The music pulsed all around her and its beat pounded in her skull. The club was packed and drinks were half-price for the next hour. Tom was roaring drunk, not to mention actually roaring. Apparently he was a lion at the moment, or at least he seemed to feel the need to act like one. The brunette-blond girl in a short tight dress was obviously drunk enough to be impressed by his roaring lion impression; either that or she was simply hysterically laughing for no real reason whatsoever. Matt was at the bar taking advantage of the half-price drinks by getting another round. Jess was flirting with some guy with a Chinese symbol tattooed on his neck. Katie and Jordan were on the dance floor and looked like they thought no one could see what they were actually doing on the dance floor. And Terry and Scott were yelling drunkenly at the T.V. about some sort of uncalled penalty in the game. Sara couldn’t believe that she had agreed to come out with everyone tonight. She’d had a long day and she wasn’t really the party-animal type to start with. She loved dancing, but nowadays most people seemed to think that dancing was nothing more than foreplay. Then there was the fact that Sara had never really enjoyed dancing with a drink in her hand. The music was so incredibly loud. And all the yelling idiots weren’t too quiet themselves. People kept stumbling into her and she’d spilled more of her drink than she’d drank of it. It was hot and humid and the place smelled pretty disgusting at the moment. All she wanted to do was go home, have a shower and go to sleep. Sara just didn’t understand how any of this was considered fun. All of the people that she’d come with were off doing something stupid and that they would regret within a couple of hours. Also with all the cell phones around, no one would be able to forget what happened tonight no matter how much they might want to later. With this thought in mind, Sara’s phone beeped with a new text message. It took her a minute or two to try and decipher the nonsense that Jess had just sent her. Man, but she hated the T9 application. It was especially sucked when the “text-er” was completely smashed and the “text-ee” was stone sober. Finally managing to work out the jumble of letters, numbers and random punctuation, Sara realized that Jess had just managed to get Chinese-tattoo-guy’s number. Wow. Sara looked down at the drink in her hand. She didn’t even really like drinking; alcohol tasted awful. Forget this, she thought, I’m getting out of here. She texted back to Jess saying good luck with the tattoo guy and that she was heading out. Next she waved to Katie and Jordan, not that they noticed. She had to yell three times at Tom that she was leaving before he nodded although whether or not he actually got the message she neither knew nor cared. Lastly she grabbed Terry’s arm and motioned towards the door. He tried to grab her to make her stay, but obviously his depth perception was a little off. He accidently punched the guy next to him in the arm and that started another roaring match. Before she got roped into a stupid fight, Sara turned and walked out the door. A line of taxis were idling next to the curb and she climbed into the back of the closest one. She gave her address to the cabbie and they set off into traffic. Her phone went off again and it was a text from Katie asking where she’d gone. Sara didn’t respond; Katie wouldn’t notice anyway. There would probably be some fallout tomorrow but it would be minor. After all everyone knew that Sara wasn’t the partying type. Sadly for Sara, none of them understand why that was.
Sea air truly was invigorating. As John leaned over the railing and watched waves lap against the sides of the ship he wondered what his new life would be like. He would miss his beloved Ireland, but not its hardships. So many had died in the famine and so many were still dying yet. He and his family had decided that to stay there would only lead to further suffering and so they had spent their last pennies on buying passage to the Americas. This ship named the Erin was one of the McCorkell’s line. It was stoutly built and so far they had managed to escape the dangers of the sudden summer storms. They were only a month out and the blue of the ocean surrounded them in every direction. Today was another gorgeous day, sunny, warm and with a healthy breeze to keep them cool and to blow them ever closer to their destination. Life on the ship was a hard one. The ships that made this trip to the Americas and back were known as ‘coffin ships” and for a good reason too. Disease and infection were all but inescapable with so many people crammed together in a confirmed space and for such a long time. John’s family had been lucky so far. At this thought, he knocked his fist discreetly on the wooden railing. It was him, his parents and three of his siblings; Colin, Frank and Mae. The youngest two, Ian, Hannah were left behind with his Aunt Colleen back in Kilrush. His mother had wept bitterly at leaving the two babes in the famine-ravished Ireland, but the journey to Canada was far too dangerous for such young children. Hopefully in ten years or so, they would have made enough money for the little ones to come across the ocean as well. John was excited by the thought of Canada, this new and fresh land were a man could forever change his fortunes. The opportunities there would be boundless and as long as a person was willing and able to work hard, the future could be so much better than the past. Along with excitement though, came a very real fear. Certainly thus far their passage had been a good one, but danger was ever present. Disease, famine, injury or even a storm that could sink the ship were all very likely to happen out here in the open seas. Even if they all made it to land safely, opportunity was not certainty and a new land could very well hold new perils. All these thoughts swirled aimlessly through John’s mind as he gazed out at the beautiful seascape before him. He leaned back and stretched out his arms; it was time to get back to work. Every one on the ship had a task as the safe arrival of the ship to its harbor was everyone’s concern. Looking back one last time at the beauty of the sunlight dancing on the waves, John remembered his Aunt Colleen’s final words to him. It was a common Irish blessing and one John had heard many times throughout his life, but never before had the words meant so much to him. May the worst day of your future be the best day of your past. John wanted a better life both for himself and for all those he loved. He would work harder than he ever had before to ensure that that was exactly what happened. He would make enough money to bring Ian and Hannah across the Atlantic and their family would be reunited and happy in the future to come. He would allow nothing less.
