The clouds were there earlier.
Now, it was nothing but a clear blue sky.
Heaving a melancholic sigh, the young adolescent shifted her weight against the soft green grass, and continued to watch the ever shifting sky.
It was another lonely hour passed.
It was quite often that she found herself on this hillside, simply watching the world alter the view.
Soft, padded footsteps.
To her right, she felt a slight thump against the ground she was lying on as her companion gently sat down cross-legged beside her.
Silence.
Then, the world changed again as the silence was broken.
"How long have you been here today?" he asked? Lazily sliding her eyes to gaze into his shimmering dark turquoise pair, she simply hummed in response.
"I have no idea. Since after lunch, I suppose," she breezily commented. Shifting again, she brought her arms up behind her head, and went back to staring at the sky.
There were a few new clouds now. Puffy white cotton balls rolling across the sky. Nothing like the feathery light streaks earlier.
"You know you have work to do," the boy said, sliding down to lie beside her.
"I know. I don't like it."
He scoffed.
"No one does. But work is work. You still need to complete it."
He turned his head to the side to see her roll her caramel eyes.
A gentle smile appeared on his face.
Silence showed up once more.
"Everything's always changing. Nothing ever stays," she murmured. Another heavy sigh.
The clouds were gone again.
He pondered her words a bit, before saying, "But it's the way of life. Just the way it is, I guess."
At this, she inched closer a bit. They could now both feel the warmth of the other's side pressing through their clothes.
"But it's so depressing to think of, no? We barely get any time here, in this place, and everything has to be rushed. We never truly get settled down. People change, and those who you hold dear leave nothing but empty shells of who they once were with you. You have to move around, forced to leave the comfort of your family for the sake of starting your own. Isn't it just sad?"
At this point, she had lifted her arms out from behind her head to wave them around, exaggerating her point.
Chuckling, the boy reached up to grasp her right hand, and drag it back down to their sides. Lacing their fingers together, he rolled his head over and smiled at her. Her eyes were sparked with a fire, lit by passion and hatred, and dimmed by fatigue, and tiresome fighting against the rules of the world.
She was an iconoclast for sure.
They gazed at each other, breathing in sync, world muted around them.
He reached out to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, and whispered, "True. But there's a beauty to it as well. The time limit is what makes everything much more precious."
She pursed her lips and frowned a bit.
"Still makes me feel upset to think about it though."
Chuckling again, he pulled her onto his chest, and and hugged her from behind.
"But you know one thing that hasn't changed?"
"What?"
"You."
She relaxed into his arms, and the two wordlessly watched the world around them change as it pleased.
Because the world could alter reality all it wants, but your own time here, and how you spend it is all that matters.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Of Money and Men
Hello lovely people!
I am terribly sorry for the lack of action on my part, but my work load has dramatically increased lately, so I just barely have enough time to make sure I get enough sleep to stay awake the next day.
Not my choice, for sure.
But, either way, this is simply a rant of sorts. I haven't done these in quite a while, so I thought, "Hey, why not".
Anyways, this is going to be on the topic of money.
It's something we all need to survive, yet I hate its power.
To think, our lives are circulated around mere numbers, symbols, pieces of colored paper, and tiny metal disks! We grow up learning that we need to work hard in school in order to get a good job. That a good job would guarantee us a good life. But what defines a "good" job? Why, one that gives a high amount of payment of course! Sure, sure, they say "it's a job you love and enjoy", or "it'll help you get your dream job". But really, is it a dream job they're encouraging you to get, or the money that a job would give you?
For instance, a young, innocent child looks up at their parents, with wide shining eyes, then promptly says, with a slight slur from the gap where their front teeth should be, "I wanna be a painter when I grow up!".
