping!” I heard a few people breathe. “She’s gonna make it!”
“She’s so dead,” others said amongst themselves.
I tried to ignore all of it. Just focus on getting out of here in one piece, I told myself.
And then, abruptly, just as I saw a set of doors ahead of me – freedom! – I felt arms come around my ankles, and I slammed to the ground, the breath in my lungs leaving with a Whoosh!
Every rib in my body felt bruised – and or cracked – but that didn’t stop me from trying to get up and keep running…but it was no use.
“That was a bad move,” my captor hissed. “Very bad.”
My heart began to pound so hard with fear I just knew it would come out of my chest. I was probably going to be punished for my little escape attempt…and punished good.
I felt something that hurt as a much as a bullet suddenly slam into my left shoulder…and then everything went dark.

The experiments were worse than ever when I woke up to find myself in the Lab once more. They were longer and more painful, and I knew that my assumption had been right – I was being punished.
When they were finally over I had to be dragged back to my cell – I was that out of it. I knew that behind all these doors, kids had listened to the scuffle of my feet as I tried to escape and then heard me be brought down and dragged back. They were probably completely drained of hope now. They knew someone had tried to get away and failed, and they knew that that meant there was probably no chance for them.
This hardened something inside of me. I was gonna get out of here – some time – for me, and for all these other kids.
And I was gonna free as many as I could on the way.
Suddenly a sound came from the air vent at the bottom of one of the walls in my cell (I had been locked up again). “It’s okay,” a voice said. “You’ll make it next time.”
A bit afraid, I tentatively went over to the air vent. “Wh-who is that?” I asked.
“My name’s Chase,” came the reply. “I’m in the cell next to you, and we kids on this floor have discovered that talking into the air vents works well as means of communicating with the kid in the cell next to you. I saw you try to escape and I just wanted to say good job. You’ve got guts.”
“Thanks,” I said, a bit embarrassed. “How old are you?”
“Sixteen,” he said. I just noticed how deep his voice was. “What’s your name and how old are you?”
“Skye, and I’m fifteen,” I said wearily.
“Skye,” he said, seeming to think about it for a moment. “They pushed you hard today, didn’t they,” he said. It was more of a statement than a question. “As punishment.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, my ribs aching anew. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m gonna get out of here – and I’m gonna help as many of you as I can.”
“That’s the spirit,” he said. I knew he was probably smiling, and suddenly I wondered what he looked like.
“You ever try escaping?” I asked.
“Once…nearly died from what they did to me after as a ‘warning’,” he said. “But I won’t get caught again.”
“Same here,” I said firmly. “We’re getting outta here, Chase – and soon.”
Soon turned out to be two months.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Myth, Skye, Skye Iris: Fly Away, Tricity

Matchstick (Draft 5) by Miracle

September 20, 2009

Matchstick
Rebekah Burcham

The room smelled of medicine and rubbing alcohol and the lavender someone had brought in a plastic vase. It had one bed, a TV, continually on Nickelodeon, an open window, a metal table, and a humming collection of machines and tubes. A balloon was tied to the little girl’s wrist that read get well soon in purple letters, with a note: love you, baby, dad.
Her mother, Caroline Love, was there too, pretending to be brave, pretending she hadn’t bought the balloon herself that morning, pretending her four-year-old daughter wasn’t dying.
“Mama?” The little girl’s voice shook. No! Caroline’s heart throbbed. This was wrong, Sarah should be laughing and running and tossing messy curls and dancing wobbly ballerina steps to pretty music, not watching cartoons all day long as she laid in a bed that wasn’t hers with an IV in her arm and oxygen tubes up her nose.
“Yes, baby?” She didn’t deserve those adoring eyes looking up at her or those soft fingers in her hand even if her womb had carried them for eight months. She was only nineteen, what right did she have to be a Mama?
“Are you scared?” her daughter asked.
“Why would I be scared?” She tried to smile.
“Your hands is cold.” Caroline withdrew her fingers quickly from Sarah’s hand and tried to warm them on her sweater. “No, keep holding me, please.” Caroline took her hand again. “I’m not very scared, Mama. Auntie Kate said good little girls go to a happy place and get wings when they die. Have I been a good little girl?”
“Did she say you were going to die?” Caroline asked sharply. How dare her sister talk to a sick child about death?
“No, but she was very sad. Am I a good girl?”
She’d swallow her anger until Sarah fell asleep and she could call her sister. “You’re a very good girl, baby.”
“Good,” the little girl sank back on her pillows and sighed a long, adult sigh. Caroline’s eyes stung. Why did a child have to find peace with her own death?
“Don’t be scared, Mama, it doesn’t hurt.”
“What doesn’t hurt?” She stroked her daughter’s skinny fingers.
“Leaving – only its more like going than leaving.” She closed her eyes and smiled wistfully.
“Sarah!” Caroline leaned closer and gripped her daughter’s hand almost angrily.
“It doesn’t hurt. I love you, Mama.” She squeezed Caroline’s fingers back.
“Stay with me, Sarah. I love you too.”
Five slow minutes passed. Her daughter’s breaths became more and more ragged and her pulse weaker. Five minutes. Then they stopped.
Caroline wept. Wept because her body had been too young to carry her child for nine months, because she had been too selfish to be a real mother, because she had been stupid to let the kind of boy who let his own daughter die without a visit use her body four years ago, because it was her fault that such a precious creature had suffered for four long years. If she hadn’t made that mistake four years ago, if she hadn’t made stupid choice after stupid choice…
An hour later, the doctors and nurses had finished their duties and her daughter’s death-room had been sanitized and emptied. She sat in the waiting room because she didn’t want to go home to her empty apartment. For a few minutes she didn’t move, just watched the people and the walls and the floor. Then she snapped open her cellphone and dialed her sister’s number.
“Kate! Why did you tell Sarah she was going to die? Didn’t you – ”
“She told me, Caroline. I comforted her.”
“But – ”
“Is there any news? Did – ”
“She’s gone.”
Pause. “ – gone?”
“Yes, to a happy little place to get pretty little wings.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I should have aborted her!”
“What?”
“I should have! I was a terrible mother and she lived a terrible life!”
“Caroline – ”
“Her father didn’t even come.”
“So he’s a pothead and an idiot, that doesn’t mean you should have deprived her from the little life she got.”
“She was in pain, Kate. Always in pain.”
“She was strong, Caroline, and her life wasn’t wasted. Think of the lives she touched, the moments she was happy!”
“What lives? What moments?”
“Her little friends – “
“ – who she could never play with.”
“Caroline. Her friends who learned to sit and play quietly, setting aside their favorite games for a friend’s sake. Our mother, who learned to stop judging the teen girls at the adoption clinic she works for. My family and I, who were finally able to spend time with you. And you, especially you. I’ve watched you change from a spoiled child to a loving adult. You care about people now, and you’re strong. It’s like she started your life.”
“And happiness?”
“Remember the picnic? When my husband scooped her up and gave her a piggy back ride? She laughed and laughed.”
“Until she was blue.”
“And Darrell set her down and gathered all the children into his lap and told them a story. All those fairies and princesses, but she liked the talking eagle best.”
“I remember.”
“Did you know? Once when you left her at my house for the day, the children put on a little skit of what they wanted to be when they grew up, firefighters or ballerinas or things. She stretched out her arms as wide as she could and said: “I’ll be a bird!” She smiled so big when she said that.” Her voice became husky. “Sweet, sweet Sarah.”
New tears spilled down Caroline’s face. She mumbled a goodbye, closed her phone, and ran to her car suddenly desperate to leave this place of dying things. She drove to her lonely apartment, unable to face anyone’s sympathy.
Inside, everything was unaffected. The stove still messy from macaroni and cheese, art on the refrigerator, bills on the table. It looked like a scene from someone’s present, instead of her three days past. She walked to her bedroom. Her bed was made and she had left the lamp on.
Then she saw Sarah’s bed. It was a hand-me-down toddler bed from Kate, made lumpily with a silly stuffed parrot perched on top of the pillow. Sarah had been practicing making her own bed. She kneeled beside it, stroking the bird, and sobbed.
“You remember the match?” her sister had asked once. “We’d always used dad’s cigarette lighter to start that old grill, but he quit and threw it away, so we had to use matches. The first time you saw dad strike it against the box and light, you thought it was magic. You asked to keep it, but dad just laughed. When it burned away, you were so angry. “Why did it do that?” you demanded. “It’s gone now.” Dad told you that was just the way things were. Sometimes little things have to burn away to start a fire. You said that was a stupid way and Dad laughed and nodded. “Sometimes it seems like that, Carrie.” I didn’t know what he meant then, but I do now. It’s a hard thing to learn.”
A very, very hard thing to learn.

Categories: Modern Fiction, Short Stories.

Skye Iris: Fly Away (Prologue)

September 19, 2009

If you are reading this – my story – then hopefully…hopefully…I’m still alive. It means I went on to lead an almost normal life…a happy one.
If.
If this is never read by anyone, then I’ve been caught. And probably killed.
Or I suppose there is always the possibility that you found this laying somewhere.
Maybe, in a scuffle with the ‘scientists’ trying to get me, I dropped this on a sidewalk. At the bottom of a tree. Into some hole in the ground.
But I can’t exactly predict the future.
And so, since all I can do is hope that someone will find this and learn what it’s really like to be a mutant – and see that we’re not just mindless freaks – I will tell my story.
I will tell it for me.
And I will tell it for mutants everywhere.
My name? Skye Iris.
And this?
My story.
Hope it helps someone somewhere.
Signing out,
Skye Iris

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Myth, Skye, Tricity

Chapter Two: Something Lurking

August 10, 2009

not even close to as long as the first one…lol enjoy…though not much happens in this chapter…

Beep, beep, beep.

Somer’s eyelids fluttered open, her gaze coming to rest on a tall man with dirty-blond hair. He sat in the chair by her bed, and he looked out of sorts almost, as if he wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing in the room.

Bits and pieces of a name came to her. Mason…Ride…no; that wasn’t it. Ryder Mason. That was his name.

She looked around the room she was in. It was a hospital room, and the walls were a cheerful blue color. There was one, large window in the room, and when she looked out she realized it was nighttime. She must have been here awhile.

Beep, beep, beep, went her heart monitor again (it had been doing that this whole time, though she had tuned it out at first). She looked to her left and saw that plus a few other machines, also beeping, that she didn’t recognize.

She tried to lick her lips but discovered that there was something in her mouth. She reached up to her face and felt a thin, flexible tube going across it, then into her nose and mouth (there was some sort of mouth piece attached) and then it led down and off of the bed-she must be getting oxygen.

Ryder suddenly looked at her (he had been looking around the room, a bored expression on his face), and he perked up. “Hey! You’re awake,” he said, smiling cheerfully.

A nurse came in just then to check on her. “Well, hello!” she said just as cheerfully as Ryder had. A friendly smile spread itself on her face. She came over to Somer’s bed and removed the mouth piece so she could talk and get a drink of something.

Somer smiled (albeit wanly) back, thinking that he was really very handsome and the nurse was really very nice (they both were). “Like I got run over by fifty big trucks,” she said wryly, her speech a bit slurred with weariness, even though she was sure she’d been sleeping (or been passed out) for a few hours already.

Ryder and the nurse chuckled. “But a tiny bit better?” he asked.

“A tiny bit,” she replied, straining her eyes to look down at her right shoulder which was aching dully. She discovered that she was in a hospital gown, and it felt like there were bandages around her ribs and around her shoulder. Her shoulder did feel better now that the bullet was out…assuming, of course, that it was in fact out. Thankfully breathing wasn’t so hard, even though she still felt pretty terrible.

The nurse put something around her left arm to start taking her blood pressure. As she squeezed ‘the little rubber thing’ (this was what Somer had always called them in her head) ha ha what ARE those little rubber things that get squeezed to make the blood pressure thing inflate and get tighter?! at the end of a rubber line attached to the blood pressure strip, the strip got tighter and tighter until Somer almost couldn’t stand it. Really, everything touching her right now seemed to annoy her. She was glad when the nurse took the strip off her arm.

The nurse then looked at each of the machines, writing something down on the clipboard that hung at the end of Somer’s bed. “Everything looks good so far,” she announced at last. “I’m going to give you another shot of morphine now, and then the doctor will be in to see you.”

She administered the shot (which Somer hated much, much more than the blood-pressure-taking) and then, saying “Hang in there; I’ll see you later,” she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Suddenly Somer flinched so hard that, had there not been side-guards on the bed, she would have fallen off of it. Ryder’s face was instantly worried. “What’s wrong?” he said.

She didn’t speak at first-she only stared out the window, her face petrified.

“I’m getting a nurse,” Ryder said, standing up to go do just that.

“N-no,” Somer stammered, finally seeming to ‘come to’. “I just thought…I thought someone was looking the window.”

“We’re on the fourth floor,” Ryder said, very concerned.

“I know, but I looked out the window and…well, it looked like a man was staring in at me,” she said, paling at the thought of it.

“I think we need to tell the doctor when he comes in,” Ryder said.

“No!” Somer cried. Ryder looked at her in surprise. “Please…they’ll think something is majorly wrong with me and…and stick me in a nut house or something.”

Ryder couldn’t keep the corners of his mouth from twitching as he tried not to smile. “Somer, the most they would do is take your temperature and make sure you’re not hallucinating-though a high fever and hallucinations are nothing less that what can be expected after having a traumatizing day, during which you’re shot in the shoulder. You’re all outta wack,” he said, trying not to chuckle.

But the need to chuckle instantly disappeared when Somer didn’t seem to get any less scared. “You don’t understand. My family has a history of…well, crazies,” she said. “The doctors would look my history up, see that, and put me in some house for crazy people and leave me there to waste away…” She was talking in a dazed, frightened way, as if she was the only one in the room, or as if she was in a trance.

“Hey.” Ryder put his hand on her arm and gave it a little squeeze. “I won’t let that happen,” he said. He didn’t know, but for some reason he felt this overwhelming urge to protect her-take care of her.

Somer turned her strikingly pretty blue eyes toward him. “Really?” she murmured.

“Really,” he replied, smiling kindly.

“Thank you,” she said even more softly. Then her eyes closed and she fell asleep.

Somer Rush was a mystery, no doubt, but for some reason he felt he shouldn’t leave her side.

Like there was something dark and dangerous lurking outside, waiting to get her alone.

No.

He wouldn’t anything happen to this woman-he just wouldn’t.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Myth, New York, Somer, Somer Rush: Keeping the Beat

Conclusion to “Beat It”

August 9, 2009

by Roxanne

When we awake, the couple is nowhere to be seen and we’re parked outside a casino in the heart of L. A. We wake the bewildered twins up and climb out of the truck. My stomach growls hungrily but I know none of us has food or money. We all four keep our complaints to ourselves and scurry away from this rough neighborhood. We stop for directions many times before finding the twins parent’s uppity neighborhood. Cliff whistles as we climb their front steps.

“Not too bad, guys. This is a nice house…” he raises his fist to knock just as a smothered shout comes from inside.

“If you hadn’t started all this we never would have had to send the kids away in the first place!” A woman’s voice screams.

“Yeah, well if you hadn’t decided you wanted a divorce they never would have tried to run away in the first place,” a man replies. The twins hang their heads in embarrassment. Cliff knocks anyway. An uncomfortable minute passes before two middle-aged people show up in the doorway. The woman has blue eyes like Sims and the man has strawberry-blonde hair like June. All four family members stand in shock for what seems like eternity. Cliff scratches his neck awkwardly and I lean against a pillar. The mother finally speaks.

“Sims, June! How did you get here?” She cries, embracing them as though she never intends to let go. The father joins in the hug, kissing June’s forehead. The twins don’t answer, words encompassed by emotion.

“We ran away from the school,” Sims spurts. “They were hurting us.” June nods her agreement repeatedly.

“We just had to get back,” she says. “And we couldn’t have without them.” She gestures to Cliff and I. The parents thank us and pull us into the family embrace. We both flinch awkwardly but accept the parents gratitude.

“We just didn’t want them to end up like the other students there,” Cliff says modestly. We introduce ourselves and Mr. and Mrs. Williams lead us inside where they heat up frozen dinners and make mac n’ cheese. We eat slowly, making sure to keep it all down. The taste of real food is overwhelming after nine months of barf. I wish that Alexa could be here, but rest in knowing that we have beaten the school and it’s doomed to a downward spiral after this.

Over the next few day the parents visit the school and it is closed almost immediately. They also discontinue the divorce process on their marriage-to the twins delight. It takes a long time for us to be completely up to strength, but soon enough Cliff and I start to feel out of place. We say an emotional good bye to the twins.

“You’ve got a good future ahead of you,” I say to June. “Don’t waste it.” We hug one last time, as Cliff says goodbye to Sims.