I wrote this years ago as part of a larger story. However, I later realized that this passage did not mesh with the story at all and so I removed it. I loved it so much though that I couldn't bear to erase it completely and I've kept it all these years. For everyone who felt angry and out of place in high school, I give you the "Rant." Enjoy! Speaking of said synthetic reality, I will soon be restarting school. Some may think that the reason I have no desire to return to my studies is because all of my childhood friends no longer attend the same school as yours truly. That assumption however, in my case, it far from correct. The only reason that I am so unenthusiastic about returning to school is because, believe it or not, I am not such a huge fan of having my life perfectly regimented by someone I don't even know, someone that I'll probably never even see. In all honesty, I utterly and completely abhor the very concept of school. As I previously stated, I am an introvert. This is part of my personality for one reason alone; I hate having another, any other person, tell me how, when or why to do something. I like the idea of doing everything on my own. Support groups and their whole mentality make absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. I am seventeen years old; I don't need a nanny to hold my hand. You may think that I am just your average teenager and that my mantra is the typical "You can't tell me what to do!" However, should you believe such a ridiculous notion, you may as well put this book down now, as there is no hope left for you to speak of. There are days when I wish to enlighten the world of one simple, terribly obvious fact and today is one of those days. So allow me my two cents' worth, if you please. You see, oddly enough teenagers, despite their unfortunate age, just so happen to still be, at the very least biologically speaking, human beings. Now try and stay with me here, I know this may be rather controversial, but all human beings have their own personal personality, their own unique uniqueness. Therefore, to categorize any human according to their personality is literally impossible. Conclusion: Not all teenagers are the same (i.e. stupid, childish, irrational, close-minded, self-centered, whiny, pretentious, ignorant-of-the-world-surrounding-them, spoiled, little, consumer brats). Stop me if this all too much to take. I have never been stupid enough to honestly believe that the whole, wide world revolves around me. Or at least, not since I learned to walk. I can actually understand the concept of the future and therefore I do in fact possess some foresight. Common sense may not be oh, so common nowadays, however I seem to have been gifted even with that. And as silly as this may sound, I occasionally look something up simply because I actually wish to expand my mind, stretch and push its boundaries and test its limits just to see how much it can absorb. Hell, I even exercise for health reasons rather than for the idiotic belief that I need to lose 2.684 pounds in order to obtain the perfect and preferred body size in order to 'get the guy.' In short: I am not your average stereotypical teenager. Unfortunately, I still happen to possess the same microscopic and limited amount of power to live as I choose as any other, albeit average teenager. Therefore, due to that sad and unhappy fact, in two, all-too-short days I will be returning to the repressing-of-one's-individuality, regimented, manipulative, mind-warping, boring and all out cruel and unusual torture that is today's modern educational system as Queen Victoria Public Secondary School's newest student. I can barely live with the ecstasy that statement brings to mind.
When she got home the very first thing Evelyn did was get changed. It seemed as though the black skirt and blouse had been contaminated and she doubted that she’d ever wear them again. Jack’s funeral had been the first one she’d ever been to. The entire time all Evelyn had thought about was if anyone was pointing at her or whispering beyond her back. She had never felt so much as though she were on display. Now back home and in her room, she perched upon her bed and thought of how cruel life could be. She was in grade eleven and she had had a crush on Jack ever since grade three. He’d been handsome, nice and funny. To Evelyn’s way of thinking, that was everything important. Two weeks ago, Jack had finally asked her out. Their first date had been perfect. They went to dinner at a small, independent local restaurant known for its good food and modest prices. He’d even picked her up and dropped her off after a quick, but sweet goodnight kiss. It had been exactly as Evelyn had dreamed a date with Jack should be. Four days ago, they had gone on their second date, this time to see a movie. He’d been a complete gentleman and they both enjoyed the silly romantic comedy that he’d let her pick. And then the day after that second date, Jack had been killed in a car accident. It truly had been an accident; the roads had been slippery and he took a corner a little too quickly. He hit tree and was pronounced dead at the scene. It was sad, but nothing could be done. Evelyn lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She knew that she’d miss Jack and she felt so sad at the thought of his family trying to cope with the loss of their son. Yet, oddly enough the one emotion that she felt the deepest was anger. She had waited for years to be noticed by Jack. And finally, he had noticed her. They had two perfect dates, free of any awkwardness. And now, just when she had at last got her chance with him, he died. Just like that, he’d been taken away. There was no reason for it and it was a death completely without drama. It seemed almost as though he had simply left. Evelyn couldn’t accept that he was dead; that she’d never see or hear from Jack ever again. And that thought made her furious. Who decided that Jack had to die at age seventeen? No, he would never have been the type of man who would grow up to change the fate of the world. He hadn’t been a man of extreme intellect. He’d been just an average man. That was why Evelyn had liked him so much; Jack had been safe. He had been solid and steady and utterly dependable. To Evelyn, his death altered her future completely. She had planned on marrying him. They would have stayed in this community; they would have had three maybe four children and their life would have been a simple one. She had invested years in him. She had waited years for him. Then just when everything was turning out exactly as she’d planned… he’d left her. Well, so be it. Evelyn Trask was no quitter. She got up, changed into her usual jeans and a t-shirt and picked up last year’s yearbook. She knew that she had no time to lose; it had taken seven years to bring Jack up to scratch and who knew how long the next one would take. She thumbed through the pages until she reached the grade tens. This was a solid start. Evelyn did not want to marry a man who was younger than her, so he’d have to be at least her age or older. She also did not want a man who was smarter than her; she planned to rule the roost uncontested. And that’s when she saw Mark Thaneston. Mark was a year older than her, but he had been held back a year in low school due to his poor grades. He was sweet and had a boyish look about him. Yes, with a little hard work, Mark could be a decent substitute for Jack. Evelyn smiled to herself; Evelyn Thaneston… that would work quite nicely.
