Fear

Today's story~

                I was scared and alone in the unfamiliar room. Everything including my brain ached, but it was mostly my heart. I was starting to regret the choice of telling Nathanial to go home because it wasn’t his fight, or even his problem to deal with. It was mine. Little did I know that when I took him to this time period with me, which it was every much as his problem, as it is mine. Just thinking about Nathanial made my heart twist uncomfortably, as I realize he won’t come back ever again. And I have to get out of this place, before, before they do anything this place, somehow making it out of this place without him, which might be impossible.

                I groan, and close my eyes trying to keep the flood of memories from enclosing in on me. There was possibly every kind of knife and gun in the whole world in this room, filed with countless other of torture weapon that you can think of. I was scared, feeling it in my very bones. I was afraid that the weapons were going to turn in on m, regardless if they were handled with invisible hands or not. And the first was most likely that cleaved half moon blade shining carefully in its ceiling post, which was just over my neck.

                I was going to die, with no way of getting Little Mercy back, or even finding out where Nathanial is. My memories were all of what’s going to be left of me. Memories of where I try to avoid the knives and other pointy stuff thrown by Little Nate.  And little by little, the cuts were turning worse and worse, and a bit bloodier, and bloodier. Memories of where I can hear Little Mercy screaming in pain, from unknown dangers as well as the constant danger. And the memory of that simple little kiss that Nathanial gave me before he walked out of my life forever.

                I can feel the tears falling down, and I close my eyes, breathing in and out, steadily trying to calm my breathing. I waited each second, waiting for the blade to come down. Darkness was all I can see, and all I will see. I wondered what mother and father will look like once I’m in their arms again. Would they still be happy, to see me, would they also be sad to realize that Little Mercy and Nate aren’t with me? Random thoughts were just rolling in my mind, till I heard a faint sound. Footsteps. 

Another Adele story (Wed.'s story)

This is probably going to be an Adele week, because her story is mostly what I can think about this week. Well here it is.

                I was tired and I know I should go back to the a-part-mint, but I couldn’t. I just had to find out what has happened to Little Mercy and Nate, at least for a little while longer. Or else, I might not get to know what really happened back then, and if I didn’t then it means that I can’t change the future properly. There will still be slaves, and… I shake my head forcing myself to pay attention. One more chapter, I thought to myself, and then I’m done for the night.

                During the 1860’s, it was a time of…

                I black out, sleep finally catching up to my tired body. I wake up sometime later, my body feeling as if it was floating through the clouds. I open an eye to see where I was, wondering if I’ll see the odd swirls on the ceiling. Only it wasn’t the swirls that I wasn’t looking at it was skin, white skin, very familiar white skin. I see Tucker’s Adam’s apple bob up and down nervously as he must have realized that I woke up. He looked down at me, and I smile at him.

“I’m awake so, you know you can put me down now,” I say suddenly feeling a bit squirmy about being carried around like an infant.

“What not even a hello first?” he says chuckling nervously, complying with my command.

“Thank you,” I say feeling a bit wobbly when my feet touch the sidewalk, Tucker’s hand on the small of my back, keeping me steady. I look around the cold harvest day, the wind blowing softly around me. I shivered, must have forgetting my jacket back at his place. Memories started to come back to me, as I remembered my past. Memories that will take a while to settle back into place, in this smoke filled city.

“You’re welcome, and here,” says Tucker quickly putting his jacket onto my shoulders. I smile appreciatively, and allow him to take me to his fast moving, station wagon. As I start to distract myself, as to why they call it a station wagon anyways, if it doesn’t actually look like one. It was a quite walk full of the usual city noise, once we reach it; he opens my door for me. I pause before going in, unsure of something.

“What scared of the ghosts that reside in it?” he says in a joking manner. I flinch, tears gathering in my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Adele it was a joke,” he says hurriedly, concern cornering his voice.

“I-It’s okay, and…” I pause unsure of what to say, “And thank you for everything.” I quickly get into the car before he sees the teardrop on my cheek.

Treading on Water

Yay now I'm finally caught up. Still a bit of Adele's story this time around the beginning, the last one was probably around the middle.

                Father always said to never tread on water, because no matter what it will never work. But mother says tread on water anyways because in the end it will be worth it. And so that’s what I did for the rest of my life, and that was tread on water. Just like what mother is always doing, but just like what father said it ain’t working. Even the treading on water was starting to become harder when Little Mercy and Nate were born on June 24, 1847. That was when my life started to become as, father would say survival for the fittest, when I overheard his and Nate’s hunting talks. And it was hard to survive when he always did some stuff that caused Little Mercy and me to be scared.  It was harder still, when no one believed Little Mercy or me that it was Nate doing it. Especially if he was the one that caused all the small cuts on my arm, saying that I had some emotional problem. Saying that I should be put in a place where they put crazy people because I also ‘did it’ to Little Mercy’s arms when I didn’t have enough.

