A Writer's Mind

I Am...

2011-09-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

~ Just wrote this randomly, sorry it's quite short.~

I am something hard to find, though I never hide. I am hard to keep, though it takes only a moment to receive me. I am unhindered by distance, but many give up when I am far away. I am not bound by time, though time helps me grow stronger. I am the most beautiful gift given, and the most beautiful gift received. I am old, yet also new. I can be mature or I can be foolish; I can be found as quickly as I am lost. I am selfless when I am pure, but selfish when I am impure. I am treasured by some, but also despised by some. I am forbidden at times, encouraged at others. I am uncontrollable, yet calm. I can bring peace or bring chaos. I make no sense, but am self-explanatory. I confuse people or I bring them clarity. Sometimes I am subtle, and other times I am loud and obvious. I do nothing, but I also do everything. I am strong alone, but when I am shared, my strength grows enormously. I am the last thing people expect, but everyone knows they will find me someday. I am unchanging, but I am vast and varied. I am perfect, yet imperfect. I can cause trials, but can solve them easily; cause bad days, or help you through them. Sometimes I need to speak up to be heard, sometimes I say nothing and am heard all the same. I am sweet and gentle, yet tough and strong. I can be content, or I can be jealous. When I am received, I make you stronger; when I am given, I make you more courageous. I am lifechanging, but treated too lightly. I am felt many times for some, but always felt differenly each time. I never run out of options or chances, but I am treated as though I do. I am persistent, yet patient. I know when to act and when to do nothing.

I show myself in millions of different ways, but I have one name.

...I am,

Love.

Rain

2011-08-28T18:23:00.000-07:00

~ note: Taken from a story I'd been writing a while ago, where a girl lives in a fantasy world when she sleeps, and lives in the real world when she wakes up. ~

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“It’s going to rain!” I shouted happily, but I was unsure if Dusk could hear. I began to run toward him. We would have to find shelter for the berries and flowers before we enjoyed the storm, because the rain would surely wash all the color out of our collection.

Dusk came up to me and said, panting, “Let’s hope it holds off until we reach the workshop!” I nodded wordlessly. “Hurry!”

I’m glad that Dusk and I are quite good runners, it being our favorite sport. We raced back toward the village, up the worn path. Thankfully it wasn’t that long, even more so since we were running as fast as we could. We entered the village just as the sky rumbled and began to let out the first of the rain. “Almost there! Quick!” Dusk said, but he was smiling. I smiled too; the situation was rather dramatic and exhilarating.

We ducked inside the workshop, panting and regaining our breath. “That was awesome,” Dusk said when he could finally speak, smiling. But then he paused, looking troubled. I paused too. I squinted in confusion. “Dusk?”

He turned from me and found a basket to store the berries in. “Find a basket for your flowers,” he instructed. I did so, dumping my flowers into a basket, while asking, “Dusk, but what about what you just-”

But my words were drowned out by the sudden downpour of rain. It wasn’t like the sound of rain in my other life, which, I have to say, does have a quiet sort of melody of its own. But no, this was different — better. A million different notes sounding like tinkling bells as the raindrops hit the ground or hit each other. I looked out one of the windows in the workshop, momentarily captivated. The fresh smell of mint was now very strong, even from inside. The sky turned a lighter, paler blue, until it was almost white.

I opened the workshop door, Dusk’s words forgotten. “Oh, come on, let’s go out,” I said. Dusk smiled. “All right, let’s go.” I thought I saw relief in his smile, but I was too excited about the rain now to bother about what he’d said before.

Just as we were about to step out into the rain, powerful thunder sounded. I could see it roll across the sky, a dark shadow twisting in shape. Lightning followed. Not the quick flash of bright light like in my other life, but appearing like small fireworks, balls of fizzling, sparkling light that went out after sometimes a full minute of shining.

“Race you to the Two Meadows,” Dusk said with a yell, dashing off. “Hey!” I said, chasing after him. I felt raindrops fall on me and bounce off. In my other life, you get soaked so easily. Here, it takes longer. You can escape the rain for a while, because it’s different here.