“Take a deep breathe in and slowly let it out. Another deep breathe, another slow exhale. Let your mind drift. Listen to the soft sounds of the ocean and feel at peace. You are now asleep…” No, Arianna thought, I am definitely not asleep. This stupid CD that she’d bought wasn’t working at all. The Songs from the Sea were only making her have to pee. She turned over and flipped her pillow. She rearranged the covers and tried to snuggle yet further into her mattress. She tried to stop thinking. That only made her think about how she wasn’t supposed to think. Ok, I’m just going to lie here with my eyes closed and try not to move, she thought. Great, now her nose was itchy. Should she itch it? Itching it would mean moving; not itching it was likely to drive her insane. She scratched nose. The lapping of waves on a distant seashore could still be heard. She tried to stay still and just ignore them. Who ever thought that moving water was relaxing was a moron. Forget this! Arianna sat up, threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. She punched the stop button so hard with her index finger that she bent her nail. Ow, that hurt! Perhaps a different CD would help. Maybe the Melodies of a Meadow would put her out? Or should she try the Prairie Winds? What was it about nature that made people feel sleepy? A meadow was probably full of squabbling birds and buzzing insects. And wind howled across the prairies didn’t it? Silence! Silence was said to be golden, right? No more sea songs or meadow melodies or windy grasslands; just quiet. Peaceful tranquility; serene calmness… placid quintessence? Arianna stretched out her arms, rotated her shoulders and cracked her neck. She climbed back into her bed and went through the ritual of straightening the covers and plumping her pillow all over again. She stared at the ceiling; she counted imaginary sheep; she even tried to think about air as it moved around the room. Nothing worked and sleep never came. Why can’t I fall asleep? A baby can fall asleep. In fact babies sleep for most of the day. Good people sleep; bad people sleep. Short people and tall people; all people sleep. WHY CAN’T I SLEEP?!!!! Arianna did not have a stressful day planned for tomorrow. Scratch that, tomorrow was in a couple of hours. She wasn’t scared or concerned or lovelorn. She had no big announcements or events anywhere in her near future that she was aware of. All the normal reasons for someone to be unable to sleep did not seem to apply to her. This lack of sleep was reasonless. Wait, is reasonless actually a word? ARG! This was ridiculous. At long last, Arianna gave up on sleep. Work started in only four hours and it was obvious that she would not be getting any sleep tonight. She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. She braced her pillows up against the headboard and sat up. Grabbing her book from the bedside table, she nestled into her pillows and opened the novel to chapter seven. Three hours later, the awful sound of her alarm clock going off woke Arianna from a deep, dreamless sleep. Looking down at the book still clutched in her hands, she read the words Chapter Eight.
It was a hot and humid morning and the day promised to be bright and sunny. It had rained the night before and now the heat was pulling all that water back up into the air. Birds sang, insects buzzed and Jack was miserable. They were all miserable. They hadn’t been able to find any shelter last night other than some overhanging trees. They hadn’t been allowed to put up their tents for fear of being seen by the enemy and due to this their uniforms had been soaked in the downpour. They had spent a cold wet night in hostile territory and everyone was feeling a little on edge. Now they were marching through mud, clothed in hot, damp wool and carrying forty pounds a piece on their backs. All they had had for breakfast were yet more of those “nutritious” hard biscuits and some brackish water from a nearby stream. The insects bit, the men smelled and the chance of being seen by the enemy was a constant threat. Jack remembered his father telling him about his stint in the First World War. As a child he had listened to stories about the beauty of southern France and the camaraderie between soldiers who lived and died by each other’s side. His father’s last words to him before Jack had left to join his own unit were, “Son, you leave today as a boy, but you’ll come back a man.” At the time, Jack had been proud to have a chance of his own to fight for his country. However, when his father had spoken those last words to him, he remembered wondering at the strange look in his eyes. He knew that the stories his father had told him were all from the lighter side of things; he had known that war wasn’t fun. Jack had honestly believed though that he knew what was coming. Looking back now, he finally understood just how naïve he had once been. He’d known that he’d see some of his friends die. The reality of actually watching it happen right before his eyes however was a very different thing. Martin had been the first to fall; he took a bullet to the chest and was dead only a few minutes later. Jack had been horrified at the time. Later on however, he realized just how lucky Martin had been to die so quickly, so cleanly. The unlucky ones were those who lingered. Jack had been fighting now for two years. He’d seen death a thousand times. He’d been shot once in his left arm and had dealt with a vicious infection for four months after. His arm still ached and it would for the rest of his life. They were trudging through southern France at the moment. Jack found himself wondering, how had his father made it home? How could his father have told him all those stories of the good times during a war? Thinking about it now made him feel as though he’d been lied to. War was hell. There were no good times. The men around him fought and died together because they had no other choice. At first Jack had stupidly made friends with his fellow soldiers. He had realized later on that having friends only made it so much worse when they eventually died right next to you. It was better to stay away, to isolate yourself in an effort to guard against losing you mind. Jack had seen some men descend into total insanity; he’d seen them turn into fragile shells of what they had once been. It was his greatest fear. He’d rather lose a limb than his mind. If only that decision was up to him. They marched on, heads’ up, hands on their weapons. The sun beat down on them and the air was heavy. Then like a gift from above, a cool, gentle breeze wafted past them. To a man, they all sighed and suddenly a few tentative smiles broke out among the ranks. And that’s when the thought came to him. Perhaps his father had only wanted to spare him from the true horrors of war. Maybe he didn’t want to relive all those hellish times that he had had to endure during his army days. And with this thought came another and Jack knew that if he ever survived this war and lived to have children, he too would tell them about the beauty of southern France in the spring.