“You are the one that saved us. We have your guts to thank,” Cliff says. We jump, waving to the teary-eyed twins, onboard the bus traveling to the northern-most part of the city. We settle down in the back and relax as the city rushes past.

“Would you mind if I came to Seattle with you? Just to see if your aunt is cool and everything?” Cliff asks.

“Sure you can come, but I won’t be staying long. I just have to get my passport and my social security number and say goodbye one last time,” I reply. He nods.

“It’ s on the way to Yellowstone anyway,” he smiles.

“Sure,” I laugh. The Williams’ gave us money for plane tickets but we decide to keep it and hitch-hike to Seattle, both of us having experience with hitch-hiking and greater uses for the money. After riding in a couple semi’s and a station wagon we find ourselves in Washington state, 10 miles outside of Seattle. We trudge up the highway for a few minutes before a Jeep stops to pick us up. As soon as we take a seat the driver pulls back onto the highway. All we can see is the man’s aviator’s in the rear-view mirror.

“Whoa,” I say. “Where are you going?” The man doesn’t answer, but pulls up a side road and parks. Cliff and I exchange worried glances, he climbs out of the car and is knocked on the head by the driver. I’m jumping out of the Jeep as Cliff falls, too late to react. The man grabs my wrists, and I recognize him.

“Mr. Reynolds,” I whisper.

“Yes,” he snarls. “You think I was going to let you ruin my school and get away with it? You little criminals!” He wraps duct tape around and around my wrists, finishing just as Cliff comes to. He binds him also. I try to hit the man but he very quickly pulls out a pistol from his belt and points it in my direction.

“Freeze,” he says. I freeze. He jumps into the Jeep, pulling the squirmy Cliff after him. He duct tapes him to the frame of the Jeep, doing the same to me on the other side.

“Where are you taking us?” I splutter.

“To court, where you in everyway will be judged as delinquents and sent to juvenile hall as you deserve,” Mr. Reynolds replies. “And my school will be reopened under a new name, and a new location, like backwoods Tennessee or New York.”

“The things you do at your school will never be allowed,” I say. He puts a strip of duct tape over Cliff’s mouth. I look at Cliff frantically. What are we going to do?

“Oh, starting the school is no problem, methods evolve-if you will,” His stubbly face bends over me. “Maybe the state of California will even send you two to my school. Wouldn’t that be fun?” He straps duct tape over my mouth as I wriggle hopelessly. He gets into the Jeep and turns around, back to Los Angeles. Cliff and I stare at each other, dying for any ideas for escape. I turn my head around as much as is possible in the confined circumstances and see a police car. It gives me an idea. Cliff sees it too. I look at his face, then at his foot. It takes him a minute but eventually it dawns on him. He waits for the policeman to get closer, then lifts himself up by his arms and kicks the back of Mr. Reynolds’s seat-head with both feet. Mr. Reynolds falls forward, and swerves off the road. He tries to get control but over steers and the Jeep flips off the road onto it’s side. I hear the front airbag go off. My arms are almost wrenched from their sockets and we land on Cliff’s side so I’m almost dangling by my arms. When we come to a stop I get my feet under me and stand up through the empty window. Mr. Reynolds drags me out in a rage, cutting my wrists on the tape. He throws me onto the ground and screams profanity in my face. He pulls out his pistol and points it at me, then jerks it towards Cliff who’s emerging from the Jeep. I shriek. And a gun is fired. For a split second I think that Cliff has been shot and I’m next but then I realize that Mr. Reynolds never fired. And there’s a hole surrounded by blood in his Left breast pocket. I look back to see a policeman and woman approaching. They tear the remaining duct tape from our hands and faces.

“What happened here?” They ask. And we give them the whole story, padding the parts about our “families” a little bit. They give us some food and drink and offer to drive us into Seattle. We accept gratefully. My heart still pounds from the experience and I try not to wonder what would have happened if the police hadn’t shown up. We enter Seattle as the sun sets and it is twilight by the time we’re dropped off in front of my aunt’s apartment.

“You sure you don’t need anything else?” The policewoman checks.

“No, we’re okay now but we owe our lives to you. Thanks so much,” Cliff says.

“Yeah, thanks,” I agree, slamming the car door, failing to suppress my nerves. We turn and enter the apartment.

“What number?” Cliff asks.

“117,” I say, taking a deep breath. We climb the stairs to the second floor and stand before number 117. I pull a key out from under the mat.

“What a good hiding place,” Cliff comments sarcastically.

“She never was very bright,” I roll my eyes. I unlock the door and we enter the smoky room that reeks of beer and nicotine. I cough and let my eyes adjust to the poor lighting.

“Who’s there?” A woman’s voice calls and my aunt enters the room. She stands in shock for a moment, dressed in sweats and a halter-top. Her square glasses are tucked up in her hair and she pulls them down to make sure that it’s me.

“What are you doing here?” She says. “You weren’t supposed to come back until you were eighteen.” It feels like I’ve been punched in the chest. I was supposed to stay there for 2 years?

“Um, the school closed down, Aunt Lori. I just came back for my social security card and my passport, then I’ll be gone for good.” She eyes me suspiciously.

“Well good luck finding it here,” she lights a cigarette and watches as we start looking around for the papers. It takes us about an hour to find the passport but the card is not to be found. I decide to leave without it, as opposed to exposing ourselves to such thick second-hand smoke any longer. We stand on the doorstep of the apartment, Aunt Lori leans in the doorway.

“Well have fun where ever you’re going and please try not to get in trouble,” she says, then slams the door in our faces.

“What a jerk,” Cliff says. We descend the stairs and I try to swallow back my tears. Two slip down my cheeks before I can stop them. We sit on the stairs and Cliff sits next to me. I had seen the love of the Williams family and experienced the love of Alexa, the twins, and Cliff and somehow I led myself to believe that there was a love for me here. I had been wrong. Nothing has changed and I’m still just an annoying responsibility to my family. But maybe I did have a chance, at least I had a friend. I sigh and once I get a hold of myself I whisper.

“Can I come to Yellowstone with you for a while?” I ask.

“You bet you can.”

We head full-speed to Yellowstone and Cliff’s family.

Three months later I’m sitting on a huge rock on the edge of a beautiful lake. The RV I’ve been living in is behind me, and Cliff and his little brother are repainting the outside of it. Cliff’s cousin was more than welcoming and assured us that he could use the extra help around the park. Les, Cliff’s little brother, had immediately fallen in love with me and we’ve been best friends ever since. It really feels like a family, however long it’s going to last. I shiver in the chilly air and press myself into the warm rock. Cliff walks over and sits beside me. We watch the trees sway and the water ripple. And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel alone.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Beat It, The End!!

2nd to last “Beat It” post

August 7, 2009

by Roxanne

Our punishment for the previous nights’ fight finally comes this afternoon and I’m put up on the pole again while the twins are in the grates and Cliff on the parallel bars- the place where I first saw Alexa. He grunts with the effort, but eventually finds a comfortable-enough position to talk, face to the dirt below.

“What happened to you, Endie? I mean what changed?” He asks. I sigh.

“I just got confused for a minute. I thought that all I wanted was to get out. But now I realize that it’s more than that. That I have to get out and remain undefeated. The only way for us to succeed is by escaping as ourselves. June and Sims reminded me. And now here we are. A no-fail escape plan underway.”

“I wouldn’t say no fail…” I suppress a smile as it hurts my cracked lips.

“I’m sorry, Cliff. I watched you take too many beatings to be a real friend.”

“To tell the truth, I thought you were lucky. This whole time being able to forget your real self and be what they wanted you to be. You almost got to forget the pain…but somehow I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give up, and now here we are.”

“The way it should be.” I conclude. He glances up at me, squinting through the sun’s glare.

“The way it should be.” He echoes. He is taken away about half an hour later- his wrists eventually giving out- to be chained to another lovely pole on the other side of the campus. The twins remain in the grates until all four of us are released Tuesday night, our spirits a little worse for wear, but we’re hopeful nonetheless. Cliff shows up Wednesday morning, patting his back pocket to show that he had obtained the med during the night. June and Sims exchange excited looks.

“You won’t be excited once this stuff hits your gut.” Cliff warns.

“I’m ready.” Sims counters, determination scrawled across his face. June squeezes his hand as we separate for the last time before the escape. He is to meet us outside the nearest hospital(only 10 miles away) the first time he is left alone after twenty minutes at the hospital. All dependant on the ambulance taking at least half an hour at the school, and not seeing us on the way to the hospital. Classes pass even slower than the first time we tried to escape. I can tell June feels it too, and I’m afraid she lets it show too much. Thankfully no one notices and we’re well on our way to dinner when we hear a great ruckus coming from the boys dorm. We rush over as Sims emerges, spewing bile everywhere. The terrified look on his face makes me wonder if we didn’t make another mistake. Before we can see more, Cliff pulls us behind the girls’ dorm where we wait for the ambulance.

“Is this what’s supposed to happen?” June looks worried.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Cliff puts an arm around her. I keep my eyes glued to the gate. About ten minutes later we hear the sirens and sneak towards the gate. Sims is dry-heaving now, I have to pull the horrified June towards the gate. Thankfully, none of the other students consider this an opportunity to escape, but remain crowded around in Mr. R’s way.

We slip through the gate seconds before it closes, as the guard watches the ambulance inside. We run as fast as we can for about two hundred metres but then June falls behind and we slow, merging into the shrubbery alongside the dirt road. We don’t speak but face the road ahead of us with determination. We can’t get there too late, or it will all be over.

They’d taken my shoes the first day I’d been here along with my other clothes and I haven’t seen them since. Soon my feet start blistering and the dirt feels like it slices through them. At the school we ran without shoes but that was always in the morning before the dirt had soaked up the sun all day. June starts stumbling because her feet haven’t had as much time to callous so I carry her piggy-back for a while, until Cliff offers. We alternate for about half an hour more then we hear the ambulance coming up the road from the school. We dive deeper into the shrubs until they’re well past. Newly motivated, we start jogging again and reach the outskirts of the hospital parking lot minutes after they unload the still-shaking Sims out the back.

“I’ll go in.” I say. Somehow we overlooked arranging a meeting place. Cliff nods.

“Meet us at the North gate to the hospital.” He and June dash that way. I walk nonchalantly into the hospital’s maintenance entrance, hoping no one has seen kids from the school dressed like me. I take the stairs to the ER, and I arrive as Sims’ gurney is rolled in. The nurses roll him behind a curtain and go into a medicine fridge next door. I swallow my fear and sprint in. He lays there, a little pale, but happy to see me.

“It’s a good thing you came up,” Sims says while I unstrap him. “I don’t know if I can walk by myself.” I nod and pull him up. He leans on my shoulder and we head for the South side of the building, taking the stairs. At the bottom he dry-heaves again but we’re able to get out before any alarm sounds. Cliff runs up to meet us at the edge of the parking lot and puts Sims on his back.

“We have to get out of here.” He whispers, looking around. “Mr. R showed up while you were in there.” I nod, breathless.

“Let’s go.” We jog out of the parking lot, June holding Sims’ hand. We jog and walk and jog for what seems like eternity. Sims tries to walk but doesn’t last long. I take a turn with him on my back but soon my legs start shaking uncontrollably. Cliff and I balance him on our shoulders between us. June stumbles along beside.

“I don’t know how much farther we can go.” I say, addressing no one in particular.

“We have to make it over the border.” Cliff gasps, sweat dripping from his chin. “It should only be about a mile away.” I nod, swallowing back the bile rising to my throat.

“I’ve got an awful headache.” June whimpers.

“Dehydration. How did we not think to bring water? We’re in Mexico!” Cliff rants. I sigh in frustration.

“Lean on me.” I tell her. “There’ll be good water in the U.S.” We plod on for five more minutes. Cliff stops suddenly.

“What?” I say. He holds up his hand and we listen. I hear the purr of an engine and gasp.

“Mr. Reynolds!” We run over the next hill with all our strength.

“There it is!” Sims cries as the border patrol comes into view. Cliff and I forget our former worries of being kept by the Patrol and run straight for them, Mr. Reynolds’s Jeep catching up fast. He cusses and shouts threats at us. Tears fall down June’s face as her small legs pump harder than ever to keep up. I hold her on my right side, Sims still leans heavily on both Cliff and I. I hear gunshots and exchange a harried glance with Cliff. There is fear written all over his face. We have no chance of making it if one of the twins get shot. I push June in front of me so my body blocks her from Mr. R’s sights. But I still am afraid that he will get to us before we get to the border. In one last desperate attempt, Cliff yells from the bottom of his throat.

“Over here! Over here! He’s trying to kill us!” By now we can see the two guard’s faces and they look up at the noise. They race towards us and raise their guns to Mr. Reynolds. He shouts one more insult before turning his dusty Jeep around. We keep running past the patrol and collapse next to a little concrete building, all literally gasping for breath. Sims bends over and dry-heaves once more. June actually loses whatever there is in her stomach. I just swallow it back and focus on regaining strength and getting control of our situation. What will these guards think? Do they know about the school and allow it to go on like this? Does it count for us that we were being shot at? They return in their dirty pick up minutes later.

“What are you kids doin’ down here?” A darkly tanned man asks. His partner, a native Mexican stands behind him. Cliff looks at me, then back at the man and says.

“We were at that old man’s boot camp for troubled teens. We’ve been abused for the last 9 months. He got sick,” gesturing to the sheet-white Sims. “And we took the opportunity to escape.” The two guards blink in surprise. Why is he spilling our guts? I wonder. My heart pounds in anticipation of their response.

“You ran all the way up here?” The American asks. We nod. “Abuse you say?” Nods again. “Well ya’ll just sit up here inside and get a drink while we call the Marshal.” We walk inside and sit on benches lined against the wall, he shuffles to the back room. The Mexican waits outside.

“Where’s the water?” Sims rasps. We all look around without seeing any. I sigh. Minutes pass, our muscles quiver, and our hearts beat. Finally, the American walks from the back.

“He’ll be here to pick you up in about ten minutes,” he says. Something about the way he says it sounds wrong. A look at Cliff’s face confirms my suspicion. We play along anyway.

“Good. But can we get some water?” I ask. He laughs.

“Oh yeah, sorry about that kids, here you go.” He opens a small refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of water. “Sorry, this is all we’ve got.” He tosses them to us and I unscrew the lid for June, Cliff for Sims.

“Drink slowly,” we caution. The water dribbles from June’s chin and she wrinkles her forehead from the chill. The man laughs at our delight and steps outside. Cliff watches him and slips next to the door. He listens for a second, then jumps up, heading for the back of the building. We follow.

“We have to get out of here,” he says, yanking the screen out of the back window.

“What’d they say?” I ask.

“He called the school. Mr. Reynolds will be back soon with some of the security guards.”

“Darn it,” I say. “I’ll climb out first and catch the twins on their way down.” Cliff nods and gives me a leg up. Thankfully the window is wide and I fit through no problem. I drop to the other side and look around. No one is in sight, but the most wonderful thing I have ever seen is parked next to me; a four wheeler, keys and all. I smile and my lips crack and bleed. We are out of here. I help Sims and June down and Cliff comes out after.

“Look what I found,” I whisper and climb onto the ATV. June gets in the basket, I drive, and Cliff holds the fainting Sims with his legs hanging over the rear.

“Go,” he whispers. And with that we’re off, full speed ahead towards the grey buildings in the distance. The hot wind whips our faces but we embrace it. So much better than limping away on foot. Soon I hear Cliff yell.

“They’re here!” I push harder on the gas and we lurch ahead.

“What are we going to do when we get to the city?” I cry, realizing that we can’t just drive a four-wheeler on city streets, no matter how rural they may be.

“Get into an alley and we’ll ditch it there.” Cliff yells back. Somehow we reach the outskirts of town before the truck tailing us and we turn immediately into a empty alley. Cliff and I pull the twins off the ATV and walk towards the inside of the city. A truck with an empty bed is driving off a few feet away. We climb in without hesitation, laying flat in the bed. It doesn’t take long for all four of us to fall into deep, weary sleep, rocking with the trucks swaying movement. I awake at least an hour later to voices. I look up. A darkened man and woman stand at the end of the truck bed. Cliff is talking to them.

“We need to get to Los Angeles.” He says pleadingly.

“I’m sure taking them in the back can’t be a problem,” the man says to the woman.

“Yeah, just so long as they don’t expect us to feed them,” the woman replies.

“Yes, Boy, there’ll be none of that,” the man agrees.

“Yes, Sir, no feeding us, we just need a ride,” Cliff says gratefully. I crawl up beside him as the man and woman enter a diner.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Two hours outside of Los Angeles.”

“Wow, we must have slept much longer than I thought.” I yawn, rubbing my eyes.

“Apparently we were all out like lights.” He says. I look at the twins, who lay motionless still.

“Some of us still are.” I say with a smile. “Do you think they’ll be able to convince their parents of what happened?”

