Third Try_Gabriel

Chapter 4
Gabriel:

A small, cold finger pokes my nose. My eyes shoot open and I learch forward. The green around me unfamiliar. The growth beneith me is soft, but clings to my hands. It takes my mind a minute to ajust and my memory to return. My little sister Jumps in front of me, a small poof echoes about her as she lands. The air reverberates around her, leaving the wave of the Jump behind. It is sweet to see her smiling face. Any real smile is better than the havok and terror that has followed me around for the past year and a half. None stop blood.

"Oh, don't be sad again, Gabriel!" she says, her smile fading a little, before her balled fists land on her hips. "This is a happy place. My happy place. And there will be no sad places while you're here. That is the only rule. If you don't follow it. . ."

"You'll do what?" I ask, a smile dances behind my words, and I start getting to my feet.

She Jumped just above my head. Gravity pull her down and she lands, dress over my eyes and legs on either one of my shoulders. I sway at the sudden weight, but quickly stablize. The grass hugs onto my boots as if trying to help.

"I'll make you laugh," she giggles. "And as you can see,"--she moves the cloth from my face, allowing me to breathe--"I'm very good at what I do. This is my world and no one can stop me in my world. Not even you, big brother."

"You're world, little sister, is quiet beautiful."

And it really was. There was grass, of a kind, as far as the eye could see. Different shades of green flowed like a river, dancing, changing in the lightest whisp of a breeze. Not three paces away from where I stand with Della on my shoulders is a pool of crystal clear water. It shimmers and the large trees and few animals that I hadn't ever seen before drink from it. A trickling waterfall fed it by way of a little streem that ran on the other side of the oasis. Dusty mountains, a long ways off, encompassed us. The highest peek seemed to stop and flatten, still high above the rest. It almost seems to glow. . .

A deer like creature with black spots dotting his rusty coat and three massive horns walked to the bank and lapped up the refreshing liquid. A red, rabbit sized rodent with a larger tail than it knew what to do with, woddled over and slipped into it, followed quickly by three other much small animals of the same type.

"Oh, look, Gabriel. These are my friends. I've seen them once or twice here, but every time I try to get close enough to touch them, they run. Why do you think that is?"

"Probably because you scare them. You are rather frightening, you know." She start to retaliate, but I stop her with another question. "How did you find this place?"

She smiles above me and Jumps to stand before me. "I can't tell you. It's my secret. If I told you, you could tell other Jumpers. Then it wouldn't be my world."

"I won't tell, I promise. Have you ever known me to break a promise?"

Della thinks it over before shaking her head. "But I'm still not going to tell you." She grabs my arm and suddenly we're gone again. It's like being pulled through a wind tunnel then, without warning, the cord that holds you in place snaps and you fall for the briefest of moments the way Della Jumps. As you land, you land on your feet. When she Jumps with new comers, they tend to be groggy and dizzy, but I have Jumped with her more often than anyone else and I'm used to the thud of landing.

My eyes open again and we are home.

Cole comes to the rescue. . .

So to pick up from last time. . . From Jessica still.

************

I didn't know where I was going. I didn't even make it to the street before I felt someone wrench my arm almost out of my socket. The beating of my heart was loud in my ears. I whirled around, my hand raised in a fist to give my sister the worst black eye she's ever had. My eyes burned, through tears or hate I didn't know. But as I did so I didn't see the bright red hair that looked like flames that normally came from my sister's head, but the short, black spiked cap of Cole's hair.

I couldn't stop my fist. There was too much momentum behind my swing. But, thankfully, he moves quickly and slid gracefully away from my wild strike and he let go of my arm.

"Oh, my. . ." My hands flew to my mouth. "I'm so sorry."

"I hope you thought I was someone else," he said with a slight smile and rain dripping down his face.

"I. . . I. . ." I couldn't get my words out. Stupid. I'm so stupid. . .

His eyebrow cocked and he took me all in with a quick look. "Are you okay?"

My chin started to quiver and I dropped my gaze, not answering. I could feel my mouth opening, but no sound came out. His hands moved upward even the slightest bit, as if to offer a hug. Without realizing what I was doing, I was in his arms. Tears escaped from my eyes and meshed with the rain that fell. Whether his invitation was intentional or if I over stepped my bounds, I didn't know. But I did feel his arms lightly wrapping around me, his cheek rested gently on my head, and his hands ran up and down my spine comfortingly.

I didn't know what I was doing. After the night before, I should have been running for the hills. After the dark, I should have kneed him and sprinted back to the police station. But I just needed to be held. It didn't matter if he'd tried something before, it didn't matter if I hardly knew him. I needed someone. I needed to be cared about and felt like I was loved for even a brief moment. I knew he would probably leave and I would continue running, running from everyone and everything that I knew. But for that moment, I didn't want to be alone.

Then he did something I didn't expect.

"Come on. Do you want something to eat?"

Without an answer on my part, he escorted me to his car, the black one at the back of the parking lot. He opened the door and I slid inside. The seat was cold, but dry. It smelt like it had before. The leather was soft under my wet clothes. I wipped my face dry, and cleaned off the little bit of make up I had. Cole got in next to me and reved his engine.

He drove out of the parking lot and down the road to a fast food resturant that was close by. I could tell he was looking me over closely again, his eyes ever scanning me up and down.

"Do you want to go in or take it somewhere else?" he asked politely.

I glared at the building. I didn't want to be around people. He got the message without me saying anything again and pulled to the drive through. Before long, Cole handed me a soft drink, which I sipped without tasting, and we drove out. We went without speaking for a while before he shifted in his seat to get something out of his pocket.

"Here." He plopped something heavy into my lap and let his hand slide again onto the gear shift in the center console. It was my cell phone. "It must have fallen out of your pocket when you were getting out of the car last night. Some girl called. . . Ah, Kaycee? I think her name was. What?"

My eyes started filling with water again.

"What did I say?"

"It's nothing," I whisper. The words barely come out even then. "Don't. . ." Don't worry about it. Just let me alone. . . NO! Don't let me alone. Please to leave me. . .

He pulls the car over to the side of the road. The rain has let up slightly but there is still a light tapping on the roof of the car. "No, there's something wrong. Will you please tell me?"

This is such a change for him. Why am I near him? I ask myself. After hurting me. . . like he did last night. Scaring me and letting me run like that and not coming after me to apologize? Why did I hug him. . . ? Why does everyone else hate me. . . ? Why did she say those things. . . ? Am I really horrible? Awful? I am. I'm nothing. I'm indecent. I'm awful and horrible and I shouldn't even be here anymore. I shouldn't be sitting here. With him. I should be. . . My own thoughts trail off.

"You should be what?" he asks, his voice soft as velvet and so close to my ear.