Kyla was the type of person who rather than having lots of friends, had a few very close friends. And strangely, they were all separated into little groups, usually of threes. The oldest trio was of Kyla, Maggie and Rachelle. They were all the same age and had met in the first two years of school. This was a friendship of children; play-dates and birthday parties, sleepovers and school outings. As they grew up each slowly became their own person. Rachelle was the sporty girl not just because she loved sports, but mostly because she was an amazing player on any team. Maggie was very shy when they first met, but as the years past she grew into one of the most self-confident and poised women Kyla had ever met. Rachelle moved and went to a different school. Maggie changed classes and attended a different high-school. Kyla seemed to simply stay in the same place she’d always been. Sometimes they wouldn’t see each other for years at a time. Yet when they met up next it was as if nothing had changed. They friendship was able to last through it all. Next was the trio of Kyla, Maggie and Emma. Emma was a year younger than Maggie and Kyla and yet she often seemed to be the most mature of the group. Each was unique, but they all had something in common; Maggie and Emma both played the piano; Kyla and Maggie both played sports; Emma and Kyla were both in French Emmersion. They could all relate to the others and still feel as though they were each unique. High-school came and with it a new group, only this one started out as a trio and then grew to be a quartet. Kyla, Chelsea and Danah were all the same age and in the same classes. They quickly became fast friends in grade nine. It was in grade ten however, that Kyla introduced a new friend to the group: Julie. Julie was a year younger, but she fit in immediately. The best part about this friendship was its diversity. Each person was utterly unique from the others. Chelsea was an environmentalist to her fingertips. She was smart and hilarious and feisty as all get out. Danah was the adventuress. She wanted to jump out of planes and climb the highest mountains, but most importantly she wanted to see the world. Whatever the circumstances, Danah had a “world’s greatest plan” to make everyday count. Julie was the theater lover. She didn’t want to be on the stage. Julie wanted to be back-stage. She was involved in lighting and sound; she moved sets and painted scenery. No matter what it took Julie was there to make it all come together. Kyla was the chatterbox wannabe writer of the group. She liked to think of herself as the sensible one and yet she often got caught up with the enthusiasm of the others. Her part was to document every crazy moment of their odd little group. Lastly, there was university. Kyla struggled to find her place among the throngs. She felt disconnected and often alone. She floundered without her old support groups. Then she found two friends: Hannah and Teresa. As she tried to find her place in the world, Teresa and Hannah were there fighting by her side, trying to figure out the same thing. Hannah was a seething mass of contradictions. She was driven and yet lacked direction. She could pick up a new hobby and excel at in a week. The next week though she would tire of it and move on to something else. Ultimately she seemed like a being of immerse energy. Teresa on the other hand was someone who was both sweet-hearted and strong. She was forever underestimating herself. She would go to any lengths for her family and friends. She had the strength to always stand by those she loved even when they let her down. Together Hannah and Teresa helped Kyla through some of the hardest times of her life. Looking back, Kyla realized just how lucky she was to have the friends she did. Each was so different and their lives had led them into sometimes completely opposite directions, but they were forever there for her. She knew that no matter when and no matter where, she could call each one up and they would move heaven and earth to be by her side. One day Kyla sat down and tried to write a story about how much they each meant to her. This is that story. To all of my friends, thank you so much for everything that you have done for me. I love you all and forever.
He hadn’t seen the accident actually happen. He had only been there for the aftermath. He’d been driving home from another day at work and had seen the tires marks that veered off the road and down the hill. This was a bad turn if you didn’t know the road and the rain and sleet had made the asphalt slippery. Darkness had just started to fall and the wind had an icy edge to it. He slowed down and pulled over onto the shoulder. Leaving his engine running and his lights on, he grabbed his mitts and quickly got out of the car. Treading carefully across the wet pavement, he crossed the road and leaned over the edge to see down the hill. At first he couldn’t see anything. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw a van precariously balanced on the side of the hill. A stout oak had stopped the vehicle from rolling any further down the slope, by the van was still sliding and looked like it would at any minute get around the tree and continue its descent. He carefully picked his way down the hillside, going as quickly as he could under the circumstances. The sides of the vehicle were crushed in, as well as the roof. It was resting on its wheels for the moment and he could see two people inside. One was the driver, a woman and the other was her son in the backseat. The mother was unconscious by the looks of it and the little boy was crying. He made it to the driver’s door and reached out and grasped the handle. There was a loud groaning noise and the van shifted slightly further past the oak. He had to be careful. As gently as possible he tried to open the door. It stuck; it looked as though the metal frame had been wrenched in the crash. He would have to break the window. He took off his coat and wrapped it around his hand. This was going to hurt. He pulled back his arm and slammed his protected fist into the glass; it cracked but did not break. The van shifted yet further and he could hear the rasp of the tree’s bark against the metal. He waited, praying that it would stop. It did and he pulled back his arm again. The second time the glass broke and he just barely managed not to hit the woman inside. He reached past the broken shards and after a bit of fumbling he managed to undo her seatbelt. She moaned softly and her head rolled back against the seat. Thankfully she was a thin woman and he knew that he would be able to lift her out. He freed his hand from the coat to see that it was badly bruised. He knew it was broken. Moving slowly, he managed to wrap his arms around the woman’s waist and taking his time, he managed to maneuver her upper body out the van’s window. The boy in the backseat had stopped crying; he couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. He watched silently as though in fascination as his mother was lifted out the window. At last, she was free and gently he set her down on the cold ground. The van hadn’t moved since that first punch and feeling as though he might have more time he checked to see if the mother had any visible wounds. She had moaned only the one time, but it had at least reassured him that she was alive. Apart from a few cuts on her face and arms, she appeared to be ok. He turned back to the van and tried to think of a way to get to the boy. He knew that crawling in the driver’s window was a bad idea; his weight might very well tip the van that last little bit past the oak and plunge it down the slope with both him and the boy still inside. Perhaps he could break the side window and get in that way. He grabbed his coat and once more wrapped it around his now shattered hand. The bones would heal though and he had to get that boy out. This time he aimed to break the glass in one blow and he put everything he had into it. The glass snapped and then spilt into several pieces. He barely managed to keep from screaming at the pain in his hand. The little boy whimpered in fear. Pushing through the jagged slivers he reached for the boy’s seat belt. Suddenly the dirt shifted out from under his feet and he hit the ground hard. The van shuddered and started sliding once more. This time it didn’t stop. He had one last look at the boy’s terrified face before the van rolled over and tumbled down the rest of the slope. The mother was hospitalized overnight, but it turned out that she only had a minor concussion and a few scraps and bruises. The police had found the van in a ravine at the bottom of the hill; the boy had not survived. He was awarded a medal from the police for a civilian act of bravery. They gave it to him at a ceremony. He was called up onto the stage and the chief of police shook his hand. As he looked out at the crowd, he saw the woman he had rescued sitting with her husband at a table in the back. His gaze locked with hers and in those eyes was nothing but blame. He knew in that moment that she hated him for saving her instead of saving her son.
