The Staging Area

2011-09-21T22:43:00.001-07:00

Welcome, Motor Heads, Rally Girls, and Hangers On! It’s another wild ride here at the Gathering—the underground world of fast cars, crazy drivers, and partying all night long. If you’re here, it means you’ve broken curfew. Not something the ruling Mob of Terra One encourages, but we’re all in the same boat, so let’s rock it! As long as you've paid off your local Associate, you’ll be fine. Maybe.

Tonight’s race features racing royalty, ladies and gents! Let’s welcome, seventeen-year-old Rebecca “RC” Camille, third in the Driver’s Index. She lives to race. Nothing but motor oil running through her veins, folks. Her aim? To be number one, beating out two of the boys she grew up with at the Open Arms orphanage. She's lethal in her GT500KR. Nothing gets in her way. Not a sense of brotherhood. Not even love.

Her challenger tonight? A psychotic serial killer willing to stop at nothing to eliminate the competition. Can RC stop him before he kills his way to the top? Or will she need reinforcements from the authority we all love to hate? Remember children, the Mob never gives away their help for free.

Read Chapter 1

At First Glance (page 23)

2011-06-26T03:37:00.000-07:00

They both ran in just as the teacher entered the classroom. “Safe!” They both yelled.

“Okay, everyone. Settle down!” The teacher waited for everyone to take their seats. “I know everyone is exited to see each other again, but please remember that we are all seniors now.” She waited a moment until she had the class’ attention. “I can see you’re all old students here, but this year we have a new addition to our class.”

Sam whispered something to her seatmate just as the new student came into the classroom. The teacher motioned for him to stand in front of class. One hand was in his pants pocket and the other was holding the strap of his bag. Sam straightened up quickly. It was the boy she bumped into at the store.

“It’s him,” Sam whispered.

“Who?” Her friend leaned closer.

“I’ll explain later.”

“Class, this is Richard Harrison. I hope everyone will make his stay here a pleasant one. You can take your seat now.” She pointed to the empty chair a few seats behind Sam’s.

He nodded to the class and went to his seat. But when he passed Sam, he pulled out his hand and placed a folded piece of paper on her desk.

“Open it.” Her friend leaned closer once again.

Sam slowly unfolded the letter. “Meet me at the roof top during the break.”

Pushing away her worries, Sam went up to the roof during lunch. She opened the door and looked around. There was no one there, so she decided to take a better look and stepped out onto the roof deck. On the corner stood the new guy, looking out at the edge. She came closer to him and he turned around. She stopped a few feet away.

“You said you wanted to meet me,” Sam said.

“I missed you, Sam.”

“Are you the one who keeps sending me the flowers?”

“Did you like them? I wasn’t so sure what kind you liked, so I decided to send you different kinds just to be safe.”

“Who are you?” Sam took a step back.

“Don’t you remember me anymore? Probably the hair. And I did grow taller.” He smiled and Sam shook her head. “Maybe this will help you remember me?” He took out his left hand and showed it to her.

Tears began to fall from Sam’s eyes as she put her left hand on her trembling lips. Their rings glinted in the sunlight. “Ayden.”

The moment he smiled again she leapt into his arms. He held her tight. “You finally remember.”

She looked up at him and ran her fingers through his hair. “You cut your hair.”

He held hers. “Yes, and you’ve grown yours longer. I like it.”

She blushed. “I thought you—”

“Went to that school?” he cut her off, wiping away her tears. “Yes, but then I realized how stupid I was to forget what the old man said when he gave me these rings.”

“What did he say?”

“That I was lucky and that I should never let you go. He was right. I was stupid not to have realized it sooner.”

Sam smiled at him. “Will you stay?”

He didn’t answer at first. She felt the chill again but Ayden held her close.

“I’ll never let you go again.” He bent down and kissed her. Their rings touched. This time, Sam didn’t pull away.

“Where did the name Ayden come from?” she asked after a while.

“I’ll explain later.” He smiled and kissed her again.

~Fin~

At First Glance (page 22)

2011-06-19T03:35:00.000-07:00

“I don’t know, but could it be that our little Sam has a secret admirer?” Greg smiled back and Sam turned a soft shade of pink, just like the flowers.

“There’s a card.” Anton pointed at the side of the bouquet.

Sam picked it up and opened it. The smile on her face became brighter.

“What does it say?” Greg moved to her side.

“It says: ‘It’s been a year and I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.’ But it doesn’t say who it’s from.” Sam frowned.

“Well, I really don’t care who they’re from. I’m going to put them in that divine vase your mother gave us last Christmas,” Greg said. “They’ll look good on the coffee table.” He took the flowers to the sink and began arranging them.

Sam thought it was nice that someone remembered her, but it didn’t stop there. For the next few days, a new batch of flowers arrived with a note which either said “I miss you” or “I can’t wait to see you” or “You look beautiful.”

One afternoon, Anton said, “Hey, I’m going to the store, does anyone need anything?”

Sam came out of her room. “Wait, let me come with you.”

“Alright. Greg do you need anything?”

“Nothing much…just some sugar, eggs, butter, flour, and chocolate power. Oh, and nuts,” Greg shouted from the bedroom.

“Nothing much, he says. Why didn’t he just make a list?” Anton shook his head.

“I did make a list.” Greg stepped into the kitchen. “It’s on the counter.” He smiled as he gave it to his chagrined lover.

“Sorry.” Anton kissed him on the cheek. “We’re going now.”

Sam laughed at her brother.

~*~

At the store, Sam was busy taking a look at the notebooks that she accidentally bumped into someone. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking.”

“Don’t worry,” the guy said. “I was the one who was supposed to be looking.”

Sam couldn’t look away from him. The guy nodded and apologized again before going on his way with a smile on his face.

“Something wrong, Sam?” Anton came up to her.

“I thought I just saw Ayden.” Then she shook her head. “No, it can’t be him. Ayden has long hair and in some boarding school by now. I guess I was just imagining things.” She looked at her brother with uncertainty on her face.

“Let’s go before we bump into more people we don’t like.” Anton smiled menacingly.

~*~

The next morning, Sam was running late for her first day of senior year. She ran out of her room and struggled to put her shoes on while biting on a piece of toast.

“Have a good day!” Greg waved.

“I will!” Sam ran and slammed the door behind her.

Even if the school was just ten minutes away, Sam was still late most of the time, but today, she was determined to get to school on time. She ran as fast as she could while finishing the toast she had with her. At the gate she ran into a friend.

“Come on Sam! We’ll be late.”

“What section are we in?” Sam asked.

“We’re in A.”

“That’s the first door on the left, right?”

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 21)

2011-06-12T03:33:00.000-07:00

“Ayden, come here please,” Fran said.

“What is it, mother?” Ayden stepped into Sam’s room.

Fran showed him the letter.

~*~

At the apartment, Greg picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Greg! Thank goodness you’re still home!”

“Fran?”

“I’m so sorry, Greg.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You don’t have to come here anymore.”

“Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Not exactly, it’s just Sam is already on her way home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Something happened between her and Ayden last night, and this morning, when I came to her room, she was gone.”

“Oh.”

At that very moment, Sam walked into the apartment looking a little worse for wear.

Anton stood up from the dining table. “Sam!” He gave her a hug.

“Hello, Greg? You still there?”

“Sam just walked in,” Greg said. “I’ll call you back later and we’ll talk.” He put the phone down. When he got to Anton’s side, Sam was crying furiously in his arms. She didn’t say a word. She cried and cried until fatigue took over and she fell asleep in her brother’s arms. “Poor girl, come let’s bring her to her room.” Greg told Anton and he picked up his sister.

~*~

Greg believed in the old adage that time healed all wounds, and sure enough, a year passed for Sam. She somehow found a way to move on from whatever happened to her at the farm. The only particular thing was the ring she wore on her finger. She never took it off, and when Greg asked her about it, she didn’t say much. Everything was back to normal until the doorbell rang one morning.

“I’ll get it.” Greg went to the door. When he opened it, a deliveryman smiled at him while holding two dozen pink carnations. “Those are absolutely precious,” he said.

“Good morning, sir. Is this where Sam Hilliard lives?”

“Yes.”

The man smiled and handed him the flowers. “This is a special delivery for her. I just need you to sign here and I’ll be on my way.”

Greg signed on the marked line. Then he turned around and closed the door with his foot.

“Anything important?” Anton looked away from the newspaper he was reading.

“A delivery for Sam. Look at them.” Greg put the flowers on the table.

Just then, Sam came out of her room. “Did I hear the doorbell? Oh, Greg, these are absolutely gorgeous. Who are they for?” Sam bent down and sniffed the carnations.

“Curiously enough, they’re for you.” Greg smiled, and Anton raised an eyebrow.

Sam slowly straightened up and looked at the both of them. “For me? But who would send me flowers a week before school starts?”

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 20)

2011-06-05T03:30:00.000-07:00

Sam looked up at the sky and gasped. “Ayden, there’s so many of them!”

“I come here often just to look at the stars.” He pointed upward. “There’s the Big Dipper.”

“Where? I can’t see.”

“Come closer.” He pulled her in front of him until she leaned against the solid form of his body. His arms hugged her from behind. “Follow my finger.” He pointed upward again.

“Yes, I see it.” She sighed. “I’m going to miss this when I go back to the city. But I promise I’ll come back next summer.” Ayden placed his chin on her shoulder. “Is there something wrong, Ayden? Don’t worry, I’ll come back next summer for sure.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” She turned around and faced him, still within the circle of his arms.

He took another deep breath before he answered her. “I might not be here next summer.”

Even if she was in his arms, she felt cold all of a sudden. “Why?”

He held her tighter, as if to let her go would be the worst thing he could do. “Before you came, I received a scholarship to study in this school I’ve always wanted to go to.”

“I don’t see the problem. We could still see each other, can’t we?”

“Not exactly. It’s a boarding school. I’m going to have to stay there if I accept their offer.”

“You haven’t decided yet.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, since they gave me till next week. I’ve always wanted to go to that school, Sam, please understand. You moved in with your brother because of school, didn’t you?”

“This is different.” A tear fell from her eye. “This is different, Ayden. I love you.”

He wiped away the tear. “I love you, too. I’ve loved you since the day I saw your face when you realized I was a guy. Do you still remember that?”

Sam laughed a little, but it didn’t help. Fresh tears came down her face. “You can’t just leave me.”

Ayden reached into his pocket and took out the rings. He took Sam’s hand and slipped the one with the heart on it. “The old man in the store we went into last gave these to me. He said these rings belong to lovers who never want to part.”

“How can we find out if we have to be separated?”

Ayden handed her the other ring and she slipped it on his finger. “Basically, with these rings, we’d be together. Every time you look at your ring, you’ll remember me, and like wise.”

“It’s still not the same if you are not there.” She looked up at him again, and this time, he kissed her. She pulled away.

“What’s the matter?” Concern blossomed on his face.

“It still won’t be the same, Ayden.” She moved out of the circle of his arms. “Can you bring me back to the house now? I have to start packing.” She walked back to the horse.

~*~

The next morning, when Fran came to check on Sam, there was no answer at her door. Fran opened it and saw a note on the empty bed.

Dear Fran,

Coming to your farm changed my life and I cannot thank you enough for that. I even learned how to wear dresses! I guess Greg will be really happy when he sees me. By the time you’re reading this, I’d be half way home. Please tell Ayden I had the time of my life.

Love, Sam.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 19)

2011-05-29T03:28:00.000-07:00

“Third place goes to Sunset from the Livingstone Farm.”

The people who owned the stallion started cheering as the judges gave them the ribbon.

“Silence, please.” The announcer put his hands up in the air. When the crowd settled, he continued, “Second place goes to Glimmer from the Carson Farm.”

The girl who owned the horse wept for joy. Once again the announcer called for silence. Sam gripped Ayden’s hand with both of hers.

“And now for our first prize winner…” A drum roll followed the announcer’s words. “It was a difficult decision for the judges, but they chose Night Sky from Cat’s Tail Meadows.”

The crowed cheered.

“We won!” Sam cried out, but it didn’t have an effect on Ayden. He just kept staring at her. “We won! We won, Ayden!” She kissed him on the cheek.

He blinked at her kiss. “What?”

“Ayden, we won!” Sam shouted as the judges gave Ayden the first prize ribbon.

“We won?”

“Sure did, boy.” One of the judges shook his hand and gave the horse a pat. “That’s one handsome animal you have there.”

“We won!” He lifted Sam and returned her kiss with one of his own.

~*~

“I can’t believe you guys won!” Fran said, still amazed as they were having dinner.

“I couldn’t believe it myself.” Ayden looked at his mother, beaming. “If Sam didn’t encourage me, I wouldn’t have entered.” He looked at her for the first time since they left the festival.

Sam met his gaze and gave him a shy smile. After dinner, she went out onto the front porch and sat down to watch the stars.

“What are you doing here?” Ayden asked, sitting beside her.

“I’m looking at the stars, they’re so beautiful,” Sam said. “In the city, you can never see them this clearly because of the lights. But here, they shine brightly.”

Ayden looked at her. “Do you want to see the stars even clearer?”

“You mean there’s a place where we can see them much better?”

“Come with me.” Ayden pulled her to the stables. “Wait here a sec.”

A minute later, he came out leading his stallion. He pulled himself onto the saddle and held out his hand for her. She took it, and in a moment, she was seated in front of him with his arms surrounding her.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“The meadow,” he whispered into her ear.

“Why?”

He looked down at her and smiled. “You’ll see. Now, hold on.” He spurred on his stallion and the momentum made her lean on Ayden for support.

~*~

The night was clear and beautiful. Ayden climbed down from the horse and help Sam down. There was a moment when her hands were on his shoulders and his were on her waist. They looked at each other.

“Why are we here?” Sam broke the silence and pulled away a little.

“You said you wanted to see the stars better, here’s your chance.” Ayden held her hand and pulled her toward the tree he always climbed when they’d herded cattle.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 18)

2011-05-22T03:26:00.000-07:00

“I can’t, dear. I have many things to do at home. I’ll just come back and pick you up later.” Then she turned to Ayden. “Ayden, you have money. Keep an eye on Sam. You don’t want her to get lost now, do you?” Ayden and Sam blushed. Seeing this made Fran chuckle. “You two be good.”

They nodded.

When Fran left, Ayden began brushing down his horse one more time and bid him good luck. He left the stall and closed the door behind him. He looked at Sam, who was watching the other horses.

She leaned close to him and whispered, “They don’t have a chance against your stallion.”

“I hope you’re right,” he whispered back. “So, where shall we go first?”

Sam smiled. “Anywhere you want to take me. You know this place better than I do.”

“Okay. Follow me.”

Sam didn’t know she could have so much fun in just one afternoon. Ayden took her on all the rides and won as many prizes as he could for her. In no time, they both held so many stuffed animals that they had to rent a locker to keep their things in.

In all the excitement, Ayden didn’t notice that, at some point, he was holding Sam’s hand. Their hands seemed to slide comfortably into one another. While Sam was busy eating ice cream and looking around a thrift store they went into, Ayden came upon two matching sliver rings with a small, red stone.

“Do you like them, sonny?” An old man came closer.

“They’re beautiful, sir. They look the same, but why is the stone on one a heart and the other a spade?”

“They’re called Lover’s Rings.” Ayden blushed as the man spoke. “It’s said that these rings were meant for a couple who never want to part.”

“Really?” Ayden glanced at Sam, who was smiling at a glass flower she was looking at.

The old man said, “Do you have someone to give this to?”

Ayden looked back at him. “I’m not so sure she feels the same way.” He leaned closer, making sure Sam couldn’t hear them.

“I see.” The old man took out the two rings, put them in a box, and gave them to Ayden.

“How much are they, sir?”

“Don’t worry about it, sonny. They’re the last pair. Keep them, they’re yours and hers.” He looked at Sam. “You’re lucky to have her. Don’t let go of the chance, boy. Never let her go.” The old man smiled at him.

Ayden nodded once and smiled back. He put the rings in his pocket. “Hey, Sam, it’s getting late. Why don’t we get back to the main tent and check on the contest. Maybe they’re done judging.” He took her hand and they walked back to the largest tent. Ayden tightened his hold on Sam’s hand in fear that he might lose her in the crowd.

“I’m right here, Ayden,” Sam assured. “Keep going. I won’t let got of your hand.”

After hearing her words, Ayden relaxed a little, and soon they reached the tent. When they came in, the officials were already announcing the winners. Ayden pulled Sam gently to where his horse was kept, and from there, they watched together.

“Don’t worry, your horse will win, you’ll see.” Sam squeezed Ayden’s hand. Then she looked back at the official on the stage.

Ayden didn’t take his gaze away from her. He didn’t listen to the announcer. He just stared at her like she was the only person in the tent with him.

“The officials had a hard time choosing the best stallion at today’s fair,” the announcer said. “I shall begin with the third prize winner.”

The tension had even the horses silent.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 17)

2011-05-15T03:24:00.000-07:00

He nodded.

When she was finally out of hearing range Fran turned to Ayden. “Did you tell her?”

“Does she look like she knows?” He squeezed excess soap out of a sponge.

“Well, you’d better tell her soon because the longer you keep this from her the harder it’ll get. Or were you planning to let her leave without telling her?”

“It’s just I couldn’t muster up the courage to tell her. Every time tried, she’s have this concerned look on her face…”

“I know it’s hard. Tell me one thing dear…”

“What?”

“Do you love her?”

Ayden stopped putting away dried dishes and thought for a moment. He remembered the first day he saw Sam in a dress. He recalled the fun they had and the smiles she gave him. Then he looked at his mother. “More than I’ll ever understand.”

Fran smiled and gave him a hug. “I knew it. You’d better tell her, Ayden. Tell her before she leaves or you’ll end up regretting the whole thing. Even if she comes back here, she may not see you for a very long time.”

“I know mother, I know.” Then, with a kiss good night, he went up stairs.

~*~

All week, Ayden tried telling Sam, but he couldn’t seem to find the right time. They were so busy she couldn’t pay attention to other things, much less stop for a conversation. So, he’d decided to wait until the night of the fair.

“You think I cleaned him enough?” Ayden took a step back from the stallion.

“He’s fine, Ayden. If you brush him down again, he’ll stop being black and turn white.” Sam squeezed his shoulder. “Calm down, don’t let him feel how nervous you are.”

With her advice, Ayden took a couple of deep breaths. Then a call came from the house. “Ayden! Sam! Start getting ready. We’ll be leaving soon.” They both looked at each other, smiled, and ran back to the house.

In an hour, they were ready to leave for the Festival. Sam helped Ayden load the stallion into the truck. When everything was secured, they left for town. In half an hour, they parked in the clearing beside the festival grounds.

“Come on guys, we have to bring the stallion to the judging stables,” Fran said.

Ayden held onto the reins of his stallion and led him towards the largest tent in the field. Sam walked by his side.

“Is this where we can enter the horse for the pageant?” Fran asked one of the supervisors.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man with a clipboard said. “Can I have the name of the horse and the name of the owner please?”

Fran told him all the necessary information. The man checked his list. “Your stable is the third one on the left. The judging will start in half an hour. You can leave the horse here and enjoy the fair. The winner will be announced through the PA system.” The man smiled and pointed them to the right direction.

“Thank you very much.” Fran nodded and they proceeded to the stable marked for them. “Okay, Ayden, lead your horse in and good luck.”

“Aren’t you going to stay, Fran?” Sam pouted.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 16)

2011-05-08T03:22:00.000-07:00

“Sam and I decided to enter my stallion in the pageant at the May Festival this Saturday.”

Fran gave her son a hug. “He’s a beautiful horse.”

Sam cheered in delight.

Ayden couldn’t hide his smile and thanked his mother.

The phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Fran said, walking into the other room. She picked up the receiver on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Fran, it’s me.”

“Greg! I’m glad you called. Has it been two months already?”

“How’s our girl?”

“She’s doing fine.”

“Come on, tell me everything.”

“It’s a success. She wears dresses now, and she’s decided to grow her hair longer.”

“That’s great! Thank you very much Fran, you’ve been a big help.”

“Wait, don’t thank me yet.”

“Why? Is there something wrong?”

“She and Ayden have become close. I think separating them will be hard.”

“What do you mean? She can always go back next summer.”

“Yes, she can, but Ayden might not be here next summer.”

“Why?”

“Ayden was given a scholarship to a boarding school. He has been waiting for this for a while now and I don’t think anything can change his mind.”

“Does Sam know?”

“No, but I think Ayden will tell her soon. But what’s killing me is it’s so obvious that they are in love with each other. They don’t seem to realize it.”

“This will break her heart, Fran.”

“I know it will, and Ayden’s heart, too. So, when will you pick her up?”

“On Monday so she can have a week of rest before classes.”

“I see you then.”

“Yes, I guess so.”

With a heavy heart, Fran put down the phone and went into the kitchen. She saw Ayden and Sam splashing water at each other by the sink and laughing. When they saw her, they stopped.

“We’ll clean this up mother, promise,” Ayden said.

“Fran, who was that?” Sam asked.

“Greg.” Fran sat down.

“Really? How is he?”

“He’s fine, dear. He told me he’ll be around to pick you up on Monday.”

Sam frowned. “I’m leaving that soon?”

“He said you’ll have to get ready for school.”

Ayden stayed silent the whole time Sam and Fran spoke. He slowly turned away. Fran spoke again before Sam notice him. “Sam, why don’t you go upstairs and clean up? Ayden and I’ll finish up here.”

“Are you sure?” She put down the towel she held.

“Yes, dear.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “See you upstairs, Ayden?”

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 15)

2011-05-01T23:23:00.000-07:00

“It’s just a matter of comfort.” Sam returned her attention to the mare. “Plus, no one really told me to wear dresses. I wear pants and shirts because it’s easier, and I cut my hair because it takes less time, all I have to do is run my fingers through it. Simple as that.”

“What does your mom say?”

“I don’t live with her.” She paused. “I live with my older brother and his…”

“Boyfriend, right?”

“How did you know?”

“Mother told me.” He paused. “You look so pretty…in a masculine sort of way.”

Suddenly, her nervousness turned into anger. She stepped out of the mare’s stall and walked into the stallion’s.