I shrink away and he looks me deeply in the eyes. He wasn't supposed to hear that.

FREAKING MALL SHOT!!!

So I've been trying to write this freaking part in the story for forever! It's turing out to be one of the "roof scenes" as Shelby would put it. I don't know exactly what is going to be said, but I do know that Kaycee will turn into a complete jerk in the process. But then it still doesn't seem right. . . Something isn't right with it. Maybe it. . . wow. . . It's supposed to be written from Airo's point of view. That changes a lot of things.

Alright.

I'll jsut skip it for now. I know that Kaycee is going to make a big deal about hanging out with Jessica for now. Many people around them are going to stare and not know what to do when Kaycee actually explodes on her old best friend. Kaycee tells her that she's a liar--Jessica tells her about her brother and the party and the girl that he was making out with--and that she's worthless and flaky, that she doesn't want to be around people with that kind of image. What kind of image? The kind that screams--her voice raises higher and higher by this point--that "I'm loose! That I'll be pregnant within the year and drop out because I'm no use to the world. I probably won't even keep the baby and have someone beat it out of me because I'm to cheep to have a clinical abortion. You're awful, Jessica. You're not worth my time or anyone elses for that matter. You should just leave and never come back. No one likes to be around liars and hos." She flips her blond hair away from her shoulder so it swings down her back. She's a completely self-righteous doosh.

Airo let Tobias know what was going on, and Tobias ran with it and probably ran with it too long.

Anyway, so here we start from Jessica's point of view after Kaycee started to walk away.

* * * * * * * * * *

I couldn't even watch her walk away. I didn't see how she stroad down the food court like she owned the place. Her heels clicked as she went. The whole room was silent except for her leaving. As soon as she rounded the corner all eyes turned on me. The sizzling of the friers and a small wimper of a child were the only things to be heard. Then my chair. It scrapped as I slid it across the hard green and brown tiles. I felt something warm and wet drip onto my hand as I stood. I didn't look down to see how many tears had fallen onto the table.

Without much more of a warning to the people in my path, I spinted to the closest door, my hands covering my eyes as I did so. All got out of my way but a small group of teenagers, probably a little older than myself. The girl standing between the two boys yelped as I plowed into her. Her bags fell to the ground. One of the boys grabbed for my arm, but my hand slipped from his and I ran past him.

My ears roared and my eyes were clouded with tears. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think. I just ran out the door and toward the road as her words echoed though my head. The hate was still there. The fiery, burning resentment. My feet hit the pavement until I couldn't hear them under the pounding rain.

The noise around me was all but consumed by the rain and her words. Loose. . . Drop out. . . Awful. . . Liar. . . Drop out. . . Awful. . . Loose. . . Liar. . . Awful. . . I passed stop lights, houses, cars, fenses. . . so many thing, all without seeing them.

My knees gave way and I found myself laying on something soft, mostly. There was something pointy in my hip and my arm was pinned under my own body. My fingers started to tingle. The rain fell on me like waves lapping over me, drawing me deeper and deeper into the water. If I was going to drown, let it be now. Get it over with. . . Please. . .

*****

The next thing I knew it was warm. Warm lips move away from my hand and the man standing in front of me bowed. He was tall; with an almost olive complection from spending too much time out in the sun; his eyes wer alight and full of life; a large, crooked nose that looked as if to have been broken more than once sat above full lips that smlied. "Take care of yourself, alright? If you ever need anything" he passed me a card "don't hesitate to call." He winked and glidded down a stark white hall and quickly ducked around a corner.

I blinked after the older. . . well, gentleman that had just disappered. He wasn't ancient and covered in wrinkles as I'd expect someone to have acted like that to be, but he was quiet a few years older than me. Maybe a few years older than Gabriel.

I felt my face fall.

My hand slid under the blanket and hid the card he had given me, which I hadn't even had the chance to look at, and looked away from the corner as my sister sprinted into view.

This is not what I need right now! I screamed in my head and started to stand. The blanket that was wrapped around my shoulders nearly fell to the floor as I stood and started to move down the opposite hall my sister was coming from.

"Well, excuse me for coming all the way over here to bail you out of jail!" Angela yelled, her hands must have flown to her hip that was cocked to one side. I didn't even need to see her to know what she looked like. It seems like she pulled that pose more often than not when she was talking to me.

I took my first look around the building I was standing in. It didn't look like a jail. It didn't even look like a childrens hospital. No hard, metal bars; but also no dainty little pictures of ponies either. It was a paisty white hall from ceiling to floor tile that carried little to no decorations. The only other person down this hall was a rather solitary looking boy sitting in a chair that was bolted to the ground, his wrists in handcuffs. He had scars running up and down his arms and a very sad look on his face. His eyes were dark and lonely. His blond hair messy, almost dirty.

"I really don't think those are nessicary, sir," a cop said as he left the room next to the chair.

"It's nessisary if I say it is. He's my son and I know how to handle him." This man was gruff, with dark brown hair that probably would have been a completely different shade if he'd washed the oil out of it. He wore a wife beater and dirty, baggy jeans that was barely being held up by the whisp of a belt under a rather large beer belly.

The cop, with a lean and wirey frame, looked sadly down at the boy with suicide marks down his arm and spoke to the man. "Well, he's ready to be taken home now, sir."

"I'll say it is." The father grabbed swiftly at his son as soon as the father's handcuffs were off the boy--who was my age--and hauled him down the hall toward me by the nap of his neck. When the coller of his shirt moved, the rope marks were easier to see where the shadows of his scruff didn't shild them. These where new.

His eyes wouldn't stop staring at me, even after they passed me. Curtis. That was his name. Curtis. He was known all around school for being a cutter, for not even being ashamed for his scars. The story was that even the best concelor in the state couldn't help him. He wouldn't open up to anyone. No one wanted to be his friend after what was said he did to his other friends before he moved from Oregon down here to California. About, why his mom isn't there. . . There were some very strange stories about his mom: that she was a dancer in Vegas, she ran off with her therapist, that while they were hiking as a family his dad pushed her off a cliff, that she committed suicide and drove her car off a dock, or Curtis threw her into a revine after she tried to fix his hair for prom. No one knows, but then again everyone knows some truth.
But no one knows for sure or is even willing to ask.

Cutting Curtis Moore's dad pulled him away hard and around the corner. I followed them until they were out of sight and my sister came around the corner with Gabriel.

I should have made my escape sooner, I thought and turned down the hall again to where Curtis had sat before.

"Wait just a minute!"

The cop from before came out just then to see why my sister was screaming. Her red hair probably flowing galently behind her to make her seem like the good guy. And it worked. He stopped me with an outstretched hand as I was about to slip past him.