Now, some parents might be encouraging. Others would probably immediately shoot that child's dreams down. Because, in this crazy, messed-up world we live in, and call reality, being an actual painter, as what would be considered an actual job, isn't what children think it is. Now, you either need to come from a rich family, with tons of talent and immediate fame, or, which is more common than the aforementioned circumstances, work for a company such as Disney or Pixar, and draw what they wish you to draw.
Compare that to the free-lance artists of the past, such as Monet, or Van Gogh. What naive kids think what being a painter is like. Can we honestly say that society as a majority encourages that kind of "work"?
Corruption is by money, but money causes corruption.
It's like the idea of fame. Everyone wishes for it, by various means. But once you do reach it, the other people who have also reached the goal of fame influence your thoughts and your actions, changing you to a different person than who you used to be.
And maybe we simply change ourselves without noticing, and without other people's input. The question is, is it for better, or for worse?
I am terribly sorry for the lack of action on my part, but my work load has dramatically increased lately, so I just barely have enough time to make sure I get enough sleep to stay awake the next day.
Not my choice, for sure.
But, either way, this is simply a rant of sorts. I haven't done these in quite a while, so I thought, "Hey, why not".
Anyways, this is going to be on the topic of money.
It's something we all need to survive, yet I hate its power.
To think, our lives are circulated around mere numbers, symbols, pieces of colored paper, and tiny metal disks! We grow up learning that we need to work hard in school in order to get a good job. That a good job would guarantee us a good life. But what defines a "good" job? Why, one that gives a high amount of payment of course! Sure, sure, they say "it's a job you love and enjoy", or "it'll help you get your dream job". But really, is it a dream job they're encouraging you to get, or the money that a job would give you?
For instance, a young, innocent child looks up at their parents, with wide shining eyes, then promptly says, with a slight slur from the gap where their front teeth should be, "I wanna be a painter when I grow up!".
Now, some parents might be encouraging. Others would probably immediately shoot that child's dreams down. Because, in this crazy, messed-up world we live in, and call reality, being an actual painter, as what would be considered an actual job, isn't what children think it is. Now, you either need to come from a rich family, with tons of talent and immediate fame, or, which is more common than the aforementioned circumstances, work for a company such as Disney or Pixar, and draw what they wish you to draw.
Compare that to the free-lance artists of the past, such as Monet, or Van Gogh. What naive kids think what being a painter is like. Can we honestly say that society as a majority encourages that kind of "work"?
Corruption is by money, but money causes corruption.
It's like the idea of fame. Everyone wishes for it, by various means. But once you do reach it, the other people who have also reached the goal of fame influence your thoughts and your actions, changing you to a different person than who you used to be.
And maybe we simply change ourselves without noticing, and without other people's input. The question is, is it for better, or for worse?
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Monster Who Feeds At Noon
Elm's Street.
Eerie, creepy, mysterious.
What many, if not all, consider a street made for horror films. The picture perfect, average, run of the mill haunted street, with ghosts and ghouls behind every rickety, rotten squeaky door, witches and goblins as your neighbors, and the undead lying right beneath your feet, ready to reach out and snatch your ankles once the clock strikes midnight.
But things aren't always what they seem.
You see, only one block down from this ghastly Elm's Street, there was another street. One that was the exact opposite of the street aforementioned. That was where the sun beamed down on the frolicking children below, bright, cheerful flowers bloomed at the front of every doorstep, and the neighbors all chat with each other from their front porches.
Many visited this joyful street, and many lived there as well. In fact, there wasn't a single empty house on that street, and they were famous for never moving out too.
But even a white rose has a dark shadow.
It was a normal Saturday morning. Eleanor Whittham was lounging in her backyard, enjoying the peace and quiet, something she rarely got to do anymore. Her life was a constant hustle and shuffle, what with her work as the local chief detective. Not to mention the fact that she had only just moved into this house a few weeks ago, and she still hadn't been able to spare enough time to unpack everything. She often found herself rustling through the many cardboard boxes in a hurry, just to find a shirt to wear, or a spare spoon to use.
