"You’re so cute when you yawn." Ian smiled softly, falling down on my bed next to me.
"Flattery gets you nowhere." I muttered, ignoring the flutter in my stomach.
A deep bass resonated in his chest. “Then how do I get somewhere?”
"By shutting up so I can get some fucking sleep." I rolled over onto my stomach and closed my eyes. He was silent.
No, this does not mean that everyone you’ll ever love will beak your heart. It means that at some point in your life you will offer your heart to someone and they will stomp on it.
They’ll tell you they love you- an maybe they do, but sometimes people fall out of love I’ve never understood the point of hating an ex because they fell out of love. I would rather him tell me he doesn’t love me anymore than leave me, saying he still loves me.
Shit happens. Lovers leave you and it’ll feel as if your heart is being ripped from your chest. You will wrap your arms around your body as if that will keep you from breaking apart. When you lie in bed at night you will crumple in tears under the covers like a discarded page of a story you wanted so desperately to be a part of.
You’ll have good days where you don’t think of them. You’ll be able to laugh and smile without it being forced. You’ll feel as if you’re over them and you’ll tell yourself that you’re coming out strong. But then you’ll have bad days where you can’t do anything but think of how your glasses would clink against his when you kissed. Or how, whenever the two of you hung out you’d kiss his cheek out of the blue and he’d just look at you and smile. Or how, when you first met, you were both so shy with each other. And you’ll cry and listen to sad music and wonder what the hell you did wrong to make him leave.
It takes a while to get over someone you love, and, unfortunately, I have no idea how that feels yet. I just know I’ll come out stronger on the other side. Maybe I’ll stop wanting to give up all of the time. Maybe I’ll be able to say “I’m fine” without lying.
The Devil’s Waterfall. The Red Terror. The Red Horror. The Bloody Horror. The Crimson Wave. The Crimson Flow. The Crimson River. The Red River. The Blood Bomb. The Red Flood. The Opening of the Red Flood Gates. The Red Leak. THE ETERNAL RED RIVER THAT CRAWLS ALONG THE FLOOR OF HELL TARGETING EVERY CUTE PANTY YOU HOLD DEAR TO YOUR HEART. That Time Of Month.
It is not a dark and stormy night.
The sky is clear actually. And it is morning.
The day had been good. There had been no ominous feeling. No warning. Nothing that would’ve foreshadowed anything bad was about to happen.
Nothing that would’ve led up to this.
This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. And now there’s no time left.
My ears are ringing in the silence. The sky tilts as I blink, disoriented. A bolt of pain shoots through me and I clutch my head with a moan.
Someone is screaming. A girl is on the ground next to me, screaming nails on chalkboard.
Metal is everywhere. In my mouth, in my nose, in my hair. It swirled red on the pavement.
I rolled over trying to get up on my hands and knees. The distinct feeling of a boot grounds painfully into my back. A guard leers down at me, crouching in front of me to grab my chin.
His lips move but I don’t listen. I try to pull away from him, but his grip tightens as he yanks me up from the ground.
That’s when I get a good look around and I can only stare in shock. The school my sister goes to. The park she likes so much. The ice cream shoppe I took her to for cookie dough and chocolate chip.
It is all nothing more than rubble now.
The guard grabs me by the arm and drags me towards a truck. There are others inside, all blood and bone and bracelets. I let him pull me, too weak to struggle, too tired to fight.
Then I see her.
Her mouth open in a silent scream.
Her little arms wrapped around herself.
Her green eyes peek out through half closed lids.
Blood dyes her hair red.
I yank my arm from the guard’s grasp and run for her, ignoring the yells and curses coming from behind me. I slump over her lifeless form, begging her to look at me, to be alive.
Her eyes focus on nothing.
A hand catches me by my short, trying to yank me away. I blindly grasp around her neck, frantic to find it before they take me away. My fingers catch on something and it releases as I am yanked back to the truck.
The guard throws me roughly against another boy, my elbow banging against the side. A last glance of the outdoors and I see the metal swing set. A lone swing hanging by one chain, the rest is bare. The seat is carved with a knife and I don’t have to be close to know what it says.
Cadie & Atlas
The doors close, plunging us in darkness.