“Yeah. I really do. How hard can it be to believe that when both your kids are saying it and they’re sunburnt to a bloody crisp.”

“Hope so,” I say. Cliff pauses.

“Where are you going?” He asks me.

“Guess I’ll pay my Aunt a little visit. Then probably light out for Europe.”

“You don’t really want to go there. You want wide open spaces, like Wyoming. That’s where I’m going, no doubt in my mind. Even if I have to walk.”

“Looks like you just might,” I joke, ignoring the pain of having no place to go.

“No, really, Endie, come with me. We can recoup together, help my cousin at the park and he’ll feed us both. Plus you can meet my little bro. It’ll really be great.” Cliff argues.

“I don’t know,” I lie. “Maybe it would be okay. We’ll see once we drop these two off.” I lay back down next to June, exhaustion sweeping over me once more. I hear Cliff sigh and settle down on the other side of Sims.

Categories: I'M TO LAZY TO CORRECTLY CATAGORIZE MY STORY!!!!!!!!!! :P, Modern Fiction.

Tags: Beat It

Chapter One: Stay Alive

August 7, 2009

author’s note: for any of y’all, like maybe roxanne, who have never seen this story on WE, i have put the prologue on- so just search for ‘Somer Rush: Keeping the Beat : Prologue’ or something like that… lol and um…yeah…this chapter is maybe a bit too long and i know all of it stinks, but you will have a vague idea of what is going on in it. it will-DUH-have to be rewritten, coz it’s awful, but trrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy to enjoy yourself while you’re reading it. hee hee oh and btw because i posted this reeeeeeeeally late at night, i didn’t get much of a chance to edit it-sorry so yeah. you don’t have to critter this whole thing-might take a few years…sorry it’s so long! i should prob. break it up into two chaps or somethin…well, ta

One of the men ran toward her, thinking she was going to try and get away-as if she could with the six of them in front of her- and she sprang into action. She danced on the balls of her feet, too fast for the man. She got around him and delivered a chop to the back of his neck-one down.

Five more to go.

Two more came at her at once. They were tall, muscular men, and what she lacked in strength they lacked in agility. She was too fast for them as well, and danced all around them, confusing them…and then the fight began.

She saw it too short a time before it hit-one of the men’s huge fists, swinging through the air at her. She took a hard punch to the ribs, and she was certain she felt some of her ribs crack.

No! her mind screamed at her as she doubled over in pain. Keep going! Keep going!

She straightened, resolved once more, and delivered a round-house kick to one man’s guts. He doubled over this time, gasping, and a quick chop to the base of the neck took him out. Three left.

She didn’t know if she could take much more. Her ribs were throbbing, making it hard to breathe, and she was becoming so exhausted…when was the last night she’d had a full night of sleep?

Somer couldn’t remember.

Suddenly Somer heard the sound of what seemed to be a small explosion-which was a type of explosion-the kind of a bullet exploding from a gun. Then she heard someone scream…

Her.

She looked down at her right shoulder-it was gushing blood. The bullet had not even gone all the way through her shoulder-it was lodged there, and she was now in excruciating pain that took the little breath she had (she must have had more ribs broken than she thought) away completely, leaving her winded.

She looked up to find one of the men looking at her, a triumphant smile on his face. One of the three remaining men had pinned her arms behind her, and the other two men were now approaching her and her captor slowly.

Her mind was so foggy…why was the world spinning? Why were there stars and little black dots floating everywhere? Or were those bugs? Stars couldn’t be floating! They were in the sky…

Her head was swirling once more, and there was hardly a clear thought in it…

Except for ‘LIVE.’

She had to get away-she just had to!

Somehow, though she never figured out how she did it in her pained state, she yanked her left arm from the man’s grasp and then slammed her elbow into his gut. He gasped and eased his grip just enough that she was able to wriggle out of his hands.

There it was- a gap. The two men who had been approaching had been right next to each other (on their left they had been next to the wall), and there was now a huge space on their right side.

The way to freedom.

Somer saw her chance…and took it.

Everything seemed to go in slow motion now. The men were running toward her, foolishly not spreading out (not that Somer minded, of course)…and somehow, she got past them. She went into super-speed mode, her adrenaline spurring her on.

At last she was out of the alley! She raced across the little street, heading for the busier streets-the ones with lots of cars that, if she got around first, her pursuers would be caught waiting for unless they wanted to throw themselves in front of the cars and die.

There it was-the main, busy-it was rush hour-street. She started across it, her whole body on fire.

She was nearly hit by about five different cars, but she managed to get across. She kept on running, stealing a glance over her shoulder to see her pursuers stuck waiting for the light to turn red-there were too many cars zooming by for them to cross. Somer’s plan had worked. She looked straight ahead and forced herself to run even faster. If she could get out of sight before they crossed the road, then she could lose them.

Somer didn’t know how far she ran, or even where she was going-she just kept running. Her ribs and shoulders throbbed excruciatingly, and she knew she had to get medical help for her shoulder, which was still gushing blood. She already felt weaker.

Suddenly the places she was running past registered in her mind. There was a grocery store; a drug store; a book shop; a cafe…if she could get inside one of those, she would be safe. Just a little further, she thought to herself. You can make it. You can make it.

She found herself next to the book shop-she had already passed the grocery and drug stores. She burst through the door, hoping with all her heart that her pursuers had ‘lost her trail’.

The book shop was empty (it appeared to be closing hour), but in her hurry Somer slammed into the end of a book case with her wounded shoulder. She cried out and fell heavily to the ground…but she had to get up. She had to get help.

She grabbed onto the edge of a lower shelf on the book case and pulled herself up, watching her blood pool on the floor and on everything else. She held onto the shelf so tightly her knuckles were white, but it was so hard to get up her arm was shaking with the effort.

She looked over her shoulder to make sure her captors weren’t there-and her heart nearly stopped beating. Somehow they had figured out the direction she had been going, and one of them was just outside the book shop (though thankfully not looking in yet). His ‘buddies’ must be inside the other stores, looking for her there…and it appeared this man was going to come into the book shop to look for her!

Her heart was going to pound its way out of her chest. Somer just knew it.

She barely had time to race behind a very tall book case before the book shop door swung open. Don’t move…don’t breathe, she thought to herself. If she did breathe, her ragged gasps would give her away, so, as hard as it was not to breathe, she held her breath.

Her pursuer looked behind each book case…he was so close to the one she was hiding behind…he would look here next…she was dead meat…

Suddenly a man, taller than her pursuer and fit, holding a clip board in his hand, came out of the back room. “Uh, sir, didn’t you see the closed sign?” he said, surprised to find someone standing there.

Her pursuer only managed to growl, “I was just leaving.” He was so angry he looked like he might punch a book case, but he just frowned and strode angrily from the little shop.

Somer waited until she couldn’t see him out the window anymore, and then she let out a sigh of relief. The man who seemed to work in the shop went over the door and locked it, muttering under his breath in annoyance.

The man had been headed back to the back room, and he whirled around now. “Who else is in here?” he demanded, locks of his shaggy, dirty-blond hair falling into his blue-green eyes. “I can press charges, you know, against people who refuse to leave once I’m closed for the day. If you don’t believe me, go downtown and ask someone in the police department.”

Somer slowly came out from behind the bookcase, sorry that her blood had now ruined many of the books on it…but she couldn’t help it. When the man saw her, his mouth literally dropped open.

His eyes incredulously took in her bloody clothes, more bloody near her right shoulder, and the way she was breathing raggedly. “What-what on earth…” he started to stammer disbelievingly.

“Please,” Somer begged. “Don’t press charges. That man that came in-he was trying to kill me. Please believe me. I had to…hide…” A stab of pain suddenly went through Somer’s shoulder-she had to get the bullet out! She gasped and tried not to collapse on the ground.

The man was shaken from his dazed state at the sound of her gasp. “How do I know you didn’t try to kill someone? Why would someone be trying to kill you anyway?” he said, rather shocking himself by asking such a question. But the ‘really-think-it-through’ side of him was taking over now.

“Sir, I-I promise you,” Somer started, her pain getting worse with each passing second. She bit her lip so hard to keep from crying out that she tasted blood in her mouth. “These men…have been chasing me…they shot me…I need your help…pl-please!” Tears were welling up in her eyes- he didn’t believe her. The whole scene played in her mind. He was going to take her to the police department. There would be a trial, and if she made bail her pursuers would come, pay it, and then take her and finish her off. “They’re going to kill me,” she whispered, petrified, falling to her knees. The tears came now, albeit slowly, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

The man abruptly started toward her then. He put one of his hands out, and Somer flinched back, expecting to be hit by him. She stole a glance at his face. “I’m not going to hurt you; I’m going to help you,” he said, his face troubled and still a bit confused. “I’ll help you up, you lean on me, and then we’ll walk to the car, okay?”

Somer nodded wearily. Then her eyes widened as she remembered something. “Please-they can’t-they can’t recognize me. They’ll kill me if they do,” she said almost inaudibly.

The man looked around, and, upon seeing his jacket, went and got it. “Here,” he said, putting it around her shoulders and pulling the hood up. “I’m afraid that’s the best I can do. Now come on, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.” He grabbed a nearby rag that someone had been using to clean the dust from a bookcase and pressed it to her shoulder once he had helped her up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“I think-I think I’ve got some broken…ribs,” Somer said slowly, her pain intensified by her getting and walking, even though she was leaning on this man.

“Is that all? How bad is your shoulder?” he asked, leading her to the back room, where the back door was-he had parked his car behind the building in the small, private parking lot he owned (he owned the shop as well, though he wasn’t rich-but he and his few employees at least had a private space to park in). They got to the back door and went outside, and he quickly locked the back door behind them.

“The bullet…is still in my shoulder,” Somer rasped, wanting to die now-her pain was unbelievably awful. She gasped as another stab of pain went through her shoulder. Her legs felt like they were turning to jelly.

“Okay-hang on. We’re almost there,” the man said.

He unlocked his car and helped her into the passenger side. Her face was pinched with pain and weariness, and he knew he needed to hurry. He hopped in the car and put the key in the ignition, his mind racing.

The nearest hospital would be Tristan (an unusual name for the hospital-no one in New York really knew how exactly the name had come about), and that hospital in particular was a good one. He’d gone there when he’d broken his hand a couple of years ago, after a very heavy crate of books fell on it. They were cheap too, so that was a big plus.

The young woman in his car, who didn’t look much younger than him, leaned her head back against the seat. He could see the way she dug the nails of her left hand into her palm-her pain must be terrible right now. He eased the car into a faster speed-if he got pulled over, then they would have a police escort to the hospital, which would be rather helpful.

He took every back road he possibly could, not at all wanting to get caught in New York rush hour traffic. The sun was setting now, and ‘rush hour’ (which seemed to happen much earlier in New York than in other places in America-of course, the traffic in New York never stopped or slowed completely) had been going for quite some time.

“The name’s Ryder-” Ryder (‘the man’) said suddenly, hoping that talking might get the woman’s mind off her pain, “-Ryder Mason.”

“I’m S-Somer Rush,” she said quietly, her pain obvious in her voice.

“Well, Somer, I need you to just hang on for me, okay?” he said softly.

“I’ll tr-try,” she said, her shaking now obvious.

There it was at last-Tristan Hospital. Somer let herself relax a bit, knowing that if her pursuers looked in a hospital, they would think she had gone to a smaller, less noticeable one-and this hospital was anything but small and unnoticeable.

Ryder quickly parked near the entrance of the ER in the parking lot, turned off the car, got out, and came around to her side to help her out. “That’s it,” he said, being as gentle as he could with her. “Lean on me.”

He helped her walk as quickly as possible into the ER…and his heart sank as he saw the other people waiting there ahead of them.

Somehow, in the sea of people, he managed to find a chair for Somer. He helped her sit down, promising to be back as soon as possible, and then he ran to a large, high desk, behind which sat a woman.

“My…friend… needs help right away,” he said, looking back at Somer so the woman would know who he meant. “She’s been shot in the shoulder, and the bullet is still lodged inside it.”

“She’ll have to take a number slip, and then wait ’til her number is called,” the woman drawled in a bored, uncaring tone. She obviously didn’t really care that Somer would die if she didn’t get medical attention.

Ryder glanced around the room. There had to be at least twenty other people in here! Somer couldn’t wait that long!

“Please-she’s been shot, lady! She needs a doctor now!” he said desperately.

“The basket of number slips is right in front of you,” the woman continued in her monotone. Ryder wanted to grab her by the throat and shake her. No one else here seemed to be on death’s doorstep-at least none of them were gushing blood! Couldn’t the woman see that?!

“Look, if you don’t go call a doctor now I’m going to go find one myself!” Ryder said angrily. The woman couldn’t give two rips who lived or died-he was certain of it. He started counting in his head, something he only did when he was angry. Usually, when he counted, he could distract himself from his anger…

But not always.

The woman looked up at him, shocked. Then her face hardened. “Sir, take a seat before I call security,” she said in just as angry a tone.

“Please do call security! Hopefully they won’t be so dumb that they won’t be able to see my friend is dying!” Ryder shouted.

The woman glared at him before pressing a button and talking into a mic built into the wall. “Security, you need to come take a man out of the ER. He’s going ballistic-I’m afraid he’s going to hurt someone,” she lied.

Just you! Ryder thought furiously, but he was glad that ‘security’ would be coming. He gave one last glare at the now-triumphant woman before stalking off back to Somer to check on her.

It turned out, however, that security and a doctor arrived at the same time. “I’ll be right back,” Ryder promised Somer. Then he quickly left his chair and approached the two security guards and the doctor. “Please-my friend needs help!” he said, directing his words to the doctor. “She’s been shot.”

“That’s him!” the lady behind the desk screeched.

The security guards started toward him, but Somer’s heart picked that moment to stop beating for a couple seconds. The bullet had hit one of her vital arteries, and in a few more minutes she would be dead. She slumped forward, falling off her chair and onto the floor.

“Someone get a gurney out here!” the doctor shouted, he and Ryder running toward Somer at the same time. The doctor felt her pulse. “She’s barely alive!” he exclaimed. The gurney arrived a couple seconds later, and two men lifted her onto it, the doctor shouting instructions. “Get her into the OR, and get an oxygen mask on her now!” he bellowed.

Somer was rushed away, and Ryder was left standing in the ER, the ‘desk lady’ glaring at him. Another doctor came out then, though, to take the next person who had been waiting to see one, and so the desk lady kept her mouth shut.

“Come with us,” a woman in hospital scrubs, accompanied by the security guards, said to him (she had come into the room when all the commotion had started with Somer falling off her chair).

Ryder obediently followed them, stealing a glance back at the desk lady. She smiled triumphantly once more…and then he did the most childish thing he’d done in a long time (though she was behaving quite childishly herself).

He stuck his tongue out.

The woman’s mouth all but dropped open clear to the floor.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Myth, Somer, Somer Rush: Keeping the Beat

3rd Installment of “Beat It”

August 6, 2009

by Roxanne

Moments pass and we’re left alone, until Mr. Reynolds emerges from the offices and orders us with renewed vigor to clean the bathrooms, dorms, and do our laundry for the second time this week. I get bathroom duty, Cliff laundry. We’re locked inside the foul-smelling bathroom while the chaperone stands outside, away from the smell. I’m scrubbing dirt-caked sinks when Queeny and her little minions come up behind.

“We saw what you did. Broke rule nine again. Just can’t stop can you? Well I told Mr. Reynolds and he gave us permission to punish you.” Queeny sneers, advancing on me. I look through the mirror to my attackers; five girls, equally bony and desperate to get out. It doesn’t look good. I’ll just have to slow them down.

I feel a terrific pain in my back, and I turn to punch Queeny square in the face, she ducks, but I get a cheap shot on the girl behind her. I see a sharpened plastic spoon from the cafeteria. So that’s what went about half an inch up my back. I don’t have time to think anymore as the girls advance on me, pinching, slapping. I fight back with a few punches here and there but they’re all over, suffocating me, limiting my mobility. I land one more good punch to Queeny’s second in command before she kicks my feet out from under me and I fall to the floor, knocking my lights out on the sink, and landing face-down on the floor.

When I come-to I sit in the grate once more, sun blazing upon me. I cough and feel blood caked on my lips. I also can’t breath from my nose. It’s broken, I know the feeling because it’s not the first time. But I still don’t have the guts to set it straight myself. So I sit, holding my wounds, wondering what’s going on above me. Minutes later, Cliff joins me in the other grate. He shows up without his usual fanfare of a struggle, as far as I can hear.

“You two stay in here and don’t say a word and we might let you out before next week. But you yell or try anything while the parents are here and you’ll be left on the tower until you think you’re gonna die, and then we’ll put you in here for another week!” Bruno whispers loudly, then stalks away. We don’t talk for a minute, I imagine he’s been beat just as bad as I have.

“How many was it?” I finally ask.

“Five of the guys. And Zaccheus whose spite was released on me because he’s this close to getting out.” He replies.