This is an exercise in dialogue. I just wanted to create a solid back and forth without relying on setting or a description of the two main characters. Please feel free to comment! “You will never believe what I just heard from Meredith!” “Is it about Jackie’s crush on Tom? ‘Cause I already heard about that from Paul like two days ago.” “No, this is about Matt and that girl that he met at work, Pam. Wait, Jackie has a crush on Tom? Since when? She has been going on about how much she hates him for the last month. I didn’t know she liked him.” “Jackie only pretends to hate Tom because she doesn’t want him to find out how much she likes him. After all, Tom’s dating Eileen. And what’s this about Matt and that Pam girl?” “I heard that Tom and Eileen broke up because he kept flirting with other girls every time they went to a party together.” “Honestly, Tom flirts all the time. Eileen had to have known that he wasn’t going to change just because they started dating. I hate Tom; he’s such a jerk. I really don’t understand why Jackie likes him.” “It’s because he’s hot. Jackie is so shallow that way. Who knows, now that Tom and Eileen broke up maybe Jackie will have a shot at him. Anyway, do you want to hear about what’s going on with Matt and Pam or not?” “Yeah, definitely, but I have to tell you about Paul after.” “What’s up with Paul?” “I’ll tell you after. Tell me about Pam and Matt first.” “Ok. Apparently, they were James’ party last night and both of them got really drunk. I guess they sneaked off for awhile and when they came back, her shirt was on backwards and his hair was all mussed.” “No way! Matt hooked up with that Pam girl? And wait, did Meredith just hear this or did see actually see them when they came back?” “She didn’t see them, but Sam did and she told Meredith.” “Why would Sam tell her that! Everyone knows that Meredith isn’t over Matt yet. Sam always does stuff like this! She just likes stirring up trouble. Poor Meredith! Matt is such a player; he just met that Pam chick. You know I heard from Carrie that Pam gets around a lot.” “How does Carrie know that? Does she know Pam?” “Carrie works at the same place as Matt and Pam and I guess everyone at their work talks about how Pam has a real reputation for sleeping around.” “That’s probably why Matt starting talking to her at James’. The guy’s a rat. He thinks he’s such a lady’s man, but really he’s a total loser.” “Meredith would be way better off if she just got over him. That reminds me! Get this, I was talking to Paul, right and he told me, after telling me about Tom and Eileen, that he’s really into Meredith. I guess they have history together and they got partnered for this group project thing. Anyway, he said that he thinks she’s really sweet and smart and he wants to ask her out!” “Seriously! He so should! Paul is such a sweetheart and after what that jerk Matt did to her, Meredith totally deserves a guy as great as Paul!” “Yeah, but Paul is so shy! I don’t think he’d ask Meredith out unless he was sure she was over Matt.” “We should try and hook them up! Ok, you go to work on Meredith and I’ll bug Paul to ask her out.” “Ok! I have next period with Meredith, so I’ll start talking up Paul to her. You text Paul and we’ll meet back here at next break.” “Awesome! Text me about how it goes with Meredith.” “I will. See ya!” “Bye!”
The bullet burned from within her chest. It felt as though she had been stabbed with a white hot knife. Blood seeped from the wound and spread across her skin. She could feel it winding a path slowly down her stomach. The pain was intense and yet she was unable to do anything that might alleviate her suffering. Bullets ricocheted off burning cars and tore through the plastered walls of nearby shops. People were screaming and fleeing in all directions. The air was full of smoke and was rank with the smell of gun powder. Pandemonium reigned and panic was spreading throughout the square. She lay there, huddled against what had, an hour earlier, been a government building, but was now nothing but ruins. She had no idea who had shot her; had it been done accidentally or intentionally? Other figures sprawled out on the ground. Some were in the street and others, like her were propped up against the sides of buildings. A window smashed out above and she did her best to shield herself from the falling glass. Shards sliced tiny cuts into her right forearm and one nicked her forehead. Blood was streaming from the hole the bullet had left and was pooling around her. She tried to yell for help, but her throat was raw from breathing in the smoke and she succeeded only in coughing wretchedly. Her eyes burned and teared; she could only see a few feet in front of her. Suddenly a man leapt over some debris to the left of her and crouched down, covering his head. An explosion detonated behind him seconds later and yet more shrapnel filled the air. The man waited a moment longer and then looked up. His terrified glaze met hers and she mouthed the words, “Help me.” He flinched and then got up and ran. He made it only about fifty feet before he was struck down. His body fell onto the corpse of another. Realizing that her survival would be determined only by herself, she tried to stand. The building was constructed of a rough, light tan stone and the texture was abrasive against her scrambling hands. She managed to half turn her body, but her legs refused to function. She was in agony. Black dots exploded across her eyes and she lost all vision. The noise around her blurred; everything sounded as though it was happening underwater. She slumped slowly to the side. On the edge of consciousness, she focused on the last few senses still registering information from around her. The ground was even, small pieces of rock and metal were scattered all around her. Yet more flew through the air, striking and marking her skin. She tasted blood and wondered vaguely why it had such a metallic tang to it. She was covered in it; it seeped from dozen of small wounds and flowed from the hole left by the bullet. It soaked her clothing and the rank smell of it assaulted her nostrils. She had to get out of the square. She rolled fully onto her stomach and tried crawling towards an open doorway in the government building. She managed only a few feet before the pain of dragging her wounded torso across the uneven ground grew to be unbearable. At last, she was forced to accept the inevitable; she would not survive. She lowered her head to the ground and closed eyes. The shooting ceased; the pain faded and she was gone.