"Hold on there," he said and tried to pass a smile.

I glowered at him and tried to shake him off. His grip tightened and wouldn't let me go.

My sister caught up to us then. "What do you think you're doing? Dad is worried sick and Mom is frantic. If they were down here now they'd rip you a new one."

The cop at my arm looked at my sister with a cocked eye. I could see the words floating across his face: Not another one of those families. . .

Angela didn't catch it. "I had to beg them to let us come down here so then they wouldn't make a scene."

"And you're doing such a good job at keeping this quiet aren't you? Leave me alone, Angela." I shook off the cop and he released me this time.

"No, you're coming home, now."

"What if I don't wanna come home 'now'? What if I wanna go and hang out with friends or something?"

She scoffed at me. "Yeah, right." I glared at her trying to mask the hurt that just coursed through me.

"Get away from me. My day has been--" I almost swore there, but stopped myself. I hated those words. The fact that I almost did so just then meant it had been a really bad day. "Just stay away."

The tears started to gather in my eyes again. I turned and sprinted away down the hall, around the corner and toward the exit on the otherside of the building. She doesn't understand, I know she doesn't. She doesn't even wanna try. All she wants is to order me around and scream at me.

I reached the door before my sister could come after me. The rain had stopped outside, but in my heart it could stay thundering for months to come.

***********

A weird, strange, and downright creepy dream

So last night, I had a really scary dream. It didn't start out bad at all, but as the time moved on, it got worse and worse.

It started out with a bunch of friends gathering together to watch a movie. We went out and got food for it and met at this modest looking house. I don't remember any kind of movie actually being played, but we all had a great time. My husband-to-be had to drive home or something so I walked him to his car and, after a few minutes, he left. I went back into the house--jumping over a few people that seemed to be asleep on the ground but I got this feeling that they were still watching me, almost waiting to pounce--to clean up the mess everyone had made now that they were all gone.

The strange thing is, when I got there the room was filled with smoke and I could smell the pot that this big group was smoking. I noticed that one of the girls that I'd jumped over on my way there and as high as a kite. I walked through the clouds of smoke and to the back room, there was some big guy behind me who was blocking the door. As I walked to the back, I chose the wrong door and found myself in a closet and the big guy behind me before had followed me there. I excused myself and started making my way around him, ducking my head to not meet his gaze as I did so.

I got just past him when he threw an arm around my neck, half choking me--I don't think he meant to hurt me, although he could have been high or. . . actually he seemed very coherent--and his other hand slid under my shirt and around my waist. His words were eerie as he whispered in my ear, "Do you wanna go have sex in the bedroom?"

Instantly I said, "No," rather forcefully and tried to get away.

"How about on the couch or on the floor?"

My reply was the same only so much more scared. I tried to get away and  he held me back until I got my chin under his arm that was around my neck, it hung a bit loose, and bit down hard. He let go and I started sprinting away. I ran though the house, over people, but I couldn't find the exit. I ran into him twice and the girl I'd jumped over before had grabbed me. They were all screaming at me trying to get me back into the smoke.

Finally, after a lot of trying and almost crying out of fear, I got out of the house. I ran to the place where I'd dropped off my husband-to-be and started sprinting away. Just away. I didn't know where I was going, I just needed to get away. I kept running.

Then I woke to my roommate laughing and typing hard on her computer. I don't think she slept at all last night. At least she kept her earphones in, although that doesn't help much in the mood of the room. Even if I can't hear it, the mood gets dark.

Ideas and potentials

I only have like fifteen minutes before my boss comes back, but I have nothing to do. So just some ideas on where Cassy or Angela's story could be running off too. So. . .

For Jessica right now I have her going to the mall so then her friend, Kaycee, can tell her that she isn't a good friend, she's mean spirited, rude, and that Kaycee thinks that she's going to drop out and be pregnant before she's seventeen. (One of those predictions is correct, she does drop out a few months(?) later), and that Kaycee doesn't want to be seen with her anymore--cuz it hurts her image and the principle pulled her aside to ask if there was something wrong with Jessica, she started assessing her best friend and found too many faults (Tobias helped in that point, stupid guy.).)

Well after Jessica gets blown off by her "best friend," she runs out of the mall into a down pore, its a very rainy season in northern California. Airo follows after her and watches unto she passes out, practially, on the some lawn. She's going in and out of consciousness, because of mental termoil; Tobias isn't helping at all, yet again. She crumpled and started crying. Airo picks her up and asks if she's alright. When she doesn't respond and simply stares out the window with rainy tear-streaks down her face, he drives her to the police station--he doesn't know where she lives at this point.

The police station would be a very interesting place to go. Airo isn't supposed to take her anywhere, but he has the common decency to not leave her lying in the middle of a cloud burst without a friend. As he's driving her here, he gets a really good look at her and describes her. There is an almost facination and a curiosity that comes with her. Why does Tobias want her? And he doesn't want her in the normal ways he wants women--little background on Tobias?-- so why her? What is it about her that makes her so important? Airo wants to know and is asking himself. Tobias would answer but he isn't currently worrying about Jessica at the moment. (He's focused on making Angela's day hell.)

So apparently he's going to take her to the police station. After they find out where Jessica is from at the station, and family comes--who would come to get her? Tony? He already got her from her other little run-in in the rain. Angela? If Angela came could Gabriel accompany her? What would happen between the two of them? Would there be a battle of minds? No. Gabriel and Airo are far too noble for that in the middle of a police station. But now taht Gabriel knows that Airo is there, Gabriel knows that something is up. (When he talks to Alice about it, later after he "left" then came back again after the kids were asleep, she doesn't want to believe it and thinks that maybe Airo was there to see one of his friends in prison or something, to do anything but see her daughter in a police station of all things.(Airo actually gave Jessica a card or something. If she ever needed any help again to call him and he would be there. She almost throws it away, but sticks it in her pocket. She doesn't know who he is. He could be some maniac for all she knew of him. But for some reason she keeps it and uses the card later to get him there after her mom has died and after the club and Greg shows up.))

(Gabriel is there in the first place after being sent by his uncle, the king, to keep an eye out for Alice's family. They are of noble blood, even if they don't know it yet. Gabriel's facade to Angela and Tony is that he is there, with his sister?, on vacation and to simply see old friends. The king knows that something might happen to his cousin, Alice, or her family. He doesn't know the reason, but they believe Tobias is behind it, although there is no proof on the matter. When Gabriel hears that Tobias could be behind something happining to some family friends, he goes quicky to help and scout around what could potentionally be a hazardious happenings.)