“Yeah, I think my nose is broke and they shoved a plastic spoon up my back.” I relate.

“Hhhmm, I got one of the screws from the wall shoved up my back. And I think my right ring and pinky fingers were somehow broken. We got to get out of here, Endie, because Mr. Reynolds is turning it over more and more to the kids and they won’t stop.”

“That’s the thing, Cliff. I just don’t want to get out anymore. I want to die here, like Alexa. I don’t deserve to get out.”

“It’s not your fault that Alexa died, neither of us saw it coming. We can’t let them beat us. We have to get out for Alexa and for all the other kids like her. The ones that nobody cares about because they’re weak. We have to beat this and end it. How hard can it be to get cops down here and tell them what is really going on?” Cliff argues.

“But it’s not our country. Our cops have no rights down here.” A pause. “I just don’t want to anymore, maybe it’s over for me.” I conclude.

“It’s never over. And I’m not going by myself, so I’m ready for a long wait until you change your mind.” Silence continues until we’re released for dinner in the cafeteria without Queeny and Zaccheus, and without Alexa. The new “student leaders” have no problems adjusting to their new roles in which they are allowed to kick, steal, pinch, and annoy to their hearts’ content. All to please the ever-present guards and chaperones who will someday recommend them to Mr. Reynolds as good students. I ignore this horrible cycle and harden myself against all that goes on around me. There’s no way to stop it, and trying only lands me in the grate, so I just accept it. Maybe I’ll even be the kid they want me to be and go back to my relatives a subdued little suck-up. I can tell Cliff is not on the same page. He gets in trouble much more than me and sometimes I see him staring off to nowhere and I know he’s thinking about Yellowstone and his little bro. His beatings get worse and always I’m forced to watch. They play over and over in my mind as I lay in bed, as well as Alexa’s death. I feel as though my mind is going to eat me alive while the school destroys the only friend I have. Yet, somehow I can’t find the strength to resist. Like Mr. Reynolds says; I deserve this.

Then, weeks, maybe months later, two new kids show up. They’re twins, about 13, a boy and a girl. I’m assigned to show the new girl the ropes- a new student position that symbolizes the progress I’m making. Her name is June. She’s from Los Angeles where she lived with her mom and dad before they got a divorce and things started going downhill for her and her brother, Sims. Eventually they ran away while their parents were in a court hearing. That’s what landed them here.

“It doesn’t seem to bad.” Sims muses, across from me, next to Cliff. Cliff ducks his head in a mocking gesture. I grin painfully.

“Just wait until tomorrow morning. You’re lucky you arrived for lunch, this lunch especially, the food isn’t usually this good.” I say.

“Ugh.” June sighs.

Sure enough, next morning the twins don’t finish the drill in time and are hauled away to the grates. June comes back sunburned and down-hearted.

“This is stupid,” she complains. “Why do they stick us in there just for having trouble with their exercises in the hundred and eighteen degree heat?!”

“Like Mr. R says, they just want you to be a better person and obey…like we should.” She gives me a confused look.

“Sims said that Cliff told him you were still okay, like you haven’t given in yet. He said you were cool and that you almost escaped before.” I don’t reply. “What’s wrong then? Was he lying?” I hold her gaze until she looks away. We’re doing our laundry on the outside concrete and the glare from the sun forces us to close our eyes frequently for relief.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “He lied.” She looks confused.

“So are you going to tell on me? For talking about escape and all?” I shake my head, unable to speak because of the knot in my throat. We head over to the clothesline where Cliff and Sims are already hanging up their laundry. I avoid eye contact with Cliff and focus on my laundry. The new Queeny orders June to hang up her laundry as well.

“No.” June says, ignoring the other girls warnings.

“Excuse me?” The red-head from Texas says. “What did you say?!” Kids gather around, anxious for an excuse to hit someone.

“Do your own laundry,” June says, less sure of herself now.

“You’re supposed to listen to ME! You’re a new girl and not near as good as me. So I suggest you pick up my laundry and put it on the line!” June hesitates, and Texas jabs two fingers into her throat, holding them there. June gasps, seconds away from blacking out. Texas drops her.

“Do it.” She says and strides back to the dorm. June sits on the dirt for a minute more then gets up and throws the laundry over the line.

“This isn’t over.” Sims mutters. June nods.

“No way.” Cliff catches my eye, pleading, reminding me that we now have two more reasons to get out. I look away. The rest of the day I suppress all the feelings bubbling up inside of me, refusing to remember the feeling of being alive, my own person.

Mr. Reynolds shows up for dinner in the worst mood I’ve seen him in yet. The rumour is that Alexa’s grandparents had showed up this morning and would’ve sued if Mr. he hadn’t paid them off. This brought my anger into my throat but I just swallowed it back once more. He also congratulated the new student leaders and recommended that they help June and Sims adjust to the schools’ policies. This pretty much meant they were to beat the twins until they were unconscious. Like me. I shrug that thought away, protesting just isn’t worth it. I don’t understand why he’s doing this now, promoting violence in the students, allowing them to take matters into their own hands. When I first came, the policy had been ‘put the kid out in the hot sun for a couple of days and then let them fight back’. Now it was just plain violence. How could that provide the results he was looking for?

Tonight we’re allowed to sit outside an extra hour because of the stuffiness of the rooms. The chaperones meander farther and farther away. Soon the redhead approaches with the guy’s new student leader. Their minions are close on their heels. I am tempted to stand with Cliff between them and the twins until I remember my resolve to get out of here and thus stay back.

“What was it Mr. Reynolds said, Mickey?” Texas asks the guy next to her.

“He said to teach the new kids this school’s policy. And you know what that is?” He grabs Cliff by the throat and throws him aside, five other boys holding him down. “That you’re nothing!” He shouts, punching Sims in the stomach. The other kids advance upon both of them, insults flying as thick and fast as the hits. I lick my lips and try to turn away. But I can’t, so I just stand and watch the twins and Cliff struggle and fight hopelessly. Then Texas yells above the den.

“You, Endie!” She says, pointing to me. I look at her. “Come over here and show us that you’re a better kid than them.” She gestures to June. I walk over and pause above June who cowers, blood streaming from her split lip. Her sad eyes beg me to stop and it’s then that I realize just how ridiculous I have been. This whole time I’ve been denying myself, ignoring my real desire to escape as the same person I was before. I have betrayed Cliff when he needed me most, and turned June down when all she needed was a friend to get her through this. I have failed in every aspect of the word and now I see Alexa in June’s face and know that I have failed her too, even as she lies cold in the ground. Now It’s time for me to fix it all. We will fix it and we will get out, all four of us. But for now, I will fight. I raise my fist as to strike June, then turn and punch the redhead full in the face, and, while she and all the others stand back in shock, I help Cliff out of the hands of the kids clinging to him and grab Sims and June. Cliff lands a well placed shove onto Mickey who falls back into the crowd of kids. We bolt for the safety of the girls’ dorm. June and I hustle to the other side, letting the guys out before a chaperone sees them there. Cliff grabs my shoulder.

“I knew you weren’t gone.” He says.

“I wasn’t going ta let them get away that easy.” I joke sullenly. He smiles wide and darts away into the boys dorm. I lean my head back against the concrete wall and take a breath. I feel free. Like I’d been trapped these last months. The free Endie has come back. I smile so big I think my lips might split then remember June beside me. She stares at me, blood clotting all over her face. I chuckle, then grab her hand.

“Let’s get you washed up,” I say, heading for the outdoor water spicket. The other girls start returning to the dorm as we head out. They give us smug looks and Texas stares us down, reminding us that we will pay. But I ignore them, too caught up in my new freedom of heart and mind to consider the coming repercussions.

Sims, Cliff, June, and I all meet at the water hose. Cliff and I gingerly wipe the blood away from the angry twins’ faces. They grumble the whole time, but I’m too happy to notice and Cliff seems to have his old vigor back. We talk in hushed tones of escaping again.

“I don’t think riding with Cooky will work. They check his cab now too.” Cliff says.

“Yeah, it’ll have to be something else,” I reply.

“Maybe we could create a diversion and get out while everyone’s preoccupied.” Sims throws in.

“Well, the gate will remain closed no matter what’s going on in here. Unless…” Cliff’s face lights up, and I continue his train of thought.

“Unless the diversion requires the gate to open.”

“Like an ambulance?” June asks. Cliff nods.

“If for some reason we need an ambulance one of us could ride in it and the rest could escape while the gate is open for it.” He says. “The problem would be getting Mr. Reynolds to call the ambulance in the first place.”

“That’s easy, the nurse has Wednesdays off. Something just has to go wrong with one of us physically that day and all the chaperones will freak out.” I conclude. “What could go wrong…” I wonder. But just then the whistle blows and we rush back to the dorms for bed, all four of us wondering what could go wrong.

At lunch the next day, Cliff whispers his idea.

“I’ll sneak into Nurse’s cabinet and lift the …….. Then I’ll take it and be throwing my guts up after an hour tops. Mr. Reynolds calls the ambulance and boom, we’re out of here!” I nod.

“Not too bad.”

“I think one of us should take it.” Sims says. June nods her agreement.

“They won’t suspect anything out of us since we’ve only been here for a week.” She says.

“No, I can do it.” Cliff protests.

“It’s not a bad idea, Cliff. You’ve been here a while, and you’re older, it’ll take Mr. Reynolds longer to call for you.” I reason.

“Well which one of you?” Cliff gives in.

“I’ll do it.” They both say at the same time. I laugh.

“Alright then, pick a number between one and ten.” Two is my number.

“Five,” June says. Sims chews his bottom lip.

“Three,” he says, fingers crossed. I point to him with a smile as we’re herded back into line.

“You are the lucky winner.” He smiles and June gives him a quick hug good naturedly.

“Wednesday it is.” I hear Cliff mutter through gritted teeth as he slips into line behind us.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Beat It

A little bit of “Beat It”

August 1, 2009

This is ridiculous. Being taken below the border to some barbed-wire crap school. There’s no way it’s legal. Well, maybe there is since I’m a minor. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m getting out of here as fast as I can and no one is going to stop me.

Endie Maguire’s my name and, as I said before, escaping is my game. I’ve been here less than an hour and already I know they can’t keep me. I’ll get out of here when I’m good and ready.

Driving up here, my first impression was that it was some kind of military training camp, but on closer inspection I could tell it wasn’t. The strange and bloodied implements throughout the grounds attested to that, also much less sanitation and much more security. The fat man who had driven me up opened my door and released my cuffs. That surprised me, until he nodded in the direction of a dark man with a machine gun.

After that he leads me into a short concrete building to our right where I’m lectured at by a hulking old guy called Mr. Reynolds. I zone out after; “You deserve to be here because you disobeyed your authorities, who are better than you…”. The rooms’ décor consists of 2 mounted rifles, a Mexican flag, an American flag and the old guy’s metal desk. A gun safe stands in the corner.

On top of the desk lays my file. I hate that file. I’ve seen it passed between so many adults without one of them really giving a care about me – they cared about what it said. I don’t matter to any of them, it’s the file they listen to, and someday I’ll be rid of it. For good, and no one else would judge me by it’s prejudiced side of the story.

Upon the termination of that pleasant exchange(as if I’d said anything other than “yes, sir”), I am led into another concrete building. This one painted orange with “ninas” painted across the side. The girls’ dorm, how lovely . A tall woman leads me inside where it smells like sweat and bile. She tells me to strip off my clothes. As demeaning as it sounds it’s actually a bit of a relief since the muggy, hot climate is already getting to me. She lets me keep my sports bra on, but the underwear goes with the rest. My guess would be to the garbage. She throws me a pair of heavy cargo pants(Oh joy!) and a high-necked white tank top.

“You have two sets of these, do not lose or damage them in any way or you will have only one pair. There aren’t replacements,” she says sternly. I smile and nod, hoping she doesn’t detect the sarcasm. At this point I need to play it safe and take it all in. After that, I’m led into the bunk room where at least 10 other girls, similarly dressed, lay flat on mattresses spread across the floor. Most are close to my 16 years, but some looked like they are just hitting puberty-junior high I guess. All are a little bit smaller than they should be; Malnutrition. The lady leaves me with a heartwarming “Lay on your mat and don’t get up until the whistle is blown.” I shrug and do so. A list of 25 “school rules” is plastered about 8 times over the ceiling. They’re all pretty generic: “Don’t fight”‘ “Don’t cuss”, Don’t talk back”. The most unique I’ve seen in a while is number 9: “No physical contact”. ‘Guess bonding between students isn’t really promoted. Probably a good idea on the school’s part.

I flip on my side and address the girl next to me. “What’s your name?” I ask. She looks at me with big brown eyes and shakes her head frantically. I give her a questioning look, since there’s no adults in the room. She looks to her left. A dark haired girl who looks way to old to be here raises her head at our slight movements. Her face is shaped into a perpetual scowl. She must be some kind of den mother or just a suck up. Either way she’s an enemy. I can smell it.

About 20 minutes later a shrill whistle is blown and automatically the girls-I count 14 including myself-stand and line up behind the older girl; Queeny. I saunter to the back of the line. But am hustled to the front, behind Queeny, and directly behind me, a girl, probably 14, stands with her eyes down. She’s horribly sunburned and she has purpling bruises up and down her forearms and wrists. Troublemaker. I’ll have to be talking to her. Maybe not the first day though. We begin marching, back into the sweltering heat. Our destination turns out to be another concrete building, this one painted white. On the other side I see the boys dorm. It’s painted a sickening green and “ninos” is scrawled across its side. An equally weak-looking group of boys files from it into the white building. Inside it’s cool and smells strongly of pepper(among other things). We approach the buffet where Queeny reverses the line and I’m left at the back while she’s the first to help herself to whatever is putting off that tangy smell. The boys’ line files in behind me, led by a haughty older boy. He has no neck and is short and leanly muscled. As I reach the food I grimace in disgust. Pots of oozing red soups/stews sit on the buffet before me and I feel bile gathering in my throat, the smell is so strong.

Zaccheus behind me turns me toward him. “Do you have a problem?” he asks aggressively.

“Look at it!” I say, gesturing toward the sickening squash.

“What? You don’t want dinner? I think you’re going to regret that.”

“I’m not that hungry yet,” I say, still fighting back the urge to spew whatever is in my gut in his face. He smiles and calls to a guard at the door. “Excuse me, but she doesn’t want her dinner, Sir,” he points to me. I shrug and go to the guard, expecting to be led back to the dorm. Instead, he grabs my wrists and twists them over my head, clapping cuffs on.

“What the?!” I exclaim. He secures the cuffs to a iron hook in the middle of the ceiling. I have to stand on my toes to keep from pulling my arms out of socket. After that I pretty much cuss the little Zaccheus dweeb to high heaven.

The next morning the whistle blows again and I sit up rubbing my sore wrists. My toes are sore too but at least they’re not disgustingly bruised. We all file to the “lawn” in front of the “school”. I rub the sleep from my eyes as another dark and buff dude explains the rules to us, then the exercises of the morning.

“All of you will run 3 miles this morning. That’s 2 laps around the school’s inside perimeter.” he gestures with his forefinger, then rubs his black mustache. “After that 25 push-ups, sit-ups and squats will be expected. I’ll meet you all at the top of that tower in less than an hour.” He points, then jogs towards a metal tower with jagged outcroppings all up the wall. I figure we’ll have to climb up the front while he takes the stairs. The girls and guys set out facing opposite ways for the run. I know I’m not in perfect condition but I’ve always had endurance and I figure this can’t hurt me too bad. Plus I’m in better shape(for now) nutritionally than the other girls. Thus I have no trouble keeping up. After the running, I lay on the grass next to all the girls and guys who are still fighting through the calisthenics, the older and stronger kids jeer down at us from the tower. I finish the push ups and start up the metal wall. The jagged hand-holds are warm and they cut into my hands. Higher up the handholds get fewer and those that are there are coated with the slick blood of the previous climbers. The jeers of my comrades get thicker as I approach. For some reason it seems like they want me to fall. Maybe it’s because I’m new, maybe it’s because they get rewards for jeering, maybe it’s just because they hate the world. It doesn’t matter, what matters is that I make it up in spite of my burning lungs and cramping muscles.

“Hey Newby!” A tall, thin, white guy calls down at me. I make the mistake of looking up and get his spit in my eye as a result. This brings a hail of spit flying down upon me, girls and guys alike seem to enjoy my soaking. Finally I reach the last row of metal shelves. Just as I reach for the highest one to my right Zaccheus leans over, says “You’re so weak!”, and spits on my right hand. This causes me to let go with that hand, and my body swings violently around. A metal shelf juts into the small of my back. My left hand loses it’s grip. I fall 70 metres to the ground and lay there, breathing heavily, the anger gathering inside me. It feels like I could never move again, the pain in my back throbs along with my beating heart. But I’ll forget that as soon as I see the beady eyes of that stubby Zaccheus. The guard at the top of the tower blows a whistle and the kids slide down by the ropes hanging on its sides. They circle me, but I lay still. My arm is over my face so they don’t know that I have a pretty good view of the kids’ feet. When I’m positive I see the right stumpy toes I gather all my strength and jump to my feet. Before anyone can react I’ve lunged for Zaccheus, throwing my whole weight at him. But before I get there I feel a rough pressure under my left rib cage and a rippling volt of electricity flows through me. I fall to my knees before the smirking Zaccheus. To my left the guard from the tower, Bruno, grabs me by the back of my neck and yanks me up.