“Sam?” He looked at her, but she didn’t answer him. Instead, she slapped him as hard as she could. Then she ran back to the house. Ayden couldn’t say anything.

~*~

Sam ran as fast as she could to her room and lay on her bed face down. She couldn’t believe she was crying. She didn’t notice Fran following her.

“What’s the matter, dear?” She rubbed Sam’s back.

“Please, Fran, I want to be alone.”

“Okay, but if you need to talk about it, you can come to me.” Fran kissed her head and left her room.

A few minutes later, Ayden came into her room. “Sam?”

“Go away!”

“Sam, please hear me out.” Ayden came closer and sat on her bed. “Sam, I’m really sorry, I didn’t it to come out that way.”

Sam twisted around and faced him. “Why did you have to say it then?” She swiped at the tears still running down her cheeks.

“I thought you’d take it as a joke. I never imagined that it would offend you.” His eyes said the rest.

“Go to sleep. We have to wake up early tomorrow.” She pushed him gently off her bed.

Ayden looked back at her when he reached the door. “You know, you really do look good in a dress.” Then he closed it behind him.

Sam blushed again. She couldn’t believe he actually complimented her.

~*~

The May Festival had everyone busily preparing for it. Sam and Ayden spent most of their time in the stables, getting the horses ready for the pageant.

“How are you getting along there?” Ayden glanced over his shoulder to where Sam stood with the mare.

“Just fine.” Sam continued putting hay into the stall. “Do you think your stallion is ready?”

“I think so.”

Sam moved to stand beside him and gave the horse a pat. “He’s magnificent, Ayden.” She smiled at him.

“With you helping me, I’m sure he’ll win.” He smiled back.

At the dinner table, Ayden said, “Mother, Sam and I…” he paused then took a deep breath.

“Come on, Ayden tell her,” Sam urged.

“Tell me what?” Fran took her usual seat.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 14)

2011-04-24T23:01:00.000-07:00

“Go.” Fran shooed her away. “There are a pair of sandals by the door, your sneakers just won’t do. Hurry, Ayden needs your help in the cornfields. Corn needs picking!”

After putting on the sandals—curiously her size—Sam stepped out of the house and started towards the field. She kept tugging at the dress. When she reached the field—with no Ayden in sight—she picked up an empty basket from a stack.

Not wanting to waste time, she started with her work. One by one she picked the corn that was ready for harvest, snapping each ear from its stalk with a sharp, downward twist. A smile of enjoyment curled on Sam’s lips.

~*~

Ayden returned from the edge of the field to get another basket. As he carried a full basket of corn, he noticed a girl in a blue summer dress picking corn near the entrance of the field. He stopped and stared. “Sam?”

She turned to him. “Ayden?”

“You look different,” he said, blinking.

“It’s the dress.” She frowned.

“And then some,” he mumbled.

“Were you saying something?”

“Nothing.” He looked away. “We need to hurry. I want to get done before dinner.”

“Alright, I’ll get more baskets.”

~*~

At the dinner table, Fran noticed Ayden stealing glances at Sam more than he used to. She smiled to herself and said, “How is dinner, Sam?”

Sam looked at her and grinned. “Better than ever, Fran. I think I’m gaining weight with every spoonful of your mashed potatoes.”

“Good to hear.” She put down a plate of freshly baked cornbread. “Oh, Ayden.” He looked up at her. “If it’s not so much trouble, can you and Sam groom the horses tonight? I have something else for the two of you to do tomorrow.”

Sam’s face lit up. “Sure!” she answered before Ayden could say a word. He nodded and went back to finishing his meal.

It was a clear night, but Sam was too excited to see the horses to notice the stars. She opened the barn doors and ran in. “Hello!” she waved to all of them in delight.

“Don’t scare the horses.” Ayden gave her a brush. “You can work on the mare and I’ll handle the stallion.” He went into its stall and began brushing its back.

Sam cooed to the mare before she said, “Ayden?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you so devoted to that stallion?”

“I took care of him since the day he was born.” He shrugged. “Mother said if I could take good care of him then he was mine.”

“You’re lucky to have such a beautiful animal.”

“Sam, can I ask you a question?”

Sam stopped brushing the mare in her astonishment. “Sure.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a long time now…” Ayden took a deep breath before continuing. “Why you prefer to look like a guy.”

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At First Glance (page 13)

2011-04-17T22:57:00.000-07:00

“Sam, can you come here a moment?” Fran called while Sam and Ayden were about to go to the fields to pick corn. They both stopped and looked at her.

“Yeah?” Sam came closer.

“You can go ahead, Ayden. Sam will follow shortly.”

Ayden nodded and headed out.

“Is something wrong, Fran?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” Fran looked at her for a moment. “How long have you been interchanging your jeans and shirts, dear?” She wrinkled her nose for emphasis.

“About a week now.” Sam looked down, ashamed that she let herself get so dirty.

“It figures, look at you.” Fran indicated Sam’s clothes. “You’re so dirty and the smell isn’t all that pleasing. This has got to stop.”

“Can’t I just borrow some of Ayden’s clothes?”

Fran shook her head. “Follow me, please.” She pulled Sam by the ear to make sure she wouldn’t run away.

“Ouch! No! Please, not the dresses, not the dresses!”

Before Sam could say anymore, they were already in her room. Fran sat her down on the bed. “Take off those clothes. We might have to burn them after.” She opened the closet and rummaged inside.

“Do I really have to?”

“Yes, you do. There’s nothing wrong with wearing dresses, Sam. It’s even very comfortable. This checkered blue one would look good on you. It’ll bring out your eyes.” She pulled out a short-sleeved, cornflower blue, summer dress with lace ribbons on the hem.

“That looks awful!” Sam cried out.

“If you don’t take of those clothes and put on this dress, I’ll do it for you,” Fran threatened.

Sam didn’t want to move, but Fran’s serious face frightened her. She started with her shirt then her pants, dumping them on the floor.

“Give me those smelly things.” Fran gathered the discarded articles of clothing and gave Sam the dress.

“I swear.” Sam unzipped the dress and pulled it on, ignoring how good the clean cotton felt on her skin. Then Ayden came to mind. Maybe he would laugh at me.

“Look at you, so beautiful,” Fran cooed as she zipped Sam up. “Greg was right about you. The dress definitely looks good. Come and take a look.” She guided Sam to the full-length mirror in her room.

“Does it have to be so short?” She tugged at the skirt, unused to the draft on her legs.

“It’s fine, dear. Now, sit down. I must do something about that hair.”

Sam followed Fran’s lead. “It’s due for a cut. Thank you.” She ran her fingers through her blond locks.

Fran took out a brush, a bottle of mousse, and a white headband from the dresser. “I’m not going to cut your hair and all the scissors have been hidden away in this house, so it’ll do you no good. Now, sit, and not a word.”

Sam gritted her teeth. Fran brushed some mousse into her hair and then secured her bangs with the headband.

“Why you hide that pretty face…” Fran sighed.

“May I go now?” Sam huffed.

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At First Glance (page 12)

2011-04-10T04:11:00.000-07:00

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Fran.”

“Come on, food’s getting cold.”

Sam took the cue, sat down, and started eating. Despite the food being delicious, Sam didn’t have much of an appetite. While she drank, Ayden stood up suddenly, startling her into snorting milk up her nose.

“Mom, may I be excused? I need to prepare the horses,” he said.

She nodded. He quickly put his plate in the sink and went out through the kitchen screen door. Then Fran looked at Sam. “What’s the matter, dear? Something bothering you?”

Sam shook her head and finished her milk.

“Well, you’d better hurry. Ayden doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Sam asked for her leave and put her plates on top of Ayden’s in the sink. With her head down, she hurried to the barn were Ayden stood saddling the horses. Sam looked up at the stallion and mare standing side by side. The stallion was as black as an ebony night sky with white boots and the mare was as grey as the thickest fog in the morning. She couldn’t believe she’d have the pleasure of riding one of them.

“Let’s go, Sam.” Ayden’s words cut-off her stare. He mounted the stallion.

The blushes just kept on coming as she mounted the mare. He hadn’t even thought to ask her if she could ride. Not that she minded much. She’d been riding since her father took her for lessons at the age of five.

~*~

What happening to me? Sam asked herself as they rode with the cattle to the meadow. I never blush. This annoyed her. Why should I care? She straightened herself on the mare.

At the meadow, Ayden proceeded to tie the horses to a branch on the large tree in the middle. It provided the perfect shade for the noonday sun. Sam settled herself beside one of the biggest roots while Ayden climbed a branch where he could see everything. With nothing much to do and certainly not having anything to say to Ayden, Sam quickly fell asleep. After some time, she woke up to Ayden’s hard shaking of her shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, still sleep hazy.

“We have to go and round up the cattle, it’s time to go home.” Ayden went to the horses to get them ready.

“What time is it?” She stood up and dusted herself off.

“Sunset,” he said. “We have to go. Mother hates it when we’re late for dinner.”

“You mean I slept through lunch?”

“You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t bother waking you. Figured you needed the sleep since I woke you early.”

The hint of concern in his voice alarmed Sam to the point where she flushed all over. She couldn’t answer him. Ayden hadn’t said anything else, and Sam was too tongue-tied to encourage conversation.

~*~

Throughout the week, Ayden and Sam didn’t converse much. Ayden only spoke to her when it was needed and Sam only spoke to him in response. She’d stopped asking questions and focused on getting into the routine of the chores.

Sam became more and more concerned about her clothes. Her pants were as dirty as they could get and she didn’t know how to interchange them anymore. Washing them in the tub didn’t really help. They started to smell. But it’s better than wearing a stupid dress!

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At First Glance (page 11)

2011-04-03T04:09:00.000-07:00

“Well…we have breakfast then we have to take the cattle to the meadow and watch them graze.”

Sam sighed in relief. How hard could it be to watch cows eat? While raking the mud, Sam didn’t notice that she backed into Ayden. They bumped into each other and slipped into the mud.

“Look at what you just did!” Ayden yelled.

“Me? You were the one not looking at where you’re going!” Sam threw mud at his face.

Ayden wiped the mud off his face and launched himself onto Sam. They rolled around the mud, scaring the pigs.

“This is for pouring cold water over me this morning!” Sam pushed his face into the mud.

With very surprising strength, Ayden rolled over and knocked Sam aside. “If you listened to me all morning this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You were the one giving me such a hard time, instead of answering my questions!”

Then, even if Sam had him by his shirt, Ayden stopped moving. She let go of him in surprise. He stood up, smiled, and walked back into the house. Sam’s mouth opened and closed, speechless. She thought that the fighting would go on until someone pulled them away from each other, but it didn’t happen.

With mud all over her, she scampered to the house, pondering possible reasons why Ayden had stopped fighting.

“Good morning…” Fran paused. “Either I’m looking at Sam, or I should be running away from the mud monster that just walked in.”

“You’re not going to get mad?” Sam asked sheepishly.

“What for? I heard everything that happened in the pigpen. I’m just glad that no one got hurt, plus Ayden would never…” She smiled. “Be careful next time. Look at you. At this rate, you’ll be wearing a dress by this afternoon if you don’t keep yourself clean. Now, go and wash up before breakfast.”

Sam climbed up the stairs, reminding herself that laundry took a month to get back. She made a promise to herself to stay clean. Then she walked into the bathroom without paying attention. She looked up and gasped. Ayden, all clean, dried himself off with a towel. His long, dark brown hair wet and hanging loosely down his back, his face still dripped. He wore nothing but jeans, showing off chorded muscle from all the farm work. He stood there looking at her—mischief sparking in his soft hazel eyes.

Her heart in her throat, Sam ran out of the bathroom and into her room. She slammed the door shut and leaned against the wood.

“Stupid!” Blushing ferociously, she tried to catch her breath. “What was I thinking? Of course he’d be using the bathroom.” Sam turned around and banged her forehead on the door until her head hurt.

When she gathered enough courage, she peeked out of her room and made her way to the bathroom to get cleaned. She dreaded entering the kitchen afterwards. This will be hard, she thought, trying not to run back into her room. She stepped in to find Fran and Ayden having breakfast like nothing happened.

“Finally, your clean.” Fran smiled. Fran always smiled—just like Greg. “Come sit down and eat your breakfast before you and Ayden take the cattle to the meadow.”

The moment Fran mentioned Ayden, Sam looked at him. He stared at his food and kept on eating. “Hard,” Sam whispered.

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At First Glance (page 10)

2011-03-27T04:05:00.000-07:00

“Jeans and a shirt? Yeah.” Sam scowled. “You can tell that I am a girl? We’ve just met. I mean, I thought you were a girl.” She ran her hands through her hair.

“It’s simple: you have breasts and I don’t.”

Sam’s jaw dropped along with the towel she used on her hair.

“Now, quit stalling. We have chores to do. Follow me.” Ayden opened the front door and didn’t look back, expecting her to follow him.

The sun was barely up the sky when Sam stepped out of the house. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying to make conversation, but Ayden just kept walking. Irritation rose up her throat, ignoring her the way he did. She tried again. “Are you listening to me?” Sam walked along side him. “Where are we going?”

Ayden stopped and regarded her with a cool stare. “I’m not deaf, and mother says you act like a guy. You act more like a girl to me.”

“How can you say that when you don’t even know who I am!”

Ayden looked down and grinned sardonically. “I may not know you, but I know how girls act, and I would say you act more like a girl. Guys normally just shut up.” He walked away again.

Sam blushed with combined anger and embarrassment. The rest of the way to the barn, Sam stomped silently, two steps behind him. When they got to the barn Ayden picked up two rakes.

“Here.” He threw one at Sam.

She caught it. “What are we going to do with this?”

Ayden didn’t answer her; he just stepped into the barn. Instead of starting another argument Sam thought she’d lose, she followed him in. Once inside, she gawked.

Ayden saw her staring he stopped raking hay. “What? First time you’ve seen horses and cows?”

The remark slapped Sam out of her stare. “Of course not! It just…I’ve never seen such beautiful horses before.” She came close to one and stroked its head.

“Yes they are, but they will be dead beautiful horses if you don’t stop looking at them and start feeding them.”

Sam felt the embarrassment creep up her cheeks. “What do we feed them?”

“That’s what the rake is for.” Ayden continued throwing hay into the stalls.

“You mean we have to put the hay into where they sleep?”

“They’re called stalls.” He grimaced. “Do I still have to explain that to you?”

Sam took the hint. She followed his lead and kept up with him. He watched her with amazement. He shook off his stare and continued his work. It only took half the time. So, after the barn, they went out back to the pigpen. Ayden sat down and folded his pants up. Sam imitated what he did.

“Don’t you want to ask what we’re going to do?” Ayden said, breaking the silence for the first time.

“I think I already know what we’re going to do.” She shook her head in anticipated regret for what they were about to do.

“Good.” Ayden picked up the rake again and went inside the pen. Sam just followed him with an expression of disgust on her face. They started raking the mud to make it settle.

“What’s this for?” Sam finally dared to ask.

“We do this so the mud doesn’t dry so quickly under the hot sun.”

“Oh, so what’s after this?”

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At First Glance (page 9)

2011-03-20T23:09:00.000-07:00

She pointed and screamed. “You’re a…you’re a guy!”

He didn’t answer. Fran ran upstairs after she heard Sam. She saw Ayden in the hallway.

“She found out, mom,” he said and walked away.

Fran laughed and shook her head. When she got to Sam’s room she saw her still pointing and staring at the space Ayden had vacated. Seeing Fran snapped Sam out of it.

“You never told me he was a guy!” Sam blushed.

“You never asked, dear.” Fran laughed again and left her alone to think about what she’d just discovered. After a few minutes, Fran heard another scream, which brought her hurrying back to Sam’s room. “What’s wrong now?” she asked, then seeing the problem, she laughed even harder.

“How could Greg do this to me? He packed me dresses! Dresses!” Sam flung the frilly things all over the place. “I swear! When I get back, not even my brother will be able to stop me from killing him!”

When Fran finally caught her breath, she said, “It’s not so bad.”

“I hate wearing dresses!” she hissed. Then, taking a second to think, she said, “I have an extra pair of jeans and a shirt. I can alternate them. When’s laundry day here?”

“I’m sorry.” Fran shook her head. “We don’t do our wash here. Someone takes them to town and back.”

“How long does that take?”

“Well, he comes every two weeks and then the clothes come back after another two.”

“Four weeks! It’ll take four weeks before I get my pants back?”

“Wearing dresses isn’t that bad, you know. And, with this heat, pants would be uncomfortable anyway.” Fran ignored the look of dejection on Sam’s face. “Get some sleep because you’ll need to wake up early tomorrow. I already told Ayden what to do. You’ll just have to follow his lead.” Fran didn’t wait for an answer. She left Sam mumbling to herself about how she was going to kill Greg.

~*~

The next morning, Ayden came into Sam’s room and shook her hard. “Hey, short-haired girl, wake up!”

Sam shifted to her side. “Five more minutes, Greg.” She pulled the covers closer to her neck.

Ayden shook his head and stepped of her room. A few minutes later, he came back with a bucket of cold water in his hands. “If you don’t want to wake up properly then this might help you.” He poured the water directly onto her sleeping face.

Sam screamed and jumped out of the bed. “What did you do that for?” she sputtered, rubbing her face with shaking hands.

“Works every time,” Ayden said. He picked up the bucket.

“What time is it?”

“5:30. Get dressed. We have many things to do today.” He walked out of her room. “I’ll wait for you down stairs.”

“I’ll wait for you down stairs.” Sam imitated in a dead pan voice.

~*~

Sam climbed down the stairs still drying her hair. Ayden looked at her with one of his eyebrows up.

“What are you looking at?” she snarled.

“Is that what girls wear in the city?” Ayden studied her.

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At First Glance (page 8)

2011-03-13T22:49:00.000-07:00

Ayden nodded once in greeting.

“Ayden?” Fran put her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go help Greg with Sam’s things? Bring them up to her room.” He looked at his mother for a second before he ambled to where Greg stood. He picked up two bags and led Greg inside the house.

“Ayden,” Sam whispered.

“Did you say something, dear?”

“Ayden’s a strange name for a girl.”

Fran chuckled. “Why don’t we head on inside? I have some snacks out in the living room. Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, thank you.” Sam followed her up the porch. “But first, may I use your bathroom?”

“Of course!” Fran opened the door and ushered Sam in. “It’s two doors down the main hall. You can’t miss it.”

After about two hours of catching up, Greg said his good-byes.

“Why not spend the night?” Fran offered.

“I can’t,” he said. “Anton will worry if I do not make it home. You know how he gets when I’m away.” Greg slid into the driver’s seat.

“I’ll miss you, Greg,” Sam said, “and as sickening as it might sound, give my brother a kiss and a hug for me.”

“I will, dear.” He tapped her cheek. “Now, don’t forget what we talked about.”

“I won’t.” She blinked away tears.

Fran leaned in closer and whispered, just as Greg started the car, “Greg, she doesn’t know Ayden’s a guy.”

They shared a conspiratorial smile.

“Don’t tell her,” he whispered back. “Let her find out for herself. Maybe she’ll learn something.”

“I’ll take good care of her.”

“I know you will.” Greg winked. “See you in two months.”

When Greg drove away, Sam looked around.

“What is it, dear?” Fran asked.

“I’m looking for Ayden.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Ayden’s around, just probably finishing up some chores.” Fran wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Tomorrow, you’ll be starting yours.”

“My what?”

“Chores. Greg explained that you’ll be helping out right?”

Sam smiled. “He did. He thinks it will teach me something. Uh, when will I see her again, you think?”

“Maybe after dinner.”

“She won’t eat dinner with us?”

“Not today,” Fran said. “But don’t you worry. Your rooms are beside each other. You’ll see each other then.”

~*~

After dinner, Sam made her way back to her room and started unpacking her things. Her shirt clung to her body with the early summer heat even if she’s left her window and door open. “It’s never this hot in the city,” she mumbled to herself, unzipping her first bag.

The floor creaked behind her. She turned around to catch Ayden walking along the hallway shirtless, fanning himself. He stopped when he noticed that she was staring at him.

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At First Glance (page 7)

2011-03-06T22:33:00.000-08:00

“What did my brother leave out?”

“You won’t get paid for your help.”

“What?” Sam glared at Greg. “I thought I was going there to help out?”

“You are. You’re just not getting paid. It’s a farm, not a resort. I did tell you they needed extra hands this summer right?”

“I thought you meant I’d get paid. You know, like a summer job.”

“This will be a good learning experience for you. I’m sure you’ll manage, being tough and all.”

“Now you’re just teasing me.” Sam sank further into her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest, prepared to fume the rest of the way. But the beautiful meadows and wide fields distracted her.

“This is part of the farm already, Sam, isn’t it gorgeous?” Greg took a deep breath. “Smell that fresh air!”

They opened the windows and the summer breeze came in.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Sam said as she read a sign welcoming them to Cat’s Tail Meadows. “That’s such an interesting name for a farm.”

The main driveway of the farm was flanked on both sides with Wisteria trees. In a few minutes, they came up to a big, two-story farmhouse. Greg parked the car by the front porch and Sam stepped out slowly. She had her mouth slightly open.

“We’re here!” Greg called out.

A tall woman with sandy hair ran up to them from inside the house. “Greg!” She jumped into his arms. “You made it!” She kissed him on the cheek. “I was starting to get worried you’d gotten yourself lost or something.”

“Traffic’s a bitch.” Greg gave her another tight squeeze before letting her go. “Fran, this is the girl I was telling you about, Anton’s sister. Sam, this is my old friend Fran.”

Fran smiled and gave her a hug. Sam squirmed away. Fran laughed and let her go, but she rested her hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Fran said. “You really do look like a guy! You’re right Greg, it’ll take some time.”

Greg cleared his throat.

“What will take some time?” Sam looked from Fran to Greg.

“What I meant was,” Fran said, “it might take some time for you to adjust to the way we do things around here, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“The place is beautiful. Thanks for having me.” Sam returned Fran’s grin with a shy smile.

“My pleasure. At least now Ayden will have someone to talk to.”

“Who’s Ayden?”

“You’ll see…ah!” She looked around and saw someone round a corner from behind the house. “Ayden! Come here, dear! I’d like you to meet someone.”