Airo only gets out of the station without having his mind blown up because he Shuts his mind, which only makes his mind seem a little less suspicious as compared to all the other Close minded people. He stops to take a drink of water at a fountain around the corner as Gabriel walks by, then briskly walks out of the station. When he reaches the door, he turns around and sees that Gabriel is looking at him, glaring. Airo smiles and waves then quickly gets away while throwing all of his Walls up as he does so.

Jessica, now wrapped up in a blanket and sipping some coffee, doesn't really know what to do now that the man who helped her left. He'd given her a card with his name--Airo-- and number on it. He'd told her to call him if she ever needed help again. She almost threw the card at him and screamed that she didn't need his help, but he scampered away before she could do anything to his face about it. Jessa looks about and sees some of the people there. Sees their scars--arms, eyes, face, ear chuncks missing, tattooes, etc--and wonders why they did to end up here. A guy sits down next to her that she knows from school--Cuttin' Curtis. She almost talks with him and sees the many scars he has on his arms. No one knows why he does it. Some people think it's because he lost his dad, others because he killed his dog, others because his mom tried messed with his head, others because _____--the girl with the ivy tattooes on her legs--dumped him. A police man took him away before she could get a word out. She slipped the card into her bra and sipped her coffee just as her sister came into view.

They don't have a happy reunion. Angela was very worried and the only real emotion the was able to come out was anger. Angela started screaming at her sister and Jessica screams back. Gabriel gets into both of their minds and tries to quiet them. Jessica is too far tramatized after loosing her best friend and all of her other friends that came with Kaycee and just doesn't care or even hear Gabriel in her head. She was just too tired and wanted to go home to her own room and not think. Get lost in a book and think about someone elses life, to see that their lives get better or they die quickly or heroically before the end of the book or series of books is over.

Gabriel drives them home while Angela keeps talking about how worried they were about her and how scary it was to get a call from the police station after what they had gone through the night before, and on and on. Jessica hears none of it. Gabriel listens to Angela's babbling with one ear, one eye on the road, and mostly the attention on Jessica in the back seat. She was looking at her arms, as if she was picturing something, but even at a small glimps of her mind, he could see that it was blank. Three was nothing gone on. It was as if she had vacated the premisis of her mind and walked into someone elses, but he could see her Person inside, standing and doing nothing.

Jessica goes home and reads the rest of the day. Angela explains, still being dramatic, to Tony what happened. Tony says that she needs to cool down and that she needs to be more level headed and that Angela probably hurt Jessica's feelings. Angela says she'll apologize the next day. When Alice and Angela's father get back, things aren't happy either. Jessica takes the verble scolding, but is still lost in her mind. She's still thinking back on Curtis and leaves for her room.

Gabriel needs to talk with his mentor about what's going on. (He has a music teacher (who also helped with his Mind Powers as he was growning up without Tobias as a friend.) that taught him to play the saxaphone? instead of the other instruments that most of the other people around him learned how to play. They learned instruments from Trael, not from other places. And those that did, were normally seen as being unpatriotic toward their home planet. But when he started to play his own instrument--his father let him--it became the thing that they did. They would have one of their friends Jump them to another planet, if they could, and they would buy one of the best and learn how to play it. One of his friends, his best friend, taught himself how to play the bagpipes and be was so good at it so quickly that even the king wanted to hear him play. After that, it became more of a trend as the years past.) Gabriel talks with his mentor for a while. They discuss what is happening with Jessica--Bri cuts in and says something snide then is quickly ushured out--and Angela and what is supposed to happen with her and Tobias. While they talk about all of them, I won't write it down. It'll give it a little bit of suspence for the reader. Hopefully I can get some of the point across without making so much discussion and making it be far too long of a chapter. That may be a tricky part.

Part of Cassy's story_written while I was suppposed to be working. :P

So, yes, I'm at work and supposed to be doing something besides writing on the computer, but I' bored and there is nothing to do. And therefore, hey! Free computer and internet!! Woo-hoo!!

Anyway, so for those of you who actually read this, this is a part of Cassy's story that needs to be written. After Cassy is konked on the head and saved by Cass who runs away so Drae can come in and help Cara--yes, a mouth full, I know--Drae gets Cara and Cassy back to the inn where a Ma'lin?? comes and fixes Cassy up. Drae and Cara are in the inn with her father, Kailik, eating and resting. Cass has ran outside to get together with the Klis and the rest of their party or rogues. Currently Cass is trying to sneak back into the guarded town.

That is where I'm at now and will start.

-----

His feet found the footholds with relative ease as he climbed the large hackberry tree. The leaves were turning a golden yellow and a few fell to the ground as he made his way to the second and third branches. He was well hidden in the tree that held his light figure.

Stupid people, he thought. They build a wall and let the trees grow over it. You'd think they'd at least prune the branches. Some little miscreant could climb a tree and there could be all sorts of troubles. He couldn't help but smile. He was no little miscreant. A rather large pain would be more like it, or so he was told so often.

The thief slithered up the branch like the serpent he'd seen once by the Moluniah Ocean much farther south than any of these pathetic mountain men had ever ventured. They probably haven't traveled more than three hundred paces from the walls of the city. Build your walls, men, he thought. I will any and all. None of them can hold me. "No cage ever will."

"Did you hear something?" a guard, not twenty steps away whispered to another sensory. The thief had said the last words aloud without realizing it until it was too late.

There was no response or another word from either of them. The boy knew that he would be caught. But he wasn't going to let these fat men actually catch him.  A chase could be fun. Much more fun than stalking that girl. . . Well, maybe. These men won't get as red in the face as she did. He grinned again and slid from the overhanging branch onto the small tower made of feeble and brittle stone. His feet touched softly as he landed in his crouch. The guards had walked past already, one down into the tower and the other along the other wall.

He slid along the wall, slinking in the corner's shadows. The sensory in the tower climbed back up the ladder and went back to his post next to the flag that waved in the light breeze. The guard wasn't well dressed, probably hand-me-down clothes that had gone down in at least five generations. They were patched and faded, even in the moon light. His hair was getting to be long enough to curl under the small, armored cap. There was very little meat on the boy in the first place and his clothes hung on him very loosely. It seemed as though if he were to move too quickly the belt he had would fall as would his leggings. It was probably his first night on the job. The only thing of value on this boy, who was younger than the thief himself, was a bull horn from the southern plains. It was a prize horn that would probably fetch a lot of money, or just look good on his belt.

The thief smiled and glided up behind him. He slid a small dagger out of his sleeve and gently placed it across the young boy’s throat. The knife was pressed ever so slightly into the skin, drawing a sliver of blood. It wouldn't be enough to mortally wound him, but enough to make him know that whoever was behind him was serious.

"If you say a word," the thief whispered hoarsely, "you'll get more than just a little blood on your shirt."