“You failed the exercise!!” he screams. I gasp for breath and point to the group of kids. “But they…” I gasp, unable to finish because of the pain. Bruno gives me a deathly look.

“Not only have you failed to do as you were told, but you blame your failure on your fellow students. You are a sick girl. And that is unacceptable here. Here you are no longer the person you came as. You’re no longer going to be a sick girl, we are going to make you better. You will be a person who respects her parents and never ever talks back. What you think doesn’t matter and won’t until you’re grown up and realize what a fool you have been. And here, you are going to learn your lesson.” With that he wraps a thin wire around my wrists and drags me to a telephone pole sticking halfway out of the ground. I squint up at the top. Loops of metal stick out all around it. More handholds. Good.

“Climb to the top,” Bruno says. I hesitate and he tasers my side again.

“Come on!!” I gasp.

“Get up there,” he repeats. I ignore my pain and head up. It’s much easier to climb than the metal tower but I feel the sun burning into my skin the higher I get. Once at the top, Bruno calls:

“Attach that wire to your wrists. Let me see it.” I hook the wire holding my wrists together through a metal ring secured into the wood pole, figuring that getting down would only bring more trouble, and security down on me. I lift them up the 3 inches I’m allowed to show Bruno. He nods and tells me to secure my ankles as well. Another small wire loop hangs from the pole. I slip it over my left ankle and hold that out as well for Bruno to see.

“ Think about your foolishness,” he says, turning and barking at the other kids to get inside. They all walk away giving me turdy looks. I smirk back at Queeny. Only minutes later I start to feel the heat sapping my energy away. My skin warms and then starts to change to a darker shade. My lips crack and dry out, as well as my parched tongue. I distract myself by imagining what all the metal implements are used for. All are pretty obviously used to tie kids to and leave them in the hot sun. One does puzzle me though; it’s two bars about a foot and a half off the ground, parallel to each other. I don’t have to wonder for long. Around noon a guard comes out, dragging the small girl that I noticed this morning with him. Looks like she’s at it again. The guard shoves her towards the parallel bars as the other “students” spill from the class rooms. The small girl gets up on the bars, putting her wrists on one side and her feet on the other, arching her back towards the hot sun. She shakes, causing her white tank top to fall over her face embarrassingly. The kids laugh and jeer, she falls to her right through the bars to the dirt below. She grunts and hurries back up, but not fast enough. Bruno has come from the cafeteria as well and slaps her across the face. She falls back as he lectures her. Apparently she talked back, again. Eventually they all leave us to our scorching fates.

I call to her. “Hey. What’s your name?” I ask. She looks at me with fear in her eyes then croaks, “Alexa.” I nod.

“Endie.” She looks puzzled.

“What kind of a name is that?”

“I dunno, an American one. Where are you from?” I shade my eyes to get a better look at her.

“California. You?”

“Florida originally. I move around a lot.”

“What did you do?” she asks, her wrists shaking violently from the strain. A guard watches from the shade of the cafeteria.

“Lots of things.” I look away. This ends our little exchange. Minutes later she falls again and the guard come and drags her away. I sigh, hoping they’ll do the same for me soon. My legs hurt from the squatting position I’m confined to and the sun’s heat is getting unbearable. Pretty soon I’ll pass out and fall from the pole.

In the mess hall I take a seat next to Alexa for lunch. She’s bruised and looks like she’s about to break.

“What do they want from us?” I whisper.

“They want us to admit that we’re nothing. That we can only mess up and have no right to live. They want us to admit that without this school, we would be dead. I refuse to admit to lies,” she whispers fiercely.
“How do they know you don’t admit?” I ask. She shakes her head and looks down at her soup. I haven’t eaten in the 48 hours I’ve been here but I still am only desperate enough to eat half my “soup”. I push the other half to Alexa who slurps it up readily. I see Queeny giving me the stink eye from the next table over. Crap, she saw that, I’ll have to be more careful. Don’t want everyone coming to me for handouts. But then I’m sure these kids would find it more fun to just rat me out and watch me take my beating. Good.

Roxanne

Categories: I'M TO LAZY TO CORRECTLY CATAGORIZE MY STORY!!!!!!!!!! :P, Modern Fiction.

Paint It(Black)

July 30, 2009

Four kids ride their bikes up and down the ramps of Old Oak Park. Their swelling hearts beat to the message of “The Anthem” by Good Charlotte, the story of their lives.

A tall girl flips off of a ramp, her wheels spinning. They stop for a split second as she lands before she pedals away from the park behind a dark haired guy. Another girl and guy follow close behind.

They race home; Nic(which is short for Nicky, short for Nicole) skids in seconds behind Chase. They laugh as the younger two fall off their bikes, breathing heavily.

“What, your age catching up with you, Links?” Chase laughs, unlocking the bottom of a yellow garage door.

“Laugh all you want, you two were going like going like thirty miles per hour!” Links says.

“Seriously! I think I ripped out one of my tires,” Mandy, the younger girl exclaims, inspecting her back tire.

“Sorry guys,” Nic apologizes, helping Mandy bring her bike into the must loft. Clothes and BMX bike equipment litter the floor.

The kids settle around a table full of pizza crusts and old cokes.

“What you got for us tonight, Boss Man?” Links asks Chase.

“Better be good. I’m starving,” Nic comments, picking at an old pizza. Chase grins.

“Oh, it’s good! You’ll never believe what this guy offered us! Like seven hundred bucks! But it’s not ’til Friday night…” groans echo across the table.

“What happens ’til then?” Mandy sighs. Nic leans forward.

“Aw, I’ve got some cash saved up for new tires. It’s okay though, go get some food,” she offers. Links and Mandy grab the money and dash out the door.

“Thanks,” Chase says. “This job on Friday’ll pull us through for weeks.”

“What are we…looting the White House?” Nic exaggerates.

“Nah, it’s just like really dangerous or something.”

“Whatever,” Nic replies, crashing on a red couch. “Wake me when the pizza gets here.”

Two days later the four kids gather at an apartment building, dressed in black with newly painted bikes of the same colour.

“We’re robbing this trash dump?” Mandy asks, looking around doubtfully.

“Nope, the guy just told me to meet him here,” Chase answers.

“Well, where is he, Chase?” Nic asks nervously, seconds before a black, suited man walks around the building. He scans the group skeptically, then addresses Chase.

“Alright, all you have to do is go in there, take the blue glass off the bedroom dresser and get the heck* out. Got it?” The kids nod with sharp swallows. He leads them a couple miles up to a nice-looking house. The light is on at the front door.

The man nods, then leaves. The kids approach the house from behind. Links and Mandy open the door and disable the alarm, Nic and Chase head warily to the back room.

Chase jumps in without hesitation, but Nic stops in the doorway and points to the bed. An older lady lies prostrate there, not taking a breathe.

Chase looks at Nic, eyes wide. Nic runs to the bedside and examines the person’s fingernails; the tips are blackening. Chase sees a blue glass on the bedside table. He grabs it with gloved hands and heads for the door.

“That woman was poisoned and that glass must be the only evidence,” Nic whispers, shaking her head. “We’ve gotta leave it.”

“It’s not our business, Nic. Let’s go, forget it,” Chase shrugs nervously.

“No. This is going to far,” Nic replies. They race out the door at Mandy’s call.

The next morning Nic wakes up hours later than everyone else. She puts her hair up, and grabs her mesh backpack.

” ‘Morning, Grumpy,” Chase says, chugging a Red Bull. Mandy and Links lay on the couch playing a video game. Nic stops and looks at them sadly.

“So, what? You’re gonna ignore me now?” Chase complains in disbelief. Nic rolls her eyes. She walks over and shoves him down, then leaves, shutting the yellow door behind her. Outside she pulls a can of black spray paint out of her backpack. The words “Walk Away” appear on the garage door.

Seconds later a can of paint flies through the small window in the door, sending the shattered glass flying across the room. Chase walks over and picks the spinning can up. A note is tied to it that reads; “Chase, this has all been wrong.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair as Nic bikes angrily away.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Right (By FrostFire15)

July 9, 2009

Author’s Note: Hi, I’m Frosty. I’m a new member of this site, and this is my debut work! Yay! Now, just a couple words on this story… This is NOT my normal writing. This is a romance story, the result of a romance-story-obsession from long ago. Right now I’m just testing the waters of this place… Seeing how my style’s working out with everyone here! So please, tell me TRUTHFULLY what you think of this work. Thank you!

You’re a little girl again, sneaking into your mom’s make-up supply while she’s away at work. Your hands run caressingly over the little labeled tubes whispering perfection, and you giggle and play naively. It doesn’t matter, as you put blush instead of eyeshadow under your eyebrows. It doesn’t matter, as you create cool designs with lipliner and eyeliner on your cheeks. It doesn’t matter, as you swipe raspberry lipstick on your own.

You parade around the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror, pretending that you are not alone, and a handsome prince is rescuing you from the evil witch. In truth, there’s no prince, no hero, and the world out there is as tough as it gets.

In the end, as you wash the makeup off and try to sneak away, the lipstick’s the only thing you got right.

Years later, mom’s helping you with make-up, but not too much, she says, telling you make-up isn’t so important. You shrug and she shades blue on your eyelids and puts eyeliner on.

The dress is ready and the shoes are here. You smile, looking into the mirror. Beautiful.

Wait, she says, and hands you a small tube of raspberry lipstick. You’re beaming now, and spread it on.

Perfect.

The party has started, and you spy him, you true hero. He’s no longer behind mirrors, but with you now…

Tonight, you tell yourself, is the night he’ll ask you to dance, not her. You shield yourself with confidence and ignore the whispers of your mind.

He’s asked her every time, and tonight’s not going to be any different.

You talk, dance, eat, and drink, but notice him.

He doesn’t dance, and merely watches, his eyes (you hope) following you. He exchanges few words with his friends, but stays away.

You wonder why, for he’s usually loud and rambunctious, but he’s calm.

Subdued.

Before you can go and talk to him, the music changes to a slow piece, which is obviously made to create some couples. Your friends and their girlfriends or boyfriends get together and dance, arms curling around each others’ bodies.

You hold your breath, close your eyes and pray. This is the moment

You open your eyes, half expecting him to come, but he’s crossing over to her. He’s asking her quietly and she goes to him on the dance floor. She puts her arms around his neck, and you close your eyes again, refusing to watch.

The song drags on, limp verses of unrequited love bore you, and you decide to move as more and more of those around you pair up and dance. The only empty table is where he sat, the table in the corner.

You slide into the chair, the faint scent of his cologne still fogging the area. You breathe, and for one moment, you can forget the music.

The bliss doesn’t last long, you think to yourself, sighing.

With a last, drawn-out chord, the song ends. You close your eyes and try to ignore the clapping and catcalls.

A tap at your shoulder turns you around and you’re facing him.

He’s frowning down at you. You mutter a half-baked apology and try, awkwardly, to leave, but he shrugs and sits net to you.

There’s silence.

A moment later, he mutters something along the lines of how boring slow dancing is.

A second later, both of you are laughing.

A minute later, you’re talking to him as easily as you can in Science class.

A little later, you can tell he’s starting to ease up, but you don’t care, and you savor the confused looks she’s sending you.

An hour later, the party ends, and as you tell everyone goodbye, he gives you a hug.

Mom smiles as you leap into the car, sensing your joy.

You wash off the makeup and raspberry lipstick and dream of heroes and love.

A party later, he asks you to dance.

This time, the lipstick’s not the only thing you got right.

Categories: Modern Fiction, Romance.

Tags: Dance, FrostFire15, Frosty, Lipstick, Rasberry

The Story of AKF- Book Two-Prologue-raven14

February 14, 2009

“Gather as many as you can find,” the Dark One said to his three commanders standing before him now. He had a large army now, but not quite large enough to defeat Kiria. No. For that he would need more men; more pawns. “Take all men, and I mean all. Unless they are eleven years of age or younger, take all you come across. If they must be taken by force, so be it-but should you have to, give out consequences. Toy with their hearts, and if they still won’t come willingly, take everything from them.”

His commanders(the first, in the highest rank, the second in the rank just below the first, and the third in the rank just below the second-yet all commanders) said in unison, “So be it, my King.” They bowed at the waist to him, and saluted, and then left to carry out their duties.

The Dark One left his throne to look out the window at the moon, which was just beginning to show in the sky. He hated the moon, and he hated the sun even more. They hurt his rotting flesh, but even more, they shone light-pure, white light. He hated light. His flesh, which had begun to rot, and his eyes, which were sunken in, burned whenever light hit them. More importantly, Light was what rose up against his Darkness. He would conquer that Light; he would destroy it. So, doing this, he dwindled away in this black castle. He was living death-and proud of it. He loved to strike fear into people’s hearts. He loved fear itself, black and cold as it was. It’s icy fingers gripped your heart, squeezing until you surrendered.

And he was the Lord of Fear; the Prince of Evil.

He would one day rule all lands, and all peoples.

Or so he thought.

Had he known the opposition against him-which grew every day-he wouldn’t be so confident.

As the Scrolls of Prophesy said,

One day, all of the Darkness shall be overcome with the Light. The Light will always prevail against the Dark, just as all shadows are chased away by the golden rays of the sun. The Light will shine through the Darkness, and we will have peace and justice.

The Light grew stronger, and one day it would overcome the Darkness.

The Light always has prevailed…and it always will.

Categories: I'M TO LAZY TO CORRECTLY CATAGORIZE MY STORY!!!!!!!!!! :P, Modern Fiction.

Tags: Aaleyah/Aaliyah, Kiria, Raven14, The Story of Aaleyah Kiara Fallyn-Book Two

(C) The Sacrifice

February 3, 2009

hee hee…reposting this too. it was also two pages back. enjoy to all of you who didn’t see this yet!

Some facts:

I used to live in South Africa. We lived there for five years(me, my parents, and sibs-we moved when I was seven-in 2002- and moved back here at the end of 2007). It was not uncommon to see people begging at intersections, or wanting to hitchhike, or passing out fliers(or is it flyers?sp?). I did once witness a little girl begging, and going up to a man in a truck, and him giving her food.

Boss-some of the black people would call white men this(I believe) instead of saying “Sir” for instance.

nairtjie(unfortunately I do not quite remember how to spell this )- a fruit like an orange, but smaller and sweeter.

The reason the man in the story says, “a hot day in the middle of December” is because South Africa’s seasons are different than ours. When it’s winter here, it’s summer there, and so on and so forth(for those of you who didn’t know )

robot- traffic light; it’s what they call it over there in SA

Yeah…I don’t know how great this story is, but at least you learned something about South Africa!

Enjoy!

And btw, this story is exactly 658 words, not counting this author’s note.

I was sitting in my car, at the intersection. I was in the middle of Randburg, South Africa. It was a very hot day in the middle of December-the middle of summer. The sun was reflecting off the other cars around me and I had to close my eyes for a moment so I wouldn’t blinded by the glinting metal .

When I opened my eyes, I looked out my window to see a little girl, about age six or seven, standing there, watching me. It was a normal thing to see black people at the intersections, passing out flyers or asking for money or food as you waited for the light to change. The little girl standing near my car now said, “Please boss, may I have some food? We’re so hungry,” she said timidly. I looked back to the sidewalk to see another little girl, sitting and watching her sister patiently. I assumed their mother must be somewhere about, though I didn’t see her at present.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I reached into the grocery bag on the passenger seat. I took out a banana, and then a nairtjie as well. I placed these in another plastic bag I had lying on the floor.

“Faith,” she replied.

“Well, Faith, here you go, honey. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing else I can give you,” I said. There wasn’t. I was hardly making enough to get by as it was. I wished I could do more for her, but I simply couldn’t.

“Thank you so much!” she said, and then quickly made her way past all of the other cars back to her sister. I watched out of my side view mirror as she opened up the bag. I watched as she looked about to eagerly tear into the one nairtjie I had given them. Then she stopped and looked at her sister. She handed it to her. Then I watched as she took one of the bananas, peeled it, took one bite, and handed the rest of it to her sister. Her sister ravenously ate the fruit, while Faith sat watching her. It made my heart swell just to see it. Those girls had nothing, and yet the older sister had denied herself the need to eat and fed her sister instead.