Greg could not help but smile when he saw Ayden. The boy approached on cat’s paws, silent and weary.

“Sam, I’d like you to meet Ayden.” Fran motioned for the boy to come a little closer. “Ayden, this is Sam. She’ll be staying with us this summer.”

Ayden looked at Sam from head to foot. She did some staring of her own, her gaze roaming from the long, braided hair and lean, almost feminine, body.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said.

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At First Glance (page 6)

2011-02-27T22:13:00.000-08:00

“Don’t be silly.” Greg ruffled her hair. “My friend will be with you. Now, before you say no…”

“Who said I was going to say no?”

This time, it was Greg who had his brows raised. “You mean you’re going?”

“I’ve always wanted to see what working in a farm was like.” She shrugged. “Plus, a whole summer away from you and my brother will do me some good. Your honeymoon special makes me sick half the time.”

“Wonderful! We’ll be leaving the day after school’s out.”

Sam smiled and hopped off the stool. “I’ll start packing.” She started to walk to her room when she remembered. “I’ll be too busy with final requirements to pack.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Greg took the magazine she’d been reading and leafed through it, modulating his voice to hide his excitement. “I’ll pack for you.”

“Thanks Greg!” She ran to him and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

Greg hugged her back. “You’re welcome, sweety.”

When Sam entered her room, Greg took a deep breath. “I didn’t expect it to be so easy. Does she really want to get out of the apartment that bad?” He shook his head in amazement.

~*~

“Are you all packed?” Anton asked, during breakfast, three days later.

“Greg did all the packing for me.” Sam spooned cereal into her mouth.

“You did her packing?” he looked at his boyfriend.

“She was busy with school.” Greg winked. “Let’s go, Sam.” Greg stood up and started clearing the table.

“Just leave the dishes,” Anton said. “I’ll do them later.”

When Greg and Sam were settled in the car, Greg said, “I’ll be home a little late, so you don’t need to wait up for me.”

“I’ll stay up and wait for you even if it takes all night.” Anton leaned on the open window of the driver’s side. “Drive safely. And take care of yourself, Sam. I don’t want you give Fran any trouble, you hear me?”

Sam smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

After giving Greg a quick kiss, Anton backed away so that Greg could pull out of the garage.

“Did you have to kiss?” Sam grimaced.

“You know your brother.” Greg looked at her and then at the road. “Anyway, are you excited about being on a farm all summer?”

“Maybe, I can’t say yet.” She smiled sweetly. “But if I don’t, prepare to suffer my wrath.”

“Wrath? You’re joking right?” Greg rolled his eyes.

“Oh no, the anger part isn’t a joke. We just finished discussing the seven deadly sins in class. Thought saying wrath would be more appropriate.”

Greg swallowed, remembering the dresses, and concentrated on his driving.

~*~

“Are we there yet?” Sam grumbled after four hours in the car.

“Almost there,” Greg assured. “Now, before I forget, mind your manners when you’re with Fran.”

“Didn’t I already get this from Anton?”

“I know, but there are some things he left for me to tell you.”

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At First Glance (page 5)

2011-02-20T21:50:00.000-08:00

“What?”

“She looks, acts, and dresses like a guy. That’s how she gets into trouble at school.”

“The other guys are actually jealous of her?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But Sam’s straight. It’s just she’s more comfortable looking a certain way.”

“I see.” A long pause. “You want me to gradually convert her to what she really is.”

“Don’t make her sound like one of your science projects, Fran. I just want her to dress like girls her age. She’s very beautiful when you see her and it’s a shame she’s hiding it with short hair, polo shirts, and baggy pants.”

“She doesn’t wear dresses?”

“She actually borrows clothes from us once in a while,” Greg said while he ran his free hand through his hair.

“This is going to be difficult. Don’t come to me fuming if it doesn’t work!”

“That’s fine, just as long as she starts getting second thoughts about not wearing dresses. I’ll bring her there in three days, then?”

“Sure. And I want you to do a little something to help me out.”

“Shoot.”

“You be the one to pack her clothes.”

“Simple enough.” Greg nodded.

“I want you to put as many summer dresses as you can in her bag. Put only a pair of jeans and a shirt in with the dresses.”

“Good idea! I never thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m your friend.”

“Sure, sure. And the cows jump over the moon. We’ll see you in three days.”

“Take care,” she said.

Greg rested the phone on its charger and approached Sam. She was reading a magazine, but didn’t look interested. He sat down beside her.

“Who were you talking to?” Sam closed the magazine.

“An old friend from college.” Greg shrugged. “How was your day?”

“Nothing special, everyone’s making plans for the summer.”

“Do you have any?”

“Any what?”

“Summer plans?”

Sam looked at him for a moment. Then she raised her brow in the exact same way Anton did. “I was planning on staying here.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of boring?” Greg prodded.

“Just say it, Greg. You don’t me hanging around here for the summer. It’s written all over your face.”

“It’s not that. My friend, the one I was on the phone with, needs some help around her farm this summer. I thought I’d sign you up.”

Sam blinked at him several times.

“I volunteered your help. I thought it would do you good to take a vacation.”

“I’m not getting this.”

“The farm needs the extra hands and it’s very beautiful down there this time of year.”

“You’re saying I have to spend my whole summer alone there?”

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At First Glance (page 4)

2011-02-14T21:49:00.000-08:00

~*~

“Greg, what really happened to Sam?” Anton turned on his side and faced Greg as they lay in bed.

“First, you have to promise not to get mad at her after I tell you,” Greg said.

“Tell me.”

“You have to promise first.”

“I promise,” Anton said.

“I’ll hold you to that or else I won’t speak to you for a month.” Greg waited for a moment, and when he saw Anton wasn’t going to argue, he continued, “She got into a fight because this boy was teasing her about staying with us.”

“Why that little…”

“Now Anton, you promised not to react, just listen to me. I have a plan. You see the boys are jealous of her because of the way she looks.”

“You mean the boy’s uniform and the whole boyishness? She says it’s because she’s comfortable and she doesn’t seem…you know.”

“Yes, we know that, and they know that, but the girls can’t stop looking at her, and the boys don’t like it.”

“I see. They don’t want her stealing their action.”

“In a way, yes,” Greg confirmed with a nod.

“So, what’s your plan?” Anton leaned closer.

“Well, I’ve been thinking, summer break’s in a week and Sam never really does anything but bum around the apartment all day.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“I have a friend who owns a farm. I thought it’d be good for her to get away and experience life out there. I have a good feeling about it.”

“Are you sure? Sam might not agree.”

“I’m sure she will and I trust my friend. Sam will be in good hands; plus, she has a son named Ayden, who’s just about her age. Maybe he can teach her a thing or two.” At Anton’s raised brow, Greg added, “This would be a good thing…with her out of our place for two months…” He smiled and ran his hand down Anton’s chest.

“It’s starting to make sense. But I think I need a little more convincing.” Anton grinned.

~*~

A few days before the break, Greg was on the phone the moment Sam entered the apartment. Her shiner had healed significantly since the day she came home with it, only a yellowish tinge just below her eye remained. He motioned for her to sit down.

“So, did she agree?” the woman on the other line asked.

“I’m sure she’ll like it there, did you tell Ayden yet?” Greg glanced at Sam, who patiently waited for him on a counter stool. He smiled.

“Not entirely, all he knows is someone’s coming to help around for the summer. He’s preparing a room right now.”

“You’ve got a sweet boy there, you’re so lucky.” Greg leaned on the counter.

“I know, but it’d be good for him to have someone his age around. He never has anyone to talk to. What does Sam look like?”

“That’s where I need your help the most.”

“What do you mean? What did you do, Greg?”

“Nothing,” Greg’s tone climbed up a notch, “it’s just she doesn’t have any female influences here and she’s starting to turn out not as planned.”

“Describe her to me and I’ll see what I can do.”

Greg took a deep breath. “Well, at first glance, you’ll never think she’s a girl.”

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 3)

2011-01-16T01:14:00.000-08:00

“Really? Let me point out a few things.” Greg stood up and made his way behind her. “You go to a coed school, but you wear the boy’s uniform. Your hair is the typical boy’s cut and if I may say so myself, you look better than half of the boys in your school. That is why you get into trouble with them. Instead of guys courting you, you end up stealing the glances of the girls. The last thing they need is extra competition from a girl who decides to look like a boy because she’s more comfortable in pants. Do you get my point now?” He put his hands on her shoulders.

“I can’t do anything about that. I like the way I look.” Sam walked away from the mirror.

“If that’s how you feel about it, then I don’t have a problem. But you have to show the girl inside you once in a while, too. You know, if you just grow your hair and wear a dress, I bet you would look so beautiful.”

Sam laughed at him. “Me? In a dress? You’ve got to be joking, right? I’ll be the laughing stock of the whole school!”

Greg lifted an eyebrow. “Never mind, then. But if you decide on anything, tell me.”

Sam put down the piece of meat on a plate and stomped to her room. “Sure!” She laughed again. “You’ll be the first to know.” She closed the door behind her.

“Silly girl!” Greg shrugged and returned to making dinner.

~*~

“I’m home!” Anton greeted. His usual greeting. His way of teasing Greg, being the housewife and all.

Greg didn’t mind and always played along. “Welcome back, honey! You’re home early today.”

Anton wrapped his arms around Greg’s waist and kissed his cheek. “I forgot something. I’m heading back after dinner.”

Sam stepped out of the bathroom as Greg playfully pushed Anton away.

“Get dressed, dear,” he said. “Dinner will be served in 10 minutes.”

She didn’t answer.

Anton watched his sister enter her room. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Are you actually worried about her?” Greg teased.

“Hey! You know she has a special place in my heart. I promised mother and father that I’d take good care of her.”

“Promise me won’t overreact when you see her.”

Anton’s brow knitted. “Overreact to what?”

“This.” Sam came out of her room and leaned on the wall with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Anton looked at her and his eyes grew wide. “What the hell happened to you? How did this happen?” He strode to her with ground eating steps to get a better look. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Sam looked away from him. “I got into an accident and hit my face, that’s all”

“Are you sure you didn’t collide with a fist?”

“Don’t worry, dear.” Greg put a hand on Anton’s shoulder. “We already treated it when you left. The swelling will go down by tomorrow.”

Sam was glad Greg stepped in when he did. She could never really lie to her bother.

“Now, why don’t we eat? Dinner’s getting cold,” he said.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 2)

2011-01-09T00:55:00.000-08:00

Without saying anything, Greg went to the freezer, took out a steak, and gently placed it on her bruised eye. “You should be more careful,” he finally said. “Now, sit down.”

Sam unceremoniously slumped on a kitchen stool and held the piece of meat firmly to her eye so it wouldn’t slip off.

“Tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

When Greg took that tone, Sam knew she wouldn’t get away easily and he wouldn’t stop until she told him everything. Lying was not an option either since Greg always knew when she lied.

She sighed and said, “There’s this guy who’s a complete jerk.”

“What did he say?” Greg started preparing dinner, taking out another steak and several vegetables from the fridge. He had his back to her, but this didn’t mean he wasn’t listening.

He’s worse than mother, Sam thought. “He said I was beginning to look like you and Anton.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, he said, since I was living with my brother and his boyfriend, I’m becoming gay like you.”

Greg almost sliced through his thumb. “There’s nothing wrong with living with us,” he said carefully. He stopped chopping and put his hand on her shoulder. “Before I say anything else, don’t say anything about this to Anton or it’ll be the end of that boy. Our little secret.” He kissed the top of her head.

“Keep what a secret?” Anton asked as he exited the master bedroom.

Greg spoke first before Anton began to suspect anything. “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

“What surprise?” Anton came closer to Greg so he could help him with his necktie.

Sam shook her head and thought of how well Greg managed to distract her brother. She never liked seeing her bother in a rage, especially when it had something to do with Greg or her. She went to the fridge again and pretended to look for something inside before her brother noticed her black-eye.

“Okay dear,” Greg said with a little more sugar than usual. “See you later!” He closed the door right after giving Anton a quick kiss. He didn’t give him a chance to say good bye. Then, he whirled around and leaned on the door for a moment before walking back to the kitchen where Sam sat back on the counter stool she’d left earlier.

“Thank God your brother can be dense.” Greg went back to chopping vegetables. “You know, when your brother and I decided on living together, it took a lot of people a while to accept it. Even our parents didn’t agree at first, but when they saw that we were happy, they began accepting it. I think your mother is glad that I put some sense into your bother.”

Sam could not help but smile since he was right.

“What I’m trying to say here is that our relationship has nothing to do with what’s happening at your school,” Greg continued. “You’re classmates aren’t entirely comfortable with the way you look and dress. Of course they would think you’re getting it from us, do you get what I am saying?” Greg set aside the carrots and took a seat beside her.

“There’s nothing wrong with what I am wearing.” Sam stood up and looked at herself in the mirror located at the entrance hall of the apartment.

Previous ~*~ Next

At First Glance (page 1)

2011-01-02T00:12:00.000-08:00

“Did I ever tell you how good you look with long black hair?” Anton said while he lay stretched out on the bed, his naked body half covered by midnight blue, silk sheets.

“Yes,” Greg answered, annoyed. He slipped out of bed and into his robe. “You always know how to flatter me, that’s why I wonder if you really love me or is it all just for show?”

“It’s said that only a fool would flatter the person they love, but a man truly in love can only say the truth.” Anton ran his hands through his tumble of blonde locks.

“How come you’re so passionate today? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Greg raised an eyebrow at his partner.

“Why must you always be so suspicious? Is it a crime to show I love you during my every waking moment?”

“You should stop now before I lose control and pounce on you. Our bed looks so warm.”

“What’s stopping you?” Anton patted Greg’s side of the bed. “Come here and join me.”

Greg eyed their bed longingly then said, “I can’t, Sam’s due back at any moment, and you know how uncomfortable she gets when she sees us being intimate.”

“It’s all her fault.” Anton pouted. “She’s the one who moved in with us.”

“Don’t say such things!” Greg admonished. “She’s your younger sister, and it’s for her own good that she’s with us. You know very well the school she has a scholarship in is a ten minute walk from here.”

“You know there’s nothing I can do about that. Just let me complain.” Anton got out of bed and moved toward Greg in slow, sexy steps. “But she’s not here yet, can’t you give me just a little kiss before I go to work?” He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

Just as Greg turned in Anton’s arms, the sound of the front door opening and closing stopped him. They froze and listened to the slight scuffling outside their room. A moment later, they flinched as another door slammed shut.

“She’s home!” Greg backed away.

“Come on!” Anton pulled him closer. “Just five minutes? Please…”

“No!” Greg pushed at Anton. “I’ll deal with you when you get back from work. Now, go to take a shower and change, I don’t want you late.”

“Fine,” Anton sighed and scratched his head on the way to the bathroom.

***

Sam chucked her bag onto a corner of her room and watched it bounce before she realized she was thirsty. She thought about the pros and cons of leaving her room. Her bother was still home and the last thing she wanted was a tongue lashing from him—her day had been bad enough. In the end, her thirst won over self-preservation. She scrambled to the fridge in the hopes of grabbing a Coke before anyone—

“How was your day?” Greg asked.

Sam winced, mentally chiding herself for thinking she could get away without being noticed. She must have taken too long to answer because Greg’s next words were: “Was it that bad?” She said a silent thanks that the fridge door did a fine job of hiding her expression.

Greg leaned on the other side of the counter and tried to get a glimpse of her face. Sam took out a bottle of water instead and closed the fridge.

“What happened to you my dear? Don’t tell me you got into a fight again,” Greg said in dismay at seeing Sam’s shiner. He came closer and touched her cheek.

Sam twitched and backed away a step. She took a sip of water before she said, “I didn’t start it. He said something out of line and I felt he needed to be taught a lesson.” Sam looked away. She could never hide anything from her brother's boyfriend.

Memoirs of a Billboard Actress (part 3)

2010-12-26T14:55:00.000-08:00

Shooting started soon after. Like I expected, she was mediocre at best. All she knew was to imitate me. There was no real life in her acting. Not like me. When I would step onto the set I would be my character and no one else. This is the reason why I was popular, why I had all my billboards. My manager would not stand for it. He would prod me to teach her a thing or two. So on good days I would extend my patience and give her tips; only during times when I did not find her annoying. Naturally when we were in scenes together I would win the awe of the people around us. The crew was carried away by what I could do. I was an actress!

When filming wrapped, I immediately when home to de-tox. I always needed to get out of character and I knew that the tramp would not even need to do anything like that. She would just go and try to be invited to some party that would not even really want her there. I was still the star and everybody knew it.

One day, as I was being driven to a talk show, I began to notice every other billboard had the tramp’s face on it. I immediately called my manager to ask what was going on and he asked, haven’t I heard? Heard what? I asked back and did not like the answer to the question. The tramp was becoming popular. Apparently the masses liked her performance in my movie. She was endearing and believable! That was a load of crap and it seemed like I was the only one who knew it. Of course I had to keep up appearances, so when I was asked about acting with her I said she had talent. The comment sparked a controversy. The press, typical as they are, took what I said out of context and saw it as my way of being cold to the new media darling. The little tramp liked what happened afterwards. She became even more popular because of it.

Slowly everything began to change. My phone rang less. Every time I went to a party she was there and everyone was at her beck and call. She was certainly enjoying her new found fame. One movie and she was already getting carried away with herself. Trying to act mature I ignored all the attention being given to her. It will pass and they will all return to me, I thought to myself. The last straw was my billboards. My sponsors started dropping me as their image model and opted to use the fresh face of the tramp for their new image. One by one they began disappearing from the highway until finally they were all gone.

It was all because of her! That pretty young thing. Thinking she could imitate me and then take everything away in one fell swoop. I will not allow her to ruin everything that I have worked for all these years. Tonight we will be presenting an award together at the festival. I will change everything the moment we are alone in the dressing room. The cutter in my purse is all I need to get my billboards back.

~Fin~

Memoirs of a Billboard Actress (part 2)

2010-12-19T14:54:00.000-08:00

As expected, the release of my latest film was a smash. They could not get enough cinemas to play it simultaneously. My manager said it would be unfair if other films were not shown along side mine. He said variety was needed to give the viewer a choice but I knew better. They just did not want to make it seem like my movies were the only ones selling. Even I would go out incognito just to see how the viewers would react to my newest endeavor. They still loved me. Even the new starlet was a fan. She would tell the press how she would watch my films and imitate the things I would do. Act out each scene I was in and memorized every one of my famous lines. She was not an actress. She was just a copy cat – second rate, trying hard, kontra bida.

I played along with her admiration; acting the gracious role model while secretly hating everything about her. She was green. So green in fact that I think she is still a virgin. The producers and directors have not had her yet. I’m so sure that her manager was still holding out for the highest bidder. They did the same thing with me – sold my virginity to the number one director at the time, who gave me my big break. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make for my stardom – my billboards.

Then one day I received a phone call from my manager. He said that the manager of the starlet, who was his lover at some point in time, wanted to put the two of us together in a film. I was about to decline when the mention of ‘for the good of my career’ came up. What do you mean for the good of my career? I asked my manager, already more than testy on the subject. Last I checked I was the hottest thing on the entertainment circuit. There was a pause on the other line, think about it, he said. Look at it as giving the poor kid a break. I could just see the smile on my manager’s face as he uttered those words. So her virginity was being sold to me? The freshness of the poor tramp must have expired long before she chose a career in entertainment. She was not good blood anymore for the aging directors and over sexed producers. All they cared about was getting something clean. It was the concept of dirtying something so pure that appealed to their artistic sensibilities.

I ended up agreeing and so the press conference was set to promote the film well before shooting would begin. It was common practice, just to let the masses know what to expect and since I was the star, it would be worth waiting for. She was early, already sitting at the long table prepared as sort of a barrier between the actors and the press. It was almost like being in a zoo. I could not hide my grin when I saw her, looking all young and innocent, sitting there texting away on whatever was the latest, most fashionable model out there. That was how they were going to market her. The press was not even minding her presence – another boost to my ego. Everyone knew you were not supposed to arrive to a press conference before the actual press; it made you look too eager.

When I made my entrance there was pandemonium. Only natural since I was the one they were actually waiting for. Questions were already flying through the air way before I reached my seat. The tramp finally stopped her infernal texting and came up to me with the most winning smile she could manage. Fake, all of it, her face, her boobs, and her ass – fake. There was a lull – everyone was waiting to see what would happen, like when a baby panda was first being introduced to its mother. The question on everyone’s mind was: will she accept her? I could feel the tension build. If I ignored her now it would be the end of her career, but something inside of me said I was above all of that. I will take this tramp’s so-called virginity and introduce her to the world. With that thought in mind, I reached over and gave her a kiss on each cheek. After a collective sigh of relief, the conference began.

Memoirs of a Billboard Actress (part 1)

2010-12-12T14:51:00.000-08:00

I knew I wanted to be an actress the moment a producer came up to me and gave me his card – I was seven-years-old. There is nothing like being recognized and stopped on your way to the dentist and told that you have star potential. What began as a day so ordinary, it might not have mattered, ended with a chance to audition for a commercial. So my road to stardom began.

My mother always told me that I was beautiful but every time I looked at the mirror I would see a fat girl. I could not become a true star if I was not skinny so I would eat only once a day and if there were dinners or lunches that I needed to attend I would vomit out the food I consumed. To be beautiful was to be thin. That was the trend sweeping the nation. It did not matter that my body mass was not proportionate to my height; I was thin and envied by my peers.

Slowly I began to climb the ladder. Commercials led to television appearances and then to movies. At the age of sixteen I had already made ten movies and was on the cover of every magazine imaginable. I had the hair everyone was eager to touch, the face girls wanted to have, and the body plastic surgeons made money with. These were the tools of my chosen trade; to hell with an education. As long as I could read a script and memorize my lines I was fine.

I won my first best actress trophy at eighteen and stared with every leading man famous at the time. My salary had already reached six figures per film and the scripts just kept on coming. Every producer wanted me in their films, the directors would beg to have me, and leading men would line up to get a chance to act in the same scene as me – each one linked to me the next day by the tabloids. I was the blockbuster, not the movie; the darling of the media who could do no wrong.