However, the slow, relaxing mood here certainly made up for the rushing in the rest of her life. Basking in the warm sunlight, she could feel all the tension leaving her body, draining away like water out of a sink. She considered herself quite lucky to have been offered such a beautiful place to live. Her new sister-in-law had lived here previously, but decided to move in with Eleanor's younger brother after the two got married. Of course, selling the house would've been a pity, so the sweet girl had asked Eleanor to move in. That way, the couple could visit and stay whenever they pleased, while Eleanor could have a wonderful new place to stay. This cheery house definitely beat that old, cramped apartment she used to reside in.
But everything good must end at some point.
It was noon, 12:01 p.m., exactly, when it happened.
She had dozed off into soft, cotton candy daydreams when a bloodcurdling scream pierced her eardrums, startling her awake. Pressing a hand over her heart, she took several deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding, leaping heart. She listened again for anymore screams. There were plenty of lively children on this street, she consoled herself. It must have been them, she decided. Yes, yes, it must have been children just fooling around as usual, she thought.
But she couldn't get rid of that nagging voice hidden in the darkest corner of her mind that whispered otherwise.
The next day, it happened again.
She had been working in her paper and pile filled study, intent on finishing up her latest case. Stretching a bit, she glanced up at her clock, just in time to see it click into place. 12:01 p.m..
Once more, that hair-raising scream echoed against the pale grey walls, shaking her to the core.
But this time, it was a pitch deeper.
Too different to be the from the same person yesterday.
Too deep to be one of the little frolicking children.
This scream was a scream she had heard before.
A scream of bloody, violent, murder.
Throwing her papers down, she raced down the golden wooden stairs, bounded over the fluffy cream carpet, out the majestic navy blue door, and ran down the street, hair flying, coat billowing, and heart racing.
She could see it. The red wine slowly flowing out of the shatter glass, only to mix with a deeper, thicker red.
It was disgusting.
It was sickening.
It was revolting.
Hastily, with a trembling hand, she took whatever notes she needed for the final examination, and flew out of the scene of the crime as soon as she could. She didn't need much, seeing as the criminal had already been caught red-handed anyways.Though there was no club nearby, she could hear, feel the beating of loud bass and drums, rebounding through her body as that shrill shriek was kept on replay through her head. Although only seen for a second, she had already memorized the horror filled, shocked, stunned looks of her colleagues.
Tripping to a stop, she took a glance at her surroundings. Where to?
She couldn't simply pinpoint where the scream had come from with her bare ears. Taking in a gulp on air, she decided to simply observe each house down the street.
She couldn't let this go. It was her job. It was her payment.
Now then, she had her work cut out for her.
She promptly began strolling down the street in faked nonchalance.
A pale pink two-story house loomed before her.
This was the house. It had to be this one.
After an entire afternoon of walking up and down the street, dropping casual questions here and there, with various people, and receiving equally casual answers, she had narrowed down the houses to just one.
This one.
It was the one abnormal house on every street. It certainly didn't look like your typical "creepy house at the end of the street", but it was strange in the fact that no one had ever seen the actual inhabitant before.
Of course, everyone had shrugged it off, saying that it was an old, frail 90-year-old lady, who couldn't move so well.
But you can't trust everything people say, now can you?
Taking a deep breath, she began inching towards the bright red door. With each granite stepping stone she walked over, she felt an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach grow. As she neared the door, she saw what looked like an abandoned Frisbee. Another two steps forward, and it was what looked like a dog's leash, of some sorts. Another three, and she was at the front door, standing on a yellow welcome mat. Breathing in a calming breath, she ran the doorbell. It was now, or never.
No response.
Seconds ticked by.
Then, footsteps.
Strange, very strange sounding footsteps.
Somewhere a few houses down, an old grandfather clock chimed once. Twice. Three times.
The footsteps got louder.
Four. Five. Six.
A croaky voice called out, "Be right there, dear!"