I started to get out of my car to give them something else-I didn’t care if I went hungry for a few days. They needed it more than I did-but just then, the robot turned green and traffic started moving again. I had to move with it; there was nothing I could do about it. I glanced at my rear view mirror, and saw Faith take her little sister by the hand and start up another road-with no mother in tow. They had been there alone. My heart ached for them. They must be parentless.

All night long I was pestered with worry for the two girls. Did they have a place to stay? Were they being fed at all besides what I had given them? I decided to go back the next day and see if they were there.

The next morning, on my way to work, I went by the intersection, fully expecting them to be there, begging for food. But they weren’t. I drove around a bit, looking for them, but I never did see them again.

I will never forget the sacrifice(a small one, and yet so great) that sweet, little girl made. Her darling face will be forever engrained in my memory. No, it was not an uncommon thing to see children and even adults begging at the side of the road but on that day, at that moment, I learned more from a little girl than I had ever learned in the (selfish) past forty-five of my life from anyone or anything.

If only we could all learn to be more like her…

Categories: I'M TO LAZY TO CORRECTLY CATAGORIZE MY STORY!!!!!!!!!! :P, Modern Fiction.

Tags: Faith, fruit, intersection, South Africa

(C) The Sacrifice -raven14

February 2, 2009

Hey ya’ll! Here’s a short story for the competition(assuming the competition has started…it has, right?). Tell me whatcha think!

Some facts:

Boss-some of the black people would call white men this(I believe) instead of saying “Sir” for instance.

nairtjie(unfortunately I do not quite remember how to spell this )- a fruit like an orange, but smaller and sweeter.

Yeah…I don’t know how great this story is, but at least you learned something about South Africa!

Enjoy!

And btw, this story is exactly 650 words, not counting this author’s note.

-raven14

I was sitting in my car, at the intersection. It was a very hot day in the middle of December-the middle of summer. The sun was reflecting off the other cars around me and I had to close my eyes for a moment so I wouldn’t blinded by the glinting metal .

“Faith,” she replied.

I started to get out of my car to give them something else-I didn’t care if I went hungry for a few days. They needed it more than me-but just then, the robot(traffic light) turned green and traffic started moving again. I had to move with it; there was nothing I could do about it. I glanced at my rear view mirror, and saw Faith take her little sister by the hand and start up another road-with no mother in tow. They had been there alone. My heart ached for them. They must be parentless.

If only we could all learn to be more like her…

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Faith, fruit, intersection

(C) The Invisible

December 16, 2008

“Hey guys,” I say, shifting my heavy bag to my other shoulder. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Hey, Rebekah,” Hannah says as all of us pile into my 12-passenger-van.
We have not gone far when I see sleeping bags stacked against a wall, and desolate homeless sitting in huddles around trashcan fires.
“Let’s stop here,” I say.
“We’re out of blankets,” James says, “but we still have soup.”
I take a cup of hot soup and go outside into the frigid air, fighting being revolted by smells and tastes around me. The acrid scent of melted plastic and burnt paper is everywhere, and the formless piles of refuse attract the flies that are buzzing around us hungrily. The homeless do not move.

“Soup?” I ask, moving over to an old man who bends over a fire. I hand him the carton and a plastic spoon. He looks at me with his sad, blue eyes, and slowly takes it from me without a thank you. I will draw that face, with his pale eyes so heavy with hopelessness and years of dirt smudging his old, tired features.
We have enough soup for all of them. I have noticed that there are two kinds of eaters—the ones who devour with soup dribbling down their chins, and those who try to be neat.
It is hard to have so much when they have nothing.
I notice that one woman is not eating any soup. She is giving all of her share to her two children.
“Excuse me…?” I approach her, fighting my shyness.
“You can call me Clara,” she says softly, without looking up.
“This soup is for you, Miss Clara.” I hand her a warm carton. I hold her children on my lap, sitting on the frosty ground and feeding them myself.
“Thank you,” she says, barely audible. She eats the soup with more manners than most. I scold myself inwardly, knowing I should not judge these people by their manners.
Her little boys eat avidly, hastily swallowing everything I spoon into their eager mouths, as if they are afraid it will disappear. They must be only two and four, but they finish a two whole cartons. The rest of the group started passing out loaves of bread, and James hands Clara and me each a loaf. The boys devour the bread I hand them with their eyes wide in excitement and cold.
I forgot Clara as I fed the energetic little boys. They smile at me with full mouths, their eyes gleaming. I have fed them the whole loaf before they stop eating. Three cartons of soup and a loaf of bread—how hungry they must have been!
After they finish eating, I start playing with them, we engage in a playful snowball fight. They smile eagerly, laughing at me, their faces pink, their teeth chattering. The older one keeps rubbing his hands together. I give him my gloves.

He smiles at me, thanks me, and gives one of them to his younger brother, and keeps one for himself. I want to start crying because it was such a sad, selfless act. I take each of their bare hands and hold them in mine. They are so cold, shaking and holding each other, but still smiling, still saying thank you.
Then I feel wretched, wearing my thick coat while they tremble, so I take it off and wrap it around them. Not because I am selfless, but because I am selfish and do not want to feel guilty. They cuddle inside my coat.
I look up, and Clara is watching me, crying.
“Why do you do this?” She asks. “Why do you care?”
I am not sure how to answer. I always feel tongue tied with this question, no matter how many times I answer it.
“I care because God cares for you, and I am his servant. He said ‘Is not love to share your food with the hungry?’ You are important to God.” I look into her tear stained face. I will draw her —looking at me, her eyes asking a thousand questions, tears rolling down her face—her beautiful face, veiled by worry and hunger and dust.
”Then why would he cause my husband to turn me out on the street? This does not sound like a loving God,” her voice is still quiet, but hard. I look over and see her little boys huddling in my coat, whispering.
“I don’t know why terrible things happen,” I say. “But I do know he loves you.”
She looks as if she cannot decide. I reach into my heavy bag and pull out my bible and hand it to her.
“Do you know how to read?” I ask.
“Yes,” I see her eyes looking at it, hungrily. She longs for something to learn, I think.
“These are Gods words to you and me,” I say.
She nods. “I will read it.”
I smile, give her the book. James walks over to me. His eyes tell me its time to go. I stand up, and give Clara a hug. She hugs me back. I bend down to her sweet boys and kiss their cold little cheeks. Then I walk away. I realize that I am shaking with cold, but seeing their beautiful, shiny eyes, I am glad I gave my coat to them.
“Miss, you forgot your coat,” Clara calls me. Her boys are reluctant to give up their warm haven, but she is looking at them firmly.
“It is yours,” I say, and then walk back to the van, feeling her eyes following me with wonderment. I am crying.
Our night is filled with fellowship—the smell of chocolate, coffee, paint, and pencil lead hovering around us. I draw the old man’s hungry face, and Clara’s sad one, and the two little boys tumbling with me. Afterwards we have worship, singing with our guitars and Hannah’s amazing keyboard playing.

Then we all go home, to our hot dinners and warm blankets.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Shy Melodies — Chapter Three!

October 12, 2008

Sorry it’s a bit shorter than the past chapters. I thought this was a more of an interesting cliffhanger than anything else I could think of for that day. Also sorry this cliffhanger isn’t as thrilling. It’s supposed to be more of a mysterious ending than a scary one. You can’t have TOO MANY scary ones in one book.

CH. 3

I’d questioned this for a moment, practically frozen in a mixture of shock and anger. I stared blankly at the back cover. I slammed my notebook closed and shoved into my backpack, which I threw into a chair.
“What’s wrong with you?!” I snapped at him.
“What? It’s not like I did any of it!”
“What do you mean?” I urgently pressed him on.
“I mean that I didn’t steal your book, I didn’t do any of the comments, and I didn’t even have anything against you in the first place! I like your songs! I don’t see why you’re so angry! I’m not the one who stole it!”
I was caught from accusing him anymore. I didn’t want to get in trouble for being late to class, which I knew I was about to be, but I could always just get a late pass and get away with it like that.
“Who did it then?” I choked out.
“I’m not authorized to tell you that information. You’ll have to wait until he admits it himself. Now, think about it. Why are you accusing me of all this? I didn’t do anything wrong. The people who signed your book; look, they’re all popular people who don’t give a dang about if your a smart person or a good person or anything or not. They just sort of wrote that stuff in cause they wanted people to believe you were like that so everything would be as it should: The popular people getting lots of congrats and the unpopular people getting anything but. Look, I know these things. I promise you I’m not lying.”
“A likely story.” Harry glared down at him.
“IT IS!”
Just as we were about to get into it, the bell rang. I ran immediately toward my locker, on the other end of the hallway, with Harry close by me. Craig ran over just down a few doors and into his homeroom.
Harry and I both rapidly unpacked, hoping that we wouldn’t be counted as late. Our teacher was pretty strict about being on time. I sighed.
“You two are late. Go get late passes.” Our teacher said the moment we walked in the door. We put our books down next to the door and walked all the way back down to the main office.
“What are you boys doing in here?” a lady at the front desk eyed us.
“We need late passes for homeroom.”
“You don’t look like you came in late. Where’s your books and backpacks?”
“We already put them away.”
“Alright. What’s your names?”
“Liam Riley.”
“Harry Brown.”
“Alexis Ebony-Clyre.” another voice piped up right from behind us. I rapidly turned around to see who was there. I didn’t know this girl. She was pretty. She had brown hair down about two or three inches past her shoulders. It was straight. Her delicate but strong looking brown eyes showed serious intentions, and not to stop and talk. She looked like she just wanted to get it over with right then. She was just shorter than me. Her eyebrows were thick like her hair and curved lightly above her eyes. She was beautiful. She wore a necklace around her neck. It had an orange piece of some sort of stone on a black string. Since I didn’t know her, I expected she was from another class. I knew everyone in all of my classes. But she didn’t look like anyone I’d ever even seen in the hallways. Maybe she was a transfer student who’d started like yesterday or something?
“Where’d you come from?” I asked without thinking.
“Greenwich.” She answered. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve never seen you around yet.”
“Well, I just transfered here like two days ago, so here I am!”
“Cool. I’m Liam.”
“I’m Harry.” he turned around to greet her.
“…I’m Alexis.” She looked really uncomfortable. She had one arm crossed in front of her, clutching the other one. She was shy.
“Here. Take them.” the woman at the front desk got my attention by speaking up. She must have tried before but hadn’t caught me. I turned around, embarrassed, and took my late pass. I handed Harry his and Alexis hers. Alexis thanked me, turned around, and left before I could say your welcome.

“Well, the day’s gone by quickly.”
“Yes.”
“I guess it’s time the weekend came.”
“Indeed.”
“And I guess that means goodbye for the weekend.”
“Yup.”
“See ya Andrea.”
“Alright. I’ll be seeing you on Monday.”
“That’s good with me.”
Andrea stole a last smile from me and went her way down the hallway toward the bus circle. I stopped walking and stared at her all the way down the hallway until I couldn’t see her anymore. I then moved on to the front door where I’d walk home from.
I made my way down the steps and out through the crowd and just when I was going to cross the street to start walking home, someone called my name. I searched my brain again. It was a girl. It definately wasn’t Katie. It couldn’t be Andrea. It was…I didn’t know any other girls who were my friend.
“Liam!”
They caught up to me and turned me around. I surprisedly didn’t notice who it was while I tried to clear my mind back into reality.
“Oh, uh, um, I’m sorry what’s your name again?”
“Alexis Ebony-Clyre. Well, Ebony-Clyre are my last names, so just Alexis really.”
“Right. Alexa.”
“Alexis.”
“I’m sorry. I’m bad with that sort of thing. I didn’t mean to mess it up that bad…”
“It’s totally okay. Just as long as you don’t call me that often, I’m fine with it. People mispronounce it like that all the time. It gets annoying, but it’s okay! I deal with it. Half the teachers call me that.”
“Oh, that sucks.”
“Yeah, it really does. Well, I kinda have to go wait for my mom to pick me up, so bye! I’ll see you later some time, right?”
“Sure. Bye.”
I noticed something interesting about Alexis that day. Well, it wasn’t about her as a whole, but more about her eyes. They sort of…changed color as she talked. Like, as if it had something to do with her feelings? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was something like…well, also her eyes…no matter when I was talking to her, or seeing her in the hallway, or even just taking a glace over to see what she was doing, her eyes looked like they were somewhere distant…and they were always changing.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Alexis Ebony-Clyre, Eighth Grade, Jules, Liam, Middle School, Shy Melodies

Awake: Preface

October 12, 2008

By Miracle

What you know is not the truth

What you see is not what’s there

What you believe is not reality

There is not one lie that can save you.

Velvet was dolefully silent as she knitted the yellow yarn into a square. An oppressive shroud of gloom hung over the sky, tainting the sunlight with gossips of night. She felt a darkness in her heart, as dark as the storm clouds that choked the sun from the sky. For a moment she paused her row, feeling a gnawing tense of waiting.

Abruptly the screen door started banging back and forth and a gust of wind tore into the house. A haunted flavor cast itself over the room and she shivered, walking across the floor to the foyer, starting to latch the door closed. Her footsteps echoed eerily on the wood panels.

Halfway through the task she saw the boy, watching her from the driveway. When their eyes met, she felt as if she had seen him somewhere before. She forgot about the door and it slipped out of her fingers, resuming its wild beating.

Perhaps–if she had recaptured the door, locked all the windows, and hidden herself somewhere far away where reality could not touch her, then maybe she could have escaped her destiny. But maybe not. It was impossible to know, but the one decision she did make would change her life forever.

This decision, the turning point of her life, was built on one word. The motive of this word was only curiosity, but the path it sent her down was filled with invisible worlds of terror and ecstasy.

“Hello?” She called out to the boy, who was watching her with an immortally strange look on his face, a glance inconceivably poignant, a look that shook her to her core.

The boy walked towards her with the grace of a fairy. He paused inches before her face and waited.

Velvet stared at him and instantly felt awkward and dull. His wild blue eyes were vivid and unnaturally blue. His skin was clear and flawless, as white as a newborn lamb’s fleece, and his features were pristine and exquisite. His whole body was filled with an electricity, a supernatural energy that set him apart from anyone she had ever met before. It was hard to look at him.

“Velvet,” he said. His voice was as perfect as his face. “Velvet.”

“What?” She felt a mounting sense of apprehension. Suddenly she wished her parents were home, and she never wished that.

“You are not alone,” he said, staring at her intently.

“I know I’m not alone,” she said, hoping he was blind enough not to realize that she was lying. Her hand began sneaking towards the door as it wildly flaped like a gosling trying to fly for the first time.

“No. There are goblins. Do you see them?” The boy looked around him at the grass and the trees. Her eyes followed his almost reluctantly, but she saw no fantastical creatures. Of course she didn’t see any. Wasn’t that one of the first signs of a madman? Seeing things that were not there? Her hand found the screen door and she swung it shut, locking herself away from the mad child.

“That will not keep them out,” he said. “You’re in danger! You must come with me.”

She ran to the kitchen, her heart pounding. The wind howled in the windows and sounded like it was tearing apart the tree. She grabbed the phone off the counter and tried to decide if it was really important enough to call 911. The boy had not done anything against the law, had he? Were you allowed to call the police for a stranger standing on your front porch?

The screen door started banging again and her heart took an awful plunge. Now nothing was between her and the strange boy and his mad hallucinations. She heard it beating against the door frame and her adrenaline raced faster and faster. Then it stopped. She felt like her heart had stopped along with it.

The phone still clenched in her hand, she walked back to the foyer. The door was still open, but it had frozen in place, as if held open by invisible hands. Wind broke into the house like a bucking horse, but the door was unmoved. She did not know what to do. She could not call the police for her door acting strangely.

The boy was gone, but she did not feel relieved. She felt desperately afraid, but she did not feel alone. Evil seemed to be crawling all over her home, a dangerous companion. She felt as frozen as the door was.

Suddenly her mind was overwhelmed with foreign thoughts.

That boy would have destroyed me. That boy would have killed me. That boy would have ruined me forever. He was mad. I’m mad. I shouldn’t be afraid. This is good. This is good. I am safe. I am safe.

That thawed her. She plunged her hands over her ears, dropping the phone with a heavy thud onto the floor. These were not her thoughts. What was happening to her? Then the voices stopped and she found herself on the floor. She reluctantly stood back up. The door had swung closed and the winds had stopped. Everything was quiet. The only sound was the clock, ticking with endless consistency.

Poor, abandoned child. The thought crawled into her mind. Nobody else understands you. Nobody understood her. She was an oddity that nobody knew. She was impossible to understand. The thoughts toddled into her head, awkward and strange.

Then she heard the roar. It sounded like a leopard, catlike, flexible, and somehow safe and warm. The voice left her, and she surrendered to the warm arms of exhaustion, slipping to the floor.

Categories: Fantasy Fiction, Modern Fiction.