The parties, one cannot forget about the parties and the late night clubbing. Velvet ropes parted the moment my car drove up the drive way. Any place I went into would automatically become the trendiest place in town till the next club I would enter. A party was not considered successful if I was not invited. Everyone was eating out of my hands. All I needed to do was ask for something and it would be given to me.

By the age of twenty I was on every other billboard spanning the entire length of the highway – from north to south. Sitting in the back of my Lincoln Continental I would look up and smile. My face was twenty feet high. I practically endorsed any kind of product you can think of: soap, shampoo, clothing, perfume, food, even bathroom tiles. I knew then that I made it to the top. There was no one who did not know me or watched my films or used the products I endorse.

Once a reporter asked me if I was afraid of being over exposed, I laughed at him and said: “There’s nothing wrong with being famous.” That was the truth. I was indeed famous and there was nothing anyone could do about it till that day.

It was my twenty-fifth year. I had just finished shooting my latest movie on location. Since it was a top secret set I was removed from the entertainment news. It was one of those films that used the suspense factor to get the audiences interested, but I knew that only the mention of my name would make the movie worth seeing.

I had only been gone six months when the next young thing came along. At first it did not bother me. I knew that I had staying power and was already a veteran at using the press and getting people’s attention. What would a young tramp know about the business I practically grew up in? My billboards gave me comfort. They were all still there and that meant I was still the star that I was.

Unknowing You

2010-12-05T14:45:00.000-08:00

As I walk in the longest hallway of what once was our home, I begin thinking of what has gone and what has happened. Nothing: that is what I remember the most about you. It’s that plain and it’s that simple.

I run my finger tips on the walls covered with expensive wallpaper. You never really liked beige, but I told you that it was a soothing color and you agreed. Contradictions, everything you are. I’ve made it a hobby, the understanding of you.

Looking at the pictures, hung on the wall, perfectly spaced – I hardly recognize the people in them. You seem to have jumped out of the frames a long time ago. Nothing could keep you settled for long. There was always this need to get away – was it from me or just people in general?

What happens when you refuse to move any longer? What happens when I refuse to chase after the dream that is you? I guess we just get stuck. No longer any need to move. No longer any need to move.

The night you accused me of walking out, the misunderstanding never looked so clear. You said you never really liked what you were doing. It was just shoved into your face. Then if that is so you may leave. The door has always been open, and yet I wonder if anyone else would settle for anything more than you really are?

Would the sound of that door closing be so deafening to the both of us? Would everything be so defining, like that click of the lock? I don’t think so. You never told me anything I didn’t want to hear. You brought things into this house that I’m not sure really does the trick. This was never a home, I think as I reach the dead end of the hallway and turn around.

I have been walking this hallway all day just thinking. Touching the wallpaper with my fingertips and looking at the empty picture frames. When did the colors start to fade? When did the sounds become whispers? When did the looks become hollow?

There is nothing I have been so sure of than you. Or so I thought I was sure. Nothing more than me and you. Nothing more than me and you, at this point. But you decided to walk out – calling me stubborn. I didn’t do anything and that’s what hurt didn’t it? That was what hurt most.

I look at my bare feet and wiggle my toes. They dig deeper into the plush carpet you said never really went with the wallpaper, but I said cream would be the best balance and you agreed. How can I argue with something like that? The contradiction that is you was the addiction in me.

Would you like me to find you again? If the answer to that is YES then there is nothing more I can do about it because I will not move from the hallway I have found myself in. If the answer is NO then what is there left but to stay where I am? I find myself in an impasse then. Does that kill you slowly inside? I wish it did.

I decided to wear the white summer dress today. You never really liked it, but when I wore nothing underneath you changed your tune soon enough. There are no more ribbons in my hair. They have been removed a long time ago. I believe I have found what I have been looking for during the time I spent unknowing you. My finger tips have memorized the chrysanthemum patterns of the wall paper. My toes have planted themselves on the cream carpeting and my eyes refuse to see the empty picture frames.

Unbalanced Feelings

2010-11-28T14:42:00.000-08:00

She looked up at the sky trying to make sense of things. She watched the sunlight peeking through the leaves, creating golden shimmers like confetti falling from the sun. It was so beautiful. She never really took the time to watch light coming from the sky before, but now that she was on the ground and couldn’t really get up she just looked.

The day was so clear. Not a cloud decided to grace the skies today, she thought. When she woke up she knew the day was going to be good, but she didn’t think it would lead her to where she was at the moment. Nothing was more confusing than trying to recall the events which happened only a few moments ago. What was she going to do?

Lying down was the most her body could do. What about her mind? She kept getting distracted by the different shades of gold the sunlight was making as it streamed through the canopy of trees. She knew she needed to think. She needs to piece everything together so that she could explain when they found her.

When would they start searching? She asked herself, but no sound came from her lips. This was when she realized her throat was raw. Ah yes, she remembered, I was just screaming a little while ago. What had happened?

The tears had dried. This she realized was fact. She had been crying, but why was she crying? She needed to retrace her steps. The kitchen was her first stop that day – breakfast. Then she needed to start her chores. The horses, pigs, and cows needed to be fed. The chickens weren’t her responsibility anymore because that job had finally gone to her younger brother.

After brushing the horses, she decided to take a walk to the lake, which was located in the middle of the woods dividing their land with the Summerfield lands. It was during this walk that she saw Matthew in the woods as well. He must have finished his chores that morning too and decided to visit the lake as she did.

She smiled and waved at him. He turned a bright shade of red, which she thought was charming. When she was close enough he said hello and she asked him what he was doing in the woods. He said he was hoping to run into her. Why, she asked and all he did was smile. She told him she was going to the lake and would he want to join her? He fell into step beside her and they both quietly walked to the lake.

Everything was quiet. Not even the birds were chirping. This caused her to feel a little nervous. Matthew started skipping stones into the placid water and began telling her about how he felt. She was confused for a moment, but soon enough she began to realize that he was confessing. She giggled a little and he turned to face her. What’s so funny? He had asked. She told him that she didn’t see him in that way.

Slowly, anger started to fill his eyes. Then you were just teasing me all this time? He grabbed her arms and started shaking her. She said she didn’t understand what he was talking about. He started screaming at her and then kissed her. She managed to push him away and started to run toward home.

He was taller that she was so his long legs caught up with her. She fell to the ground when he managed to grab the end of her skirt. This was the first time she screamed. He was on top of her the moment she hit the ground. His kisses were frantic and brutal. His hands were heavy and hurtful. Then she felt her skirt lift and the searing pain began. Over and over, it was like when her father was angry with something she did and started hitting her with his walking stick, but this kind of pain was inside of her.

To Be Left Behind

2010-11-14T14:39:00.000-08:00

It was the happiest day of my life. I knew nothing would be able to top getting married to the woman I loved. There was something about taking that leap of faith and starting a new life with someone you know will be there for you. I was excited, scared, nervous, and beside myself with joy. I couldn’t wait to be in front of that altar with her.

One week, it has been one week since I’ve seen her. She said that it was tradition in her family for the bride and groom not to see each other a whole week before the wedding. She said that it had something to do with testing the will and the conviction of the soon to be married couple. The bride and the groom were given a chance to sleep around and get “cheating” out of their system before entering marriage.

I thought it was an insane tradition, but I went with it anyway for her. I told her that I didn’t need the week to sleep around because I already knew who I wanted to wake up with for the rest of my life. She smiled at me and said she loved me. That was the last time I saw her before the wedding.

Now here I am waiting for the ceremony to start. I needed to see her, I thought to myself as I was pacing the waiting room provided for the groom and his best man. Taking a deep breath, I said to hell with tradition and went straight for the bride’s dressing room. There were many people outside, mulling about. At first, I didn’t see the concerned looks on their faces, but when my soon-to-be mother-in-law saw me tears began pouring down her cheeks.

She came up to me and started apologizing. What happened? I asked as I was trying to sooth her by rubbing my hands up and down her arms. The heartrending sobs prevented her from speaking coherently and I started looking around from someone calmer. When I spotted her best friend, I began asking the same question. Her best friend couldn’t look me in the eye. All she could say was I’m sorry.

What happened? Where is she? I pressed and finally opened the door to the dressing room. It was empty. She’s gone. Her best friend said while shaking her head. What do you mean she’s gone? I had to stop myself from shaking the poor girl. She just left. She had her wedding gown on and when I came back to help her with her hair she was gone.

Panic settled in the pit of my stomach like a lead ball with fluttering wings. I began looking in every room of the chapel. She was not there. I ran out and started calling her name, no answer. The woods, she must not have gotten far. My best man said and we decided to split up to find her.

Everyone in the chapel was enlisted to help out. The cars were all there so it seemed that she went on foot. What could have happened? I kept asking myself as I ran and called out her name. I could not hear anything but the sound of my own breathing and the loud pounding of my heart.

Suddenly I thought I saw something white to my left side. I turned and called her name but there was nothing there, just a soft breeze rattling the leaves of the trees. Then I saw something like white cloth fluttering to my right and I turned again – nothing.

When I looked ahead I saw what looked like a retreating trail of white, almost like a ghost or smoke moving away from me. I started to run after it and called out her name. The search party found me an hour later in the middle of a groove laughing with tears coming down my face.

The Viper, the Bitch, and the Shrew

2010-11-07T14:36:00.000-08:00

I was hitchhiking on the road of life when I met a woman driving in the direction I was walking toward. She was in a black car with light leather seat covers. I hiked up my thumb and she stopped. Little did I know that it would be the worst decision of my life. I should have just walked.

At first, she looked kind and welcoming, but when I was finally in her clutches that was when all the beasts in her came out. Normally, I would describe people according to the animal they represent. This woman was three animals in one, the first one of her kind that I have encountered. I saw her as the viper, the bitch, and the shrew.

First is the viper. I would give this description to someone who would make noise before striking. This is the kind of person who would show you that they are nasty and then when you do not get out of their way they would strike you down without remorse. This was how I saw her. She would make all this noise, thinking she was important and that everyone around her should know that she is there. When you do not give a flying fuck about who she is, she will strike at you. The venom in her personality is deadly and totally nasty. She kills people without even feeling any guilt about it.

Second is the bitch. She’s certainly one howling dog. She thinks that she is the prettiest thing that walked on two legs and expects people to treat her like a queen. She even admitted that she would only marry a man who was handsome, tall, and rich. She said that she wants to live in the lap of luxury and have him lick her toes all day long since the job she is in is not even worth her very high intellect. She tells everyone this all day long, to the people she assumes are friends, but she is never a real friend to them.

Last would be the shrew. She is this kind of animal because no man in their right mind would want to fuck someone like her. She pretends to be pious and serves a higher power, but it is obvious that she only does this to look good in the eyes of those who see her. She is the most uptight person I have ever met in my travels. The rod up her ass is so long and so thick that all she does is sit straight because of it.

There is nothing like this woman. In all my travels, I had never wanted to strangle anyone after five minutes like what I wanted to do with her. It was that or jumping out of the car, but I could not jump since she drives like a maniac. I spent a total of ten hours on the road with this woman until I could not take her tyranny anymore and quit. I just had to get out of there since she was just the worst person anyone could be around.

When I finally got out of the car, the weight that was lifted from my shoulders was substantial. I wonder how she could be like that. What kind of a person could be three animals in one go? It was an interesting learning experience for me because she taught me what kind of people I cannot stand. I don’t think there is any real good in her. Everything about her is plastic. She makes you think that she is all good and then when you are finally caught in her trap that is when the real person she is comes out. In the end, you end up so battered and bruised from the kind of abuse she gives out. I thank the heavens that I met her because today I know how to appreciate the really good people I encounter in my walk through the road of life. Now I know that there are five kinds of people: there are the truly good, there are the fakers, there are the bad, there are the truly bad, and then there is her (not even the Devil would want her in hell). She is in a category all of her own, so all of you who encounter her: stay away.

The Opening

2010-10-31T14:33:00.000-07:00

He knew something was wrong, it was a feeling he had in is gut. Something was definitely wrong and he felt like it had to do with the news reports surfacing lately. It said that shoes have been found floating to shore with the foot of the owner still inside. The police claim that this started a week ago and the foot has been cut clean off the leg just above the ankle. It was a gruesome crime and they weren’t sure who the culprit is and no bodies have been turning up with a missing foot.

He started getting nervous when he started hearing about the feet washing into shore. This was about the same time he started losing parts of time and memory. He would find himself slumped on a bench in the middle of a park and he wasn’t sure how he got there. But feet? Why feet?

Everyday at least another foot in a sneaker would be found and this made him even more nervous. He was sure that somehow he was connected to the feet. But the police haven’t found any evidence yet because the water would destroy any that would be on the feet found on shore. It was like clock work, every morning there would be a new shoe washing up on shore.

What made it even more mysterious were the missing bodies. Surely someone who had their foot chopped off would find their way to a hospital or at least bleed to death and a body would be found. So far none of that has turned up. The police have checked all the hospitals in every area that the river touches, and that is certainly a considerable area, but no one with a missing foot has turned up.

He wanted to turn himself in, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He just knew that something was wrong and it was somehow connected to the feet. First, he needed to figure out what was happening to him. He tried to see if the times he blacked out had a pattern. After a few days he found the monitoring to be futile because he would blackout during inconsistent times. He even tried to ask his friend to help him, but that just became frustrating since his friend would not watch him the whole day.

Then he decided to do his own investigative work. He went to the shore on the north side of the river where the chopped off feet were usually found. Sure enough there were police tapes everywhere. When that seemed impossible, he started to go up river. Surely, he thought to himself, he would be able to find an origin. Maybe, he said optimistically, he would even be able to catch the person or at least prove it was him so that he could surrender to the police.

He knew he didn’t get far because he woke up inside a white tunnel he’s never been in before. It looked like a passageway, but it was certainly very unfamiliar. He knew that the city he lived in didn’t have the kind of tunnel he was in.

Being in the tunnel caused him to panic a little since he didn’t know how he got there. Again he must have blacked out. There was not blood on him or nothing was really a miss with his clothing so it didn’t seem like he could have chopped someone’s foot off and throw it into the river.

He tried to think, to retrace his steps. All he could really remember was the police tapes and the shore. Where he was going exactly was already very hazy. He knew he was supposed to be investigating who could have been cutting off people’s feet and if it had something to do with him. He stood up and started walking toward the opening of the tunnel and when he reached it he saw bodies, countless bodies with missing feet.

The Ache

2010-10-11T17:42:00.000-07:00

My body hurt all over after he had left me on the floor that night, naked. I couldn’t feel the cold anymore for my back had gone numb. It was not the kind of numb which came with a sated feeling. This wasn’t love making, it was sex – the used and abused kind of sex and I didn’t know what to think.

In so many ways I felt cheap. Even whores get paid for what they do. I just get left behind until he feels an itch that needs to be scratched again. He was never brutal in the beginning. One might even call him gentle, but it ended just as quickly as it began. He was never gentle with me again.

My ache was not only physical, but mental as well. A pain in the gut which stayed with you even days after the act was done. I could no longer shake the feeling of being trapped within something I never deserved in the first place. Tears would not even flow freely anymore, that was how resigned my body was to the kind of abuse he would bring me. I found no comfort in what he did anymore.

He would just stand up and not even look at me while he dressed to leave. I stayed on the floor even an hour after. My palms flat and my eyes staring at the ceiling, I don’t even remember how I got to this point in the first place. All I wanted now was just for all of it to be over.

I used to be smart and intelligent at the same time. I was confident and sure of my self. I had a wonderful sense of humor and a compassionate heart. Now I’m not sure I can even find the strength to stand up.

My friends tell me that leaving is my only option. Before, I would tell them that I loved him enough to change him, but today I’m no longer sure. There is nothing left in me to even be angry – that was how empty I felt.

Slowly, I started to pick myself up from the floor warm because my body had kept it company for a long while. The ache was still there – now a dull pain, throbbing in time with the beating of my own heart.

I began to dress: simple, light layers to ward of the cold which seemed to be coming from within me. I didn’t take anything else but my bag. I had enough to start a new life for myself, but I was not so sure where I wanted to go. I didn’t want to bring anything else. I feel that everything I once owned is now tainted by his touch. If I could only burn the place down I would.

Leaving my key on the dresser drawer was one of the hardest things I have done, but each step I took away from that place became my liberation. I don’t even want to think of how long it will take him to figure out that I have gone. Probably for a while and yet I didn’t seem to care.

The ache within me will heal, but the lesson learned will not have been forgotten. In that sense I thank him for coming into my life. He taught me something about men and my self that I will never let go of. This is where I draw my renewed strength from. Don’t be fooled, I am not strong yet, but with each step I take away from him I tremble less, I smile more, and become less of an empty shell.

To build a new life for myself is what I plan now. Starting over is not as hard as many people think. It just takes enough resolve not to crumble. I just begin to think that I am better off for having gotten up from that floor and started walking away. It’s difficult, it’s painful, but filled with a sense that everything will be all right.

Stepping Forward

2010-10-03T14:24:00.000-07:00

They were both running away. Marcus told Lydia that they needed to go. He could no longer stand being apart from her and lying to their parents about the whole thing. He wanted to live freely and openly, without anyone questioning his every move especially when he was with her.

Lydia was afraid of what was doing to happen to them. She shouldn’t have said yes in the first place, now both their lives were in danger. She didn’t mean for her feelings for Marcus to get this far. All she wanted was to be content in loving him, but he wanted more. He always wanted more.

They didn’t have a solid plan. All Marcus thought was to get as far away from their parents as they possibly could. When he realized that the life they were living was no life at all he started to feel restless. He knew he had nothing to offer Lydia, but he knew he could make her happy.

Lydia lived a life of luxury, along with Marcus. They were children who lived with money, lots of money. Actually they saw money more than their parents, which is why they became close to each other. They took comfort in the fact that they both understood what it meant to be alone with nothing but money for company.

Their caretakers haven’t noticed them gone yet or so Marcus thought. They have been hopping from one train to another just to keep moving. He noticed that Lydia was growing tired and very anxious. They needed to find a place to rest for the night.

Lydia was sure they wouldn’t be able to get far. She had faith in Marcus, but she was not stupid either. The moment they were both discovered missing, a search party would be sent. The best in the world was under the employ of their father. It would only be a matter of time until they were found.

Marcus started looking around the station. They have reached the countryside where there were less people and those who were at the station would not be able to recognize them. He was sure that they would not know who he was and where he came from. Of course their clothes need to be changed since they looked too expensive by half.

Lydia was beginning to feel cold inside. Had she done the right thing? Did they really need to runway to be together? No one really paid attention to them before. Now their parents would surely find out because of what they had done. Everyone would find out and she wasn’t very sure she was ready for the consequences of their actions. She thought that Marcus was being foolhardy and wasn’t thinking clearly, but she remained silent. She wanted to see how far he would go.

As he started to think of their next step, Marcus kept his arms around Lydia. He noticed that she was beginning to tremble. She has never been outside this long and he wasn’t sure if she would be able to make it far if her body gave out. He needed to find them a place to stay, but he didn’t want to leave her either.

As the two of them sat on the bench deep in thought, they didn’t notice a train pulling up to the station. Marcus didn’t see the men in expensive suits occupying one car of the train. Lydia just looked at her feet and tried to feel the warmth Marcus was trying to give her. It wasn’t something that should have happened. They could have just stayed the way they were and no one would think something was wrong with what they were sharing with each other. As the train stopped, Marcus and Lydia looked up and it was too late, they have been found out.

Slipping Through

2010-09-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

All she had to do was go through the portal and she would be able to join him. But there was great apprehension in her heart. She wasn’t sure if what she was about to do was the right thing. She had her world and he had his. By some twist of fate they met, even if it was forbidden in both their cultures to be with outsiders.

The portal had opened about a year ago. The fighting had not started in her world yet. Everything was green, blue, yellow, and every bright conceivable color one could think of. The land was perfect and the rule was stable.

She was walking in the gardens of her vast estate and passed by the archway which was part of a large wall that has since crumbled. She didn’t want the wall repaired, but she didn’t want the archway removed either. It belonged in the garden, she thought and would always walk passed it in the mornings.

When she reached the archway that day she paused for a moment and looked through the other side. She started hearing a crackling sound and the air started to sizzle, prickling her skin lightly. A sudden flash of light made her step back, blinding her for a moment. When her vision cleared she saw a man lying on the ground in clothing she knew didn’t belong to her world.

She wasn’t afraid. Unlike the women in her world who were taught nothing, she loved to learn. Her teacher told her about magic and portals and traveling from one world to another. It wasn’t something uncommon, but it rarely happened. She assumed this was what sent the man to her. Curiosity ruled over fear and she knelt down to see if the man was alive.

When he woke up he began to panic, but before he could struggle she smiled at him. Calm came over the man as he started to look around. At first they didn’t understand each other so they used a crude kind of sign language until they taught each other enough of their language to be able to converse.

They were both fascinated with each other and what had happened. The man soon found out that he couldn’t go back to his world because the portal had closed the moment he went through. She took him to her teacher and they all put their thoughts together as to when the portal would open again. One year was the estimated time since her teacher and a few of his colleagues believed that conditions would be the same.

Since she was the one who found him, it was only natural that he would stay at her estates. She wasn’t so sure when she started falling in love with the exotic looking man and when he started feeling the same way for her, but everything change then. They debated whether or not he would stay or she would go with him to his world. They both had lives to live. She was a high ranking official in her world and he was a prince.

Then the war in her world broke. The treaties expired and the nations around her country started fighting. Even if her country was neutral, it took the brunt of the damage because it was surrounded by the countries that were fighting.

This was when he told her to come with him. He said that there was nothing left for her. If she came with him she would be treated as a princess. There was great hesitation in her heart. She loved him, but she loved her country as well. It was just one step. All it took was one step and she would be able to join him, she told herself as she looked through the archway.

Passing By

2010-09-19T14:14:00.000-07:00

Did you know that clouds watch everything that happens as they glide through the sky? It’s true. They’re the biggest gossips the world can have. They watch and listen. Then, they talk among themselves when they pass each other.

One day, a pair of clouds didn’t dare move when they spotted a woman and a boy speaking. There was no one else there at the time and the two didn’t think anyone could hear their conversation. The woman spoke first.