The sensory was quaking in his boots and didn't know what to do. The thief untied the horn without a sound. And stepped away from the frozen guard.

"Now, you may raise an alarm." The thief bowed deeply, horn in hand, then jumped off the wall--his cloak billowing behind him--and into the city street below, rolling as he landed. He sprinted off down the dark alley as the boy above him croaked out a warning cry. Without his horn, he had no real alarm until his partner, who was sure to be in a pit of trouble when his captain found out, found him and got the alarm raised.

The thief slowed down to a leisurely walk and tied his new horn to his belt. It was a prize. A long, decently curved white horn with golden brown tips. When he had a chance, he'd have to try it out. Maybe at two in the morning in the middle of a residential area. Or just outside that girls window at the inn. He smiled at the thought and walked on cheerfully.

There were a few guards that ran by, but none of them seemed to notice him. They were taking all the fun out of his little adventure and he was becoming most put out. What did he have to do? Steel the largest diamond in the city? Walk in on the governor and his mistress? All of this was becoming rather dull very quickly.

The girl. C. Freesmen, I'll go visit her. She's bound to be more interesting than just wondering the streets. He turned at the next corner and headed toward the ____________ Inn where she was staying.

The Silent One

It is the silent ones that should be looked after. They are the tricky ones. The ones that do things without others knowing. They sit in the background as if they were furniture or a forgotten curtain in the background that does little more than take up space. But no. The Silent Ones, as I call them, aren't simply servents that can't speak; they do speak, just in a way that isn't understood may anyone else. They are the ones that are deseptive and sneaky, that hear everything from the small crumb that falls on the floor to the war plans that the Emporer concocks with his minions. They hear everything.

We hear everything.

It's not like we can't communicate either. Our slightest jesture can mean any number of things. A twist of the wrist could mean "Scat now! Master is angry!" or "Come to me, my love." It's not as if we choose this way of life. We would choose something far from it. But our Master--the Emporer of Olani; King of Phaoa; Prince of Roc, Ijal, Mlani; Duke of Wastnest and Novak; Lord of Yanox, Planik, Ulancils, and Jaknai--rules over us with a flaming fist and an iron grasp. With the brush of a finger he could slaughter thousands of his subjects and millions of his slaves.

That is what I am. A slave. A Silent One.

I hate Master, but I fear him more. Most of the others who aren't like me, who hate him more, are all dead. Tiny whispers of rebellion were heard by someone, Silent Ones don't even squeak so it wasn't one of us, and word got back to our Master. Half of our Silent population was murdered in front of us all to stop such talk.

Lidi died there, my beloved sister. She stood on the wrong side of the line and, even though she was fair to look at and hadn't had the chance to bare children, she was beheaded. Apparently, if you're old enough to loose your tongue you're old enough to loose your life as well. Her dark, liquid coco eyes and sweet smile weren't enough to save her from the line or her dark skin.

Seven is too young to die. To young to even know what death is. No form of innocence was enough to save her from the axe, the rope, the chair, or the cages. There were so many that one form or torture wasn't enough, and the rest of us were forced to watch.

That was three years ago and even in our Gestures we don't "speak" of rebellion. We hadn't the first time either, although hardly anyone talks to me in the first place. To most, I am a rug that people walk over. Something that no one sees unless it starts reaking and then they practically throw me into the bog to wet me down.

Kato Mizuki

    So, here is my story. I don’t like to tell it, and I don’t think I will tell it ever again, but you are my author and you really need to know this. It, sadly, defines me at least somewhat. I really wish it didn’t.  And just to let you know, you; Tony; and Mrs. Fredricks –my counselor—are the only ones who get to know all of this. Not even Angela knows all of it. Tony will know some, bit by frozen bit; and I do keep things from my counselor for a while, and she will get them even slower. So you would feel . . . privileged. . .

    That just sounds horrible. I don’t mean to be completely self-centered or . . . whatever.

    This is what happens when I try and stall. I end up making someone feel rotten. I know you don’t but I feel like that’s what happens. That’s why I stay quiet, that and . . . other things. I try not to say anything so I won’t be held accountable or so then I’m not seen or . . .

    Sorry, I’ll just stay . . .

    *sighs*

    *scratches head and sits quietly for a few moments*

    It started three weeks before anything happened.  I work in the library you see. A clerk. I knew all the ways around the public library. All the ins and outs. I knew what every section held almost better than some of the other clerks that had been there for years and I’d been only a Page at the time.

    I was promoted to clerk a few weeks before they came in and was trying to get the hang of everything that a clerk needed to know. I was good with people, always kind and polite, even if they were yelling at me because they didn’t want to pay their fines. Or because I asked the patron to clean up their child’s vomit from the carpet and they didn’t want to because they were in a hurry to get back to their child’s soccer game or the like. I never raised my voice and always tried to do my best to smile.

    I did my best to please them and keep the libraries policies in check as well.

    It was a Tuesday at about eight o’clock. There were a handful of people still inside. The library was going to close in about an hour.  

    Then they came in. There were five boys; two of them were as pasty as could be—one with brown hair and freckles, and the other with pearly white hair—one looked like molten chocolate and smelt rather good as he passed by my table, another was well tanned and looked to be a swimmer—moving as if he were water—and lastly the tall brunette with military cut hair and round, hard muscles and brutal stare.  

    I’d always remember that stare. How they beat into you like a freight train, but were still alight as if light by candles.

    It’s been over a year. You think I’d have forgotten those eyes, or the smell or the freckles that danced on cheeks. But they would never leave my memory. I will always see them all, walking through those glass doors as if they were swans, but inside all they ended up being were snakes. Slithery, slimy, and venomous snakes.

    They turned to the stairs and walked up the stairs while I was down on the main floor. They turned for the stairs. Four of them followed the military one like they were his own little soldier army. He faced the desk, looking right at me and winked.

    I couldn’t help but smile and look down at the keyboard in front of me. They turned around the corner on the stairs and up the other side coming up to the mezzanine that over looked the rotunda. I don’t even know why they were there. Why boys like that would even come to a library. Three of the boys went into the upper level stacks. The other two—the chocolate one and the general—stayed on the balcony. They both leaned over with their elbows on the railing. They were talking quietly. I tried not to look, but I knew they were looking.

    One of my coworkers, an older lady who loves to talk and actually converse with me, nudged me and whispered, “That boy is lookin’ at you.”

    “I know,” I said and blushed deeply red.

    They stood at the top for a few more minutes but then followed their other friends inside. There then came a flood of people and my attention went to the patrons at the desk. It was such a relief to get to get away from the front desk and breathe for a few minutes up stairs. I grabbed my book from my locker and sat at the reference desk, my eye on the internet lab computer monitor screen.