                But I was still here, still treading on water, still trying to keep Little Mercy and me alive from Nate. With no one helping us, all because of the lies that Little Nate told.

                “A-Addie?” whispered Little Mercy one night.

                “Yes, Little Mercy?” I whisper back. We were both afraid, afraid of waking him up, and getting hurt, but thankfully he can sleep through anything, maybe even through the worst. I mentally slap myself for thinking that way towards my own brother, evil or not, all because we’re still family.

                “I-I’m scared.”

                “I’m scared too, Little Mercy.”

                “But A-Addie this is a different kind of scared. I-I have a weird feeling that something b-bad is going to happen,” she says fear creeping into her voice.

                “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say trying to fall back asleep. But I had a weird feeling that she was right.

                “I-it’s not n-nothing!” she says nearly shrieking.

                “Little Mercy, shush or else...” I trail off not willing to say the worst. “And fine it isn’t just nothing, but let’s hope that something is going to be good. Now good night,” I say quickly.

                “G-good night,” she says quickly snoring softly. I kept awake must of the night, thinking over her words, wondering if it’s good or bad, and if it involved Little Mercy or even Nate somehow. Well the next day we found it, and it wasn’t anything that I ever wanted to experience again.

Yesterday's

What is it about: It's historical fiction, and one of the novel ideas that I'm going to write in the future.
Main Character's Name:Adele *rest I won't unveil till later* 

                It was a quiet night, a night in which I was usually in the sunroom studying. A night where I tried to find out where, what, why, and how Little Mercy and Nate were doing during the American Civil War. It was a time in the American period where that war proved nothing where who should have won, actually lost. And the northerners inevitably lost. That fact crushed me to the core. They should have won, should have freed the slaves of the Confederacy. Only they didn’t because of someone. And that someone is somehow connected to Little Mercy and Nate. And I just had to find him or her, and try to change the history somehow, and make the Union win. If only…

                “You okay Missus?” says Nathanial surprising me once again. I sit up and blink the upcoming tears away; hatred was coursing through my blood. I was surprised at how angry I was with the whole slavery thing.  Especially if it ended up breaking up families, and make them fall apart, such as Nathanial’s.

                “Missus?” he asks again. I sigh and turn around in my chair, so I can face him, he looked handsome as usual, and I was glad that he can’t see my blush in the dim light.

                “Nathanial, please just call me Adele, instead of Missus. It makes me feel like I’m married to someone, in which I’m not,” I say the last part quickly, blushing a bit harder.

                “But it’s against the law for a colored person such as me to call you by your name A- I mean Missus,” and I start to wonder if he’s blushing now too.

                “Fine, if you mustn’t say my name then please call me…  Dame, not Missus or Miss, or anything else that starts with an M,” I say remembering the word from one of my studies.

                “Fine, D-dame, but _{you’ll always be a missus to me},” he says the last part so quietly that I ask him to repeat it again. “N-nothing,” he says quickly and I wonder if it’s possible for him to blush harder, “D-do you n-need anything?”

I think for a minute before replying, “One of those electronic devices that you can type on?”

“You mean a laptop, dame?” he says most likely received to stop talking to me. That made my heart twist a little, but I tried not to show it, I did have important research to do.

“Yes, and Nathanial-” he left before I can even finish my sentence. 

Last Friday's

                “He was being an idiot, and I completely fell for it,” I admitted to Angelina. My throat felt tight, and my heart constricted painfully as I remembered what just happened exactly a week ago.

                “Guys are idiots, sometimes sweet idiots, or even mean idiots, but…” she trails off unable to finish her sentence. She continues hugging me, and I was grateful for that, because it seemed that everywhere I go, I would break, the memories of the two of us flooding back to me.

                “But what, Angelina?” I ask a bit curious.

                “But… you just have to give them a chance, even if they broke your heart so badly so. Now get on home, or else your mama is going to worry sick about you,” she says hesitantly breaking the embrace. I nod and do as she says, after locking the front door, and looking for a pen and paper. I do what my hand has been itching to do for the past week, and that was write a poem. Only I couldn’t till now because it felt as if I really will break into a million pieces, but I forced my shaky hands to write the words anyways.

I waited for you to come back.

Only you never came.

I waited for one of your witty sarcastic responses about why you were gone.

Only you never said one.

I waited for you.

Did you wait for me?

I missed your smiles.

Only you never showed one ever again.