“Don’t you think with all our talking that your girlfriend will get suspicious?” she said jokingly.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I have several of them and they don’t mind. I should’ve told you form the very beginning that I collect women,” he answered.

“Why do you do that?”

“It’s until I find the great woman for me,” the boy said with a smile.

The woman thought for a moment. She was unprepared for his serious answer, but in the end, she realized that he wasn’t all that interesting after all.

“Ah, I see. Good luck with your search then.”

“Don’t you think you’re the one for me?” The boy grinned at her.

The woman shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ll be able to trust a boy who will not respect me, and other women for that matter. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine.”

“It was fun while it lasted.”

“Yes, it was. Thank you. We aren’t compatible anyway.”

“I know. I’m too good for you.”

The clouds didn’t dare breathe because this was the first time they have ever encountered a conversation like this.

“What do you mean?” The boy started to show his frustration.

“You’re a boy. I, on the other hand, need a man.”

“I’m a man!”

“No, you’re not. The fact that you need to feed your ego with as many women in your pocket as you can makes you an insecure boy.”

“How dare you?”

“Of course, I dare. I’m a good woman and I deserve far better than a boy like you. You’ll never find another woman like me because you’re contented with two bit whores who have nothing between their heads and STDs between their thighs.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. There’s no need for me to stay with someone like you. I’m sure that the man for me is out there and I’m going to find him. I have a feeling that he’s just close by. Excuse me.” The woman turned her back on the boy and started walking away with a smile on her face.

The clouds couldn’t suppress the laugher bubbling up within them as they watched the little boy throw a beautiful tantrum. They couldn’t wait to spread the word to all the other clouds that they will meet along the way. Once the winds started to blow, they took the first ride from above the little boy who still couldn’t believe that a woman would have the courage to walk away from him.

Steps on Sand

2010-09-17T14:28:00.000-07:00

Raphalina knew much about the world around her and she had mystical powers of foresight. Some of the beings living beyond her tower called her a witch, others called her a prophet, and those who understood better than the rest called her friend.

For seven hundred years she has been living alone in her tower, with her books and healing implements. She has shelves upon shelves of the rarest volumes and countless jars of potions, minerals, and oddities only she understood. Whenever someone was brave enough to visit her, she would always be on hand to help with whatever was in her power to do.

It was only once every full moon that she would venture out of her tower to stretch her legs and replenish whatever supplies she needed. Many of her friends would gladly help her with necessities like food and other simpler things, but she opted to collect the more dangerous minerals and potions by herself. Her first reason for doing the collection herself was from a practical point of view. It would be safer if she colleted what she needed and at the same time there wouldn’t be any mistakes made. The second reason came from a selfish point of view. She loved the thrill of going into enchanted forests, hunting down a Fire Starter for its scales, haggling with a cunning Soul Stealer, and attending the different fairs which only gathered during the fullest moon.

Of course she could leave her tower anytime she wished, but there was something about only leaving during the full moon that gave her something to look forward to. At the same time, it disciplined her and allowed her to concentrate on her craft. There were times though that she wanted to leave before the full moon and there were times when she could not stop herself, but that was during her younger days. She was wiser now and more content with herself.

Simple was her life. Others would think that the way she lived would be more complicated than that, but she was really just like anyone else. She slept, she ate, she studied, and she helped those in need when they came to her. There was really nothing more than that. Sometimes she wished she would have a little more excitement in her life, but it never really came to pass. She would even go out and look for trouble, but unfortunately the trouble she found wasn’t anything she could not handle.

Everyone thought there was such mystery surrounding her but all it all she was really plain – beautiful and haunting, but generally plain. She would have her suitors, but she knew in her heart she would outlive them all. She wanted someone who would last as long as she would. She did not know how long she would live but at least, for the next hundred years or so she needed someone who would last. This thought made her lonely. Princes, Kings, Sorcerers, and highly intelligent beings a like tried and failed. She would not give her heart to anyone.

Raphalina took solace in the fact that there was so much more to learn about the world she lived in. She might not have a companion at the moment to share her knowledge with, but she did have hope. One day, certainly one day she would meet someone how would stay with her for as long as she lived – literally. With that thought in place, she went about her usual routine and continued to do what she did best: study. What else would someone like her do? She’s seen the world and everything in it more times than she can count.

Outsourcing

2010-09-12T02:13:00.000-07:00

In the near future, humans will lose all patience to communicate with each other on the phone. The once popular call centers have become deserted since no one would want to take the high paying job anymore. This drove the company owners to outsource once again the already outsourced job. Someone suggested the employment of fairies. This idea was based on their long life expectancy. He realized that if something could live that long then certainly they would have enough patience to deal with irate callers. And so, the Fairy Based Calling System or the FBCS was established.

The phone rings.

The fairy checked the location of the incoming call before picking up. “Good morning! Thank you for calling the customer support line. How may I help you?”

“Ah yes hello,” the human said irritably. “I’m having problems with my internet connection again.”

“Can I have your name sir?” The fairy said calmly.

“What does giving my name have to do with it?”

“It’s so that I can access your account sir.”

“Oh well. David Sullivan.”

“Thank you.” The fairy typed the name into the system. “Good morning Mr. Sullivan. Can I have your account number please?”

The caller grumbles a curse. “It’s 5-061-182. Can you hurry up?”

“One moment sir,” the fairy said as she studied the nature of the account. “I see that there has been maintenance going on in the area since the early hours of the morning sir.”

“What does that mean?” The caller all but shouted.

The fairy took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s routine maintenance sir. Your connection will be up and running in a few hours.”

“How long is a few hours?”

“It says in the advisory sir that the technicians will be done before noon.”

“What! Noon? But I have work to do! I need my internet connection.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience sir.” The fairy wondered if she could start casting a spell before the human started to get even more irate.

“This is more than just an inconvenience. Do you know how much money I stand to lose if I don’t get my internet connection fixed? I choose your company because of the guaranty of continued service.”

“I understand that sir and once again I apologize for the inconvenience. I’m making a report now and sending it to Tech Support.”

“A report? A report? What will a report do? It won’t get my internet connection back!”

The fairy started murmuring the spell to calm down the caller, but before she could finish, he interrupted her.

“Why are you murmuring? Oh! You’re not human are you! No wonder you’re not helping me properly. I want to speak to a human.”

“Sir, I’m not sure what you are referring to.” The fairy stuck to the rebuttals given by the company. “We’re here to help you as best we can. Have a great day.” She hung up the phone and took a deep breath before moving on to the next call.

Jonathan’s World

2010-08-29T06:20:00.000-07:00

Jonathan is a nice boy. He did everything he was asked with a smile on his face and he loved being with others, but he couldn’t understand why he didn’t have any friends. All he really wanted was to have someone to play with, but the other children didn’t pay him any attention. Sometimes, they would even tease him for being a loner or a misfit. The loner insult baffled him because they were the ones staying away from him. The misfit insult, on the other hand, he understood a little better. He knew he was different from all of the other children, which led him to think that maybe that was the reason why they stayed away from him.

When Jonathan was five, he started seeing little balls of light floating around in his room and almost everywhere he went. He didn’t mind them at first, but he could admit that he was fascinated. He thought that they were normal, but when he asked his mother about them, she told him that he had a very creative imagination. Then he started asking other people about them, but they all attributed it to him being young and fanciful. This led Jonathan to think that no one else saw the balls of light other than him.

One day, he decided to investigate further into these little floating lights. Some would just be floating and others seem to be moving. There was one in particular that would swirl around him excitedly. He started to laugh and held out his hand. It landed on his palm and started to pulse. Jonathan felt warm all over when the light settled into his palm.

Then the light danced around him and seemed to beg him to follow it. Without another thought, Jonathan followed the little ball of light. Slowly, it led him to the woods toward an abandoned shack. At this point, Jonathan knew he should have been afraid, but the warmth he felt when the light was on his palm was still there. He continued to follow the light into the shack. It led him to what would have been the living room.

Jonathan began looking around, and slowly, other little balls of light started coming out from every corner and crack in the house. He stared quietly, until the balls of light started to take the form of little people with little arms, little legs, a mouth, eyes, and no nose or ears. This caused Jonathan to laugh and the sound of his laughter caused the little light people to start dancing around him. He knew then that he was among friends.

Everyday, Jonathan would come to the little shack to be with the balls of light. He would begin to talk with them even if they really didn’t talk back. This would go on for years and when he started school he couldn’t understand why the other children wouldn’t come near him like the lights would. But slowly be began taking comfort in not having any live friends any longer. He just contented himself with having a little ball of light in his pocket and the ones he would see floating around him from time to time.

He knew that he was different and that didn’t make him sad or frightened. It would have been nice to have human friends, Jonathan thought, but he also knew that it wouldn’t kill him if he didn’t have any. The shack would always be there, and he knew that the moment he entered that place, his light friends would come out and start dancing around him as if he was the most important little boy in the world. What more could someone like him ask for? He realized that real friends come in all spaces and size. Even if they didn’t really talk, or live for that matter, they were still his friends and they brought a little light into his life.

In the Mist

2010-08-22T06:05:00.000-07:00

Thoughts of him always make me weak in the knees. A tremble always rolls down my spine, and I feel tingles escaping my fingertips and toes. There is nothing but butterflies in my stomach when he smiles, and my heart takes flight with wings of gold when he laughs.

As I walk within the mist to meet him, this is what’s running rampant within my self. I wear a long coat to cover the wisp of a white nightgown. It’s only this early in the morning when I can meet him in secret. The evenings are too dangerous and the days are way beyond our reach.

I see a tall, broad shouldered silhouette leaning on the large bow of a tree, and I feel the warmth of anticipation spread all over my body. It starts with the lick of my tongue to wet lips gone dry down to the meeting of my thighs. He always marvels at how ready I am for him every time we meet. He just doesn’t know what a thought of him does to my wildly yielding body.

He sees me because the leaning form pushes away from the tree and comes closer. I can already see his smile in my mind’s eye before I see it up close. He spreads his arms and welcomes me within the wide, muscled expanse of them. He is so warm, so gentle – so deliciously strong.

We exchange a few words, but all of that is forgotten when his lips meet mine. The kiss starts as nothing but a light brushing. He has a way of slowly deepening a kiss that leaves my nerves all raw and wanting more. The moment our tongues meet in a timeless dance, the mists disappear and there’s nothing but the sensation of liquid fire running all the way down to my toes.

His fingers trace a long, sensuous line from the sides of my neck, down my arms, and then, up from my hips to the sides of my body, ending by tilting my head to a different angle to change the intensity of his kiss. I’ve melted away by then and more than willing to take things anywhere he would want go.

He turns us around and rests my back gently onto the bow of the tree that he had previously leaned on. His lips leave mine, and I suppress a moan of irritation. There was nothing in the world like his kisses. Every time I become aware of my lips, I remember his kisses.

He slowly moves down my body. His lips followed the trail his fingers started, sending fire in places I hardly remember during the waking hours of my day. Nips, bites, and the lick of his talented tongue send me over the edge. This was just the beginning and he groans with pleasure when he realizes that I’ve found release with nothing but the touch of his fingers and tongue.

I admire his self control, since I could barely keep my wits together to form a coherent sentence. All words have left me long after the first kiss. He begins to move lower, torturing me into a second rise onto the peak I have just leapt over is one of his indulgences. He always tries to make me go over more times than my muddled mind could handle counting.

I didn’t even realize he lifts my nightgown, being so lost in the sensations only he could come up with. He pulls me closer as I tangle my fingers into his tousled curls. My breath hitches with every flick of his tongue. He only stops when I crest the peak a third time and prepares himself to take everything he had given so far.

In the Living Room

2010-08-15T05:54:00.000-07:00

A house makes its own sound. This is what humans call “settling in” noises. Some try to connect it to the weather and how the furniture, doors, and floorboards warp, which causes cricking sounds. Humans don’t always believe the obvious, which is their furniture is alive. The older the furniture the more energy they have. This then becomes their life force. Don’t you ever wonder why the Living Room is given this name?

The Couch heaved a heavy sigh as it asked: “Will it always be this way?”

“What do you mean?” The normally placid Coffee Table asked back.

“You know, just waiting around to be used? Is this our only purpose for existence?” The Couch clarified.

“Oh no! He’s been thinking of philosophy again. The master shouldn’t have left that book on Sartre on him,” The Ottoman exclaimed.

“It’s just…don’t you ever get tired of being sat on?” The Couch insisted.

“But you’re a couch. You of all things have a definite purpose,” The Lamp chimed in. “I, on the other hand, don’t just light things. Sometimes, I could be used as a batting implement or I could be thrown during a particularly explosive argument. You’re just too big to do all of that.”

“Don’t say that, Lamp! You’ll hurt his feelings ever more and we’ll never hear the end of it,” The Side Table admonished in a motherly tone. “Don’t listen to him, Couch.”

“Side Table is right. Don’t listen to him,” The Coffee Table agreed. “You’re doing just fine as a couch.”

“Don’t you think I’m too big? I feel so bulky all the time.” The Couched sighed again.

“Not at all,” The Ottoman said. “I find your size very attractive.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re slim and smaller than I am.”

“But you provide more comfort than I do,” The Ottoman encouraged.

“Yes, Couch. You’re the only one of us that the humans use the most. You support them more than we do,” The Coffee Table said.

“Coffee Table is right,” said The Side Table. “Who do the humans use when a guest arrives?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” The Ottoman said. “And who do they use when they’re in need of a nap?”

“Me?”

“Certainly, you, I’m envious Couch.” The Coffee Table tried to sound as sincere as possible since he really didn’t envy Couch. He just wanted his friend to feel better.

“Really Coffee Table, you envy me?” The Couch started to sound a little better. “I’m not all that great.”

“Of course you are. How many times have they moved us around just to suit you? How many young ones have enjoyed themselves on you?” The Side Table added.

“Many times, very many times.” The Couch giggled a little at the thought.

“Yes, Couch! And who is the most patient when a spill happens?” The Ottoman asked.

“I definitely don’t mind when a spill happens.” The tone of The Couch was beginning to change.

“You see! You don’t have to question your purpose. You’re existence is actually the most important here,” The Coffee Table said.

“But I’m still the prettiest among all of you.”

“Shut up Lamp!” The Coffee Table, Side Table, and Ottoman said in unison.

In That Moment

2010-08-08T18:31:00.000-07:00

For the first time in eight years, I miss him. For the first time since this morning, I’m not sure what I am doing. There's something about the feeling of missing someone. It starts at the top of your head and travels down to your throat and into your heart. It swirls around a little like cream in your coffee just before you start stirring.

I didn’t expect him to leave things the way he did. We had been fighting for quite awhile. I don’t even remember what started the fight in the first place, but we fought nonetheless. Egos were bruised, hearts were broken, and scars were left behind.

I woke up that morning feeling like I should apologize just to end things. Smelling the comforting scent of coffee, I went to the kitchen. There on the dinning table was a single cup. When I came closer, I noticed a note which said I love you. My heart skipped and all I wanted to do was to see him. I wanted to smile and kiss his face all over. I wanted to run to him and hug him without letting go.

As I called for him, looking around, I began to feel that the house was empty. There was no one else there but myself. You get that feeling, that empty space feeling when you are all alone in a place. Thinking that he just went to work, I made my way back to the bedroom. That was the first time I noticed the closet doors open. His things were gone – clothes, shoes, belts, and razor. The bathroom cabinet was empty except for my things. He left nothing behind but the cup of coffee, the note, and me.

It’s been eight years since then and I miss him for the first time. The hurt is all gone, but the regrets remain. We shouldn’t have fought. We could have settled things. I didn’t need to be so stubborn. I didn’t need to be so crazy. I, I, I! There was no one else to blame.

Of course, he's partly to blame, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there anymore, and I am. I want to talk to him again. I want to know how he's doing. I want to know if he's smiling again, like what I try to do every day. Does he breathe easier? Does he even think of me the way I think of him?

I thought that all of it had been over. I thought I was all strong and mature. All that I am is older. Older and still missing him – that is what I am. I don’t even know what to do about it as I go back to bed fully dressed.

The day he left, they couldn’t even pull me off the floor. There was nothing left but the devastated feeling of not having him there anymore. All I wanted was for him to pick me up and wrap his arms around me, but that didn’t happen. It could not happen. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The room was empty, and so was I. All I wanted was to tell him how sad I was, or maybe, even say good bye properly before everything ends for me. I want that time, that little piece of time to smile with him, and maybe, just maybe, hold his hand.

Today, I am admitting to myself that I miss him. I miss him very much and all I want to do is have a moment with him. Just a tiny moment where I can say hello and watch him smile in person. I want to see him smile again. I want to see myself smile again. Can I actually do that as I admit the fact that I miss him? Can I start finding myself as I start looking for him? Even when I know where he is and it can all be easy again, will it matter? Will he be accepting? I don’t know. All I know is that I woke up today and I started missing him for the first time in eight years. Eight years since he had left and I miss him without knowing why.

Interim

2010-08-01T06:16:00.000-07:00

All I have to do is think of you for my heart to leap frantically into my throat. There is nothing more intriguing than the feelings you inspire in me. I’m not so sure what happened, but for the first time in so many years I have been sure. Now, I’m sure that you are mine. That’s the thought in my head the moment I saw you for the first time. It was just a picture of you, but it clicked. It felt right, for the first time, it felt right.

Days pass and I keep thinking of you. I’m not sure what I feel because I haven’t met you. All I have is faith in fate. Things that feel right are certainly meant to happen, one way or the other. I believe in this, and that belief is strong.

Meanwhile, as I wait for the day I would finally meet you on that green, green grass you so love, I will continue with the life I have now. Things change for a reason, and I feel every possibility has been aligning itself for that day. Now, it’s all about moving forward to that one point in the future when we meet.

I’ve been reaching out all this time, not sure what I was looking for. I had the vaguest idea of what I wanted, but now, everything is so clear that it makes me smile. One day, I didn’t know, and then, I woke up full of clarity. It makes me smile and feel good inside for the first time in so long.

I’m sure you’ve noticed that everything seems to be a first on this page. I will not deny that. There is nothing left to deny within me now. It’s just all about putting everything together and getting ready. I know what my days hold for me now. That thought brings peace in me.

Have you ever woken up thinking of someone you haven’t met? I have, and it’s good. There is a feeling of mystery there and the world is certainly full of it. Have you ever fallen asleep to the thoughts of a complete stranger? I have, and there is nothing I would want more to do until that stranger no longer becomes strange anymore.

I haven’t spoken a word of you to anyone. I just continue the leaping within me. I love the feeling of moving into each minute of my day with hope. It’s warmth that I haven’t felt in so long. It’s a security. It’s the thought that everything will be alright and that’s a first for me.

Anticipation is what keeps my heart beating. I wish I could share this feeling with you right this instant, but I know it’s not the right time yet. This is why I have patience. Again, it’s a first for me, this kind of patience. Some people would think, when you’ve waited for so long, and now, it’s almost within reach, how can you be so patient? Well, my answer there is I know it is right. I can be patient because I know, in the deepest part of my gut, that it will happen.

Now, this is my wish for all of you: I wish that you will one day feel the same way that I do. It’s the feeling of waiting for Christmas to come and you know you can wait because it’s a day that will dawn. It’s the feeling of anticipation of opening the gift you know is yours from the very beginning. It’s the smile that comes from deep inside and shines true. It’s the passion you were never sure you could have. It’s the removal of all the fear you thought would never leave. It’s the insecurities taken away and replaced with a confidence you never thought you had. It’s the knowledge that everything you’ve been doing so far has a purpose and it leads to that one moment when your life changes forever. It’s the thought that you’ve found the one promised to you from the day of your birth to the day of your death.

In Reality

2010-07-18T23:28:00.000-07:00

Kim snaked her way through a river of umbrellas thinking of what she should prepare for dinner. It was her night to cook, and she hadn’t really given it much thought. She could prepare spaghetti, she mumbled as she elbowed her was through the crowded walkway.

She thought of Carl. He might complain about dinner again. Since she almost always forgot when it was her turn to cook she would end up making the same thing: Spaghetti.

Carl complaining and having a sour look on his face made her stop for a moment, unmindful of the people hurrying around her, umbrellas hitting each other in the small alleyway. She didn’t want Carl to complain. He was important to her. She actually didn’t know what to do if he left.

Kim had to think of something else to cook.

As thoughts of ingredients swam through her head, her phone rang. She hurriedly rummaged through her bag as people pushed their way passed her. When she finally answered, it was Carl on the other end. The smile on her face vanished when he told her he wouldn’t be joining her for dinner that night. His company had a dinner he needed to attend. Kim asked why he didn’t mention this earlier and Carl started to get annoyed at her. He said he didn’t mind when she forgot to tell him things, so why should she.

Kim put down the phone a little disappointed. She didn’t want to eat dinner alone, but she didn’t want to argue with Carl over it either. They’ve been arguing frequently lately. Sometimes, it would be for such an insignificant reason, but Carl would be so testy that she didn’t know what to do anymore.

With a sigh, Kim decided to buy some take-out so she wouldn’t have to cook and do dishes. As she was about to turn toward her favorite Chinese place, she heard a familiar voice.

“Everything’s set,” the man said.

“Are you sure? I want you with me all night,” the woman answered with a laugh.

“I’m all yours, honey. You know I love no one but you.”

“Not even that whore you call a girlfriend?”

“Let’s not talk about her. She doesn’t pleasure me the way you do.”

“So when are you going to end it?”

“Soon, very soon, don’t worry about it. I’ll be all yours.”

“You better make sure of that.”

Kim couldn’t believe what she heard. She turned around to watch a familiar black umbrella moving away from where she stood. It was the umbrella she gave Carl that morning before he left for work. She told him to take care and not get wet. He smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek before he left. Now, everything made sense, all those late nights and all those arguments. When did Carl start lying to her? Has it always been that way? Who was the other woman? Kim didn’t know the answers to these questions. She never thought rain could make her feel so dirty even if she was under the protection of her favorite umbrella.

So, it was dinner alone for her after all. It would be dinner alone for her from now on. Carl wouldn’t be coming back. The thought hit her hard as she let the crowd carry her away. She wanted to drown in the sea of umbrellas. If only she could hold her breath long enough, maybe, just maybe she might.