When we’d reached the Two Meadows, I looked up and cupped my hands to catch rain drops. Several fell immediately into my palms, and I lowered my arms to look at them.

They were shaped like teardrop prisms, the biggest ones about half the size of my fist, the smaller ones the size of my smallest finger. They stayed in this form in my hand. But then, gathering them in my palm, I used the other to poke them suddenly. Only then did they pop and turn back to water and leak through my fingers.

Dusk was gathering as many raindrops as he could, then throwing them into the air and smacking his hand against them, making a small splash.

Rain began to float upwards. Here, if the storm is very strong, raindrops come from the ground as well, just not as rapidly as they do from the sky, only here and there. Dusk and I made a game of trying to catch any raindrops that appear from the ground, smacking them and bursting them with our outstretched, waiting hands.

I had a lovely afternoon in the rain with Dusk. When finally we tired, and the storm lessened, we trudged back to the workshop to dry off.

Flirting Failure

2011-08-28T18:05:00.000-07:00

- note: this is something that actually happened to me, and after I got home, I wrote it down. I love telling people this story because it's so hilarious. -

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So I was at the ymca on my laptop, listening to music and going on facebook, when some guys came over with ladders. I asked the repairman in charge if I was in the way, and he said yes, so I moved to a different chair. The guys were climbing up their ladders and going into the ceiling for some repair thing, and I could hear them shouting, and they were passing up lots of cords.

Then this younger-looking guy came up and started helping them, standing at the bottom of the ladder. He looked to be about in his early twenties; he was really skinny and had buzz-cut brown hair. He caught my eye, though I had headphones in, and asked me a question. I had to take out my headphones and ask him to repeat himself (and I was kind of annoyed because I was listening to a REALLY good song), and he said in a cheerful tone, “Whatcha doing on there?”

The first thing I thought was that that was a really weird question. It wasn’t like I was just going to tell him my business on my laptop or something. He was a total stranger.

Just an fyi - Usually I am a TOTAL blonde when it comes to realizing that guys are flirting with me. But this time, his “technique” was so bad, I had no trouble realizing what he was doing. What kind of an opening line is that? Clearly, this guy needed tactic lessons.

I just answered, “Um... listening to music.” I was about to POINTEDLY put my headphones back on when he said, “Cool. Whatcha listening to?”

I sighed to myself. “A really unknown band, but I like their music.” He nodded. “Cool. I like music.”

Once again... brilliant tactic there. Really unique lines, I’ve no idea where he thought them up.

“So, why aren’t you working out?” He asked.

Most guys know that this is a really stupid question for a guy to ask a girl... it usually implies that the girl is fat or NEEDS to exercise. What exactly was he implying here?

“I already did,” I said, with a small smile. He laughed, which was really fake, cuz I wasn’t even trying to be funny. I was totally snorting him. “Oh, okay,” he said, still grinning.

Deciding to ATTEMPT some civility, thinking perhaps he might go away afterward, (how wrong I was..) I asked, “What are you guys doing?” Pointing to the holes in the wall and the ladders. He turned all business-like. “We’re installing new cameras and stuff. You know, security. Keep all the little ones safe.” He laughed again. It seemed like a fake laugh. I wanted to laugh too, but only at how ridiculous this was. But I kept a normal face, lest he think he was being successful at flirting.

Thankfully the guys in the ceiling yelled and he had to get to work instead of just standing there. I gratefully put back my headphones and tried to obviously absorb myself in my laptop so he couldn’t talk again. I turned up the music loud too.

The guy kept glancing over at me. I was chatting with my friend Ryan online, who was being really funny, saying he wished he was there so that he could give the creeper an evil stare of death to make him leave me alone. “Do you have pepper spray? Do you have a pocket knife? Or... a BB gun?” Ryan asked. I decided to laugh more noticeably at this, deciding to even twirl hair in my fingers for greater, more convincing effect, so that maybe the creeper would think I was chatting a boyfriend or something, so that he WOULD leave me alone.