    There weren’t many people still there. A few people still hung about. Kids ran with their parents to get the just right book to finish their report that was due the next day. A couple was sitting at a table in the back flirting and playing footzies under the table. Three older men were sitting at the internet computers trying to find trucks online to buy and fix up. But other than that there were hardly any other people in the entire building, aside from staff.  I couldn’t even see the boys until they came to the desk.

    The testosterone that hung about them was menacing and seemed to encircle them like a fog. The general leaned over the desk and smiled wickedly at me.

    “C-can I help you?” I didn’t mean to stutter, but his eyes, the swirling gray, scared me and excited me at the same time.

    “Yeah, sweet stuff,”–I could smell his breath as he leaned in closer—“Where are your biographies? Skitter, here,”—he pointed to the brunette, freckled boy that stood behind him off to the far corner—“has to be a report or something.”

    “Ah, they are just over there. On the other side of these shelves. Look for the ninety-two call numbers. They go alpha—“

    “Would you mind showing us? None of them are so good with direction.”

    I nodded and, a little hesitantly, stood up from my swivel chair. I quickly walked a head of them and made my way to the windows next to the non-fiction shelves.

    “Who are you looking for?” I asked, trying to be as objective as possible and doing my best to make sure my legs didn’t shake or my skirt didn’t ruffle more than needful.

    When no one answered, I turned to face them. General was standing right behind me and nearly ran into me when I stopped at the biography section. I took two more steps back from them and cast my eyes down to the floor.

    There came a small voice from the back.

    “What was that?” I asked.

    “Speak up Skitter,” General whirled and glared angrily at Skitter.

    “Roosevelt.”

    “Which one?” I asked. He stared at me as if I were speaking a different language. “Do you want Franklin Delino Roosevelt during World War Two or Theodore Roosevelt who was there in the Spanish American War?”

    “Um. . .” Skitter started.

    General rolled his foggy eyes. “FDR.”

    My finger dragged over a few books on FDR and I quietly said, “They are right here. Take your pick and you check out down stairs.”

    I quickly took my leave going around the back of the shelves and practically scampered to my desk again. Their eyes were still on me through the book shelves.

    One of my coworkers, the “mother hen” of the staff, made the announcement that we were going to be closing within fifteen minutes and to please take their selections to the front desk. The men in the computer lab started filing out. Parents left with their tired screaming children. The couple in the back still stayed, trying to prolong the moment, probably.

    I did my final round around the top, making sure all the computers were off, doors were locked, and everyone was out of the building. I asked the couple to finally leave and while I was doing walking them out the boys must have left. I didn’t see them leave but they weren’t anywhere to be seen. I even checked the elevator to be sure they weren’t hiding in there. They just seemed to disappear and vanish.

     I locked the top up and left not long after that, after counting the money. My keys were firmly between my fingers as I walked to the car. I hadn’t done that before, but I had this feeling that I was being watched.

     I didn’t see them come back to the library for another week. I watched for them at school, just to be on the lookout. But I didn’t see any of them, aside from Skitter. And, true to his name, he was always so jumpy. He looked to have a bit of a mental disability or something. He was always fidgety and didn’t always looking over his shoulder.

    He sat alone at a table in the cafeteria. At the back corner, keeping his eyes out for everything that moved. Such a bad place for someone who was, at least, paranoid. Everything thing moved in the cafeteria, from the people who got the food, to the food itself. He always sat alone. Neither General or the other boys came to the cafeteria or to school in general.

    I talked to Angela for a few minutes about it. She just made fun of me, saying that I had finally gotten someone to look at me. When I tried to tell her that it was serious, she laughed and made me flush. She can be rather childish sometimes, and she just had a bottle of soda. Her sugar was spiking.

    Haru, my brother, was a lot more kind, but still distracted—by Angela and his fascination with her that he told me to keep quiet about. He offered to drive me home after work so then I wouldn’t be alone, but I declined.

    “You’re over reacting. We don’t need to go that far,” I said, slightly blushing.

    “Are you sure?” he asked when I was alone.

    I nodded and it somewhat dropped. Nothing really happened for the next week. But there was this feeling of being watched. Since they were taken away, I haven’t felt it. Which has been a relief, but I still worry. Of course I worry. After what happened. . .

    I saw them twice more before anything happened. They came into the library at the same time they came the first time, just a week after the first time. They didn’t do anything, didn’t even talk to me. They just came and went, talked and laughed to each other. I tried not to think more on it, but . . . it has hard not to notice them. It felt like they were watching me, but when I looked up there was nothing. No eyes. No smoke or lasers that seemed to penetrate the air around me.

    I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have gone out by myself . . . Haru had asked if I wanted a ride home before I even left for work. Maybe he could sense something was going to happen. . . Maybe . . . I don’t know.

    But I walked out of the back library entrance toward my car. It was dark and I’d just gotten out of the staff meeting I was obligated to go to. My keys were in my hand and I was just about to turn them to unlock my car when I heard footsteps behind me. It was ten thirty at night. No one was supposed to be there. Everyone was supposed to have left an hour and a half before.

    I turned and saw the five boys. They were all so much taller than me, aside from Skitter and his almost Siamese twin. They loomed closer and each had a bottle in their hands. My keys jingled in my hand. I reached for my door, opened it quickly, and was about to skurry inside when General’s hand reached the door I was in the process of closing. He’d come so close so quickly. His smile sent chills down my spine and his breath made me want to vomit.

    “What are you doin’ her so late?” his words slurred.

    “Leaving,” I whispered and tugged on the door.

    “Not so fast there.” He opened the driver’s side door wider, placing his free hand on my knee and rubbed it gently with his thumb.

    “Please, get away,” I whispered again. He simply laughed and slid his hand up higher on my thigh.

    The fact was I had nothing in my car to defend myself with. There was no MACE on my keychain, no knife in my armrest compartment, no nothing. I was defenseless.

    Before his hand got up too far past my mid thigh, my hand flew to his. His eyes gleamed and his smile widened. The boys behind him laughed and egged him on. Every part of me tensed. What was I supposed to do?

   I just can’t talk anymore. . . Sorry. . . Maybe later.  Just . . . Not now.

Every Day in the Purling Residence

SO I really rather like this. And now I'm thinking I'm going to put it in my story because it's a major shift in how Angela thinks of her sisters. Another shift will happen when she gets to REALLY know Cindy more, but that'll be after the mom dies. Sad, i know, but it works.

__________________________________________________________________


"Things don't make sense anymore. I mean, I like him and he kisses so. . . I don't know how to describe it. His hands are just. . ." I moaned happily and shivered in excitement. "I just can't wait to see him again. I mean i shouldn't put so much into him, but. . . oh. . . He's just wonderful. . ."