The music washed over me as silk, gentle and smooth. Enchanting, it pulled me into a trance, a dream-like trance. I felt as if I was floating, higher and higher as his fingers danced over the keys. Magic, he created magic through his fingertips, dazzling and beautiful. His music was the music I hoped someday to create, music that would give people the same sensation it was giving me.
I had been playing the piano when the doorbell rang and he was there. At first, I didn’t remember him. He asked me out for coffee, reminding me that I had promised to go with him some other time. Almost immediately, I remembered him coming to my house the night before- I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten about it all day, just forget this beautiful stranger.
"I’d said ‘maybe,’" I protested half-heartedly.
"Then say yes," he grinned at me as if he’d already won. He had.
We went out for coffee and had a good time, though, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about. He brought me back home afterwards and same conversation on my front porch, that I also didn’t remember, led to him playing my piano.
My eyelids began to droop as he finished, his fingers going still above the keys. He looked over at me and smiled softly. “Did you like it?”He stood, coming over to me, and ran his fingers, his magical fingers, through my dark brown hair.
"It was beautiful," I yawned. "I wish I could play like that." My eyes closed for a second but I blinked them open.
"It’s late and you’re tired," He didn’t phrase it as a question- not as if he needed to, it was pretty obvious.
I blinked my eyes open, “What was it called? That piece you played?”
He scooped me up from off the couch and carried me upstairs, “It doesn’t have a name yet. I just finished it today.” He wrote it? Huh, a composer in my own house, who knew? He pulled back my comforter and laid me in my bed. “Maybe I’ll name it after you,” he smiled a little, absently playing with my hair.
I stared at him through half-closed eyes for a minute before looking away, “I’m not that amazing.”
He didn’t say anything to that and a little later, I guess when he thought I was asleep, he stood.
"Wait," I caught him by the arm before he turned away, fighting to stay awake, there was something I wanted to know: "Who are you?"
He may have answered but I didn’t hear, I had already succumbed to darkness.
The hushed whispers behind closed doors had turned to screaming matches in the middle of the night.
It wasn’t always like this, they used to love each other, they use to be faithful, they used to be able to sit in the same room without fighting and yelling at each other, but that was before. My dad used to buy my mom flowers and my mom was always so shy around him, but that was before.
Something propelled me downstairs to witness what was going on in the kitchen. I wanted them to stop yelling, I just wanted it all to stop. Willing myself not to run, to scream, to cry, I peered around the corner into their background.
“I’ve been working my ass off every single day thinking that I’ll come home to my wife only to find you off seeing him!”
“Don’t act so goddamn righteous! I’m not the only one who’s been seeing someone!” My mom snapped at him. My father’s furious expression didn’t waver as he waved her away.
“I don’t have time for this!” he started for the door of the study. I hid on the stairs that led to the deck, praying to God that he wouldn’t come this way.
“Monty!” My mom yelled after him, stomping after him -in the other direction, away from me. I moved closer to the family room, to where the battleground had now spread. “So, you can say what you want to say, but when I have something to say you don’t have time?!”
“Why can’t you just leave it alone?!” My dad hurled at her. The light of the TV threw shadows on their faces; the atmosphere was rapidly growing more and more volatile.
“I didn’t even start this! You did! You always do!” She pointed an accusing finger at him.
“You expect me to just sit and watch while you two go behind my back?!”
“What about you?! I gave up my dreams and my career to marry you! I’ve done everything for you and what’s my thanks? I’m not stupid, I’m not blind-”
“So what?!” My dad raised his voice to overcome hers. “How does that justify anything? I’ve tried to make you happy! Haven’t I given you enough?!”
There was silence and they only glared at each other through the thick tension boiling in the space between them. I held my breath, praying that they would be done, that they would just walk away, that they would go back to pretending that they didn’t notice what the other was doing behind their back, and waited for what I hoped to be the end. It wasn’t.
“No.” My mom pulled her wedding ring off and threw it at him. “No, you haven’t. You will never ever be able to do what he does for me. Your disease-” her tone was filled with disgust. “-has always been in the way, but you deserve it. Damn you, you deserve-”
She fell to the floor, taking a vase on the mantel above the fireplace down with her which shattered against the dark hardwood floor. A scream filled the room as my dad kept her down with his hands around her throat, as a murderous mask took over his features. The scream wasn’t hers, it was mine.
“Daddy! Stop!” I tried to loosen his hold on her, panicked and unsuccessful. “Stop! You’re killing her! You’re killing her! Daddy!”