However, the guy began to move his ladder. With suspicion, I saw that he was moving it so that it was RIGHT over the chair I was sitting in. Annoyed that he could probably see my laptop, and totally snorting how obvious he was being, I didn’t want him watching everything I did, so I tried to angle my laptop away from his view. He was pulling cords down from the ceiling and threw them down onto the ground with a sort of heroic thrust, glancing at me to see if I was watching. Though, if you think on it, there’s nothing heroic about throwing cords a few feet to the ground...

I was considering either laughing out loud and abandoning polite pretense, or moving somewhere else, but either way, I resolutely didn’t meet his eyes.

Then, as he descended the ladder, he said, and I was forced to take out my headphones AGAIN, “By the way... I’m Justin.” He grinned. I said, “...Okay.” When he noticed I was saying nothing further, (I certainly wasn’t going to tell him MY name) he moved on. Most of the worker guys came down the ladders from the ceiling, and moved to work on another area. Thank goodness.

And then, about ten minutes passed before the guys passed by where I was sitting. And “the creeper” as I called him in my mind, actually attempted a wave with a really dopy smile. It was a really creepy wave, he was more like just waggling his fingers.

After he left the building I burst out laughing.

The Gateway

2011-08-25T18:55:00.000-07:00

note: a clip from a story I was writing last year.

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Sudden excitement filled me; I know not where it came from. And then there it was - the hallway labeled The Gateway. I wanted to go down it and open the door; no, I needed to. I must, I though frantically.

Without discretion or caution, I ran for the hallway, and only faintly heard Madame Moreau yell, "Victoria! This is no time for exploring!" And the servant yelling, "Miss Forge, no! Come back!"

I reached for the handle. But this time, instead of the cold touch, it was burning. The smell was there again, that strange yet wonderful, strong scent, and the light behind the door shone brighter than before. The music I could also hear, louder and clearer...

Faintly I heard yells around me, and could almost feel someone grabbing at me. But they were unable to pull me away.

The door would not open. Disappointment surged through me, but it didn't last. All of a sudden, I simply knew that I must sing; I must sing my song and open the door. It seemed so obvious as soon as I thought it.

As I began, the music behind the door grew louder. I rushed on, feeling practically aglow with joy. This was wonderful, it was amazing. I felt... beautiful. Invincible. But most of all, I felt powerful.

"Victoria! Listen to me! Stop singing!"

It was a faint voice in the background, but still for a moment I faltered. The wonderful feelings were gone. Angrily, I pressed on and sang louder, higher.

The door began to open. The light was surrounding me, blinding me... the music was so loud I could hear nothing else.

It was my song. My song was playing from beyond the door. Exhilaration filled me to hear my song played so beautifully. I matched my voice, led it to go higher and sound stronger than it ever had.

And then, before I could step through the door, something crashed against the light. The arm that gripped the handle suddenly burned with pain.

My grip on the handle slipped, and the light began to disappear. "No!" I yelled. But in so doing, I stopped singing and everything faded. The music was gone, the powerful feeling. Who was tearing me away? I tried to resist them, but could not. My hand slipped from the doorknob, and I met darkness.

Falling

2011-08-25T18:47:00.000-07:00

~ I wrote this quite a while ago, and decided to re-post it here. ~

It was strange how taking one step was so hard; how my feet did not want to move, as though I was frozen. So instead of moving, I stood there, and closed my eyes. I could feel the wind in my hair. I could hear birds singing. It wasn't cold, just brisk, because the sun hadn't risen yet. I felt the grass under my feet, damp from morning dew. It was so peaceful. I took a deep breath, and opened my eyes again.

All of the things I'd heard and felt evaporated, as soon as my sight confirmed where I was. As though reality had rushed back. All I could hear was my racing heartbeat. I was still standing here, preparing myself.

I didn't look down. I didn't let myself think. Determined not to close my eyes, I took a step.

And then I was weightless. It was like flying; it was terrifying and yet wondrous at the same time. I laughed, and as soon as I did, the rushing wind snatched it away. Scenery was a blur; I was going too fast to focus.

It felt like I'd been weightless for an endless amount of time. Any sense of time seemed lost. Had it been seconds, or hours? Shouldn't it come to an end soon? But there was no landing, there was no impact in sight.

Was I flying, or was I falling? Perhaps it was both. I didn't know if I cared.