The Zero

2010-07-11T23:18:00.000-07:00

Frank always felt like a zero. A little more than a nothing, but a little less than worthless, that was what Frank felt everyday. The children at his school didn’t hesitate, as children do, to make him feel all the more insecure about himself. He was often teased and bullied, even by the weaker kids. What kind of a person am I when even the geeks, nerds, and no-nothings pick on me? He asked himself as he combed his hair in place in front of the mirror one day. Of course, Frank didn’t have an answer to his question, so with a sigh he’d stepped down from the stool he used to stand higher than the sink and prepared to face another day.

He was a smart kid, and polite, even if he didn’t have a whole lot to smile about. He realized a scowl was a better defense mechanism than fists would ever be. Frank never liked to fight, and avoided it as much as he could, but on days when he couldn’t, he gave as much as he received. Fair was fair after all, but he never kicked anyone who was down.

Mr. Wellington, the math teacher, always watched Frank. He had a soft spot for the quite ones because he was like them when he was young. Frank caught his eye not only because he was one of the smartest in the class, but also because there was something about him. Mr. Wellington had a feeling about Frank. For him, Frank wasn’t just any other kid.

One afternoon, Mr. Wellington forgot something in his classroom, an eraser or whatnot. He came in and was surprised to see Frank sitting in his seat with his hands covering his face and sniffing. Mr. Wellington didn’t say anything and came near. He placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder and waited. When Frank looked up, he asked: what’s the matter? Frank said he couldn’t find a way to look at being a zero in a good way. Mr. Wellington asked what he meant and Frank explained that zero is what the kids called him and he tried to find a good way of looking at it, but he just couldn’t.

Mr. Wellington thought for a moment then smiled. He invited Frank to the newly cleaned blackboard and asked him to sit on the teacher’s table facing it. Frank was hesitant at first because students weren’t allowed to sit on the teacher’s table. Mr. Wellington said he’d make an exception and that he’d show Frank a great way of looking at a zero. Frank became curious and took a seat on the teacher’s table while facing the blackboard. Mr. Wellington wrote a one with a piece of chalk and asked Frank what he saw. Frank said the number one. Then Mr. Wellington asked: what will happen if I place a zero beside the one? Frank said it would become the number ten. Mr. Wellington smiled and said: now what happens if I add four more zeros? It becomes one hundred thousand, Frank said. Mr. Wellington’s smile got even bigger as he said: and what if I add three more? Then it becomes a million, Frank said, confused. Mr. Wellington looked at the puzzled look on Frank’s face and said: don’t you see Frank? It takes nine zeros more than a one to make a million. Where would that million be without them? It would just be a measly number one without all those zeros. See Frank, a zero is important too because the bigger numbers wouldn’t exist without it.

For the first time in the years, Frank smiled a bright and sunny smile. Mr. Wellington was right, a million would never happen without all those zeros. It wasn’t so bad being a zero after all. Frank left Mr. Wellington’s classroom that afternoon a changed boy.

Years later, Frank smiles when he remembers that afternoon while he waited for the announcer to call his name. If it wasn’t for what Mr. Wellington said about zeros that afternoon he wouldn’t be the man he was today. The crowed cheered and chanted the slogan of his campaign: Not Just a Zero, But a Hero. He fixed his coat as his name was called for his presidential inaugural speech to the greatest country in the world.

In Her Absence

2010-07-04T23:18:00.000-07:00

She disappeared…just like that—without even a goodbye or a letter. I didn’t expect her to affect me the way she did. I thought I’d be able to live out my life in relative peace. Just one more year and I would be free to do whatever I wanted – I’d finally be an adult. But then, she came and ruined everything.

One the first day, I thought it would be like any other day. Nothing new would happen until she walked in – totally unexpected. She had a goofy smile on her face and a funny atmosphere that seemed to follow her everywhere. She wasn’t shy at all in the way she conducted herself. I didn’t care, not as first, but she had a way of getting into you until you get addicted to her presence.

She had a free spirit. I always knew that, but I didn’t understand it. I was too young to understand anything about what adults did. All I knew was there were some whom I hated with all my heart and there were those whom I trusted. I didn’t trust many, but I trusted her. She had that power, which was why it hurt more than ever when she left. I was betrayed, let down, hurt at every level. At the same time, there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say. I was angry, very angry, but I had nothing to lash out on, nothing to scream at.

Where did she go? Why did she leave? What could I have done to make her disappear? These questions and many more went through my irrational mind. It was like the wind was sucked out of my lungs when the news was first announced that she wouldn’t be coming back. None of us knew. More so, none of us knew why. Those same adults we more than hated wouldn’t say anything.

She was a coward for running away! This was the first scream. She could have waited a little longer! Just a little longer and it would all be over! This was the second scream. She was a FAKE! This was the last scream. The anger consumed me completely. My whole heart was heavy with it. All I really wanted was to see her again and tell her everything I couldn’t say.

I might never forgive her for doing this to me. I would keep this anger in my heart forever or until the day I see her again and finally tell her how she hurt me.

She hurt me in so many ways. She said she would always be there, but that was never true. She said she would always listen, but that never happened. She was a hypocrite and a liar. She broke her promises and just ran away without saying anything.

Every time I remember her, my anger comes back. I don’t understand why the others were able to forgive her so easily. She betrayed them too. She left them too. She broke her promises to them too! And yet, they forgave her, why? I could never understand them. I never wanted to understand them. All I knew was she was there, and then she wasn’t. Everything inside me echoed with emptiness. She had left and there was nothing I could do.

Would everything have been better if she had stayed? I don’t know the answer to this question. The hurt is too fresh and still bleeding. It would become a scar one day, but I don’t think that far ahead. I wish I never would have met her. I wish she never would have come into my life and ruined everything by leaving – that goofy, pathetic looking face. That funny air she had, as if she didn’t really care. I wish I never would have been a part of all that – it was all a lie. A lie she would always be held accountable for by me and many others like me. I’m not alone in hating her. There are many of us out there – many of us who hate and live on hating. It’s a feeling she has caused and didn’t even care to explain. There was nothing I could do, but hate.

His Touch

2010-06-27T23:09:00.000-07:00

He stood by the door with his arms folded in front of his chest, leaning his hip on the doorframe. His eyes were intense and calculating. His lips were formed into a very arrogant smirk. I desperately wanted him to touch me. All I really wanted was for him to come near and have his hands all over my body as I sat there on the bed with nothing on.

I craved for his touch. There was nothing as wonderful as his work-roughened fingers on my satin smooth skin. But all he did was look at me with eyes filled with a hunger held in check. I wish I could do something to make his control shatter. I knew he wanted me, he knew I wanted him, but he didn’t move from the doorframe.

His eyes roamed my body, a caress of their own. My breathing hitched as his gaze moved downward. I couldn’t stop the shiver that curled my toes. Something about his stare… my heart skipped twice. The room was suddenly so hot.

I shifted my position to give him a better view in the hopes of enticing him forward. When he didn’t move, I couldn’t stop a small moan of disappointment. This brought a self-satisfied smirk to his tempting lips. My eyes focused on the small movement, wishing my lips could kiss one of the upturned corners.

Thoughts of kissing him came to mind dried my mouth. I licked my lips. His shoulders jerked a little when he saw what I did. He stared at my lips intently. The quick movement of my tongue was more than enough to catch and hold his attention. Even in triumph, I knew I hadn’t won since he still leaned on the doorframe.

I began moving back on my elbows on the soft cotton sheets with my knees slightly bent. I decided to look as lazy as he did, trying to tell him with my movements that I had as much patience as he did. I wasn’t sure what kind of game he played, but I was a willing participant.

This time, he did move. Just as I thought I was about to get what I wanted, he apparently just shifted his weight to the other side. His movements were fluid that spoke of steamy nights and soft purrs of pleasure. Oh, how I wanted that pure masculine weight on me.

I knew his body well – all hard planes and clean shapes. Broad shoulders that sheltered my small frame, a chest that cradled me easily, arms that protected and possessed at the same time. I knew what those hands could do and my body remembered the flames his lips could ignite. Long legs that planted firmly on the ground carried the power that he wore like a second skin.

He must have noticed my wondering stare, a soft groan came from him throat. I knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in to what I wanted. I knew that he had no other choice than to touch me as I have no other choice than to let him touch me. There was no room for decisions between us. We did what we did because there was a need in both of us.

I smiled a slow, seductive smile and whispered his name. I got his full attention then, his eyes locked with mine. I held his stare and purred out his name that ended in a soft enticing moan. I was almost there. I almost had what I wanted. Just a little more patience and I’d have his touch on my skin.

The Confusion

2010-06-20T17:08:00.000-07:00

I told him that I brought my own car and he said he’d just have it sent to my place later that afternoon since I was in no condition to drive. I didn’t argue with him. I really didn’t feel like I could drive home. At the same time, I wasn’t feeling all too comfortable being in his car again. It was another place full of memories.

The front seat was still very familiar to me – the leather, the smell, and the accessories. I love his car. Fully loaded, as they would say; no expense was spread. Mag wheels, multiple CD changer, Dolby surround sound, MP3 player jack – basically you name it, he has it inside or outside his car.

My hands couldn’t help but run over the surface of the seat I was in, the dashboard, the steering wheel. He just watched me perform my usual ritual of touching every surface I could get my hands on. He always said there was something so erotic with the way I touched his car. When this thought entered my mind I jerked my hands away quickly. His eyes were definitely on me – the hunger was there once again.

Just drive, I said and he started the engine. As I was busy fastening my seatbelt, he pushed a few buttons on the dash stereo. After about a minute, I realized he had enabled my favorite song compilation. I looked at the LCD screen and wasn’t surprised to see my name. You still have my play list, I said.

I never really removed it, he replied as he pulled out of the parking lot of his apartment building. Why? I asked. He was silent for a moment, then after a sigh said, I never really threw away or changed anything. This didn’t surprise me anymore since his apartment was clearly an evidence of the fact. I burned everything you gave me, I told him. His expression didn’t change. That’s understandable, he said, but you still have this. Without looking away from the road he pointed to the necklace I wore.

Damn! I gritted my teeth just so the word wouldn’t leave my mouth. Why did I have to wear it? Why? Well, what can I do? I like it. I told him with as little emotion as I could manage. If you say so, he said. But he didn’t try to hide the smile on his face. He won that round, but I wasn’t going to let him gloat over the fact.

I wanted to feel uncomfortable, but I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, being in his car was one of the most relaxing experiences I can have. We never fought inside his car – not once, even if we were mad at each other. The car was a place of peace for the both of us. I was so tempted to start a fight, but I knew he wouldn’t bite. I tried it once before and it never worked. He just laughed at me.

There was nothing left to do. I just concentrated on my favorite tunes and hoped there wouldn’t be any because the sooner I got home, I knew the sooner I could turn my back from all of this insanity. My friends would kill me when they find out what happened and what I had been up to.

The Waking

2010-06-11T16:43:00.001-07:00

I woke up with something cold on my forehead. I didn’t open my eyes immediately, trying to feel and hear what was happening around me; not a sound was made. For the first time, peace came over me, almost like nothing hurt and my emotions were under control.

With a sigh, I opened my eyes. I was on the bed – our bed or what was once our bed. After admonishing myself for that thought, I sat up and looked around. The towel on my forehead fell, and I picked it up. I couldn’t stop staring at it. This was all his fault, I thought to myself. This would never have happened if we didn’t bump into each other the other day.

My concentration on the towel was so intense that I didn’t notice him enter the room. His voice brought me back to the present. What was that? I asked him, not really understanding what he was saying since everything was still pretty hazy. The look of worry in his eyes was hard to mistake – it was definitely there.

I’m fine, I finally said since it looked like he wasn’t going to repeat what he had said when he entered. He reached for the towel I held, but there was a slight hesitation before he took it. His presence was so strong, definitely something I couldn’t ignore for very long. Such was my longing for him – yet another dangerous thought.

He pulled up a chair and took my hand as he sat down. Will you listen to me? He asked. Just to get things over with I nodded. I couldn’t speak because that moment made me realize how much I missed the feeling of his hand on mine. The comfort I used to draw from it always made me feel so much better. I knew I was safe. I hated that fact now.

First, he apologized for what happened. He didn’t expect that she’d have the gall to slap me – she was such a meddling woman – nothing but a common slut. These were his words. The anger in his voice seemed unbelievable. Then he told me about what happened that night – the scene I walked into. I started to become uncomfortable because the memory wasn’t exactly a good one for me. He seemed to have sensed it because he gave my hand a slight squeeze.

He continued by saying that she was the one who kissed him. In my head I said to myself, but you let it happen. He continued by saying that there was really nothing going on between him and that woman. But why did she show up this morning? I asked myself. I didn’t know if I should believe what he said. The sound of his voice seemed sincere, but still, I was uneasy. There was this feeling in me saying I shouldn’t believe what his words.

I couldn’t take anymore. It was too much to hear in one go. I’m going home, I said, effectively cutting off the rest of what he was about to say. Seeing the fatigue on my face stopped him short as well. I’ll take you home. He said this with such finality that I didn’t argue anymore.

The Pain

2010-06-06T04:12:00.001-07:00

I stood out in the hallway for what seemed like a long time before moving toward the elevator. My feet were heavy, my heart stopped beating. I was basically a led weight trying to move and reach home before collapsing from fatigue. It’s been a stressful twenty-four hours.

When I reached the elevator, I pressed the down button and waited. A bell went off and the doors parted. I moved aside to let the occupant step out then stepped in. The moment we passed each other, I couldn’t move – it was her. The hair, the smell, the cheap clothes – the hooker of a woman! Then and there, I knew I was right to leave the apartment. She didn’t look at me, I didn’t think she even knew I was there – self-centered as she was. I only met her once and that was a purely formal affair. The next time I saw her was in his arms and the kiss that followed.

She was the source of my pain – the nerve of her to come to his place. I was rooted in place. I waited for a moment and when I heard the door close I made my way back to his apartment. What was I doing? I asked myself. The question made me walk back toward the elevator until I heard the crash breaking glass.

I had my ear to his door. There was a moment of silence, then muffled words, then another crash. She must be the one throwing things around since he was never the type to get physical with women when angry. He’d raise his voice, but that’s about it.

Another moment passed, and all was quite. My heart beat again, pounding in my ears. They must have made up, I thought to myself. That was painful to realize. A part of me wanted to run in and start screaming my head off, but another part of me wanted to leave – I had no business interfering with what happened behind that door. He was no longer mine, no longer my concern.

As I finally made up my mind to leave, the door flew open and I was face to face with her. Her eyes were wide with surprise. She finally notice who I was, and to my surprise, she was angry. The next moment was far more unexpected – she slapped me. As I held my cheek, I couldn’t understand what happened. She had the gall to slap me? What the hell?

Before I could release my full on anger on her, he was there. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. He said how dare she touch me with her filthy hands. There was nothing between them and that she should stop deluding herself into thinking he would ever have any feelings for her. He said he knew who he loved and that night meant nothing to him.

My head spun from all the screaming and the tension. I couldn’t understand what went on anymore. It all came in too fast – all that information couldn’t be processed in my state. Before I could stop myself, everything went black.

The Disclosure

2010-05-09T04:39:00.001-07:00

I immediately stood up and stretched out a hand to stop his approach. It wasn’t a very good idea since it gave him a chance to pull me towards him. The warmth and smell of him flooded my senses. My knees buckled, and the most gut wrenching thing about the whole situation was the way he held me up. I knew that strength very well. I’d memorized all the things those hands can do and I’d felt every inch and muscle he had to offer. I knew him, and unfortunately, he knew me.

Looking up at him was another bad idea. My lips became all the more accessible. It was too easy. I became too easy. The moment he leaned down and kissed me, I was undone. He stole the breath I had taken in—all the craving and hunger was behind his kiss. It dominated, and then suddenly gentled, and then enticed. He was good—he had always been good.

Then, just as fast as, he let me go. The look on his face was one of regret. It took me a moment to realize the reason behind his action. Tears flowed freely down my face.

I crumpled onto the carpeted floor and hid my face in my hands. I was in hysterical tears in a second. The pain bubbled out of me and came out in hicks and groans. So caught up in my emotions, I didn’t realize he cradled in his arms. He mumbled something about not knowing how much he had hurt me and how it would be different this time.

That last remark brought me back to my senses. There won’t be a next time, I told him and pushed away from his embrace. Somehow, he had gotten on the floor and placed me unto his lap. I stood up and went into the bathroom. I put on my clothes from the night before and didn’t bother with any make up. My eyes were sore from all the crying, but it did not matter. I needed to get out of there.

When I left the bathroom he stood by the door and blocked my way. Don’t go, he said. I shouldn’t have come, I said. My words didn’t deter him. It seemed like he would make it hard for me to leave. He was once again the selfish man I knew, and I wasn’t embarrassed to tell him so. He didn’t react to this the way I expected—by getting angry—he remained calm. He even sighed.

Please let me go, I pleaded. All he did was take a step back and said to have a seat. He said I should hear him out. I told him there was nothing more for the two of us to talk about. We weren’t together anymore. This statement came out with a hint of bitterness behind it. His lips thinned a little, which meant he was fighting hard not to lose his temper. After another sigh, he moved away from the door and finally let me open it.

Before I could make it out into the hallway, he said, there hasn’t been anyone else. This made me pause for a moment before I stepped out and closed the door. It didn’t matter. What was done was done, and I couldn’t turn back time. I cannot even remove the image of him kissing her out of my head no matter how much I tried. There was no going back after that.

The Mistake

2010-05-02T04:33:00.001-07:00

After finishing my food, I immediately stood up, intending to bring my plate to the sink. I didn’t get far. His hand was already wrapped around my wrist, effectively preventing me from moving any further. I couldn’t stop the shiver which raced down my spine. The grin on his face was unmistakably devilish.

He didn’t stand from where he sat. I looked at him and a sleeve of my robe slid down a little. His gaze shifted to my exposed skin. Suddenly, the room had become hot. I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to be under the scrutiny of those passionate eyes. Why did I come to this apartment in the first place? I asked myself.

There was a brief pause, like he was thinking of saying something but thought the better of it. He seemed to realize how tense I was around him. For the first time, he smiled and let me go. I inhaled deeply and let my breath out slowly without breaking eye contact.

I only realized I was shaking when I reached the sink and the plate slipped a little as I put it down. How could he still have that much of a hold on me? This question kept going through my mind when I entered the master bedroom. True to form, clothes were laid out for me and the dresser did have the cosmetics I usually used for a day out. I sat down on the bed and took a moment to look at the soft pink blouse with a silk ribbon threaded through the boat-neck collar in white and the semi-balloon, cotton skirt, also in white. He knew my taste and my size well.

The clothes were new. It was the first time I’d seen them. When could he have bought them? It was exasperating. I didn’t want to find myself back in the situation I was in. As far as I was concerned, there shouldn’t have been anything there anymore. The silence was a clear reminder of that.

I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice him standing in the doorway. He casually leaned on the frame with his arms folded in front of him. I stared at him and he asked if I liked the clothes. I said they where beautiful and he said I haven’t seen the sandals which went with the whole outfit. At that point, my frustration came pouring out.

Why are you doing this? I asked with a little heat behind the question. My tone wasn’t lost to him, but he didn’t straighten from his relaxed posture on the doorframe. I want you. Those words hung in the air. I didn’t know what to say, or in fact, how to react to how serious he said it. My heart was in my throat, choking me. I couldn’t breathe.

Seeing that I wasn’t going to make a move, he pushed away from the doorframe and came to me. When he was about two feet away, I started coming back to my senses. I realized I was sitting on the bed and that wasn’t a good place to be. It was very dangerous territory. I needed to leave. I finally reached a point where I didn’t trust myself around him anymore. I didn’t even remember what I was there for in the first place. Everything was so familiar to me, yet I knew it could never be the same again. The one who changed all of it was the man in front of me. He had no right to put me in that sort of situation. I can’t allow myself to go through that kind of blinding pain again.

The Morning

2010-04-25T06:16:00.001-07:00

When I was sure he was sleeping comfortably, I went back to the living room. I looked at the clock on the far wall—it was already past midnight. Thankfully, it was the weekend, so I didn’t need to worry about going to work the next day. For the first time that day, I was finally calm. It was like everything was back to normal, but of course, I was just fooling myself. Things are more complicated now than when this thing first started.

Knowing that I needed rest, I decided to sleep on the couch. There was a guest room, but I was never comfortable there. I wrapped my shawl around me then quickly fell asleep. I didn’t dream of anything that night.

I woke up hours later to him watching me; he sat on the coffee table, leaning forward, his hands clasped before him. He must have been up for a while because his hair was wet and the smell of breakfast was in the air. I became nervous. He said nothing—he just stared at me.

His eyes followed me as I sat up and the shawl fell to the floor. His silence was unnerving. I decided to break it by greeting him a good morning. He took a deep breath and asked what I was doing in his apartment. I told him about last night. He rubbed his jaw, this signaled that his best friend was in for a good talking too when they saw each other again.

When he didn’t make any efforts to move, I went to the bathroom to freshen up. To my surprise, my robe was laid out for me and all my favorite bath products were there. It was nostalgic. He always knew the things I liked and anticipated my every need. This disturbed me since it had been months since we broke up. It was like nothing had changed.

I came out of the bathroom in my robe and with my hair up. A quick shower was all I needed to freshen up. I was very sure that if I entered the master bedroom, a set of clothes would be on the bed for me to wear. If the bathroom was any indication—I was very sure that my side of the dresser would have been arranged with my favorite cosmetics as well.

He was already sitting at the dining table reading the Sunday paper. My usual place at his side was already set. Orange juice, scrambled eggs with cheese, a small pancake with lots of syrup, and three pieces of sausage—my usual breakfast—was already there and still warm. I sat down in my usual way, with a leg hiked up onto the chair. He didn’t look at me, busy as he was with the article he read.