With a maniacal laugh the beautiful sorceress transformed into a massive blue dragon. Tilting back her head, she took a deep breath and surging towards him, she sprayed forth an inferno of fire. Nimbly he dodged to the left, barely managing to escape the deadly flames. He rolled to the edge of the cliff and balancing on an unstable precipice of jagged rock he lifted his magnificent broadsword aloft and gave vent to a bloodcurdling war cry. He threw himself at the beast and plunged his sword deep into the dragon’s scaly hide. She screamed in pain and writhing terribly she stumbled backwards. She didn’t die; she was only further enraged. Still he did not flee from the fray. He was a knight like no other. Unafraid he strode across the land, defeating armies single-handedly and slaying all manner of monsters. This was far from his first time fighting an evil witch turned into a dragon. She came at him again with a sudden burst of speed and he danced quickly out of her path. He kept feinting back and forth in an attempt to confuse and slow the dragon’s vicious attacks. Then he had a brilliant idea. He lunged for his fallen bow and grabbed an arrow from the quiver strapped across his back. He knew that he’d only have one shot and it had to be perfect. If he was defeated, entire towns would perish before the dragon’s horrible fury. He ran behind a large boulder, effectively separating himself from the dragon. He put the arrow to the string and pulled back with all his might. She was still busy trying to get around the boulder and fry him. He took a deep breath and courageously stepped out from his cover and faced the dragon head on. She looked at him as though to say, “Do your worst.” Taking careful aim, he did just that. The arrow sailed through the air and struck its mark. Embedded within the throat of the dragon, all that could be seen was its fetching. Rendered speechless, she began thrashing and then with a tremendous crash, she fell to the ground. She gasped for air and expelled small puffs of blackish smoke from her pierced throat. Her body jerked violently one last time. The evil witch was slain. The knight stood poised over the body of his enemy. This land was freed from the ravenous jaws of death once more. He reached out and grasping the handle of his sword, he tore it from the carcass. Suddenly he heard the faint snap of a dry twig behind him. He whirled around, sword at the ready, prepared for battle. A beautiful, young maiden stepped out of the cave that had been the monster’s lair. Her hair was the color of spun gold and she had eyes of the deepest pansy blue. Her skin was like alabaster and seemed to glow from within. Her elegant green gown screened from his view what was clearly the body of a goddess. “Oh, thanks be to you great knight! Ye hath saved mine life and defeated this heinous fiend. Thou art truly worthy of praise, for I am certain that you could be no other knight, but Sir Gallant himself. ‘Tis the greatest honor, my lord, to meet thee at last.” Her voice rang out clear as a bell and soft as a lullaby. “Think not of it, fair maiden. Be mine duty to dispatch evil and protect this realm, for I hath sworn a sacred oath to do so. I beg of thee, o, fairest one, wilt thou grace mine ears with thine name?” “It would be right to do so, good knight. I am Lady Centerfold. Thou hast saved me from a terrible fate, sir. Come, receive thy just reward.” She gave a low, husky laugh and motioned for him to follow her back into the cave. With a decided swing of her hips she disappeared into the darkness. She’s too good to be true, he thought. Eagerly he strode towards the cave only for it to start fading away before his very eyes. No! Please, he thought, not yet. A pounding sound thundered in his brain; an incessant beeping intruded on his senses. And then consciousness returned. Throwing out his arm, he knocked his alarm off the bedside table. The beeping continued. Moaning, he pulled himself up and reached down to fumble with the torture device. Finally, it stopped. Running a hand through his rumpled hair, he clumsily climbed out of bed. He stretched out his arms and let out a massive yawn. Today was his twenty-seventh birthday. Smiling crookedly, he walked into the bathroom. Sir Gallant was only getting better with age.
Hey guys! Just a quick message. This is my eleventh post and thanks to everyone who has been reading my stories. I am really trying to improve my writing so I would be very grateful for some feedback. Please feel free to comment. Also new stories are posted every week either on Friday or Saturday, so check back often. Thanks again for all the support! Apart from the constant soft swinging of her foot, she sat perfectly still. It was the type of stillness that comes from excessive pent-up emotions held ruthlessly in check by an iron will. She had never been so angry in her life. In a detached manner she wondered idly why she didn’t feel sad. However, the only thing she felt was unmistakably fury. Her boyfriend had cheated on her. No, he hadn’t slept with her best friend or that one girl everyone hates at some point in their life. No, he’d slept with some drunken skirt that he’d met at a bar. It was a common story. Most girls would cry or scream, maybe throw a few things at their straying man’s head. They’d make a big scene that ended with them hurling a promise ring into his face and screaming that they were over. Jane though, was a different entity entirely. Forget about getting even; she wanted him to suffer. She wanted him to never forget what he’d lost. And so she waited quietly and patiently while sitting in the dark living room of his apartment. She knew that she was being dramatic in the extreme, but she felt that this was a perfect time for drama. He’d be home from work soon. And the best part was that he had no idea what was in store for him. He had no idea that she knew. Jane smiled as she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. He never had mastered the art of lifting his feet. He came lumbering down the hall and stopped to fumble for his keys in front of the door. Jane suppressed her smile and made her face an unreadable mask. Now that the moment was here, she was full of that adrenaline that comes at the beginning of a battle. Hear her roar, indeed. Jason walked through the door, tossed his keys onto a small side table and wearily dropped his briefcase onto the floor. He stood, stretching his back and groped for the light switch. A bulb flickered to life and into the sudden light Jane spoke. “Hello Jason. How was your day?” His head snapped around and starring at her in wide-eyed amazement, Jason froze. “Jane! Hi! How did you get in here? Why were you sitting in the dark?” “Oh, I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all. I thought I’d just pop in to see you. Did you miss me this weekend? Or were you simply to too busy to think of me?” “No! No. I was… it was a fairly laid back couple of days. You know, just hanging out here. Nothing too exciting. How about you? Did you and the girls have a good time up at Marnie’s cottage?” Gaining a bit of confidence now, Jason advanced further into the room. He didn’t get within ten feet of