Hospital Room

2011-08-21T20:35:00.000-07:00

When the two of them walked into the room, I had to blink. Compared to the white walls, white sheets, white appliances, white doctor's coats, white everything, the sight of the two most important girls in my life was blinding. Not just because of their colorful attire; but because of those cheerful smiles, and those identical pairs of bright blue eyes.

"We brought you your favorite books to read," a voice announced lightly in greeting. It was a voice I knew so well. I wished voices could cure; if they could, my wife's light voice could have made everything alright in a moment.

"We got you a balloon too, Dad," the younger voice spoke. It was lively and innocent, with a hint of my own intonations. "I told Mom to get a Nemo one because you like fish."

I'd never given my daughter any reason to believe I liked fish in particular, but that was Kate for you. She always decided what you did and didn't like for you.

Christine sat at the edge of the bed and asked how I felt. I glanced for a moment at Kate, then answered, "I'm holding up." Christine nodded, understanding. "We can talk later."

Kate was looking out of the hospital room window. "The parking lot is boring to look at," she stated. I laughed. "Hospitals are very boring, you better never have a reason to be in one," I advised.

Kate came over and sat on the side of the bed that Christine wasn't occupying. She put her small hand on my arm. "Can you come home yet?" The change in her voice was not exactly pain; she was too young to understand. But there was an impatience, a longing for me to come home so things could be normal again. I recognized it easily; after all, I of all people knew how much kids needed stability in their lives.

"Hopefully soon," I answered, giving her a smile. My eyes might have teared up, I wanted to hold her close and never let go, but I said instead, "And I hope the house isn't a mess and you've been good with helping your mom."

Kate said with a grin, "My room is messy! But the rest of the house is clean, Dad."

My wife's eyes teared, though only slightly. I would ask her about that later.

We talked about whatever, the three of us, Kate babbling on as usual. But the days of tuning out her constant chatter were over; just hearing her talk held so much meaning now, because I knew that my time to hear it was limited. I memorized both of their beautiful faces: Christine's big eyes, perfect skin, long hair. Kate's eyes like her mother, her cute nose, the freckles dotting her cheeks, her big smile. I wished I could take my memories with me.

As it grew late, a nurse had checked on me, and I'd been given the disgusting hospital food for dinner, Kate sat in one of the chairs by the window and fell asleep.

"I miss your cooking, this food is like a crappy version of plastic," I said, and Christine laughed. She was laying beside me on the hospital bed; she'd always been so small, we both fit with no issue. "Are you alright?" I asked, the light tone gone. She sighed. "Kate refuses to clean her room." There was a tremor in her voice. By now I was used to women's emotions that often didn't make sense, but I knew there was more to it this time. "Why?"

"She says she'll clean it only when you come home, so you'll see how neat she can make things."

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat stuck there. "Kate," I said with a little laugh, but my voice was hoarse.

Christine tried a smile. I hated it that she was so good at holding it together for me; mostly because I wished she didn't have to be.

"We've got to tell her," I said, though not with much conviction. I wanted that young mind to stay innocent, and I hated that I would be the cause of breaking that, of making her have to deal with something she wasn't in any way prepared for.

"I won't know what to say," Christine said, and she sounded younger and unsure, as she always did when she was scared.

"I've got a week left before I start..." I took a breath. "I won't want you to see me like that."

"I'm not leaving you alone," was her firm reply.

"Then I will say goodbye to Kate, at least, I don't want her seeing..." Another painful swallow. "Promise me."

Christine nodded, sighing. When she eventually fell asleep, I put an arm around her small shoulders, treasuring her presence beside me. I glanced over at Kate. They both looked so peaceful. The ache that was becoming familiar hit me again. I didn't want to go; I couldn't leave these two, my family, all alone. I wasn't one to complain, but I did about this. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. I'd sunk into many gloomy moods already - never when Christine was here. But I think she still knew. I'd never told her the whole story about my upbringing, my broken family. How its effect on me had caused me to think I'd never feel whole again... until I met Christine. Until she gave me a life I'd never thought I could have. She saw everything through a brighter lense, always so hopeful and happy it was infectuous. A happiness and love that mended me beyond what I needed. I didn't deserve her. I didn't deserve Kate either, the perfect child, who had rarely cried or disobeyed me, her occasional spite trumped by her desire to make me proud and to please her mother.