“Let’s go out tonight. Just you and me.” Emery said, sitting up a little to look at my tear stained face. I just sniffed, no doubt looking extremely pathetic. “Come on, it’ll keep your mind off things.” He poked my side and I smiled slightly.
“Okay,” I said in a little voice.
“Okay,” Emery sat up fully and jumped out of my bed, heading for my closet.
“What are you dong?” I sat up to look at him.
“You need pants,” his voice came from the closet as he threw some jeans to me. “Shoes, you need shoes as well.”
“Can you get my brown boots?” I asked, standing as I wriggled into a pair of jeans.
“Sure, um, why do you have Uggs?”
“They’re Annalisa’s. I’ve been hiding them to keep her from wearing them.”
“I approve.” He came out of the closet with the boots I had asked for, handing them over. I pulled on the shoes and grabbed my bag before letting Emery pull out of the apartment and down the street.
“Micah, have you thought about the possibility of this not working out?” Annalisa asked from her position on the couch, staring at the TV but not actually focusing on the celebrity dance competition flitting across the screen.
“Don’t be stupid, that’s not going to happen.” I muttered, waving her question away.
“No,” She sat up. “No, just think about it. What if we can’t complete the spell?”
“Didn’t really want to get into thinking about that.”
“Well, you need to be more realistic and think about this from all sides. You’ve obviously thought about ow it would be if we succeed, but you need to think of how you would deal if we don’t.”
“Okay…” I sighed. “well, I don’t know, I’d be a princess, I guess.”
“I guess?” Annalisa scoffed. “You wouldn’t have to work; you’d be rich. At some point you’d even be Queen, maybe. All those dresses and jewels an scrap. Besides, I’d still be around you all the time as your lady in waiting.”
“Yeah,” I said monotonously. Annalisa went quiet and looked over at me somberly.
“He’s the reason you can’t let go, isn’t he?”
“What?” I looked over at her, a bit startled.
“Emery,” She said. “He’s the reason why you absolutely can’t let go. Sure, you’ll miss your job, the city, the internet, and everything else, but he’s the biggest thing you’ll lose.”
I stared back at her for a moment, realizing just how much better she knew me than myself. “I’ll be married to this Prince and Emery will be a stable boy. I don’t know, if things are just like the books or whatever, an relationship between Emery and I would be unacceptable.” I sighed, closing my eyes and falling back against the pillows. “I don’t want that to happen. I can’t lose him.”
Annalisa sat up and scooted over to hug me. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make sure we don’t fail.”
“Emery?” I stared at him in puzzled surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” Emery cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. “What are yo doing here? We were supposed to meet at Bean’s.”
“Well, yes, but…” I stuttered, unable to explain.
“Why would you try to set me up with Annalisa?” He asked me, pushing past to come inside.
“She asked me to.” I said, closing the door and turning to face him.
“Well, yes, I figured that, but why?”
“I don’t know, I just thought you two could be happy together.” I shrugged. “Where is she? You didn’t abandon her, did you?”
“I just don’t understand you! If you didn’t want to be with me anymore you could’ve just said so instead of trying to set me up with another girl!” He yelled at me, frustrated.
I stared at him, my mouth opening and closing as I processed this new information. “I didn’t even know we were together in the first place.”
“What?” He looked at me incredulously.
“It’s not like you asked me or anything. Normally when you’re going out with someone they ask first.”
“Well, I thought I made it pretty obvious!” He said. “I mean, Micah we’ve hooked up several times.”
“Yes, hooked up. Having sex doesn’t mean that we’re going out, Emery.” I pointed out as I headed towards my room.
“Where are you going?”
“To call my best friend. Seriously though, you didn’t abandon her, did you? What happened? What did you say?” I yelled from my room as I grabbed my phone to check if I had any new messages. I didn’t.
“What makes you think something bad happened?” He leaned against my doorway. I gave him a look in reply, crossing my arms. He sighed. “She told me she liked me and asked if I would go out with her. I told her that, as great as she was, I didn’t see her as more than a friend. She didn’t say much, but she left soon after and I came here? Okay? I didn’t abandon her, she went on her own.”
“Poor Lis… God, I feel terrible.” I said, sitting on the edge of my bed. Neither of us spoke for a moment.