her though, choosing to sit in a chair on the other side of the coffee table from her. Maybe he’s not as stupid after all, thought Jane. Perhaps like the cowardly little snake he was he sensed danger and wisely kept his distance. “My weekend was fine thank you. So you didn’t do anything at all? No wild parties, no trips to the bar?” “Ha, why… why would you think that?” “Oh, no reason. It was simply something Kim said today. It just made me wonder.” “Oh? Um, Kim who?” “You know, Trevor’s girlfriend? She and I work together and she mentioned something about a crazy boys’ night out. It didn’t sound like she was too impressed with Trevor’s drunken texts. I just thought what with you and Trevor being so close and all, well. I guess I was wrong.” “Oh! You mean Friday night! Right, I had forgotten. Yeah, we, I mean the guys and I, all went out to the bar. I skipped out a bit early though. I ah… wasn’t in the partying mood. I had heard that it got a little out of hand after I left, but yeah.” Looking distinctly nervous, Jason had been fidgeting in his chair. Now at Jane’s small nod of understanding he visibly began to relax. The tenseness went out of his shoulders and he slumped in his habitual manner. “So, what you’re telling me is that you didn’t hook up with some drunken nineteen year old and spend the weekend in her bed? Is that it?” Jane remained seated and silently she forced herself to remain calm. She looked at Jason with a mildly curious expression on her face. She knew the answer. Even if she hadn’t known, his guilt was written all over his face. She waited; sitting with her back held straight, her head up and her hands lightly folded in her lap, she attempted to project the image of a woman without a care in the world. “Ahh, ahh, what? What are you talking about? I… I never, I mean I wouldn’t… ever do something like that. How… how could you think, even for a second that I, I would… would cheat?” Throughout his stuttering reply, Jason’s voice continued to rise until it finally cracked on the word cheat. His eyes didn’t meet hers and his gaze darted all over the room. His left foot twitched and his fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair. “Did you honestly believe that I wouldn’t find out? Are you really that naïve? We have been together for over a year and a half and you think that I can’t tell when you’re lying to me?” Looking stricken, Jason opened and closed his mouth like a gasping trout. “I want you to listen to me and I want you to listen carefully. I am not some gullible little girl, Jason. I have confidence in myself and I know my worth. I deserve to be treated properly and with respect. I will not tie myself to some selfish boy who is as pathetic as you. What was it about her that made you throw away our relationship? Did she fawn all over you? Did she tell you how incredible she thought you were? Or maybe, she simply gave you the time of day? You are so very needy, Jason. You need to have everyone’s full attention or else you pout. You need to feel adored or else you turn petty. I am not your mother. I will not solve all of your problems and put you up on a pedestal to worship you.” Slowly, Jane rose from her seat. Jason was all but cowering in his little corner by this point. And now, thought Jane, now for the final embarrassment. “In case you are confused, I will state this as bluntly as possible. You are a child, a feeble immature little boy. I am a woman and I am looking for a man. This relationship is now ended. You are free to date eager young girls and I, I am free to find a man who is actually worthy of me.” And with that, Jane walked past the pitiful idiot that was once her boyfriend and opened the door. Without turning and without stopping she said, “Goodbye Jason.” The door closed quietly behind her.
As I walked away from the metal carcass that used to be my car, I had wondered why I wasn’t shaking. Previous to this I had never been in a car accident. I had always thought that someone who’d just gone through an accident would be pretty worked up. I should either have been filled with adrenaline and shaking, or else hysterical and shaking. And yet I was neither. I was calm. My hand had been bleeding from multiple small cuts and I remember using my other hand to catch the blood. I hadn’t wanted to stain the white carpet. I also had a bump on my head, but I was fairly lucid at the time and I’d even managed to get myself out of the upside down car without any help. The entire time that I’d sat in the kitchen, as the nice old lady called 911, I wondered about my calmness. I used my mind to assess my emotions just as when the car screeched to a halt I had assessed my body for damage. The calm I had felt did not feel forced nor for that matter did it seem to be so extreme as to dull my thoughts. Cautiously I went back over what had happened from the beginning of the accident until its end. I was able to recall all the details perfectly, except for one moment. After the car had stopped sliding down the road, I had been hanging upside from my seat and the ceiling of the car was now the ground. I needed to get my seatbelt undone to get to the ground. I remembered the clicking sound of the seatbelt coming apart but I couldn’t remember falling down unto the ceiling. I could remember being on the ceiling and deciding which window to crawl out of. I had chosen the driven window because it had been helpfully smashed out. That split-second of falling from my seat onto the ceiling however was gone; I couldn’t seem to remember it at all. Again and again, I replayed the crash in my mind but to no avail. That moment continued to elude me. The kind old lady asked me for my home number and called my mother. For a minute I felt awful because I knew that when my Mom saw what was left of the car, she would be terrified at the thought that I had been in it. At first all I could think about was how scared she would be. However my next feeling was happiness. The calm had finally lifted and I was feeling emotions again! I had managed to feel guilty. However, right upon the heels of that guilt came the numbness once more. I decided to decline a ride in the ambulance as I hadn’t been badly hurt. Mom came and sure enough her face was pale as a ghost when she saw me. Eventually the police walked in to see me sitting in the kitchen and drinking a glass of water. The one officer asked me a few questions and ultimately the accident was ruled to have been simply an accident. What was left of the car was towed away and within an hour it had been cubed. Mom drove me home. It was all over fairly quickly. Months passed and I had to go into the hospital to have some pieces of glass removed from my hand. Bits of the shattered driver’s window had gotten into the cuts without anyone noticing. My hand was numbed with the help of a giant needle and a scalpel cut the chips out. Throughout the little operation, I was calm. Still I did not shake. I didn’t know why, but I kept thinking that if only I could recall that one lost moment of falling then the terrible calmness would recede and I would surely, finally begin to shake. That day still hasn’t come and the numbing calm still cannot be shaken.