Seven. Eight.
The door began to creep open.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
The last thing she saw was a sickly green, then orange, then, darkness.
The grandfather clock turned 12:01 p.m..
And yet another scream, this time of a woman, resonated down the street.
Eerie, creepy, mysterious.
What many, if not all, consider a street made for horror films. The picture perfect, average, run of the mill haunted street, with ghosts and ghouls behind every rickety, rotten squeaky door, witches and goblins as your neighbors, and the undead lying right beneath your feet, ready to reach out and snatch your ankles once the clock strikes midnight.
But things aren't always what they seem.
You see, only one block down from this ghastly Elm's Street, there was another street. One that was the exact opposite of the street aforementioned. That was where the sun beamed down on the frolicking children below, bright, cheerful flowers bloomed at the front of every doorstep, and the neighbors all chat with each other from their front porches.
Many visited this joyful street, and many lived there as well. In fact, there wasn't a single empty house on that street, and they were famous for never moving out too.
But even a white rose has a dark shadow.
It was a normal Saturday morning. Eleanor Whittham was lounging in her backyard, enjoying the peace and quiet, something she rarely got to do anymore. Her life was a constant hustle and shuffle, what with her work as the local chief detective. Not to mention the fact that she had only just moved into this house a few weeks ago, and she still hadn't been able to spare enough time to unpack everything. She often found herself rustling through the many cardboard boxes in a hurry, just to find a shirt to wear, or a spare spoon to use.
However, the slow, relaxing mood here certainly made up for the rushing in the rest of her life. Basking in the warm sunlight, she could feel all the tension leaving her body, draining away like water out of a sink. She considered herself quite lucky to have been offered such a beautiful place to live. Her new sister-in-law had lived here previously, but decided to move in with Eleanor's younger brother after the two got married. Of course, selling the house would've been a pity, so the sweet girl had asked Eleanor to move in. That way, the couple could visit and stay whenever they pleased, while Eleanor could have a wonderful new place to stay. This cheery house definitely beat that old, cramped apartment she used to reside in.
But everything good must end at some point.
It was noon, 12:01 p.m., exactly, when it happened.
She had dozed off into soft, cotton candy daydreams when a bloodcurdling scream pierced her eardrums, startling her awake. Pressing a hand over her heart, she took several deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding, leaping heart. She listened again for anymore screams. There were plenty of lively children on this street, she consoled herself. It must have been them, she decided. Yes, yes, it must have been children just fooling around as usual, she thought.
But she couldn't get rid of that nagging voice hidden in the darkest corner of her mind that whispered otherwise.
The next day, it happened again.
She had been working in her paper and pile filled study, intent on finishing up her latest case. Stretching a bit, she glanced up at her clock, just in time to see it click into place. 12:01 p.m..
Once more, that hair-raising scream echoed against the pale grey walls, shaking her to the core.
But this time, it was a pitch deeper.
Too different to be the from the same person yesterday.
Too deep to be one of the little frolicking children.
This scream was a scream she had heard before.
A scream of bloody, violent, murder.
Throwing her papers down, she raced down the golden wooden stairs, bounded over the fluffy cream carpet, out the majestic navy blue door, and ran down the street, hair flying, coat billowing, and heart racing.
She could see it. The red wine slowly flowing out of the shatter glass, only to mix with a deeper, thicker red.
It was disgusting.
It was sickening.
It was revolting.
Hastily, with a trembling hand, she took whatever notes she needed for the final examination, and flew out of the scene of the crime as soon as she could. She didn't need much, seeing as the criminal had already been caught red-handed anyways.Though there was no club nearby, she could hear, feel the beating of loud bass and drums, rebounding through her body as that shrill shriek was kept on replay through her head. Although only seen for a second, she had already memorized the horror filled, shocked, stunned looks of her colleagues.
Tripping to a stop, she took a glance at her surroundings. Where to?