I couldn't help, but sigh again. Just the thought of him. With his fingers brushing my arm and lips looming over my ear with his breath gliding down my neck. I pressed my hand to my chest and sighed.

"You're insane. You know that, right?" Jessica, my pesky eleven-year-old sister, leaned against my door frame. He cleats were making dirty imprints on my freshly cleaned carpet.

I shot up from my bed where I'd been laying and practically sprinted across the room to slam the door in her face. "I'm on the phone, you freak!" I screamed as she scurried down the hall to her own room.  "Oh, my. . . I'm so sick of her sometimes. I just want to break her neck, Sarah," I said into the phone as I shut my door. "I don't understand how you have five younger siblings and still seem to love them all. One is bad enough over here."

"They really aren't so bad, Ang," Sarah said sympathetically through the receiver. "You just gotta have patience with them."

"You sound like my mother," I growled and sprawled on my bed. There was a knock on my door. "Go away, Jessica!"

"It's Cindy," a small voice said though the wood. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sorry, Sarah, I gotta go. Mental is back."

"You really shouldn't--" I hung up the phone before she could finish. I felt bad about it after I'd done it, and told myself I'd apologize later as I went to open up the door to my mentally retarded older sister.

"What do you want, Cindy?" Our eyes were at even with each others even though she was three years older than me and should be in college right now, that is, if she wasn't so handicapped. I don't know why we didn't just put her a help care home place. She'd be able to be with other retarded people her own age, and not bug me twenty-three hours out of the day.

Cindy looked shyly though her blond curls and smiled. Her green eyes twinkling and shinning with innocence. Everyone around this house seemed to frustrate me, that is besides Tony. My twin just seemed to get me. It probably had to do with the fact that we were in the same uterus for eight months, but we were always close. Closer than some twins I'd known, that was for sure.

"I was just. . . wondering if you'd stop calling Jesse a "freak." She's really not one. And I think you hurt her feelings--"

"I can stand up for myself, Cindy!" Jessica shouted through her open door before slamming it again in frustration. She has major anger issues.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course she's a freak. Especially" --my voice got louder to be sure she heard me-- "when she slams her door like one!"

"You should really--"

"I should what? Be nicer to her? Well, have her be nicer to me first then I will." I shut the door in her face and went back to my phone.

"Oh. . . Okay. . ." Cindy said though the door and probably turned away.

"Hello?" Sarah asked on the phone again.

"Hey, sorry about that. I didn't mean to disconnect so rudely. Anyway, so did i tell you what I was wearing?"

Knock knock knock.

I turned the phone away to yell at my door, when Tony came in. I sighed. "Sorry, now i really gotta go, Sarah. I'll talk to you tomorrow at school."

"Ah. . . okay. Bye." She disconnected before I did that time.

"What do you want, Tony?"

He just stared at me knowingly, like he always does, without saying a word.

"Well?"

Still nothing.

"I didn't do anything wrong this time. Jessica was tracking mud all over my room while I was in the middle of a phone call. She could have waited and. . ." His eyebrow cocked. "She should apologize first. I wasn't the one who. . ." He crossed his arms. "Stop it already! Stop looking at me like that! I'm not the bad guy here."

He shook his head, his red hair bouncing as he did so, and walked out of my room leaving the door open. If there was one person in the world that I couldn't stand having mad at me, it was my brother.

"Tony!" I groaned and left the phone on my bed as I went back to my door.

He'd gone to Jessica's room and knocked gently. Her door opened without a sound under his touch and he stepped in. "Are you alright?" he asked sweetly, quietly.

I heard a sniffle. My eyes widened. Had I actually made Jessica cry? No. I couldn't have. She hates me too much to actually have her cry over me. I stepped closer, but stayed out of view in the hall.

"Come on, Jesse. You can talk to me. Please?" I could see him in my mind's eye brushing back the dark brown shadow of her hair trying to get at her eyes. She'd bury her head in her arm or something and hide. Not a word was said in at least five minutes. The whole house seemed to have gone silent as I strained to hear. There was the scratch of nails against clothing--he was probably rubbing her back--and her sniffles.

"I just. . ." Jessica said finally, but her voice caught in her throat and became muffled, probably in the crook of her arm. The sheets moved in the room and footsteps were coming closer. I was frozen on the other side of the wall and even felt the wind of the door as my sister slammed it shut for the third time. A small hair line crack appeared in the door frame.

Obviously dismissed, I turned and nearly ran into Cindy. She stared at me innocently and smiled. "She's not a freak," she said simply and turned to her bedroom, across the hall from my own, and lightly closed the door.

I walked down the stairs, through the kitchen and to the back door. Lady, Tony's golden lab, met me a the door and followed me toward the swing. I sat down and pushed off ever so slightly. My happy mood was vaporized by the sobs of my sister. Her window was empty and reflected the sun in my eyes, making me look down. The ivy that had grown up the side of the cream colored house danced at the base of the window seal in the wind.

I sighed and looked down at Lady, who sat expectantly looking at my hand. my fingers brushed though her warm fur and scratched at her ears. "I'm not so bad, am I?" I asked her. If she could have, she would have been smiling happily up at me as her head pressed into my hand. Begging for more.

"I can't be all bad, right. . . ?" I asked myself even though I knew I wouldn't like the answer. And the fact was, I didn't like my answer, and was afraid I wouldn't be able to change it.

IDEA!!

What would happen if where ever someone walked and they heard a fight they were blamed for it? The moment they were within ear shot of a heated argument they were forced to take the blame and couldn't do anything about it. How low would their self-esteem go? What if it happened during those "growing up years" where everything is just "a phase?" But if it wasn't a phase. If it was for real. If I wasn't making this up? If everyone blamed me for every accident even if there was no evidence to back it up? If I couldn't help it.

Even though I haven't been in prison for anything, I have more enemies than I ever had as friends. Suddenly all of my social attitudes have gone down the drain and I'm never going to get them back. No one trusts me. No one likes me. I can't do anything write it seems. I get good grades, read as many books as I can get my hands on, follow the rules, but I see no one except for when I go to school. My parents even hate me and can't stand the sight of me. So they keep me away. But that's how it's been for the past six years.

It's hard to believe that anyone wants me around, but I do have one "friend." I can't really stand her, but she's the only one that doesn't blame me constantly for everything that goes wrong. There is something wrong with her brain. Lilliah has a mental defect, but she's very active and everyone really loves her. Or. . . Well they did until she spotted me in the library one day and just came up and started talking with me. She didn't mind the whispers that were starting and didn't even seem to notice them; she still hasn't it seems.  I may not like her all that much, but she is my lifeline. . . She is the one person that helps make me feel good about myself. . . if it's even possible for too long.