Red roses: tacky or romantic? Perhaps she would like white lilies better than red roses. Then again, what about those exotic-looking pink ones? Should he even buy her flowers or would that seem like he was trying to hard? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, even if he was just that. It was times like this that he wished he had had a sister. He really needed a woman’s opinion on this. Feeling overwhelmed, he smiled awkwardly at the hovering saleswoman and ventured deeper into the rampant foliage. Tonight would be the night that he asked the woman he loved to marry him. He wanted everything to be perfect. He had agonized over the ring and naively assumed that after going through all that, picking the flowers would be a piece of cake. When he entered the florist shop he quickly realized just how wrong he had been. The average man clearly had no clue just how many different types of flowers there were in the world. And this particular flower shop seemed to possess every single variety of them. Shopping for the perfect ring had ended up being an absolute nightmare. He had planned on spending no more than fifteen hundred. He assumed that having a solid budget in mind was the equivalent of having a fully developed plan. He had been wrong on that too. First he had to decide on whether to buy her a diamond or a colored gem. Diamonds were everywhere and he knew that all girls talked about were diamonds, but to him they had seemed sort of boring. His Mandy was unique; that’s why he loved her so much. She wasn’t like any other girl he’d ever met. Therefore getting her a ring like so many others seemed wrong somehow. He decided on a colored stone because she added a burst of color to his life. He started by looking at sapphires. Mandy was always honest; sometimes she was almost a little too honest. So maybe a sapphire would represent her true blue nature. However, her eyes were so green they were startling and he was forever telling her that her eyes were the first thing he had noticed about her. Maybe an emerald would be a better choice. He’d heard once that rubies were a symbol of passionate love and he liked the idea of her ring reflecting their love for one another. Then there was the setting. Princess cut or square cut? Traditional or modern? Gold or silver? There were so many options! He had finally chosen an emerald flanked on each side by three of small diamonds. It was a traditional and, according to the saleswoman, romantic setting and the band was made of white gold. When he looked at it he instantly thought of her. He had had it safely tucked into a pretty little box and it was now zipped into the inner pocket of his coat. He had at some point come to a stop in front of a vibrant display of bouquets. Maybe he should go with a single rose instead of an entire armful of them. Yes, he liked the idea of one rose. Oddly it reminded him of the story of beauty and the beast and he remembered Mandy saying one time that that was her favorite fairy tale when she was growing up. He bought a single red rose that was just beginning to bloom and satisfied with his choice he left the florist shop with a smile on his face. He had thought about proposing in a restaurant, but the image of her potentially saying no to him in front of an avid audience had scared him. He planed to make her a home cooked meal instead. He’d make a simple but delicious Italian style dinner of pasta, bread and for dessert, a tiramisu bought from a family owned bakery down the street. Mandy loved Italian food and tiramisu was her favorite dessert. After dinner, they’d go for a nice moonlight stroll in the park and when they got back he’d open champagne and propose. Now he had the ring, the flower, the dinner cooked and the champagne chilling. He was dressed up in a suit and had told her to wear something pretty. He’d said that he wanted to have a nice romantic dinner together as they hadn’t been out anywhere all through the long winter. Spring had finally come and he was using it as an excuse to have a quiet night in for the two of them. Little did she know that he hadn’t taken her out anywhere in the last few months because he’d been saving up for the ring. The doorbell rang and his pulse rate jumped. Tonight was the night that his life would end and their life would begin. He could hardly wait.
It was raining. Surging torrents cascaded down off the roofs and small rivers were gushing out of every drainpipe. Puddles quickly merged together and little ponds were forming on every street. Gray clouds squatted overhead and the dampness seemed to seep into her very soul. There was no thunder, no lightning; it wasn’t even very windy. This was just rain not a storm. She liked storms; they were dramatic and there was electric energy sparking in the air. Storms made her feel alive and invigorated. Rain itself however, was tedious. Today it was down-pouring. It seemed as though the sky itself was weeping with boredom. Everyone was stuck inside and she felt listless. She could read her book, but she wasn’t in the mood for reading. She could watch a movie, but none appealed to her. She could exercise, but she didn’t want to at the moment. She’d tried listening to music, but it didn’t hold her attention and eventually it just started to seem like unnecessary noise. It was just one of those days when you wanted to do something, only you didn’t know what. It was such a frustrating feeling. Lord, but she hated this loathsome rain! Then she realized something: the only thing she felt like doing was complaining. Maybe she’d call her sister and have a nice rant… now, there was an appealing idea. The rain drummed on the roof, adding a continuous bass beat to the pounding music. Water coursed down the window panes, washing away the grit left behind by a city’s smog. The world had literally been transformed into shades of grey. He had always loved the rain. It was such a great excuse to spend the day in a lazy manner. He had woken up to the sound of teeming rain and instantly decided to sleep-in. After all, he wouldn’t be heading out and running errands today. He woke again later on and stayed in bed reading some of his book. Eventually hunger drove him to get up and venture into the kitchen. A bowl of cereal hit the spot perfectly. The apartment needed a good scrubbing and he hadn’t yet gotten around to it because he had been so busily lately. However today was shaping up into a perfect cleaning day. He started his laundry and turning up the music he spent the afternoon vacuuming, dusting and just tidying up. He had the entire place cleaned within a couple of hours and then he went for a long, hot shower. Getting out he started dinner and while it was cooking in the oven, he folded his laundry. By the time dinner was ready, he was exhausted and feeling incredibly accomplished. His home looked great, his clothes were all ready for next week and dinner was delicious. He sat down on the couch and put in an action movie that required no thinking and offered lots in the way of lethal entertainment. To him, this was the perfect kind of day. He had only worked for maybe a couple of hours and he’d got to sleep in, read a book, watch a movie and have a great meal. Rain was the best kind of weather. It washed everything clean and left the world a nicer place. Also the smell of after-rain was the freshest scent in the world. Lord, how he loved the rain! Once the movie was over, he got up and put his dishes in the dishwasher. With a big yawn and an even bigger stretch, he padded off into his bedroom and climbed into bed. At the moment, sleep was definitely an appealing idea.