I didn’t say anything either and just proceeded to pick at my plate with a fork. Wonderful, I said with a sigh and that finally brought a reaction for him. He put the paper down and looked at me again. I didn’t know if this was a good thing—still very unnerving since I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Finally, he said he was going to his parent’s house and I should come along. His mother missed me—he tried to sound calm, but I couldn’t miss the slight tremble in his voice. This day wasn’t normal at all—I didn’t know what I would feel or how I was supposed act.

The Sympathy

2010-04-17T21:25:00.001-07:00

Normally, any punch wouldn’t knock him out, but since he was already pretty plastered by the time he began bending down to kiss me, his best friend’s punch was more than enough to bring him to the ground. His best friend smiled at me as if in apology. It was obvious that he didn’t intend for things to happen the way they did. I touched his check and smiled back. No words were really needed between us. I knew him just as well as he knew me.

Slowly, he hefted his best friend—my former love—onto his shoulder with a grunt, then said he would bring him home. I told him that I’d come along. I was already out the door before he could protest. He could never go against my stubborn streak. There were times when I wished he was the one I fell in love with, but we both knew there was really nothing there—no spark, no tension.

When we reached his apartment, I had to take out my own set of keys. The action surprised his best friend. To him it was unusual that I was still holding on to keys to his apartment. He raised a silent brow, which I ignored since that wasn’t the time for us to argue about a set of keys.

His apartment was still the same—all my feelings came flooding back. I knew this apartment well. The smells, the furniture, the comforting homely feel—I knew it all, I loved it all. The soft, well-worn couch was my favorite place. My favorite shawl was always draped over it, so when I fell asleep while reading it would serve as my blanket. I gasped when I saw my shawl still where I left it.

The white tulips were still there too—of course, they have been changed after wilting, but still, he had them by the window where I love putting them. Our relationship may have ended, but it was like I never left the apartment. All my little touches, my character, my love for him were all still there.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to breakdown right then and there. I wasn’t even paying attention to his best friend in the master bedroom already. After a few more minutes, he joined me in the living room. Can’t you see, he asked me; I knew what he was talking about. I asked about how he was. Settled in bed, but he’d have a mighty hangover in the morning, his best friend smiled. He said he’d accompany me home, but I shook my head. I wanted to stay. I wanted to be there in the morning when he woke up. His best friend didn’t say anything more. He just kissed me on the cheek and said he would call in the morning to check on things. I smiled back and locked the door after him.

It took me a moment before I entered the all too familiar master bedroom; too many memories, too many feelings. I brought a small towel and a bowl of cold water with me. I gasped once again. There he was, sound asleep on our bed—no, his bed now. I always loved watching him sleep—a sense of calm always came over me when I watched him sleep. I set down the bowl on the night stand and soaked the towel. I wringed out the excess water and placed it gently on his forehead, letting my hand linger there. I was surprised when he reached for it. Without opening his eyes, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed my palm gently. I felt the heat of that kiss all the way down to my toes. I missed this hand, he said and let it go—he was asleep.

The Choice

2010-04-09T23:08:00.001-07:00

Within an hour, I found myself at the bar he was currently getting smashed in with his worried, overreacting best friend. I didn’t even know why I was there. What could I do at that point? But what got me kicking myself was the actual act of being there. Why did I allow myself to be there in the first place? It wasn’t my responsibility anymore. He wasn’t my responsibility anymore. But those words, those words still kept ringing in my ears: He is not over you.

His best friend met me at the front door of the bar. He looked more agitated than I was. The worry on his face clearly showed in the lines on his forehead and the thin line his lips made. I knew why he was like that. He and I both knew that the man currently getting plastered had an ugly temper when inebriated. Nothing would be left whole in that bar if something or someone triggered his anger.

That thought made me worry as well when we were making our way to the private room they always used when drinking. He always hated drinking in the barroom. He always had to be in a private corner couch or a private room. That particular bar was one of the places they frequented after work just to unwind. It was unusual for them to be there since it was a Saturday and he never liked getting drunk on a Saturday because the next day was always reserved for family, hangovers were definitely out of the question.

The moment I entered the room, the smell of expensive brandy reached my senses. I could get drunk just by breathing in the fumes floating around. That was how drunk he was. There was no one else with him. I glanced at his best friend. All he did was shake his head and I understood that he was the only one doing the drinking.

I noticed him sprawled on the couch. The low table in front of it was littered with several bottles of brandy. He only drank brandy, especially those from France. Nothing cheap touched his lips—no, scratch that, it was no longer true. I couldn’t think off why we broke up, that wasn’t the time for it.

It took him a while to focus. When he finally saw that it was me standing by the door, he lashed out at is best friend. He kept asking what I was doing there and why I was the one he called. I knew he only asked those questions because he was foxed, but they still hurt, hearing them slurred at me since while he was speaking he didn’t take his eyes off me. I shuddered involuntarily. There was heat in that stare—I knew it too well.

With the speed of a man who didn’t seem drunk, he was suddenly pinning me to the wall. He had dropped the brandy snifter and had his hands on the wall at both sides of my head. I couldn’t move. The bulk of his entire frame wouldn’t allow me to slip away. The smell of liquor and cologne was cloying. Each breath was warm and reeked of brandy—sweet, yet sour all at the same time. I even detected a hint of cigarette smoke on him.

There was a tense moment between us. My nerves were stretched too far. Then he began leaning towards me for a kiss. Just as quickly, his best friend knocked him out the moment he saw a tear fall from my eye.

The Frustration

2010-04-02T18:25:00.001-07:00

I paced my room continually that night. Sleep was far from coming and my body was clearly agitated from the experience of seeing him again, let alone kissing him. I wasn’t prepared for the full force of him—his smell, his lips, his warmth. All the comfort I used to feel when I was enveloped by those arms came flooding back in waves of pleasure interlaced with frustration.

I wasn’t ready to admit the feelings within me. I didn’t know that my heart could beat that fast. The pacing was not helping to alleviate my state—adrenaline was pumping too much too fast. I hate getting this way, especially when the cause of it was him—it’s far worse than being high on drugs. Nothing could compare to what he makes me feel in a single moment than any substance known to produce the same effect.

It got worse when I started looking at my phone. The urge to want to call him was very strong. It took all my will power not to approach the writing desk where it lay silently. His number was still within its memory—I couldn’t bring myself to erase it, somehow I drew comfort in the knowledge that I could contact him whenever I wanted or needed to. I knew that one call would bring him running to me regardless of the time or what he was doing.

We are chained to each other at the hip. It’s almost like we can no longer function without the other. The first few months of not having him with me were the worst. My friends needed to literally drag me out of the house. I didn’t even want to leave the security of my room because I knew that it would be useless not having his warmth beside me as I walked the streets.

Just as I was making my hundredth round of pacing, my phone rang. My nerves were so fried that I thought my heart stopped for a moment. I couldn’t even breathe as I looked at the phone. Three steps were all it would take for me to reach my writing desk. Three short steps and I’d be able to know, by looking at the screen, who was calling me. What planted me to my place was the hope of wanting it to be him. That scared me the most because it meant I had to admit to myself feelings I’d been trying to suppress for so long now.

I let it ring a few more times before I finally picked it up. It was not him, making me sad, which sent me reprimanding myself for feeling hopeful in the first place. But curiously enough it was his best friend calling. I wasn’t even able to say hello when he already bombarded me with questions. He was going on and on about how he was at a bar and how drunk his friend was becoming.

This made me think. He’d never drink to the point of getting drunk unless something was really troubling him. My heart began to beat faster and my palms were sweaty. Why did this happen? I asked his best friend and he told me it was all my fault. How could it be my fault? I asked back and he said the words I didn’t want to hear: He’s still not over you.

The Kiss

2010-03-26T19:44:00.001-07:00

I did not get very far when a hand pulled me around. I knew it was him, but I did not expect what happened next. He kissed me—not just any kiss, but a hungry one, a kiss that you felt all the way to your toes. It had been so long since I’ve had a taste of him, and it was still the same—sweet, salty, and warm.

At that point, I lost most of my metal capacities and just focused on the sweet heat of his kiss. I felt my arms involuntarily wrap around his neck for support. He took this as a sign of submission and pulled me closer. We were matched length for length—lean muscle against soft curve. It did not matter that we were standing in the middle of a busy shopping district we would always frequent when we were together.

When he finally let go, ending the kiss, I felt dazed. Everything was hazy and I could not focus. This was always what happened when he kissed me unexpectedly since I was never really capable to resist him when I was not prepared.

How dare he do this to me? When that question entered my mind the anger associated with it came as well. I knew he saw it on my face because he almost took a step back. What shocked me even more were the tears which came free flowing down my face. I had totally lost control of my emotions. One single kiss broke me down.

I covered my face and bent to the floor. I could not take it any longer. This one meeting with him was too much for me to handle. I was not strong enough—I don’t think I will ever be strong enough when it came to him. When his hands touched my shoulders I almost growled the sentence: don’t touch me. He seemed to have apologized at that point and I slowly stood while whipping away my disgraceful tears.

When I was sure that I had a semblance of control again I looked up at him. He stood there grief stricken. He never liked seeing me hurt and would quickly jump to protect me when I was. This time he was the cause of this pain, so he was doubly frustrated with himself. It was all over his face and tense manner. He did not know what to do.

The silence lasted for a few more seconds and then I sighed. You shouldn’t have kissed me, I told him. He said he couldn’t help himself. Seeing me today made him realize how wrong he was about the things that he did to hurt me and that he still loved me. A few months ago I would have listened hopefully to his words, but now as I look at him standing there in front of me and people would pass us by I did not know what to think.

There was nothing for me to say. I was frustrated, angry, and hurt because of his selfishness. He did not even consider what I was feeling or what I would feel because of his actions. I quickly turned around and started walking away. Silently, I prayed that he would not come after me and thank goodness he did not. I don’t think I would have been able to handle a third confrontation with him in one day.

The Moment

2010-03-20T04:18:00.001-07:00

His smile always made me feel excited and comfortable, but this time I was scared. I did not know what to do with myself. Suddenly, it felt like we were the only people in that café. Fortunately, our usual table was in the far corner because the anger following my nerves must have really shown. I told him that I was happy being single at the moment.

He reached across the table and held my hand. His hand easily enveloped my wrist and his old habit of stroking my pulse was still there. The smile on his face told me he did not believe a word I said about being happy. I started to pull away at that point, but he would not let go. His grip did not need to tighten; he was strong enough to hold me in place with just a gentle squeeze. To be honest, I did not want him to let go. I missed the warmth of those hands and the things they could do.

When I finally said that he should remember how much he hurt me, he let go of my hand. The smile left his face and he became pensive. I knew that I struck a chord there, but when my feelings were involved there is nothing much I could do. Breaking up with him had to happen and it destroyed me. For months I could not really call myself fine. My friends would actually have to peel me off the floor on most days. He had to know how hard it was for me to be sitting across for him at that moment.

I knew I am stronger now, but I was not prepared for the whole brunt of him: that face, that smile, that smell, and that warmth. The silence was very long and tension filled once again. I did not want to break it, but seeing his tightly knitted brow filled me with some remorse. I said it was over between us and meeting today should not change anything. Now he frowned. I seem to have made the situation worse.

He reached for his glass and sipped. I watched as he swallowed, that strong neck wanting to be kissed. He must have noticed my stare and sighed. He said, how I could say that I was happy without him when I would look at him the way I did. I blushed—he was right, but not a hundred percent. Yes, I was attracted to him, but I also knew the consequences of getting back together with this walking heartbreak of a man.

The distress on my face must have been obvious and he apologized. Going out to lunch with him was a mistake—he knew it now when I could no longer hold myself together. Something changed in his manner. There was a look of compassion on his face that I had never seen before. It was something new for me, and I was not used to it. Did he really change? Was that even possible? No! I rebuffed myself. I should not be thinking that way. I am not willing to put myself through the whole whirlwind that was his love for me.

I can’t do this anymore, I told him. I have to go, I added. There was no need to continue down this road. I stood up, kissed him on the check, smiled, and left the café without another word. I knew there was nothing there left for me to hang on to and I was afraid to get hurt by him all over again.

In a Touch

2010-03-12T17:49:00.001-08:00

The touch of his hands awakened my senses to a multitude of feelings being alive can bring. I had given up on feeling before he came. I was walking in soles scrubbed raw and wearing a face worn thin with worry. I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to feel again.

I first met him as I was walking to work one day. His finger touched the side of my arm ever so slightly as we passed each other. I felt a small tingle form at the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t so sure where it came from. I just stopped walking and looked back at him without another word.

The next time, I was standing inside a crowded elevator and he was right behind me. He ran his hand from the nape of my neck to the base of my back. The ripples of warmth going through me curled my toes. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling.

The third time he touched me, we were on a train together. I was standing by the door encircled in his arms. He protected me from the crowd pushing in on us. I was encased in the warmth of his body. Wave upon wave of pleasure came over me. Small shivers when through my body like a soft whistle floating in the breeze.

It was a hot summer when he taught me what it meant to really touch someone. I was wearing a white summer dress, sandals, and a wide-brimmed hat. He brought me to a place within the woods shaded by trees and cooled by soft breezes. He had me giggling within minutes of his touch. I never knew how sensitive to touch I was until his fingers played their little game across my skin.

The circular motions he would use. The little twitches and pinches would keep me asking for more. And yet, I didn’t think I could handle anymore from him. His constant attention had me screaming for all I could get. The horrible thing about all of it was that he gave more than I thought I could ask for. He took me to places within myself I didn’t think I had.

I lay there thinking, what else could he come up with? When I started asking, he’d answer with new and creative things. My body responded in ways I never thought possible for someone who gave up on feeling long ago. He brought back a way of feeling in me, a pulsing sensation multiplied by all the shivers and ripples of pleasure within his fingertips.

Before I could really make sense of what he could do, I found myself addicted to his touch. With a look I could tell him what I wanted and he responded with his touch. A touch I would come to expect. Even if his hand hadn’t made contact yet, I could already feel all the heat gather in my insides with a tight ball. He toyed with that ball until I was literally begging for release. He would not grant me my release until I asked for it. There were times when I’d hold out and see how long I’d last. Sometimes, I was able to resist, and then, there were moments when all I wanted was to be taken into the heights his touch promised.

It would only take a simple thought of him and his touch to drive me up the wall with need. When there were days he was not able to sate my need I had no idea what to do with myself. Nothing can ever be the same anymore without him. I don’t even remember the life I had before his touch. Each of his fingertips branded themselves on every inch of my skin. His finger prints were all over my body, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Passing On

2010-02-27T18:25:00.001-08:00

He could no longer feel the tingle of magic he used to feel at the tips of his fingers. During an age very few knew about, he was full of youth and filled with power. He thought he was the most powerful wizard ever to have walked the land he called home. Flowers bloomed at his passing; such was the energy he exuded. The trees shook their branches just to welcome him. Animals bowed down before him when he crossed their paths. Even his own kind paid him respect and homage. Such was his greatness.

As a young boy, he was discovered the only survivor of a village turned to ash. The man who found him was a common magician named Morin, who traveled to entertain with cheap tricks and elaborate hand gestures. There was very little Armire in him, as the forest folk – wise and knowledgeable – called magic, but he knew how to feel out those whose bodies were filled with it. The boy was definitely spilling over with Armire. So filled was he that his body smelled of magic – sweet and intoxicating.

It was only years later when Morin discovered that the boy, named Irwin, was the cause of the burned village. He was too young to remember at the time, but it happened again when he traveled with Morin. Irwin was provoked by a young boy, and the next thing Morin knew, he was carrying Irwin out of the village at a run. No one survived that day when Morin came back to check and the news was in the air. It was as if the village never existed.

For the first time, Morin was afraid. He decided to leave the boy with an old hag woman who lived in the middle of the forest. She took Irwin in because she too felt much Armire in him. This was where most of his youth was spent. The hag taught him how to control and use his magic. When she died, Irwin decided to see what else he could learn.

It did not take him long to reach the heights he did not even imagine achieving. But with harnessing his power came greed, and with greed came hunger, and with hunger came wanting, until in the end the wanting led to the destruction of everything he worked for. His biggest mistake of all was angering the forest folk when he turned most of the Armire users into crows. The forest folk believed in balance and knew that there would be nothing left of them and the world they all lived in if there would be only one Armire user. They brought upon Irwin the Inphris – the keeper of all their knowledge and power.

The Inphris was the ultimate judgment in their land and not even Irwin could stop its will. With one strike, his limitless Armire was taken from him, and each day he would ooze out his precious magic until one dawn he would be left empty.

That day has finally come, granted many years later, but Irwin could no longer feel the tingle at the tips of his fingers. The crows have gathered around him. Some wanted to see what would become of him and others wanted to pay their last respects. Those who could not let go of their anger just waited for the inevitable and taunted him as he passed. Those who have forgiven would land on his hands and staff. They kissed his cheek and flew away.

Irwin bent down and touched the ground. He closed his eyes and breathed – farewell earth. Standing up, he placed his palm on a large tree, once again closing his eyes and breathed – farewell forest. Opening his eyes and using the remainder of his Armire, he breathed and bid farewell to all those the last of his magic could touch. This made all the crows fly up into the sky and call out. The air was filled with the noise of their song. Some in joyful celebration for the great wizard was dead, while the others called out in mournful agony for the great wizard was dead.

To Be the Fool

2010-02-21T01:57:00.000-08:00

The moment Arlis glanced toward the cliff, Lilah had already disappeared. He was too late. The scream of panic coming form his throat was wilder than human. Arlis ran to the edge, and looked over. There she was, lying among the thorns, her body unmoving.

“Lilah!” his call echoed down to her. The panic in his heart was beginning to become hopelessness. Just when he was about to think of her as dead, Lilah moved.

With the blood pumping in his ears, Arlis rushed down the cliff while calling her name. He let his pride get the best of him. If he admitted he was being a fool, then they wouldn’t have gotten into a fight, and she wouldn’t have stormed out of the palace. It was definitely his fault if she died.

When he reached her side, he began to cradle her gently, but had to stop because of her hiss. She was in pain. There was so much blood. The thorns cut her everywhere.

“Lilah…oh, Lilah,” Arlis said as he could no longer hold back the tears.

“Arlis,” Lilah whispered before wincing.

“Lilah, I was a fool.”

“Don’t think that way, Arlis.”

“No, you had the right to call me a fool. I was too stubborn to listen to what you had to say.”

“Arlis, wait.”

“Hush Lilah, let me speak. I couldn’t take the fact that you were right. My pride got the best of me and you were only pointing out what I did wrong.”

“Arlis—”

“Let me finish, Lilah. I shouldn’t have accepted that challenge from my father. We were both being stubborn and I’m just so angry with him for letting my brother die in that useless war he started.”

“But Arlis—”

“I’m not finished yet, Lilah. You were the only person I could trust. From the moment I met you, I already knew that you’d be the one for me, but now I feel like I have betrayed that trust.”

“It’s not—”

“I should have known better. You were only showing your concern for me. Your love for me is so deep that you would risk death just to show me what I did wrong.”

“But I—”

“I know, my love. I know that you love me. I love you too.”

“Arlis—”

“You shouldn’t have jumped, my love. I know I was wrong. That is why I ran after you. There is no reason for you to end such a beautiful life.”

“Dammit!”

“I know, my love. I know it hurts. And I’m sorry for causing you so much pain.”

“Will you—”

“Hold you? Of course, my love, for as long as you want. I will hold you close.”

“No!” Lilah grabbed his shirt.

“What is it Lilah?” Arils leaned closer.

“I slipped.”

“What?”

Walking Away

2010-02-13T18:37:00.001-08:00

His favorite shoes were Converse. He liked how comfortable they were and how easy it was to walk in them. There’s nothing like wearing these sneakers, he would say with a bright smile on his face. I could still imagine that smile, even now.

Nothing was difficult about him. He was close to perfect as I thought someone could be. Simple when he started to explain things. Easy when he chose things that made him happy. Content with any situation he was in.

Was I in love with him? I thought so. I certainly believed I was in love with him. He showed me parts of myself, which I never thought were possible. I didn’t know I had personality quirks till I met him. Him and his Converse.

We were together for a while. Wherever we went, no matter the type of dress, he’d have his Converse on. Goes to show how much he loved those sneakers. It’s not that he couldn’t afford to buy anything else. He was just so attached to a certain pair.

I asked him about it once and he said it was a long story. I persisted. I really wanted to know. He sighed and sat down on a park bench while I stood. He told me the story. I couldn’t say a word and he didn’t even look at me while he was talking.

He said he grew up spoiled. Everything he wanted was given to him or his parents would go to great lengths just to get whatever it was he wanted that day. He came from a rich family where money was his caretaker. If he saw his parents once in a week it would be considered a very special event.

Once, he decided to skip school just to walk around the city. He bumped into this girl who wore the same private school uniform he did. She teased him for skipping. He got angry and started screaming at her for skipping as well. All she did was laugh at him and coaxed him to buy her lunch. They were inseparable since.

Months passed. They became really close. He said he had never felt close to anyone before. She was just like him. Money was the only thing she knew, but what set her apart was the down-to-earth quality he didn’t quite understand. She certainly had everything she wanted, but she didn’t put much value on things.

One day, they had both decided to skip school again. She convinced him to go shopping. He grumbled at first, but went with her anyway. Of course, he paid for everything she bought that day: a dress, make-up, food. Then she brought him to a shoe store, talking to him about sneakers. He told her he didn’t know what sneakers were, and she started to laugh. You don’t know what sneakers are? She asked and got him to try on a pair. The smile on his face was priceless, she said to him.

The next day, she didn’t go to school. He was told—when he started asking about her—that she was in the hospital. A week later, he decided to visit her. She had just come from the ICU, the nurse said, but he’d be given five minutes with her. She looked so weak with all the tubes and machines connected to her body. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Thank you for coming, she said. Tears started coming down his face.

After she explained what was wrong with her, he left the hospital a different person.

A month later, she was gone.

At the funeral, her mother came up to him with a box and a note. The box contained the sneakers he tried on and the note said: The smile on your face showed me something about you that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Thank you for sharing that smile with me. Wear them with love.

As I said, I couldn’t say a word. That was also the last time I ever saw him again.