She couldn't simply pinpoint where the scream had come from with her bare ears. Taking in a gulp on air, she decided to simply observe each house down the street.
She couldn't let this go. It was her job. It was her payment.
Now then, she had her work cut out for her.
She promptly began strolling down the street in faked nonchalance.
A pale pink two-story house loomed before her.
This was the house. It had to be this one.
After an entire afternoon of walking up and down the street, dropping casual questions here and there, with various people, and receiving equally casual answers, she had narrowed down the houses to just one.
This one.
It was the one abnormal house on every street. It certainly didn't look like your typical "creepy house at the end of the street", but it was strange in the fact that no one had ever seen the actual inhabitant before.
Of course, everyone had shrugged it off, saying that it was an old, frail 90-year-old lady, who couldn't move so well.
But you can't trust everything people say, now can you?
Taking a deep breath, she began inching towards the bright red door. With each granite stepping stone she walked over, she felt an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach grow. As she neared the door, she saw what looked like an abandoned Frisbee. Another two steps forward, and it was what looked like a dog's leash, of some sorts. Another three, and she was at the front door, standing on a yellow welcome mat. Breathing in a calming breath, she ran the doorbell. It was now, or never.
No response.
Seconds ticked by.
Then, footsteps.
Strange, very strange sounding footsteps.
Somewhere a few houses down, an old grandfather clock chimed once. Twice. Three times.
The footsteps got louder.
Four. Five. Six.
A croaky voice called out, "Be right there, dear!"
Seven. Eight.
The door began to creep open.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
The last thing she saw was a sickly green, then orange, then, darkness.
The grandfather clock turned 12:01 p.m..
And yet another scream, this time of a woman, resonated down the street.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
With Coffee and Tears
A whoosh of icy wind fell into the cozy coffee shop as he
shoved the heavy glass doors open. Warmth and welcoming, soft, earthy colors
greeted him, contrasting the harsh winter weather and sharp, piercing white
outside. A blast of the strong aroma of coffee hit him in the face, as the man
blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his vision to the new sights. Slowly, he
trudged to the cashier register up ahead, leaving a faint trail of ice that
rapidly melted to minuscule puddles. Heaving a heavy sigh, the man
lethargically placed his hands down onto the counter and waited patiently as
the gentleman who worked there finished up the orders before. Finally, the
gentleman wiped his hands on a stained light blue towel, and glided over to the
man, a grin on his face.
With a voice that held the same brightness as the beaming
smile on his face, the gentleman asked, “Hello! Haven’t seen you in a while!
The usual two, I assume?”
The man visibly flinched, then gave another heavy sigh.
“No. Just the coffee this time,” he muttered, weakly running
a hand through his tousled, damp hair.
Casting a sympathetic and knowing glance, the gentleman
wordlessly rang up the order. The man tossed a couple dollars onto the counter,
murmuring, “Keep the change.”
The gentleman softly thanked him, then left, leaving the man
alone once more. Sighing for yet another time since he entered the small cafe,
the man trudged over to a seat isolated in the corner, and collapsed tiredly
into the plush-like chair. Staring at the round coffee table in front of him,
tears began to prick at the back of his eyes, threatening to send him into sobs
again. Closing his eyes, he dragged a hand down his face.
Everything reminded him of her. It was impossible to avoid.
The prickling sensation grew to a hot burn. His chest
constricted until it felt hard to breathe normally.
He could still hear her soft, sad voice ringing in his ears.
Still see that small smile on her lips. That teary look in her eyes.
“I think we should
take a break.”
“W-what?”
“You know what I mean.”
Silence.
“For how long? A
couple weeks?”
He was practically on
his knees, begging her now. His eyes were threatening to spill bucketfuls of
salty, bitter tears as they gazed shakily at her. But it was to no avail.
Because all she did was smile. All she did was give him a small smile, then
slowly get up and leave the restaurant, leaving him with nothing but shattered
remnants of what was once his heart, and $13.15 of change.