Tags: Awake, Miracle, Velvet

I Can’t Tell — CH. 7

September 18, 2008

CH. 7

“Anna! What are you doing here?”
“Oh…Hi Ada. Hey new kid I don’t know.”
“And me?” Ben narrowed his eyes.
“Oh! Die Ben.”
“Did you just say…”
“No I said hi.”
Ben and Anna had their normal glaring contest. Robin glanced over at
them then confusedly looked at me. I sat back down next to him,
resuming my earlier pose. Robin didn’t dare to put his arm back up, now
that there were two people who’d think it weird.
“Oh, say, who are you, new kid?”
“I’m Robin.”
“Ooh, you must be one of the new dudes!”
“How’d you know?”
I felt utterly stupid at that.
“I dunno. You’re new. And there’s only four new kids and I know pretty
much everyone else, so yeah, you must be one of the new kids.”
“Oh. Okay. That makes more sense.”
“What? Did you think I meant that you must be one of the new boy–wait. You’re a boy then. You are a boy. You are…a boy?”
“Yeah, don’t go spreading it around. Not many people get it that fast.”
“Hah! Haha! You’re a boy!” Anna started laughing historically, then a
half minute later she stopped so quickly you couldn’t tell she started.
She ended with a completely straight face.
“Y…Yeah.”
“Hey, you know, you and Ada would be totally cute together. I can totally see it.”
My face turned bright red. I looked at Robin. He was blushing and biting his lip.
“N-Nah…” Robin tried to not show anything.
“No, it’d work! Look, you’re embarrassed and half-smiling! It’s got to happen, you two.”
“N-No! That wouldn’t happen…” I tried to convince her. “I don’t like
anyone right now. I just had to explain that to them.”
“Ah, come on. We girls have to have fun eventually.”
“Y-Yeah I guess, but sometimes fun has to wait.”
“Yeah, you have a point there my friend. You have a point.” She turned
to Ben. “Ben, get a life and stop chasing Ada. She’s pre-taken.”
“Pre…?” I questioned her.
“Yeah. Pre. Until you like him.”
“What if I never do?”
“You two look perfect together and it already looks like Robin already
has a thing for you. Put your arm around her, it would be so cute.”
Robin and I awkwardly looked at each other. He slowly put his arm on my
shoulders. I almost jumped at it.
“See? They’re perfect! Right Ben?” Anna smiled.
Ben glared at us, then responded. “I guess. They are cute…” he admitted.
“Yes, you see?”
“Hey, maybe you two coul–” Robin started saying, then stopped himself
short when both Anna and Ben looked at him with cold eyes. He froze in
place. His arm turned to ice. Wow, the power of two angry
high-schoolers who fight. Scary to look at.
“No.” Anna said simply.
“So, I guess I should get going then…?” Ben decided and left before
an answer. I guess he didn’t want to watch me get taken. I wouldn’t
blame him.
“Wait! Don’t go yet!” Anna yelled after him. Ben turned around.
“What?”
“Aren’t you glad I’m back and alive?”
“A…Actually, I guess I am.” He held up his arms as if indicating the
possibility of a hug. “I’m sorry I’m mean to you. Are truces allowed?”
“I guess.” Anna shrugged and walked over to accept his hug. While Ben
and Anna stood there I expected her to pull some trick on him like
flick the back of his head or something, but she didn’t. “You know,
being in an accident and going to the hospital for a few weeks cause I
didn’t know how bad, no one did, my injury has kinda changed me just a
bit. I’m willing to take that change. I’m willing to start over.” Anna
let go of Ben. He let go too. She held out her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m
Anna.”
“I’m Ben. Nice to meet you.” he shook her hand.
Suddenly I remembered those exact words before. My mind completely
turned over and flashed back to third grade when Ben and Anna met.
“Hi, I’m Anna.”
“I’m Ben. Nice to meet you.” Ben had smiled.
Then my brain swiftly moved to sixth grade when they were put together
for a science project with me. We were in a group of three.
“No! You put the clay on this side!” Anna had shouted at him.
“Shaddup! I’ll do it the way I want to!”
“The teacher said to put it on this side!”
They had been fighting like that for a long time. My mind swiftly moved
again toward ninth grade when the three of us were sitting around
outside. Anna and Ben were fighting.
“Ben, you friggin’ idiot! You spilled water all over me!”
“I’m sorry! It’s not my fault you knocked straight into my arm and made me drop it!”
“Why the hell are we still friends?!”
“Cause we both hang out with Ada.”
“You don’t have to. Why do you?”
“I dunno. She’s my friend, unlike you.”
“Hey!”
Then my mind came back to where we were just minutes before the crash.
“Does that mean me?” Ben asks.
“How do you know I wasn’t going to say smart?!” Anna is infuriated. She balls her hands into fists and turns toward Ben.
“Cause you weren’t!” Ben does the same.
“Hey! You can’t read my mind!”
“How do you know!”
“Cause I’m thinking things you’d really rather not know, and you don’t
seem to have any affect from it! I know you’d look more scared if you
knew what I’m thinking!”
“Then shut up and say what you were gonna say–!”
“Quit contradicting yourself! Wadaya want me to do?! Shut up or tell you the freaking answer–”
“Both–”
“Choose one, you freaking–!”
“The freaking answer!”
Anna contained herself a bit and lowered her voice, then continually
got louder. “I said most of the guys in our grade are dumb and
unattractive! You want more?! I’ll give you more if that’s what you
want!”
“I’ll take that as I’m stupid!”
“What was your first clue?!”
“Shaddup and piss off!”
Then I snapped back to where we were now. Anna and Ben were walking back
out of the park together, talking without the slightest hint of anger
toward each other. It was a beautiful thing to watch, Anna and Ben
being friends again. Robin tapped me on the shoulder. I whipped my head
around to look at him.
“Are you jealous?”
“What, that they’re friends again?”
“Yeah.”
I sighed. “I guess. I wish I’d gotten more time to catch up with Anna
and I wish I hadn’t broken my friendship, but the second Anna shook his
hand, I had a flashback, going from the moment they met back to where
we are now and…I also felt sort of…a release. Like as if Ben
suddenly forgot about me completely. Like I was free to make my own
choice between the two of you without getting someone angry.”
“I can understand that.”
“Yeah.”
“So, now that he’s out of the way, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Uh-huh?”
“Did you ever even really like Ben?”
“Why?”
“I wanna know. Gimme the truth, Ada.”
“No. I actually never liked him. He was my friend for a good long time, but I never liked him.”
“Just what I was getting at. You’ve never felt anything for him, so why do you still care that he loves you?”
“I…I don’t know. I’m actually rather fed up with him attacking, just
after twice I’m fed up with it. I’m also really annoyed with our
constant fighting.”
“Exactly. You don’t like him. Let Anna have him.”
“But–”
“They will. I can tell.”
“Okay.”
“Hey, you wanna like come over to my place some time this like tomorrow or something?”
“I dunno. I’ve still got some homework. I don’t think I can.”
“We could hang out here again.”
“I guess. When?”
“Tomorrow night. Like six or something. When we usually meet. And if
I’m not there you can just come over to my place and knock on my door.
You have the directory yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you should be able to find my house in it if I’m not here tomorrow.”
“Okay. See ya here tomorrow!” I stood up without thinking, but Robin
quickly pulled me down back onto the bench. I looked at him
questioningly.
“Just cause we made plans doesn’t mean you have to leave right now, does it?”
“No, but–”
“Please stay, Ada.”
“Okay.” I smiled. I scooted over so I was right next to him. He put his arm around me.

“Alright, I’m leaving!”
“Okay, be back by nine!” my mom called back to me. I hadn’t exactly
said where I was going, so she thought it was to hang out with Anna or
something.
“See ya!”
I shut the door behind me when I
left. Previously I had looked up Robin’s address just in case he wasn’t
there. I found myself wanting to be around him more and more now since
yesterday. It was weird cause I’d never actually felt that way towards
anyone before in my life. I liked the feeling, but I also thought it
was one of the worst feelings of my life, because I didn’t know what it
really was about. For some reason this meeting meant the world to me.
I walked all the way to the park and what do you know, Robin was not
there. I wondered if this was just a plot to get me to go to his house.
It didn’t matter as long as we got to see each other. As long as i got
to see Robin, I didn’t care.
I went my way, back up the street
and weirdly enough only a half-mile until I arrived at his front door.
I knocked shyly. I heard a lock turn in the door. Robin appeared behind
it.
“Why weren’t you at the park?”
“My parents wanted me
to watch the house while they went to some restaurant. I dunno why they
didn’t bring me. They probably were really just going out to go
drinking and that’s why they didn’t bring me. That’s usually why. Wanna
come inside? They won’t be back till ten.”
“Well…I guess.”
Robin led me inside. He sat down on a couch and gestured for me to do
so. As soon as I was comfortable he put his arm around me, just like he
always did. He asked me if I wanted anything to drink or eat. I told
him no. I just sort of wanted to sit there with him. I didn’t care
about anything else at the time. Not a thing.
“So, what do you want to do?”
“I dunno. I was hoping to go to the park where there’s birds, not that they come to me, and feed them, but this is okay.”
“Ada, why do you and Ben talk about how the birds never come to you?”
“Well, it’s actually something kind of complex, but when I was like
nine years old I was in the park playing with stones and I tried
throwing one and it hit a bird and killed it. I was pretty traumatized
at that. I didn’t know what to do. That night when I went to sleep I
woke up in the middle of the night. Someone was talking to me.”
* * * * * * * * *
“Ada.”
“Who’s there?”
“Why’d you kill the bird?”
“I-I didn’t mean to! It was an accident! I love birds! They’re my favorite animal!”
“I don’t think you would’ve thrown the stone in the direction of the bird if you really cared.”
“But I didn’t mean to! I hadn’t noticed the bird was there!”
“If you love birds so much maybe you’d be better off without them?”
“NO! I love birds!”
“You will repel them from now on. When you come near all birds will run away so you don’t put them in danger.”
“Oh. Okay…but I want to be near birds. Being near birds makes me feel happy.”
“No. No longer will you have to go near birds. This way you cannot harm them.”
And with that she had left.
* * * * * * * * *
“That’s what happened?”
“That’s what happened.”
“Wow. I…I guess that’s pretty bad. But the thing is that I wouldn’t be able to come near you if that were completely true.
I am a bird. Through and through. You couldn’t have me near you all the
time, I couldn’t come near you, I wouldn’t be able to get within
throwing range of you, but you see, I can, so it’s obviously got some
loop hole. I am a bird, but I don’t feel that I have to run away every
time you come near. I felt that only a few times, but most of those
times were when you were angry. Then again, at the beginning it took me
so much effort to get near you. I practically took all of my energy
into becoming your friend, but as we became better friends it became
easier and easier and I am now able to hold you and kiss you and talk
to you and tell you important things.”
“No. You can’t kiss me.” I pulled away. “You only had
to for truth or dare. I’m not letting that happen again until I’m
ready. I may never be ready.”
“But Ada, I’m ready and I know you liked it.”
“That–” I was at a loss for words. So what if I’d
enjoyed kissing him? That doesn’t make me want to do it again. But
maybe it does?
“Ada, I love you and you know it. You liked the kiss and I know it. You know it. I know it.”
“I…”
“Ada, stop fighting it. Answer me about this one question: Do you like me?”
I would have answered, but just then we heard jiggling
of the front door’s handle. Robin stood up and walked to the doorway
that lead into the hallway where the front door was. Just as Robin
peered through the archway the door slammed open and I heard Robin
yell, running back into the room we were in. Just as he reached me the
person who burst through the door ran in after him and grabbed me by
the arm and pulled me up, holding a gun to my head.

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Ada, Gun, I Can't Tell, Robin

I Can’t Tell — CH. 6

September 16, 2008

Omg this took me like a week to write. You’d better like it!

CH. 6

I didn’t know what to say. I was afraid to say anything back to her–him, I mean. I was speechless. Robin was not only a bird name, but a bird in real life? I couldn’t comprehend it. I knew why he didn’t want to tell me. All I could think to say was sorry.
“I…I’m sorry…”
“I know. I’m sorry I had to, er, fling this on you all at once. But I also kind of…thought you might’ve known. I didn’t want to ask you, ‘did you know I’m a dude?’ cause you know, if you didn’t know, which I thought you did, it would’ve been kind of…weird. I’m also sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier. I shouldn’t talk to you anymore, should I? I should probably just…leave you alone…I guess.”
“B…But I-I-It’s not your fault! It’s my fault! I was stupid for not noticing!” well, maybe once or twice I’d wondered why a sophomore girl had no chest. Then Robin got angry.
“Yeah! I guess you were kinda stupid for that, weren’t you! Didn’t you ever notice me going into the boys’ bathroom and the boys’ locker room or didn’t you ever notice the boys’ clothing I wear? Come on! Gimme a break! I’m mad at you. We shouldn’t hang out any more.”
And with that, just as I closed my eyes to put my head in my hands, Robin vanished.

I’ve been wondering for a while how Robin is able to vanish like that. It makes me a little more curious about him. Every time I walk up to him he immediately turns away and leaves. During History class he doesn’t even look at me. It’s pretty awkward actually. That silence. It kind of scares me a little. It’s as if he’s angry at me for something. I don’t want to make an enemy. All I wanted, just like he, was a friend.
A boy walks up to me and sits down across from me. It’s lunch time. I don’t say anything.
“Hi.” he starts to dig into his lunch, which looks like it was already half-eaten. “I’m Tim.”
I look up at him. “Ada.” I go back to my lunch. When I begin to shake my chocolate milk, he starts up again. He’s kind of annoying me by being there.
“So, uh,” He looks behind himself, then back. There’s another table of boys and a few girls about four yards back. They’re giggling. “What’s on your mind?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Cause.”
“I’d rather not say.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you. I seriously don’t want to.”
“What could be so bad about telling a guy like me?”
“I hardly know you. Why would I tell you?”
“I dunno. Cause I’m the only one around and you look like you’d need it.”
“Look, I’m not gonna talk to you about anything. I don’t know you and I don’t want to.”
“Aw, come on. Come now, really. You can–”
“No. I can’t.”
“Ugh. Whatever. Well, how about you and I hang out some time, yeah Anna?”
Anger swells up inside my body. This kid’s got to be joking me. He looks like a freshman. He thinks he’d win me over. I’ll prove him wrong.
“Come on, how about it Anna?”
“It’s Ada.”
“Oh. Crap. I–”
“Go away, smart guy.”
“Why thank y–”
“The expression ‘smart guy’ in this context means you’re stupid! Smart one!”
He looks down.
“Smart one in this case also means you’re stupid. Just in case you couldn’t tell.”
“I-I’m–”
“Go away, will you?”
“No, how about it? Couldn’t we hang out some time?”
“I’d rather not. How about that?”
“…Okay.”
Tim stood up with his lunch and moved to the table with all the boys and girls. I heard them all jeering at him stuff like “Denied!” and “Ooh, tough luck, man!” and “Hah! Good one. You did well on that dare!”
Tim turned around again and walked back to me.
“Hey, Ada, come play with us. We’re doing truth or dare.” He pulled me out of my seat and brought me over to their table.
“Who’s this? Why’d you bring over the girl who denied you?”
“This is Ada. She’d make this game more fun.”
“Alright.” everyone agreed. I was joining in a game of risk against my will.
I looked around the table. My heart jumped. The boys at the table were Tim, of course, Andrew, Colin, Ari, and two more. Ben and Robin. Who’d have thought it? The girls I’d already disliked before this. Ali, Moreen, and Courtney.
“Okay, so now that I’ve had my dare over with, Ari, truth or dare?”
“Uh…I’m gonna say dare.”
“Alrighty then. How about…” Tim took a while to think of a good dare. “Okay, you have to go across the cafeteria, and on your way back you have to propose to the next guy you see. It’s gotta be a guy.”
“Done.”
Ari ran across the cafeteria and on his way back, he saw a boy, went down on one knee, and proposed to him. The boy started laughing and hesitated, then to say no. Ari, pretending to be very disappointed, walked back to the table and sat down.
“Okay, enough humiliation for me. The next target is definitely and no doubt about it: Robin, truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“You’re no fun. Dares are better and funnier.”
“Truths can be safer.”
“But sometimes they aren’t.”
“Oy. Whatever. If you’re so keen on dares, give me both.”
“That’s fun. I can take that.”
“Truth first though.”
“Fine, fine. Hm…”
“Come on Ari, can’t you think of anything?” asked Colin.
“I’m thinking! Wait!”
“Come on Ari, gimme my dare.”
“Okay. Here it is. Before I say anything, I have nothing against lesbians. I admire them. So don’t get angry or anything, K?”
“Deal.”
“Robin, if you were a lesbian, out of all the girls at this table, which one would you kiss?”
Robin frowned. I knew why. I didn’t want to say it. Secrets sometimes shouldn’t surface to the crowd. He stayed silent for a moment, looking down at the table, thinking. He sighed.
“I wanna say Ali, but I don’t really know her well. She’s cute and pretty and all, but I don’t know her well enough to want to kiss her. I’ll have to say…not Courtney either. I hate lipstick. Sorry Courtney.” Robin was milking it. “Hm…Moreen…?”
“Moreen? Why her?”
“Hey! I was thinking. Don’t think I actually said it. It’s hard to decide.”
“Alright, get it over with.”
“Hm. Moreen or Ada? I dunno. Moreen is kinda…she’s really beautiful. I like her. She’s a nice girl and all, but I think that if I had to choose between kissing Moreen and Ada, I’d definitely choose to kiss Ada. Yes, it’s obvious that I’d kiss Ada.”
“Then why don’t you?” taunted Ari.
“Dude, why?”
“If you’re so sure and you’re saying it’s obvious then why don’t you just kiss her here and now? I mean, really, it seems like you want to.”
“W-Why would I want to kiss Ada?”
“Cause you’re saying ‘oh it’s obviously gonna be Ada’ to us.”
“I have nothing against a chick like her, but why here and now?”
“Then we can go outside. Don’t we all have the same open?”
“Yeah. Block five is open for me.”
“Yes, and I have that too, as does Ben, and Moreen, and Courtney, and Tim, unfortunately Colin doesn’t, but we can always use my camera phone. And I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Ada on my open before, so we’re all set. I can’t wait for block four to come.”
“Hey, hey, hey, what if that’s not okay with me?” I piped up. I was taken aback by all this talk of Robin kissing me. I wasn’t ready for something like that. I didn’t want it to happen. No.
“Well, you can’t really have an opinion on that, because remember how Robin said that if I was so keen on dares that I should give her both a truth and a dare? Well then Robin, I dare you to kiss Ada during our open at block four while we’re all watching. Ada, you have no opinion now. Well, you kind of do, but if you deny getting that dare to happen to you, then Robin will get a double dare, which is a dare that’s even worse. And you know what I could do with that? I could have her do anything. She could have to run around the school naked or call an X or even kiss you way worse than you would have as a normal dare. Don’t worry. I have something in mind.”
I basically had no way out of getting kissed. I had no escape. Resistance was futile. If I said no to getting kissed by Robin, Ari could have him make out with me or something. I wasn’t ready for that. I couldn’t do it. I had to find some way to skip out on block four. Ugh, but block four was History. I had class with Robin. I couldn’t escape. I had no way. I resentfully gave in.
“Good then. See ya’ll during block five.”
We dispersed. Robin and I were the last left at the table. He was about to say something to me, but I stood up and went back to my table where I had left my lunch. I threw it into the garbage. Robin stayed at the table. I guiltily walked back to him.
“I’m sorry.” Robin said when I sat down next to him.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Cause it’s the truth. I don’t like any of those other girls. They’re all dumb preppy chicks. You’re the only one I could’ve chosen anyway. I wouldn’t want to kiss any of the others I barely know them. And I do know you so it wouldn’t be so terrible, and no matter what I said, Ari would’ve had me kiss them for real. I don’t like them. It’s all the truth. I would’ve chosen you immedietly if I didn’t want to sound like I already liked you or anything. They’d believe that I truely am a lesbian, which you know I can’t be. They’d be so sure they’d try to hook us up or something. I know you don’t like this. I’m really sorry. I just really didn’t want to choose any of the others. If I didn’t choose anyone they’d insist that I had to choose one and that I was hiding it or something. Ada, you’re the only one I could’ve chosen.”
I didn’t know what to say. I glanced to the side. “Do you…need a hug?”
Robin gave me the ‘are you stupid?’ glare. Then it softened and he gave in. Robin gently placed his arms around me and I mirored it. It was like hugging a cloud. Robin almost stayed there then remembered where he was and ended the hug. I almost was reluctant for it.
“Well, I guess it’s almost time to get going for History, right?” Robin targeted the conversation away from what the future held for us. I was still afraid.
“Yeah. Let’s get going.”