I'd been given a life I didn't deserve, a fairy tale, and yet still I complained. I didn't want to give up what I had, I wanted to be selfish and keep it for forever. But it seemed that the more I fought, the closer my end seemed to come. All I could do was treasure every moment I had left, but more importantly, give my two beautiful girl memories to keep once I was gone.

I kissed my wife's forehead, and fell asleep, dreaming of a place without goodbyes.

The House: Nightstalker

2011-08-21T19:48:00.000-07:00

note: this is from a collection of short stories titled 'The House' that my Dad and I are working on.

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He watched his five companions sink into sleep. It was a bit unatural, he thought, the way their eyes had no choice but to close, the way their breathing automatically slowed as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. The way that nighttime in the House was never absolute, never completely black, just dim.

The fact that he, Ace, was awake, seemed out of place. The House was quiet, oddly so, lacking the usual night sounds to a very noticeable extent. No crickets chirped, no owls hooted, no bats could be heard flying overheard. The only sound Ace could pick up in the dimness was his own heartbeat, which was now beginning to race as a thought repeated itself in his mind: maybe tonight I'll find her.

It had been quite a while since the six of them had been in the House - weeks? A month? Time here was irregular and there was no definite way to tell. But it hadn't taken long for Ace to discover that he was not bound to sleep at night like his companions - and, apparently, the rest of the House - were. He could roam as he wished.

He'd thought the night was solely his; after his first discovery that he could stay awake when others could not, he'd supposed that he was the only one. That was, until he'd encountered another Nightstalker.

He wouldn't have seen her at all if she'd stayed put. When she was still, it was like she became nothing but shadow, or some tranparent entity. But when she had moved, it hadn't been quite... human. Ace had been reminded of smoke when she moved her arm; small dark red wisps trailed in the air after her movement. It made her appearance blur, and Ace thought that if she moved fast enough, it must be just as effective a disguise as remaining still.

He'd tried to ask her questions, curious, but she'd slipped past him before words left his mouth. He'd run after her, shouting, "Who are you? Wait, stop!"

She'd whirled around, and a knife flashed in front of Ace's face, grazing his cheek. "Stop following me," she'd whispered. "Why not?" Ace had blurted, never one to think before speaking.

"Just stop following me," she repeated, and she moved so fast that her body looked like more like mist than a human form. Then she was gone.

Ace had stopped following her. He hadn't really been alarmed during the confrontation; after all, she was just a girl, and surely she wouldn't have harmed him. And the cut on his cheek was no problem. The next morning, when his friends woke, Mary saw his injury. She came over quietly and touched a finger to the cut, her hands heating up with power as they touched Ace's skin. Then wordlessly she began to help the other two girls, Trisha and Zenith, prepare something for breakfast.

Ace had never told his friends about his ability to remain awake at night. Not like it was important. But Mary suspected something now, surely. Behind her dull appearance and, in Ace's opinion, very boring personality, Mary was kind and rather smart. It was simply often outshone by the other companions' glamor and spark that Mary lacked.

Now, with his friends, unconscious around him, he crept away from the camp, wondering what to do next. Nightstalkers were not the type of thing to go searching for; they were never found, only appearing when they chose to. But Ace figured if he was obvious about it, maybe she'd show herself again. Maybe they could skip the playful sparring at the beginning this time, and Ace could ask her questions that had been on his mind.

It didn't occur to Ace that the Nightstalker could be leagues away by now, with no interest in him. It also didn't occur to him that maybe her "playful sparring" had not been play at all.

Blog Introduction

2011-08-21T19:29:00.000-07:00

I decided to start a seperate blog from my main one (http://blairsjournals.blogspot.com/). This blog, rather than recording events in my life or random thoughts that come to mind, will be used for posting short stories that I write. I could simply keep them on my computer, but any excuse to start a blog that I have, I will take. Blogging inspires me, and oftentimes I end up writing better if I know I am going to post what I come up with.