She smiled, because
she knew.
He just didn't want to
face it.
Silent sobs racked his body as he clutched the part of his
coat over his heart. Tears dripped, one by one, onto the wooden table.
It hurt. It hurt so badly.
It was a constant ache and stab. A constant reminder that he
was now alone in this world. It was torture.
He stayed that way, just sobbing, until a steaming mug of
coffee was carefully set onto the table. The man looked up, red eyed and cheeks
glistening, to see the kind, soft gaze of the gentleman. Sitting up straighter
just a bit, the man shakily grasped the handle of the mug, and choked out a
thank you.
The gentleman just smile, bent down, and whispered, “You’re
not alone, my friend.”
The man just gave a tiny, bittersweet smile, and one short,
slow nod. Satisfied, the gentleman returned to work.
For the rest of the day, the man sipped at his coffee, and
stared out the window at the spiraling fractals of snow and reminisced of the
happy past.
Friday, June 13, 2014
NEWS
I have updated MIXED once more!
Furthermore, I am trying to update more periodically but my creativity comes and goes, so I apologize if I have kept any of you waiting.
If you haven't noticed, scroll down and you will see I made one new post. It's a short little story about two teenagers, a girl and a guy. The girl had moved, and the story is just a glance into the troubles they go through, and what happens after she moves. It's complicated...
Anyways, till next time,
LaMusicFreak
Furthermore, I am trying to update more periodically but my creativity comes and goes, so I apologize if I have kept any of you waiting.
If you haven't noticed, scroll down and you will see I made one new post. It's a short little story about two teenagers, a girl and a guy. The girl had moved, and the story is just a glance into the troubles they go through, and what happens after she moves. It's complicated...
Anyways, till next time,
LaMusicFreak
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Fight and Fate
Laughter filled his ears. Warm light that was not a single specific color, yet had color nonetheless, surrounded him like a blanket on a cold winter day.
A figure of a girl was in front, just up ahead in this place of no where. Reaching out his hand, he could just almost touch her. The girl turned. Her face was unclear, like it was able to be seen, yet still unable to be named.
Her hair flowed around her, and a halo of light enveloped her.
She opened her mouth and began to say something-
BEEP BEEP BEEP
Groaning, he fuzzily pulled himself up and slammed his fist down onto the poor, unsuspecting alarm clock. Head still dizzy and eyesight blurry, he lazily stumbled out of bed and out of his bedroom door.
"Yo! Bro! Hurry up, or I'm leaving without you!" a deep voice called from downstairs.
Muttering in annoyance, the boy answered, "Coming man!"
Fumbling a bit, he managed to flick on the bathroom light switch, and turned on the sink.
Splashing some cold water onto his face, he shook himself dry, then began brushing his teeth. Staring into the mirror, now that his vision was clearing up, he began gazing into his eyes, remembering his strange dream.
"Wait up! Wait up!"
The girl laughed, and continued running into the distance. "Hurry up then, slow poke!"
Rinsing out his mouth, and heading back to his room, he mentally slapped himself into reality.
Changing into his usual school attire, he began walking downstairs, and clambered into his older brother's truck.
Wordlessly, the two siblings began heading to school.
The boy just stared out the window, reminiscing about the girl in his dream, barely acknowledging the familiar ache in his chest that had started settling in again.
-----
Sighing, she gazed out the fogged up, tinted window of the school bus as it jerked to another stop in front of some cold, stone apartment buildings. The icy plastic felt soothing against the side of her face as she leaned against it, like a final link between reality and the dreaming realm.
"I have to go now."
"Do have to? Just stay a bit more?"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."
As she turned, the girl saw the feeble silhouette of the boy in the horizon. She continued forward, the fading light guiding her footsteps away.
"Hey!"
Snapping out of her fog of thoughts and emotions, the girl sat up and turned her head to nod a silent greeting at her friend now sitting next to her.
