UNICORN!

Here's a random pic, that goes along with the story. Unfortunately the unicorn in this story isn't pink, or has wings.

            It was up, it was down, and it was all around. It was Batman, if Batman looked like a 50 year old or so guy, wearing all black with a badly stitched bat design on the front, and wearing a raggedy pink-splotched cape.

            “Hello peeps!” it yelled in a creeper voice from high above us. I can hear a little ripping sound and I was hoping it wasn’t coming from the rope carrying ‘Batman’. He was right above me, and I didn’t want to be his landing. Thankfully, he started to move back to the stage, and I give a little sigh, his dank over powering cologne smell still hanging around.

            “I wonder what this school is up to now,” whispered Katy. I give a quick shrug, and she giggles, giving me a peck on the cheek. I blush, and start to listen to the principal announcing safety week, which was ironic since danger was everywhere in this school.

            “Blah…. More blah and blah…” he didn’t really say that, but the lecture was so easy that everyone already knew what came next. “A police officer will be coming to ma-” he got cut off, because there was a loud crash backstage. People instantly started to murmur about what happened, and the teachers are too worried to stop them.

            “W-w-what happened?” asks Katy fear in her voice.

            “I don’t know,” I say holding her into my arms to comfort her.

            “Oh Bradon, I hope nothing happened to Timmy,” Timmy was her little brother who was working as stage crew. If anything happened to him, I have a feeling that Katy will start to get into the negatives.

            “Don’t worry he didn’t get hurt, I promise,” and the thing was I was sure of it, because I just had this weird feeling.

            “Oh I…” she trails off.

            “You?” I ask back curious, not really noticing the sudden silence that has settled around the room. Without saying anything, she turned me around, and what I saw on the stage right now made my eyes bulge out. No, it’s not possible they’re fake they’re proven that they don’t live…. Do they? My thoughts were in a jumble as the, the unicorn stared at us. And it was pure white, almost looking golden, confusion in his deep green eyes. It was silent, and then suddenly the, the creature/unicorn/narwhale that must have had mated with a horse just staring at us, and us staring back at it. Then it said one word that we all never thought it would say.

            “Hi,” it said in a silky rough voice. It was then that I fainted.

Good news bad news

This is my 20 story, signalling 20 days of school, for me. Just thought to let you know.

Harder to lose

Harder to buy

This is the land of

Sugar high

            The poem plays in my head as my fingers start to do their daily dainty work, each evening. This was patching up the soldiers’ belongings, or also known as their clothes, and once in a while one of the items that their mother, sister, or sweetheart would send in. And each night, I would silently try and not cry, as pictures of my mother and little sisters come to my mind. Oh, it was hard work, for the women in the war, always worrying, cleaning, and taking care of stuff. It seems as if it will never leave a lady’s life in the near future. It was always too much work, and barely any free days.

            “Oh stop complaining Anita, there are others who has it way worse,” said Mother Lila as if reading my thoughts. I don’t bother to look up at her over the fire, as my fingers patch up this nasty rip on one soldier’s uniform.

            “I ain’t complaining, Mother Li, I was just… thinking about how life is hard and-”

            “In a complaining tone, thinking or not? Yeah right, I can hear ya complaining a mile away, even if it is in your head,” she says in her strict grandmotherly way. I sigh, and roll my eyes a bit, reprimanding myself a bit for doing it again. “But anyways…” she trails off a bit as if a bit unsure of how to go on. I start to put my guard up, preparing myself for the worst. War does that to you, it gives you a nasty surprise when you were expecting one to be good and hopeful. After a while, though you’ll get used to it, even if it took a year or two.

            “The boss…” uh oh, if it’s something about the doctor then it’s going to be bad really bad. “Are you listening Anita?” she says bringing me back to reality, just as my mind was about to go to the worst case scenarios at what might of happened to the doctor.

            “Yeah, I’m listening,” I say giving her a quick glance before going back to my mending.