“Alright. You girls ready for this?” Ari stood proud for his dare. He was enjoying this. We were outside the school near the back parking lot, where barely anyone ever went. Slim chance anyone would see us. I was really nervous. I hoped I wouldn’t throw up. My stomach sure was tied in a knot.
“…Yeah.” Robin looked at the ground nervously. Even he was scared. I wondered what was going through his head right then.
I didn’t respond, but I guess they could tell I wasn’t ready anyway. They could tell that I didn’t want to. Don’t they have any pity? I’m a girl, and they don’t know that Robin’s a boy, but nonetheless, it’s really weird kissing someone like that.
“Okay. We’ve all waited long enough. It’s time. Kiss.” Ari pressed us on. “Go on. You can do it. You’re both girls. It doesn’t matter.” I could tell Robin didn’t look to happy on that note. Ari pushed Robin toward me. “Remember, if you don’t want this dare I can give you something worse. Get it over with.”
Robin sighed. He put his arm around me and leaned forward. His face got closer and closer. I got more nervous each second. I closed my eyes and let it happen. The world shut off that moment. I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t watch. It happened. His mouth touched mine. It was soft and pleasant. I lost the world around me. Then, all too quickly, it ended. I opened my eyes. Robin pulled away. I immediately found myself back to life. The world made contact with my feet. I was back. I figured out what’d happened. Robin hadn’t pulled himself away, Ben had.
Ben had grabbed Robin by the arm. He had a good grip. I tried to keep my cool. I didn’t have a crush on Robin. I hadn’t a thing for Ben either. It didn’t matter. But…maybe Ben still liked me. Maybe that’s why. Maybe Ben already knew about Robin’s true self. It was all possible. He had been acting so suspicious toward Robin lately. Ben could’ve been jealous of the kiss. Maybe it was even a worse idea to kiss than I’d thought. I was in big trouble with Ben now.
Ari and Tim and the others were watching with wide eyes. Astonished looks covered their faces. I was very self-conscious. I felt my face turn bright red.
“So…are we still playing?” Ari tried to convert the subject away from the kiss.
“I don’t think so.” Moreen announced. “Let’s get going. I have homework to do.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna spend my open reading.” Tim agreed.
Ben glared at Robin, then left with them. Just after everyone had turned the corner Robin sat down right onto the concrete and let out a big breath of air. I stared at him. He stared back.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry. Ben’s liked me for a long time. I shouldn’t have come to play. I also should’ve told you this could happen. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I chose to get both a truth and a dare.”
“No, it’s my fault that I ever bothered to play your game.”
“No! It’s my fault! Let me take the blame. It’s all my fault no matter how you put it!”
“Why is it still your fault?”
“Cause I chose you. I wanted you to play. I wanted to get a truth but he pushed me so I got both and I chose you because I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you Ada.”
“I know you did. There was nothing I could do about it.”
“Yeah. So, are you okay with it? You looked like you were so nervous you could faint at any moment. Sit down.”
We discussed the day for a while before walking back and departing for our next classes.

It’s the weekend again. October is here. Neighbors are starting to put decorations up. I see all of the stores getting up their signs up for candy and costumes and discount clearances wherever I go. The usual for every year. Halloween is not far away.
I’m walking down to the park, like usual. I put on a black sweater cause lately it had been getting chilly at night. I had bread, like normal, a book called The Volcanic Crisis, and a yo-yo. They’re fun. You can’t get angry when you’re playing with a yo-yo. It’s a proven fact.
I sat down at the bench. The bench I always sat at, today was occupied. Robin was already there. Other birds were gathered around him on the ground eating his bread. Robin usually only was able to come once a week. That was the only day the…monster thing didn’t happen to him. That was yesterday. Why was he here today?
“Robin? What’re you doing here?”
Robin didn’t say anything. He didn’t even turn around. His hair looked messed up.
“What, no hello? I’m here. I wanna know why you are too.”
“…Hey.”
I sat down next to him. He turned his head away quickly. All the birds flew away. I looked him over. His clothing was tattered. His hand had a small cut. There was a leaf stuck in his hair. He was soaked.
“What happened to you?”
“I…I got in a fight.”
“A fight? With who? And why are you so beat up?”
“Your friend.”
“Friend? Which one?”
“I shouldn’t say. You should be able to guess.”
“With…” I suddenly understood. “You got in a fight with Ben?”
“Yeah. On my way here I passed by his house. He saw me walking and guessed it was to come to you. Then he caught up to me, pulled me aside, under a bridge, and beat me up. I guess I deserved it a bit.”
“…Oh. I…I see.” so that’s why he was soaked. “Why are you here tonight?”
“That’s a good question. Tonight while I was waiting for it to happen it didn’t. I was all prepared and everything. Then I felt a sort of tingle where my heart would be–”
“Would? You don’t have a heart?”
“I do.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Where my heart would be and then it stopped. Then I heard a really loud ringing in my ears and then it stopped. Then they both came back even stronger, like at least ten times worse than before, and I felt like I was gonna throw up, so I was bent over on the ground on my hands and knees waiting for it to happen, and then everything stopped. I felt faint. Then an hour later I found myself lying on the floor crying with my eyes closed and I got up and looked in the mirror and what do you know, I don’t look any different. Then when I come down here I get punished.”
“Wow. That’s scary.”
“It was sickly.”
“Yeah. That’s what I mean.”
“Well, nonetheless, I’m here now.”
“I’m glad. I hope it doesn’t happen again tomorrow too.”
“…Why?”
“Cause then I actually get to sit with you.”
“What does that matter to you?” I bet he would’ve blushed, but I couldn’t see. He was turned away. “Why do you care about sitting with me?”
“You’re good to be with.”
“I don’t get it.”
“At this time it’s strange to say, but you’re the only bird that ever came to me.”
“W…What do you mean? I still don’t get it.”
“Birds don’t come to me. It happened a long time ago. I don’t know if I wanna tell you why though. Cause I still don’t have an explanation so I guess I shouldn’t give you one.”
“No, I want to know.”
“I’m so sorry, Robin, but you will just have to wait. I’m not ready to tell you.”
“But I want to know what you mean? What do you mean that no birds have ever come to you? That’s impossible!”
“There’s something about me that repels them. I’m not able to go near them without having them fly away or having you near me. That time when Jr came and landed on you was because you were there. You are the only bird that has penetrated that invisible wall–”
“Hey! I am no bird! That’s my name and my secret, but I am not a real bird! I am seventy-five percent human!”
“And the other half?”
“…Bird.”
“Exactly. You’re the only bird who’s come to me. I didn’t bring you, you just came.”
“Actually, you did bring me to you. When I saw you in the hallway, I just couldn’t help but come over to you. You drew me over cause of your general beauty and kindness. Yeah, you looked kind and smart and beautiful, so I just couldn’t help but to come over and say ‘Hi I’m Robin’ and make you my friend.”
“I…So I did bring you to me?”
“In a way.”
“Confusion is contagious.” I frowned. It was.
“Besides and past that, I did all the rest. I did everything that made you want to come near me and me to you. The reason why I didn’t come wasn’t because I looked like a bird monster. It was because I, in that form, could not come. That one time was painful for me. I was scared and frustrated and in pain. I couldn’t come near you.”
“I know.”
“This is kind of off the subject going way back to the beginning of the conversation, but Ben and I don’t get along. We never did. He’s been suspicious of me this whole time you and I have been friends. I know he has a major crush on you and that’s partially why he hates me. I’m fine with it, as long as I win.”
“As long as you win? Win what?”
“Win.”
“Well then why are you facing away from me?”
“Cause I don’t want you to see it.”
“What? Seriously. I won’t trust you more if you hide stuff from me.”
Robin slowly turned his head my way. I was startled a bit. He had bruises all over his face and a small cut on his chin and his lip. My eyes widened. I think I might’ve let out a tiny yelp, but I wasn’t completely aware.
“That.”
“You’re all broken up. Why did you even come if you looked like this?”
“I told you before. I told you a while ago. I keep making plans cause I really want to be with you. I like chicks like you. You’re kind and smart and know the differences between good and bad, usually. And when I’m in pain you’re usually there and I’m able to comfort you. I like you.”
“…I know. I wish I could say I like you too, but even after what happened today, you’re but my friend. Then again, I never know for sure, so I could be lying. I could be telling you a lie about my feelings. I know I’ve accidentally done it before. So we’ll wait and see.”
“Ada, I don’t want to wait. I want to know now.”
“And you do know. You know it could go either way, depending on what the future brings. However I do know that you don’t have too much competition with Ben there. He’s sort of my friend, but…” I paused. I guess it was time to tell him about the phone call. “I had an argument with Ben on the phone. He’s been suspicious of you for…ever since we met. And when I was on the phone with him it sounded like he knew everything about you. That he knew about your night thing and that you’re a boy and everything. He knew you had a thing for me. He knew everything. At least that’s how it sounded. He called you a lair, which I guess is true cause you’ve been living like a girl and all. And you’ve been living a lie for a while so yeah he was right. Actually he was right about a lot of things. He was right that you weren’t going to come. He was right that there was something wrong about you. And…I kind of hung up before he said his last statement. I didn’t want to hear it. I had been fed up with him. But he was right, nonetheless.”
“I know. He was right. He was right that I am a boy and I’m the slightest bit grateful that he didn’t call me a boy. You know how much confusion that would give everyone?”
“Yeah.”
“But, I really hope that one day you’ll see that I’m gonna win, right? Right Ben? I’m gonna win. I’m gonna win.”
“I’m Ada. Ben’s not here.”
“Yes he is. He’s behind us. He’s hiding out behind a tree. I can hear him. I can sense him watching us. So it’s gotta be him, I mean who else would spy on us?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on out Ben. Why’re you being so childish.”
“I don’t think he’d want to come out.”
“No, he’s gonna come out soon.” he went down to a whisper. “I know how to get him out. Make him jealous.”
Well, it seemed the only way, but I also didn’t want to. Why should I get close to Robin just to make my other friend jealous? I did it anyway. I scooted over so we were so close our legs touched. Before I even got there he startled me by putting his arm around me. It actually felt comforting. What was I being comforted for though? I didn’t quite know.
“Ada.” whispered Robin.
“Yeah?”
“You know I do actually plan on winning, right?”
I didnt answer that one. I guessed he meant he wanted to win me. I nodded.
“Cool.” I could tell he was smiling while he said it.
“Alright! I’ve had enough of this! Get away from Ada!” Ben suddenly exploded from behind the tree, just as Robin had said. I whipped my head around. Robin turned slowly, still holding onto me. I found Ben kind of repulsing to look at. His face was distorted with fury. It didn’t really have marks on it, it just was one of the scariest things I’d ever seen. He was so angry it was frightening. I found myself tighten up so much I was shaking a bit.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing, it’s just you’re like totally in love with each other, which is really pissing me off, and now I know my guesses were right, and I’m just like really…I don’t want to admit it but I’m jealous and now you’re acting like I’m your worst enemy!”
I stood up. Robin, suddenly understanding, put his arm down.
“I don’t love either of you! I like you, and I like you, but not like that! Robin’s one of my best friends, and Ben and I are having a fight, while Robin’s just sort of being okay with everything, besides his ulterior motive to win me against Ben, which I think is totally ridiculous, cause it’s not like I’m a prize for something or anything! I’m not in love with either of you! Give it more time, for your own sake! Just quit it! I can love who I want! What would you boys do if you figured out I was in love with someone else?! Well?! What would you do? Would you both gang up on him? NO! That’s not what you do! It doesn’t make me stop loving them at all! What are boys going to do when I get married? Huh?!”
I think I left them both in shock after that. They looked at each other and then back to me.
“Well, that’s not any time soon, is it? No, it’s not. So we won’t have to worry yet.” Ben stated quickly. I frowned.
“What about when I do?”
“Well, we…oh. What will we do?”
Robin, Ben, and I stayed there silent for a while. Then, I heard footsteps coming from my right. I turned my head around. My mouth dropped and my eyes widened. Anna!

Categories: Modern Fiction.

Tags: Ada, Bird, High School, I Can't Tell, Robin

Page 1 of 212 »

Don’t really have a title because I just started writing…

Saving A Life

Sometimes There Isn’t A Miracle

Don’t Forget How Your Muse Works!

Cuts and Burns

Kind of…Prolouge… to new story? -Kira

Chapter One

Matchstick (Draft 5) by Miracle

Skye Iris: Fly Away (Prologue)

Chapter Two: Something Lurking

Conclusion to “Beat It”

2nd to last “Beat It” post

Chapter One: Stay Alive

3rd Installment of “Beat It”

A little bit of “Beat It”

Paint It(Black)

Right (By FrostFire15)

The Story of AKF- Book Two-Prologue-raven14

(C) The Sacrifice

(C) The Sacrifice -raven14

(C) The Invisible

Shy Melodies — Chapter Three!

Awake: Preface

I Can’t Tell — CH. 7

I Can’t Tell — CH. 6

Writings

Talk

Yak Yak