"Hey. What's new?"
As the friend began chattering away to reply, the girl just leaned back against the window, and drifted back into the world of her mind.
Goodbye.
Bye...
A familiar ache returned, and she jolted upright, shook her head, and stared at her phone. Her friend paused and gave her a sympathetic look. They stayed silent for the rest of the ride.
-----
It was now evening, with the sun saying its final farewells to the cities, and the stars racing to catch a glimpse of the famous sunlight before it vanished from their sights again.
A clock was ticking away hollowly as the boy sat at his desk, head propped up oh a fist and elbow as the boy drowsily blinked, sleep tugging at his consciousness.
He could just hear that voice calling out to him. Feel those unwanted salt water drops piling up behind his eyes.
I have to go now. I'm sorry.
Suddenly, a low buzz resonated through the wood, pouring ice water onto the boy's mind. Scrambling to find his phone under the mountain of papers and textbooks, he finally felt a bit of the vibrating metal and fished it out into the light.
There was a new text. One message. It was from a number that hadn't been used since before that day.....
Frowning slightly, the boy unlocked his phone to read the message.
There were only four words.
Hey. Keep in touch?
~
Smiling softly, the boy began to type in a reply.
The clock continued to tick away, but this time, with a smile in its voice.
-----
It was the same bus, in the same city, with the same girl. But this time, the last remnants of sunlight were the surrounding clouds.
The girl was still leaning against the window, with her friend dozing off beside her. A quiet chiming of her phone woke both of them up from their tired thoughts.
Sure. Saved in contacts. How's the far side of the state?
Grinning to herself, the girl locked her phone back up and closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of her seat.
Curious, her friend twisted to look straight at her and asked, "He replied? How does it feel?"
The girl just lazily opened one eye, and said, still grinning, "Good. It feels good."
-----
A figure of a girl was in front, just up ahead in this place of no where. Reaching out his hand, he could just almost touch her. The girl turned. Her face was unclear, like it was able to be seen, yet still unable to be named.
Her hair flowed around her, and a halo of light enveloped her.
She opened her mouth and began to say something-
BEEP BEEP BEEP
Groaning, he fuzzily pulled himself up and slammed his fist down onto the poor, unsuspecting alarm clock. Head still dizzy and eyesight blurry, he lazily stumbled out of bed and out of his bedroom door.
"Yo! Bro! Hurry up, or I'm leaving without you!" a deep voice called from downstairs.
Muttering in annoyance, the boy answered, "Coming man!"
Fumbling a bit, he managed to flick on the bathroom light switch, and turned on the sink.
Splashing some cold water onto his face, he shook himself dry, then began brushing his teeth. Staring into the mirror, now that his vision was clearing up, he began gazing into his eyes, remembering his strange dream.
"Wait up! Wait up!"
The girl laughed, and continued running into the distance. "Hurry up then, slow poke!"
Rinsing out his mouth, and heading back to his room, he mentally slapped himself into reality.
Changing into his usual school attire, he began walking downstairs, and clambered into his older brother's truck.
Wordlessly, the two siblings began heading to school.
The boy just stared out the window, reminiscing about the girl in his dream, barely acknowledging the familiar ache in his chest that had started settling in again.
-----
Sighing, she gazed out the fogged up, tinted window of the school bus as it jerked to another stop in front of some cold, stone apartment buildings. The icy plastic felt soothing against the side of her face as she leaned against it, like a final link between reality and the dreaming realm.
"I have to go now."
"Do have to? Just stay a bit more?"
"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."
As she turned, the girl saw the feeble silhouette of the boy in the horizon. She continued forward, the fading light guiding her footsteps away.
"Hey!"
Snapping out of her fog of thoughts and emotions, the girl sat up and turned her head to nod a silent greeting at her friend now sitting next to her.
"Hey. What's new?"
As the friend began chattering away to reply, the girl just leaned back against the window, and drifted back into the world of her mind.