“I just figured you knew that I wouldn’t just sleep with someone like you that many times and not be dating them. I don’t know, I just thought you had realized that I liked you a lot more than just a friend.”
“You do?” I looked up at him in surprise.
“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?” He stepped closer to me. I looked down at my lap, placing my phone down on the bed beside me, and interlocking my fingers together in my lap.
“I’m not very adept at inferring things like that. I always figured our relationship was more like a friend’s with benefits thing. Geez, you should’ve just told me.”
“You’re so oblivious, do you know that?” Emery muttered. I blushed, looking up at him, ready to protest, but was cut off by his lips pressing against mine. I relaxed into him, reaching up to grab his shirt and pull him just a little bit closer. His hands were just starting to make their way down to my waist when someone gasped. I pushed Emery away roughly and we both turned to see Annalisa in the doorway with quivering lips and clenched fists.
I’d literally rather stay up all day and all night than go to sleep. There just aren’t enough hours in the day for me to feel as if I’ve accomplished something. Not enough hours to read and get lost in a new character. Not enough hours in the day to kiss my boyfriend. Not enough hours to enjoy my last summer as the girl I am now.
I’m scared of changing into the kind of girl I’ve never wanted to be. I’m scared that I’ll outgrow the music that has made me happy this past year. I’m scared that I’ll no longer want to eat breakfast food all the time. I’m scared of making new friends and forgetting the old. I’m scared of losing my motivation to write. i’m scared of becoming like my mother and my sister. I’m scared of being forced into my mom’s definition of an adult. I’m scared of not being a virgin anymore. I’m scared of being alone. I’m scared of being unsure. I’m scared of being on my own. I’m scared of sinking back into my depression. I’m scared of what the end of the summer will bring. I’m scared of Florida. I’m scared of college. I’m scared of being surrounded by people who I have nothing in common with. I’m scared of not succeeding. I’m scared of leaving. I’m scared of what will happen to Dylan and I.
There just aren’t enough hours, no matter how much I try to make them count. We’re barely able to see each other, though we talk all the time, well, text. We talk about anything: movies, writing, blogging, sex, tattoos, etc. We talk as if we’re sure that our relationship won’t change. We talk as if we have forever together. But what will happen when there are almost 500 miles between us? Will he still want to be with me? Will he want to try to keep this thing we have? Will he wait for me to get through college? Could I even ask that of him?
I’m scared of the answer.
An old thing I wrote earlier last year.
I slipped each book into its respective space on the shelf, making sure their numbers lined up. Pushing the book cart into the next row, I changed songs and turned the volume up a little louder. No one was around and, as a result of a conference meeting in the conference room on the bottom floor, there wasn’t much of a chance of getting in trouble for listening to music on the job.
Humming a bit, I glanced over into the study area across from where I was currently shelving books, catching a glimpse of chin-length silver blue hair. She was looking down at her book while simultaneously taking notes, her wavy hair falling down into her face. Her name was Annalisa, I knew that much, and judging by the many engineering books she was always studying, I guessed that she was some sort of Engineering major. She had to be at least junior if she was taking engineering classes. I watched her a bit longer before focusing on my task once more, afraid that she’d catch me staring. I think it was safe to say I had a massive friend crush on the girl.
I was straight, as far as I knew, so it wasn’t that type of crush, but I had this weird longing to be this girl’s friend. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I desperately wanted more college friends, or the fact that I’ve seen my high school friends less and less ever since I graduated. Either way I wanted to go up to her, introduce myself, and ask her what type of music she likes. And then maybe we could talk about our favorite songs and why we started listening to them and who all we listen to. And maybe we’ll move to the topic into our favorite books and TV shows and find out that we share of a love of a certain time traveling show. Even as I imagine all this, I know conversations never work out the way I imagine them.
Olan Rogers dressed as the eleventh Doctor.
It’s weird getting to know someone. You learn so many things about them that you wouldn’t have otherwise. You get to know their likes and their dislikes, their fears and their secrets. You find out about how they wish they could travel here or how they really want to live there. Through them you learn about how awesome or how sucky their family is. You learn about their past crushes and relationships and flings. You imagine doing things with them someday- something as simple as going grocery shopping for cereal and Nutella to something like traveling to the mountains with them. Maybe you’re in love with them, or maybe the two of you are just friends. But it’s weird getting to know someone like that and then becoming nothing more than strangers.