            “Well then, the boss said ya can take a day off a day after tomorrow,” she says quickly, in an almost grump voice but underneath it I can catch just a hint of gratitude.

            “Oh thank you, thank you!” I yell, suppressing the urge to jump up and down and give her a peck on the cheek.

            “Don’t thank me, thank the boss, and he’s got something else for ya…” she trails off uncertainly again, but I didn’t notice because I was excited about having a day off again. “He um, said that… Your brother,” she takes a deep breath before muttering the last word so quietly that I couldn’t hear.

            “Come again?” I ask my beating heart still excited.

            “I said your brother um… died?” she said. Everything started to crash down, onto me as I realize why the doctor even gave me a day off. My brother dead and he was the only other lifeline I had here, without him…. I don’t bother thinking about the stuff that might happen now. In fact, I don’t bother to notice everything around me anymore, once I heard that he died, I just shut down. In the distance, I can hear Mother Lila screaming my name, and someone else, someone familiar, and yet not familiar. But I don’t hear their words behind the screams, or the scrambling feet, because I can feel myself being welcomed into the darkness.

           

            

Monkeys

Possibly my shortest story, and le gasp, I actually posted on a Friday. This is probably the first time I have ever done that on this blog.

            The marker smells like bananas. The classroom feels like it just recently rained. Her mind runs wild dreaming of singing monkey and chess playing toucans. The sweetest fruits grows deep in the jungles of her mind, and all she had to do to get them, was to open up her mind. The only problem was that reality was holding her back.

            “Mademoiselle Wilder!” said the unnamed French lady that has taken over for Mademoiselle Gaga for the rest of the year. She looks up at the teacher lazily, not really caring if she got into trouble or not.

            “Oui?” she asks.

            “Ecouter!” and the teacher started to mutter something in French, that none of the students learned yet. Though it sounded like she was saying about monkeys.  The girl sighs before replying oui again. Only she ended up slipping back into her imagination, a plan working out in her mind at how she can get the fruits. All it involved was one French lady, and a whole lot of trouble. 

There's something in the punch

I got tired yesterday, and didn't feel like typing my story up and posting it here. So ta da her it is.

            Gowns, lights, and music fill the air. And joys of laughter can be heard everywhere. It is the annual Midsummer Eve ball, and everyone is laughing, and having the time of their life dancing. That is everyone except me. Their laughter sounds false, the cheeriness too cheery. Their minds forced to look at everything around them, and not really allowed to think about the current situation. The war. The Nazis are winning badly; Hitler’s power was quickly slipping away. Everyone was silently freaking out at what will happen if Hitler stopped becoming president. Will it possibly be another depression? France started to take over Germany. The possibilities are endless, and yet I wasn’t thinking about all that. No I was thinking about him, my ex.

            My down to earth, belonging in the mantle, and should never to be seen again, ex. He was smiling cheerfully while talking to some important delegates, his wife by his side acting bored. She caught me staring at them, and started to use her icy glare on me. I roll my eyes, and turn back to the punch bowl, the dark red liquid reminding me of spilled blood. The blood that caused the ending between her husband and me. That jerk ward ex. I feel a pair of unfamiliar wrap around my shoulders and I look up staring into a pair of bright devilish blue eyes. “A-a-are you okay?” he murmurs, concern clear in his voice. I nod and force a smile, so the beating of his heart can slow down, but it doesn’t. And that saddens me, though I force it out of my system, so he wouldn’t know. I wanted him to be happy, even if it was going to end up depressing me.

            “Good,” he says and one of his easygoing smiles is back on his lips. “W-would you want some punch?” and I nod, not realizing at how thirsty I am. I see his arm, grab two cups putting it on the table and pouring the red punch into it. He does it so easily, all with one arm still around my shoulder. Once he finishes, I grab a punch, and so does he. We clink our glasses together carelessly, and we drink. The cold fluid flows down the hollowness of my throat, and it tastes weird, unusual. But it was too late to turn back now. The liquid quickly settles into my stomach, and I can feel little butterflies to form in its place. My heart was beating faster, I felt dizzy and lightheaded, and most of all happy. While there was still one corner of my mind that was clear of it all, it was warning me of something but I couldn’t hear it. I look over at Low, and see the same look in his eyes that’s probably in mine as well; he smiles a happy lopsided smile, and says three words that make my body feel buttery all over.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too,” I say, and this time I realized what that clear part of my mind was saying to me all along. It’s all fake. 