I missed your surprise kisses, so sweet and lingering

Only you never gave one to me ever again.

I missed having your arms around me; it was like my personal lifeline.

Only now they’re wrapped around someone else’s.

Someone taller

Someone more graceful

Someone prettier than me

I missed having you.

Did you miss me?

But most of all I miss my heart.

That only you seemed so caring enough to rip it into a million pieces.

And I know that I should hate you for that.

But

I

Simply

Can’t.

10/6/11

Starbucks
~~~~~~~~~~

                “Ouch,” just hat one word sent a whole spasm of pain to shoot everywhere in my fragile body. I was very close to death, and I knew it, but no one else would ever know, not even her.

                “Valley, are you okay? Valley?” asks little Mia worry coating her voice.

                “Mia, do you remember the first day we met?” I say changing the subject. I couldn’t let her know that I was dying, not now and not ever.

                “Yeah, I remember,” she says confused.

                “Go back and fully remember it please for me?” I breathe out as forcefully as I can, but before I can see if she agreed, I started to remember it myself.

                It was a stormy day; I was at Starbucks with my sick boyfriend. One of his final death wishes was for us to go to Starbucks together where we first met. And I agreed, dreading the day when he’ll be gone. We’ve been through too much together, and yet he had skin cancer through it all, where he found it a bit too late. We were sitting together, my head resting on his shoulder, his frail arm around me. His breathing was slow and steady, as well as mine. It was a perfect moment the only thing that was separating us was a coffee cup.

                Noise was everywhere, from business people talking on their cell phones, to the steady quick typing of the novelists doing the annual Nanowrimo. There were also constant little giggles of the schoolgirls nearby eyeing the classic high school player.

                “Valley-” he yelped in pain as a cup of coffee flew into his lap.

                “Nate! Are you okay?!” I start freaking out grabbing a bunch of napkins to soak up his quickly growing stain.

                “Oh my gosh! I’m so, so sorry,” said Little Mia freaking out. And just those seven words quickly made us friends.

Now it has been two years, and I was battling with breast cancer found too late. Just exactly, how it was like, for Nate, I almost smile as Little Mia’s face started to light up with understanding. Tears started to form in her eyes her hands shaking almost spilling the coffee cup. The nanos and the wrimos were quickly typing up their novels, the business people were talking about the next new big thing, and the girls were giggling eyeing the new it high school boy.

                “Well good bye,” she says.

                “It has been a good two years, Little Mia,” I say, before standing up to leave Starbucks and Little Mia forever.

10/5/11

Uncle Frederick
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                Uncle Frederick sojourned to the family farm one early Saturday morning. Which constantly vexed us all, plus he always talked about his plan about killing zombies the right way. This probably explained why he always stank of what he said was crocodile pee, even that annoyed Timmy, and the family’s taciturn. And plus the apothecary always said that it was illicit to hunt zombies anyways, but Uncle Frederick always said that it was judiciously fair to do so, since the end of the world was coming and all that. But that always put on disapprobation, from me, but I don’t bother to stop him anyways. Since I somehow knew, he was right, in my cordial way. Though, father was always condescended somehow always to help him every weekend, but that was diminutive compared to Christmas day.

                It was a nice snowy white morning, everything seemed vapid, even the cookies looked too nebulous, compared to the tiny snowflakes. Mother’s repertoire was cooking, so that day she was off in the kitchen cooking preparing for the Christmas feast. She only used herbs that were indigenous to our land, which father found a bit malevolent ever since he found a ghost. But that’s a story for another day, well moving on. Father’s predilection during Christmas would be us building snow statues out in the backyard, then sledding, and snow angels, before ending it off with a Christmas play in which we would show mother.

                But this was an extra special day, for Uncle Frederick was coming to visit, which the apothecary was very contemptuous with, for he believed it was to be a day of four, not five. But we didn’t listen, for it was a normal Christmas day plus Uncle Frederick. Everything went normal, except for the snow statue’s eyes and mouth, instead of coal Uncle Frederick insisted we use scuppernongs, which I found a bit odd. But he said it will bring hope which is very important this time of year. Instead of the usual Christmas-y plays, we ended up doing the not what to do while hunting zombies play. Which annoyed mother quite a bit, but in the end, everyone was pretty much amused.  In fact, I think that this was the finest Christmas I ever had, full of smiles, and laughter, and good food to share around.

                But in the end, as if God was proving to me that not everything will always be good, Uncle Frederick disappeared in the middle of nowhere. No one was watching, no one couldn’t believe it, he was just here and then gone. Father told me that he was a ghost, and wordlessly everyone agreed. But I think he was someone else, someone magical that liked to hunt zombies and give joy to others. I think Uncle Frederick was Santa Claus. 