She's the only reason I'm still alive. . . A blade would have long danced across my wrist, a rope would make a pretty necklace, pills would taste mighty fine that is. . . if it hadn't been for her.

Watching But Not Seen

"Have you ever gotten the feeling when your around hundreds of people and no on sees you? Or when your in a large group of friends and no one makes a motion of you even being there? Or even when it's just the two of you and they see right past you?

How do you think it makes us feel? We are the No-Ones. We are the Unseen. We are the Granted. We many work slowly, but this slowness and the unseen-ness of our actions will only lead to your distruction. You don't see us as we walk behind you with a knife to slip between your shoulder blades. You don't see as the noose slides around your neck and the chair is kicked from beneith your feet. You won't see anything until the trigger is pulled. Why? Because you never did before, until it was too late. . . ate. . . ate. . . t. . . "

The distorted voice of the intercom echoed through the forgotten halls and the small group of friends stared at each other. Why they had decided to go to the haunted school in the first place was beyond them now. Just as now it was too late to go for the doors. All seven exits were locked and chained from the outside. The windows were all locked and bared.  No one was getting out until someone let them out.

"Where is my phone?" Sasha asked seaching her pockets and finding nothing. Everyone else did the same and eyes opened a little wider when they realized they had no communication to the outside.

"We can find a way out of here," Clare said, trying to place a fake, macho facade over his frightened eyes. He was the one, after all that everyone counted on. Football team, he was their Captain. Drama team, he was their lead actor. Of course he would be the one to get them out of this.

Jenny and Steven looked a bit more comforted while the other two--Molly and Camron--weren't so easily persuaded. . . .

(Short but not finished.)

Water

The water dribbled down my face, sprinkling like rain against my cheeks. It didn't leak from my eyes from sorrowful tears or even tears of joy. The droplets fell from the pipe fed into the wall beside me. Tinglings started to prickle in the tips of my fingers as they hung limply tied above my head. My arms ached and screamed where my shoulder had popped out of my socket. But that had happened hours ago, and although it still ached, it seemed less now. Numbingly, sickingly less.

I had hung there, my feet not even coming close to touching the ground, for at least four hours of consiousness now. It had to have been more than that, though it was hard to tell in a nearly pitch black room. A small needle length sized hole danced in my dazed eyes across the room. whatever I had been given, was still coursing through my system.My matter how hard I fucused I couldn't make the dizzing colors stop their whirling, tossing, and turning as if I was on a ship. I wasn't swaying back and forth, my arm would have told me so. But  my mind was so... disconcerning.

My legs were bare but for a mini skirt that didn't cove much. I had't gotten out of the car more than two steps towards the club before someone put some kind of cloth with an aluring drug over my mouth and I was gone. Blackness had consumed. . . So much blackness. . .

There had been no sound but the dripping and slight spray from the pipe I was hung from. The drugs were slowly drifting away and the pain was taking its place.

An errie creak echoed through the small room I was being held in. A door opened, blinding light entered the room. I couldn't see; I winced as my eyes tried to adjust behind my eyelids and my body swayed, aching and screaming, when I moved.

A silhoutte crossed the floor and stood in front of me. It's head cocked to the side. My eyes blinked and squinted through the beam of light, trying to make out characteristics.

"Help me. . ." I winced at the croaking of my own voice. "Please. . ."

He, the silhoutte, chuckled and brushed a stray hair behind my ear and walked back to the door. The door closed behind him, and I was lost in darkness again. Not even the stay peck of light could be seen from my blinded eyes.

His laugh echoed around and around the walls and constantly came to my ears again and again in the smell red room. I was left alone again, as I would be forever.

Tiffany's story

I remember them only being kind. They were dark brown and gentle. I couldn't tell anyone more than that, because... Well... I couldn't tell anyone. No one would understand what I saw in him. If I told them, then they would want him as well. And I couldn't have that. Compitition isn't something I'm very good at. If I were to show off in any form, I'd be smothered. Whether it was at a sport - which I was never good at - or boys - who never looked - or... Well... Anything.

All I had was the quietness of the books. They were quiet. Not silent. There was even the occational story that screamed. Many cried and I would try to console them, but the words were already down. Nothing could be done to save the poor frightened girl from the menising antagonist. The poor soldier boy had already died and there was nothing, yes nothing, I could do to change it for her.

Sometimes I wished so hard to be able to walk into the story for just a second, for a moment, so I could help the people I had come to love. So many times I wanted to walk into the police station and say, "The guy you're looking for is at 2541 Elms." then simply walk out and see what they would do. So many times...

But they are books.

Their stories are already written. The good guys die in some and win in others. How I wished I could have saved them. If only I could be in the spot right where they needed me. If I could carry a sword and fight off those demons that the antagonist throws at them, I could help save the fair lady and they could live happily ever after instead of him dying three feet away. If only...

There were so many of those.

But again, no. I'm in my time and they are simply in books. I'm the one forced to watch him as he works on his math homework over the pages of my book.

"Are you going to stare at him all day or what?" Konny, my best friend, said and slide into the seat across from me at the library.

"I wasn't staring. I was..." My voice trailed off, not having a good answer. The fact was I was staring and she was the only person to ever think I - tiny, little, insecure me - liked the mysterious one.

"Exactly. So why are you staring at him anyway? Does he have a tattoo or something on his arm you're lookin' at? Because then he would be interesting."

"I...I...I don't know..." I looked down, embarrassed. But no Adam just had these... eyes. There was no explanation. No word in any language that was good enough for them. For him.

"So make up your mind oand do something about it already. Do you like this creep or not?"

"He's not..." Well, if I was being honest with myself people did call him a creep or a psyco. After jumping into class in the middle of a term... After isolating himself at almost every moment... With his dark levi jacket over broad shoulders, smooth fingers that danced as he wrote, straight back that roared with confidence, and boots that were constantly covered in mud... Most people at school figured him to be a gang leader or ex-mofia or something.

"Yeah, this creep has got you hog tied," Konny smiled and shook her head as she gathered up her books. "Let's get out of here, Miss. Lovestruck."

A Starter for One Thing

So I know there are lots of blogs out there and I don't expect anyone to actually read this, so I guess it doesn't really matter. So we'll see how well this turns out. It may all fall into forgotten pieces and die overnight or I could actually have this thing full by the end of... well... It could just be full.

Here's what I'm planning for this thing:
  Probably some of my writing and poems
  Quotes or fun sayings
  And really anything I deem worthy of it.
      Which isn't really saying a lot, because it's a blog. *shrugs*

But so I guess we'll see what this will be like, now won't we. (Look at me, I'm writing to myself.)