Mesa

I forgot to go to the meeting today, but I did get the form before school. So that will count right?
For those of you who doesn't know what MESA is, just google it. It stands for math, engineering, science achievement, I think.

            Math, nerds, geeks, and the amusement park, to her and her friends that is what they think MESA is about.

            “First meeting, is today in room 102,” said the principal through the intercom, “Be there after school before three!” she says before the thing clicked off, sending a wave of silence through the whole room. She sighs, putting her book away, back into her bag. Mesa, mesa, mesa, it was all anyone can talk now days.

            What’s so important about it, anyways? She thinks to herself, as the boys next to her started to talk all about it. Sure, it’s a new club and all that, and sure, you can go to state. But what do you do? You just build useless stuff that won’t help you in life. Oh why did I promise my friends that I decided to go to that meeting with them. I’m going to be a photographer when I grow up not an engineer. She sighs again, as she starts to draw light little circles on her desk, her thoughts muddled around the term MESA.

            “Hey Emmy, you are going to go to that meeting today are you?” asks her friends, Lisa.

            “Yeah, yeah, I wouldn’t want to miss it to the world,” she says forcing a smile onto her lips. No! I didn’t want to go, but I’m doing it for you guys. Jeez, who knew it was hard to please people now days. That’s what she wanted to say actually, but she kept her tongue tight, because she didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings.

            “Great, I’ll see you after school, and meet me by my locker or be squared,” and her friend started to laugh hilariously as if it was the funniest joke in the world. But Emmy just rolled her eyes, and went back to doodling little circles on her desk waiting for the bell to ring. She was trying to think of ways to ditch, fake a sickness so she can go home early anything. But underneath all that, she was secretly hoping it will be fun.

Another Artica Story

            I wake up from the nightmare. I was hyperventilating badly; my breathing was broke up by unshed sobs. Tears slide down my pale icy face, as my mind continues to flash the nightmare, over and over again. My people were dying, the ice dragons being burnt to death. Puddles were what are left of everyone gone. Everyone that I cared about was just gone, in that destruction. My whole home was destroyed, my father’s face ashen as he knew he was going to be next. The screams were still in my head, everything was melting. And all for what?

            I couldn’t even go back to Bionova, if when it happened. Where the hell would I find a fairy in the first place to teleport me here? It was rare, very rare to find one now days. Despair and sadness stuck to me like glue, my tears were dropping steadily onto the silk blanket. I truly feel alone right now on Earth.

            “Artica?” asks Cyrus, from over by the doorway. I don’t look up at him; in fact, I didn’t notice him walk to my room. My sadness seemed to have muffled my senses; it was almost as if it was holding me prisoner, and for once, I didn’t even care. I can hear him sigh as he walks silently up to my bed, and sit on the edge of the bed not that far from me. And for a while, it was just me and him, breathing, and crying. Not an inch of comfort was to be found.

            “H-he…” I trail off, unable to finish whatever I was going to say.

            “Don’t tell if you don’t want to,” he says. I can feel him inching a bit closer to me, but doesn’t make a move to comfort me. So through my sadness, I grabbed for the closest lifeline and that was his hand. He could have pulled away, in fact, it would be more appropriate if he did pull away, but he didn’t, and I was glad. His hand was scorching hot under mine, nearly enough to possible melt it. And yet it didn’t. We were complete opposites that were attracted to each other, in unimaginable ways. His dark eyes were warm, as the tears stopped flowing.

            At least there was one thing that hasn’t been under destruction yet, and that was him.