Falling Into Him

2010-01-29T17:11:00.000-08:00

He smelled like a warm summer breeze and hay. I often watched him at the end of the day walking through my father’s wheat fields, which he helped plow, plant, and harvest. There was roughness in his hands, strength in his arms, and power in his body. I knew there was very little he couldn’t accomplish. The sharp wit accompanying his slow smile practically undid me.

It was a rainy night the first time he came to my father’s farm – half dead and half wild. I was the one who found him bleeding in the stables. That night, I was feeling restless and wanted to check on my horse – she had the tendency to be wary of changes in the weather. I went into the stables and lifted the lantern. My horse was indeed edgy, but not because of the weather. When I came up to her stall, I saw him sprawled on the ground, breathing heard. I didn’t see the blood at first, but when he rolled over his side was slick with it. I immediately ran to the main house and called for my father.

It took two weeks for Collin, his name, to recover sufficiently from his wound. I was the one tending him for the most part, and when I asked him where he got the wound he stayed silent. When he was well enough to be moving around, my father came and had a talk with him. I thought that would be the last time I’d see Collin, but my father managed to convince him to stay and work at the farm.

Collin once confessed, when we were scrubbing down the horses after a long ride, that it didn’t take vary much for her father to change his mind about leaving. He said he felt indebted to the man willing to help a total stranger and not ask any questions about the past. I knew this to be only half of the truth. I felt the other half was that Collin wanted a place to belong – a family. My father wasn’t stingy about that since he originally wanted a big family, but had to settle for me instead. Not too bad a deal there, it’s just my mother died at child birth and my father refused to remarry, which is why he settled on picking up strays like Collin.

The first time I realized I was in love with Collin was when he chased after me. My horse got spooked by the sudden slash of lightning followed by the loud crash of thunder. We were rounding up cattle and I wasn’t paying attention to handling my horse. I was too busy staring at Collin work. There was no sight better than seeing him at work – all lean muscle in a white shirt and jeans.

The stallion my father gave him was one of our best and certainly the fastest. He caught up to my mare in no time. I was busy hanging on to notice he had already grabbed the reins and was slowing us down. When we came to a stop, he pulled me onto his saddle and wrapped his arms around me. It was during his soft murmurings that I broke down and cried. I had never been so scared in my life. He told me to listen to the beating of his heart. I did. It was loud, but not frantic. The rhythmic beat slowly calmed my sobs away.

All I could think off as we rode back to the farm was how good it felt to be in his arms while he held the reins of both horses in one hand, his other arm wrapped around me, and stirring his horse with his legs. I took a deep breath and revealed in his smell. Even after a full day’s work, all he smelled like was a warm summer breeze and hay. I didn’t want to be removed from where I was sitting, but at the same time, I had to let my father pull me out of the saddle and inspect every inch of me.

I wanted nothing more than to tell Collin how I felt, but as I watched him walking in the wheat fields, I felt sadness in my heart. There was something in the way he reached out and ran his hands over the wheat – a loneliness I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t sure what made me stop and just look at him that day. All I knew for certain was I couldn’t break the ritual of him walking through the fields. I could only wish those fingers were touching me instead.

On the Run

2010-01-22T18:58:00.001-08:00

They had to run. That was the primary objective for now. They had to get away from The Kingdom and The People – their people. She couldn’t believe her youngest brother would betray the family the way he did. Now, her father was dead, her mother missing, her oldest brother in prison, and she was on the run with her brother’s most trusted commander.

The action was swift. No one knew her youngest brother Aaron had been planning the coup for years. He had the damn Darks with him, as her protector and traveling companion so tactfully spit out. Not even her father was aware of what his son – his favorite – was about to do. The betrayal was far worse for him.

Arla didn’t know what to think as Clayton hurriedly ushered her out of the palace she called home. He said he’d explain everything when they were safely away from the sphere of protected land by The People. And explain he did.

Armire, her oldest brother, ordered Clayton to take her to Phylon lands where their cousins lived, which was on the farthest side of their world. Arla didn’t understand why they had to go that far till Clayton explained that her cousins on her mother’s side would be the only ones powerful and loyal enough to protect her from Aaron, her younger brother, the betrayer. Her mother’s side of the family was sworn to protect the female offspring of the royal family for without them the young would never be born. Their primary goal was to protect the seed of tomorrow.

At the same time, Arla knew she held onto something her brother wanted – the Cards of Truth. With a great handler, the cards would be able to foresee the future, and Arla was the most talented handler of their generation.

Clayton was edgy all throughout their journey. It had been quite so far—too quiet for his taste. He knew Aaron wouldn’t want his sister get into the hands of the Phylon. His instincts were sharp and he knew trouble was coming, but the snow was making it hard to scent out pursuers and the talisman Armire gave him was messing with his own powers. Armire told him how to use the talisman, but Clayton wasn’t used to it yet. This was going to be the most difficult endeavor he ever had to face.

Arla could feel the tension in Clayton. She knew he was the best scout her brother’s army had and would prefer to go ahead and check their route, but she also knew that he was duty bound to protect her at all costs until they reach the Phylons. She owed it to her people to stay alive – her mother and brother were counting on her to stay alive.

The cold wasn’t doing them any good. They had not rested for five days. They couldn’t afford to rest, but even the greatest of warriors like Clayton needed to rest. Being on high alert was tiring for the best of sentries, what more a battle ready warrior with precious cargo in tow?

Clayton almost missed it by a mile when the sound of hoof beats echoed through the white forest. Pursuit arrived and he knew which retinue Aaron sent to capture them. The beats were distinctive to The Silence – the elite squad trained by none other than the King, Arla’s late father. They were called The Silence for their uncanny ability to nullify sound. Once even one of them became battle ready, all sound disappeared. This was the hardest for any warrior to overcome. One can lose their sight and still be able to rely on sound to know if an opponent was coming. The vibrations of sound waves allowed fighters to feel their opponents and when that was taken away the sense of disorientation would be so great that death was imminent. Clayton’s heart almost sank when the horses came into view, but he had to do something. It was going to be a long day, he thought as he pushed Arla behind a large tree and ordered her not to move.

In Her Madness

2010-01-15T18:06:00.001-08:00

My mother went a little mad when I was younger. I don’t exactly recall when it started, but my earliest memory of it was at five-years-old.

She always insisted I wear dresses. No matter where I went, I had to wear these baby-doll dresses with ruffles and matching baby-doll shoes. Blues, pinks, whites, yellows, any color that would strike her fancy, I had a dress in it. She let my hair grow long even if I hated it. The long strands would always get tangled on branches or bushes when I played in the garden.

She scolded me once for coming home all muddy and tattered. I didn’t eat dinner that night. For a while, I tried not to come home messy or else she wouldn’t let me out of the house anymore. Sometimes she’d make me sit on the floor with many dolls while she brushed my hair. She would hum and praise me for being such a good child. This made me happy from time to time, but I started seeing that it was wrong when the other kids started laughing at me.

I was teased relentlessly for looking the way I did. At first, I didn’t understand what was wrong. I thought everyone needed to dress the way I did—in pretty dresses with ribbons in my hair. I got the shock of my life when a boy came up to me and asked if I liked looking like a girl. At first I couldn’t make sense of what he asked until one of the girls asked the same thing. That was the day I learned the difference between boys and girls.

I got home and I went to my mother’s room, asking her why I dressed the way I did. She looked down at me without a word. I asked her why I looked like a girl when the other boys said I should look like them. This was the first time my mother ever slapped me across the face. I didn’t ask her about it again. I asked the other children instead, and they were willing to tell me what they knew and what their parents told them.

This was when I started feeling strange about myself. They told me I was a boy, but my mother dressed me as a girl. There was even a time, on the rare occasion my mother came out of the house with me, that she introduced me as her daughter. The other mothers didn’t say anything, they just smiled. I was ten-years-old then.

During my teenage years I rebelled against it. I would leave the house in the clothes she made me wear, but by the time I got to school I would be in jeans and a shirt with my hair in a cap. This lasted for a while until one day she found out about it and forbade me to ever go to school or leave the house. She threatened to lock me in the basement if I even tried to runway.

I was powerless during those years of confinement. Day after day, she would tell me how beautiful a daughter I was. She said I was the most perfect daughter in the world, over and over again. This continued until one day I started believing her. Maybe I was born to be a girl? I often asked myself as I combed my hair in front of my dresser in my cream colored room filled with frills and fluff. I started to see myself as beautiful and soft even if I had to shave my face, my chest, my arms and legs smooth.

By the time I reached my first year of college, I was completely convinced I wasn’t a man. My mother succeeded in having the daughter she always wanted, and I didn’t have any fight left in me. Guys would even start asking me out on dates, but I refused every single one. Some part of me didn’t want to go that far. I still knew I was male even if I wore women’s clothing and liked it.

I finally reached my breaking point when I met Kim. This was during my junior year. She had wavy hair and freckles across her face. At first she thought I was a woman, but when she bumped into me and felt a very flat and hard chest, she took another look. I fell in love with her when she saw me for who I was and not some confused person with an insane mother. Of course my mother wouldn’t allow it for she thought her “daughter” needed to be with a man. That was when I knew it had to stop. It was difficult, but I knew my mother needed help. She didn’t go easily when the men in white coats came to take her away along with the girl I would never be.

Crude Words

2010-01-08T17:10:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, this comes to you with a warning. For those who are sensitive, then I ask that you close your eyes or even turn away from the coming train wreck that is the conversation between the Madonna and the Whore. For reasons still trying to be understood to this day, the Madonna and the Whore have never gotten along. Both are women, they have minds of their own, and yet they refuse to agree on anything. They couldn’t even agree to disagree. So for those who think their sensibilities will be disturbed because of this conversation then turn away now, but for those of you brave enough to understand what they are saying then read on. Just let me say that you have been warned.

“I see that you’re wearing something suggestive again,” said the Madonna.

“And I see that you have no taste in clothing what so ever,” commented the Whore as she crossed her legs.

“Be that as it may, at least I can live with the fact that I’m respected by men.”

“Really? You call not being touched respect?”

“It’s better than being considered an easy woman.”

“What are you trying to imply?” the Whore challenged.

“What I’m trying to say is that at least they will wait until they have married me before taking me to bed. Unlike those of you who spread your legs for anyone who comes sniffing,” the Madonna answered.

“Hah! You think that’s what men do? You’re so naïve. After they bed a virgin like you they will just come back to someone like me.”

“Ah I see. Then you really do lower yourself among women.”

“What?”

“You just admitted that you were willing to accept any man, married or not, as long as they show interest in you.”

“Well better than having them show no interest at all.”

“So you maintain that you’re just a hole for them to stick their dicks into.”

“Wait! That’s not what I meant.”

“Really?” The Madonna raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not just a hole. I have feelings too.”

“Ah so now, faced with the truth, you’re backtracking like someone ashamed of what they are. Brilliant!”

“At least men think I’m sexy.”

“Nope, men don’t think you’re sexy, they just think you’re easy. A warm hole they can stick themselves into praying that they don’t take home anything that will itch or burn.”

“How dare you say things like that when you’re a virgin who knows nothing of the sexual act?”

“I may be a virgin but I’m not ignorant. I know what goes on between a man and a woman, which makes me look at you with more pity than anything else.”

“I don’t need your pity. This is the life that I live and your words don’t change anything. I do what I do because I like it,” the Whore sneers.

“I see. You do what you do because you understand that men see you nothing but an object that they can possess for free.” The Madonna walks away.

In Her Blood

2010-01-02T19:45:00.000-08:00

She should have been a son. This was what her father always thought with great bitterness. The only time he could have a child gave him a daughter. In his line of work daughters were seen as useless, but he made sure she would give something back to the family even if it killed her. This was his vow.

He named her Yukifumi, the name of a great Kabuki Theatre actor who was known for the elaborate masks he wore. In the Gokudo, the largest crime syndicate, keeping one’s emotions under a mask was necessary for survival. Being the head of the strongest among the eight families making up the Gokudo was a privilege one had to fight for. Definitely Yukifumi would not let go of the power he worked so hard to get into the hands of his family. This determination led him to start his daughter’s training in the various martial arts by the time she could stand. She would not be treated as a member of the softer sex.

At first, Yukifumi did not mind. She liked the hard training in Kendo, Judo, Karate, and Street Fighting. The discipline it brought was something she craved. By the age of sixteen, she became captain of a Boryokudan, a violence group within the command of her father.

She looked up to him even if he was cold to her. Blizzards were warmer compared to her father. All she wanted was his approval and knew she needed to work hard to be able to climb the ranks to take her seat at his right. This was her goal, her mission. But it wouldn’t be long until the truth came out about her father and his hate for her.

Yukifumi discovered that he never intended for her to ascend into power. She wouldn’t be the one to take over the leadership of the Gokudo no matter how hard she worked. Of course, this wasn’t tradition. The Gokudo was all about tradition.

It was customary, no mater the sex of the child, that the first born should take over leadership. No outsider would be given the chance to take control – this was why there were eight families. If the ruling family didn’t have an heir, then the next in line would take over. But her father was a stubborn man and was beginning to defy tradition. By this time, Yukifumi had risen to prominence within her family and gained the respect of five out of the seven remaining families. All she needed was the approval of the other two and when that was given, she would be free to carry out her plan.

Of course, her father knew about her movements but nothing about the reason why she was trying to gain the respect of the rest of the Gokudo. Never in his life would he give her the leadership of the Gokudo, regardless of tradition.

Yukifumi knew her father was keeping a close eye on her, but only she knew what she was doing. She didn’t even confide in her most trusted advisers.

When she finally made her bid for power, all seven families were behind her. Each of them had sons and it would be to their best interest if Yukifumi chose one of them to wed. Little did they know that she was not planning to choose any of them – she had her own plans to gain power. By then, she had control over the forces of her father and had bought out a large amount of stock in the various companies the family used as legal fronts for their underground deals.

She entered her father’s study with great determination. After all the years of training, she would finally prove to him that she was far better than any son he ever could have had.

Her father stood at one end of the room and she closed the door before giving him a bow as a sign of respect for the leader of the Gokudo. He didn’t speak when he turned to face her. She knew he had nothing to say at that point. It was useless for him to struggle. Slowly, she unsheathed the sword she brought with her, hidden in the folds of her red kimono.

That night she made her father proud.

The Unspoken

2009-12-29T05:47:00.001-08:00

There was a legend in history hardly told. Not even the most famed storytellers were brave enough to pass on this tale, and let me tell you, storytellers are mighty brave people. It would only be through great coxing and during special situations that this legend was told. Not even kings got a chance to hear the yarn. This is the reason why it survived and remained in the minds of those who knew. Once it was told and you heard it, you would never forget, and yet would only pass the story on with great reluctance.

The legend begins with a question: If it was said that the Almighty gave humans at least seventy years to live, then why would there be youths who die way before that time?

Of course, we are talking about deaths uncaused by fellow humans. Wars do not count. Plagues are not necessarily caused by humans, but those do not count either. Here, we are talking about death of the young and healthy, which are unexplained. It’s this mystery that fuels the legend of The Unspoken.

They say it is a woman – beautiful, mysterious, and beguiling. The storytellers say “it” because they aren’t exactly sure if she was human or not; certainly not a monster, a demon of some sort perhaps or a being from another realm. The only certainty they had was that she needed to steal years from the young to stay alive. She needed youthful years to stay young.

It was said that the reason she was called The Unspoken was because if you called her out, she would steal the years you had left. Of course, she wouldn’t just take, as some might think. She would give you something in return for the continued life she received from you. No one really knew what she gave since no one survived an encounter with her or so they thought. This is where the legend takes a turn.

Once, a young boy was found walking out of the woods, dirty and in tattered clothes. This was not unusual. What was unusual was the strange mark found on his left shoulder and the endless babbling. It was like the boy was under some trance. All he talked about was the tall, slender woman in a long dress the color of moss. Her hair was away from her face and she had a bird perched on her shoulder.

The boy told the farmer who took him in that the woman asked him if he wanted to receive a gift in exchange for his youth. The young boy was starving, half dead from exhaustion, and delirious with fever. He nodded his head, he said to the farmer, and the woman bent over him and asked what he wanted. The boy replied: I want the gift of life. The woman froze for a moment and the bird beat its wings frantically. Then you shall have it, she said as she placed her finger on his shoulder and left her mark there: a tangled web of lines which resembled a four leaf clover.

The storytellers aren’t sure what happened to the boy. All they knew was that he survived meeting her. No one could really tell if the story of the boy was fact or fiction, but the people who do tell the story find a little hope in knowing there was a way to survive The Unspoken. At the same time, the storytellers also knew that no one else had come out with stories of other survivors. Young ones still died way before their time and the legend still circulated in hushed tones when it was thought to be safe in private circles and dark corners.

Some say, she found a way not to be tricked again. There was no way she would lose a chance to gather years from a youthful human just because of a young boy who desperately wanted to live. Of course, this is just hearsay from the foolish among the storytellers who believe nothing really ends happily in this world and that stories just keep on being passed no matter how old it gets. That is how legends are made after all, even the unspoken.

For the Love of Shoes

2009-12-19T18:06:00.000-08:00

It was a beautiful day to die, she thought as she prepared the lunches of her children before they rushed out of the house and forgot she existed for the day. The sun was out, the sky was clear, and the breeze was crisp. Yes, it was a good day to die. She smiled giddily as she kissed her drunk of a husband with the heavy hands good-bye.

She wasn’t always like this, mind you, there was a time she loved to live and was not afraid to show it to those around her. She had been a beautiful woman then. Healthy, with life ahead of her, and a future filled with possibilities. She thought in clichés then. The white picket fences, the house with a front lawn, the laughter of little children, and a loving husband, were all that filled her dreams.

Today, of course, everything was different. She married the man of her dreams, but he turned out to be a womanizing bastard who loved the bottle more than her. She had two children who adored her only for the first few years. Now they just took and took and took some more until she was an empty shell.

There was nothing left in her, but for her love of shoes. She always knew that shoes wouldn’t let her down. They would always be there to make her smile and to comfort her when she needed a friend. It got to the point where they even became her lovers—her shoes.

Unfortunately, her life has come to a point where little by little the shoes weren’t doing it anymore for her. She decided to go shopping one day and realized, after walking along racks upon racks of shoes that she needed to kill herself. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner, she almost laughed.

In a café with hot mint tea and a slice of chocolate cake, she began to plan how she would do it. The first thing she needed to figure out was the form. She didn’t want to drown herself even if she didn’t know how to swim. Poison was out of the question because she liked sweets. Turning on the gas would take too long. And then it hit her, the big tree at the back. The one in the garden she had neglected for years—she would hang herself from one of the branches.

With the how taken cared off, she thought she needed supplies. She went to the hardware store and bought rope. Of course she needed shoes. Looking her best was the utmost of importance.

As she was walking through the mall she stumbled across these red, sling back, kitten heals which were to die for. When she had the shoes she knew she needed the dress to match and when there were shoes and a dress, there should be make-up involved. She came home that day refreshed and feeling so good for the first time in years. She finally had a plan and she couldn’t wait to set it into action.

The night before, her husband came home drunk and managed to have rough sex with her. It was painful, but she knew it would be the last time he would touch her. The children wouldn’t listen to her requests to go to bed, so she let them stay awake as late as they wanted. In the morning she woke them up at their usual time so that they could go to school. Her insides ached a little from her husband’s manhandling, but the pain, she knew, wouldn’t last for very long. Just a little more and it would all be over. The excitement made her toes curl. She just couldn’t wait, not anther minute, not another second.

When the house was finally empty, she took a long bath, put on the make-up she bought along with the dress and the shoes. Taking the pre-knotted rope, she climbed up the step ladder and proceeded to tie one end of the rope on the strongest looking branch. Her hands shook, but not with fear. They shook with anticipation of the freedom that awaited her.

Beyond the Yellow Line

2009-11-27T05:41:00.001-08:00

I’ve been taking the subway for as long as I can remember. I would ride a train going to school, to the mall, to anywhere I wanted to go basically.

Do you know what the long yellow line is for about a meter away from the edge of the platform? Authorities say it’s for the safety of the people.

Before the yellow line was drawn, many people would stand close to the edge of the platform. They did this thinking they’d get an edge above the rest when it came to getting on the train first. This works – sometimes. But common courtesy dictates that you let the people getting off out first before entering. Not many people thought this way – what was common courtesy after all when you were late for work or if you just wanted to get a seat before all of them were filled?

Hence, many people stood close to the edge of the platform. At first, nothing really happened. Until the day someone decided to push people off the edge just as a train was passing. No one really noticed at first, but the string of murders happened with creasing frequency. When the authorities started investigating, they couldn’t really pinpoint the crime to one killer. All they knew was that it happened when the rush was at its peak and the crowd was at its thickest. No one really noticed then. A hand would come out from within the crowd and push an unsuspecting, almost random, victim.

Once, the deaths became absurd. Why, you might ask? Well, the killer started pushing people wearing red. Anything red would do. A red shirt. A red scarf. Red shoes. Anything, as long as it was red.

This started a panic. It soon became noticeable that no one wore red during rush hour. Those who forgot where pushed to their deaths – poor people.

Then, the killer decided to push people who carried umbrellas. This baffled the authorities even more. Why umbrellas? They would ask while scratching their balding heads.

These particular killings brought the authorities to conclude that it was by one killer. This one they called the Subway Rush Killer. I know the name seems lame, but what can I do? I’m just relaying the story of the equally lame and unimaginative authorities.

Even with the warnings and the news spreading, people still stood close to the edge. They didn’t seem to care that their lives were in danger. Hence, the solution of the bright yellow line was implemented. Some genius in the transportation department suggested that if there was a yellow line painted a meter away from the edge that people wouldn’t cross it. Of course, the authorities liked this idea. They even added a penalty for those who crossed the line before the train was in full stop.

I didn’t think the solution would work since it was so lame, but unfortunately, it did. People actually started staying behind the yellow line. Somehow, they felt that to go beyond it would be instinctively wrong, regardless of the penalties included with crossing the line.

Things started to get boring then. The killings lessened exponentially. I never thought people would be so law-abiding in my city. Of course, this yellow line caught on in other places as well, even if there were no killings there. The transit authorities thought it was a good idea as well. It apparently kept the order among the people. This was very disheartening to know. Why did it have to take a yellow line to tell people that what I was doing was dangerous?