Goodbye.
Bye...
A familiar ache returned, and she jolted upright, shook her head, and stared at her phone. Her friend paused and gave her a sympathetic look. They stayed silent for the rest of the ride.
-----
It was now evening, with the sun saying its final farewells to the cities, and the stars racing to catch a glimpse of the famous sunlight before it vanished from their sights again.
A clock was ticking away hollowly as the boy sat at his desk, head propped up oh a fist and elbow as the boy drowsily blinked, sleep tugging at his consciousness.
He could just hear that voice calling out to him. Feel those unwanted salt water drops piling up behind his eyes.
I have to go now. I'm sorry.
Suddenly, a low buzz resonated through the wood, pouring ice water onto the boy's mind. Scrambling to find his phone under the mountain of papers and textbooks, he finally felt a bit of the vibrating metal and fished it out into the light.
There was a new text. One message. It was from a number that hadn't been used since before that day.....
Frowning slightly, the boy unlocked his phone to read the message.
There were only four words.
Hey. Keep in touch?
~
Smiling softly, the boy began to type in a reply.
The clock continued to tick away, but this time, with a smile in its voice.
-----
It was the same bus, in the same city, with the same girl. But this time, the last remnants of sunlight were the surrounding clouds.
The girl was still leaning against the window, with her friend dozing off beside her. A quiet chiming of her phone woke both of them up from their tired thoughts.
Sure. Saved in contacts. How's the far side of the state?
Grinning to herself, the girl locked her phone back up and closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of her seat.
Curious, her friend twisted to look straight at her and asked, "He replied? How does it feel?"
The girl just lazily opened one eye, and said, still grinning, "Good. It feels good."
-----
UPDATE
MIXED is now updated! I will try to add some more later today or tonight. It is updated on its own page as well!
Furthermore, this blog now is connected to Google+, if some of you haven't noticed. Just a small side note! Happy reading! May you enjoy it. Please feel free to comment! I could use some proofreading and suggestions on many of my other stories. Thank you!
Furthermore, this blog now is connected to Google+, if some of you haven't noticed. Just a small side note! Happy reading! May you enjoy it. Please feel free to comment! I could use some proofreading and suggestions on many of my other stories. Thank you!
Sunday, June 1, 2014
New and Easy
So, if any of you visited my blog about ten minutes ago, you may have noticed I changed my background and formatting. But now, it's back to my original one. Why? Because of several reasons, actually.
1) The over all feel didn't seem to it my blog's over all theme of literature.
2) (And I'll be honest) I couldn't figure out how to edit much of the new template's settings. I am not a computer programmer, thus, a failure in editing and adding photos, moving gadgets around, and more.
The new template was very eye catching though. However, one must remember that just because something is new does not mean it is the best (I'm am not just saying that).
Anyways, I'll try to update my older stories soon, but no guarantees, seeing as my creativity comes and goes. I am planning on making MIXED (Still planning on changing the title possibly) one of my main stories too.
Furthermore, I'm trying to add a new page to my blog, like my page to MIXED, but as you can see, it leads to nowhere, so, I'll see what I can do.
Until next time,
LaMusicFreak
1) The over all feel didn't seem to it my blog's over all theme of literature.
2) (And I'll be honest) I couldn't figure out how to edit much of the new template's settings. I am not a computer programmer, thus, a failure in editing and adding photos, moving gadgets around, and more.
The new template was very eye catching though. However, one must remember that just because something is new does not mean it is the best (I'm am not just saying that).
Anyways, I'll try to update my older stories soon, but no guarantees, seeing as my creativity comes and goes. I am planning on making MIXED (Still planning on changing the title possibly) one of my main stories too.
Furthermore, I'm trying to add a new page to my blog, like my page to MIXED, but as you can see, it leads to nowhere, so, I'll see what I can do.
Until next time,
LaMusicFreak
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