10/4/11

Do you notice the the zodiac in it?

                Candy! It was actually raining candy! Well that’s what I wanted it to do once I found out that hell was going to open up right in front of me, and my own friends were actually going to make me jump right in. (I know that it should have been a tornado to take me, but wouldn’t you want your last day to end nicely?) Well here were the exact words that were said once I found out that I was going to hell.

                “Oh Mari, it won’t be that bad, I’m sure you’re dance partner won’t be that much worse off than you” and that bought on a wave of giggles  from my girlfriends as if that was the most funniest thing in the world. I sigh and roll my eyes at them immaturely.

                “Guys,” a wave of glares went my way, “Girls,” I say correcting myself. “It isn’t just the ballroom dancing class that you signed me up for without really asking my consent first, it’s just that… I have a ton of homework, and babysitting gigs that my mom signed me up for, so I won’t-”

                “You’re lying Mari, you don’t like babysitting,” said my friend Jinni.

                “And plus your mom won’t sign you up for them, and plus you don’t have that much homework in your classes,” said Jinni’s twin aka my other friend Tania. I sigh, knowing it was hard to lie to any of the other eleven girls here. We’ve been the group of twelve since the school year started, drawn together for various odd reasons.  And we’ve been together ever since, even when Lisa started dating, and later Candace.

                “Well just explain to me why I have to take ballroom dancing with you guys,” as soon as the words left my mouth, everyone started talking at once that it was hard to listen to the reasons.

                “It would be a fun group activity,” said Pieces always thinking up of activities we can do together.

                “Dancing is healthy,” said Sara, our personal nutritionist.

                “And you need to keep healthy for your soccer tryouts next spring,” said Ariel, a big soccer fan like me.

                “Its fun,” said Lea, our group’s taciturn.

                “And plus I think it’s time for us to get a boyfriend,” says Aquaria, our group’s matchmaker. And when she said that, I must have visibly paled.

                “No, I don’t want to date anyone, especially after, Sanders,” just saying his name again made my heart ache even though it’s been a four full months since we broke up.

                “But Mari, Aquaria said that the stars are right, and if we’re lucky, this time it will be good,” said Selena in a firm, almost quiet voice.

                “But...” I tried to think of a reason why I shouldn’t do this ballroom thing.

                “Oh please?” begged Capri our littlest in the group, and it was hard to say no to her.

                “Oh fine, I’ll do it,” I sigh relenting to it. A loud cheer went up, but a sickening feeling was starting to form in the pit of my stomach, as if something bad was going to happen and it’s heading straight for us.

 

    

10/3/11

I promised I will post on the weekend but that ended up as me getting lazy. So here are 10/3/11-10/6/11 in the following posts.

I know, I know that Burgundy isn't a town it's a provenience in France, but that was all I can think of at the moment.

She seemed so happy on the outside, but her words proved something different. Sadness plagued her like the glue. Tears were silently shed each night, and yet no one would ever know. No one would hear the words she wanted to say, nor would they even bother to listen. She was widely known for her beauty, her brains, but most of all for her smile, but never her words. Whenever she tried to say something, cameras would flash. Whenever she tried to show her writing, it would be easily forgotten the next day. Up, down all around, and well renowned, but never listened.

“Have you seen Meggie’s hair? It was so last year, god she’s so old fashioned,” said one of Meggie’s ‘friends.’ It has always been like this for quite a while, where she kept on hearing back stab after back stab story. She was always ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tears would threaten to fall, only to be blinked away. Anger carefully hidden away, an award-winning smile forced on her lips. And they will never know, never know that she overheard them all, never know the trouble they would be in if she used action instead of words. Never knowing what will be in store for one of them one day, till its one day too late. And she will never know the consequence will be to suppress your emotion for too long, till now.

“Oh yes the ponytail is so old fashioned, anyone that even has it is just a plain uncreative loser,” a bunch of giggles started erupting from the five girls. The sound was enough to wake up the whole town.

“It’s-” the girl barely got the first word out, got a slap on the cheek. A dark red spot was forming over the girl’s pale face, as she lay open-mouthed. “What the hell was that for?!” she shrieked.  But no one got a word out as Meggie started slapping the girl again, harder and harder.  But before she can transition into something else, one of the other girls managed to get Meggie into a tight neck hold.

“L-let m-m-me go pl-please?” Meggie choked out. But instead of her loosening the grip, she just tightened it, till darkness started to overcome them all.

It was the next day; there was nothing left but a pale of ashes, under the old willow tree. The six girls weren’t heard from till ten years later, in a little European village of Burgundy.