Rainy Days and Mondays (finale)

Prom night came, and I spent a couple of hours getting ready, which was odd for me. I normally got ready in a flash. Mother fixed my hair and make up. It was the first time I had ever worn make up, I had never thought I needed it. Not because I had wonderful self esteem, but because I found the whole ordeal of painting yourself up was a waste of time and pointless. I thought people looked better without it.

After I saw myself with make up, I started to wear it.

I got into the car with my small clutch purse that I had bought when I got my dress, and I took a deep breath. The clutch held my camera and my ticket to the prom and my cell phone. We drove off to go pick up Jacob.

Dad never once looked at my dress.

When we got to Jacob’s house, it was raining gently. He came out with an umbrella and helped me into his house so his mother and her boyfriend could see us together. His mother liked me a lot, and she took several pictures. Jacob gave me a lovely white corsage, and we stepped back out into the rain.

He opened my car door then walked around and climbed in himself beside of me. We both sat in the back, and mother drove us to the restaurant where we ate.

While we were at the restaurant eating- it was a buffet so we were there for a little while and ate quite a bit- while we were there, a group of elderly folk moved to the large, party table beside of our small table and began to talk amiably among themselves.

One couple in particular noticed us and smiled broadly, moving to us to talk. The man touched my shoulder and looked over knowingly to Jacob, “Ah, newlyweds?” He questioned with a toothy grin.

Jacob and I exchanged a look that fell somewhere in between confusion and embarrassment. He smiled back and shook his head, “No.”

Prom. I supplied with a nervous chuckle.

The man patted my bare shoulder and moved along with his smiling wife. The rest of our meal was rather boring. The conversation lingered about our families and random events of our lives. I don’t remember much about it quite frankly, except that Jacob mentioned his brother… a lot.

We got to the Country Club, and we were finally able to get out from under my mother’s watchful eyes. I have never felt more free than I did when I watched her car pull away. Jacob and I talked to a few friends at the front doors, then went inside to get our pictures made.

Robert and his new girlfriend sat at the same table with me and Jacob.

The tables were scattered at one end of the large room where the DJ was set up, and the other end was open for dancing. If you went from the tables to the dance floor then took a right, there was a bar directly in front of you, then another right would lead you into a sitting room with couches and chairs and a loveseat. The bar quite obviously did not serve us alcohol, though most of my friends wished it had.

Out of all of the tables they could have picked, they sat down with us. It was awkward, and Jacob and Robert’s girlfriend felt the strange, heavy vibes that were hovering about me and him. Robert and the girl left to take pictures, and I looked to Jacob.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

That was my ex. The one I told you about.

“Oh, I wish I had known that sooner.”

Jacob? I pleaded softly, shaking my head a little.

He laughed and lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll be a good boy, don’t worry.”

And he was. We didn’t speak badly or ignore my ex and his new girl. In fact, we spoke pleasantly and took a picture of them together.

Then we danced.

I must admit, for the fast paced rap songs, I was lost and just stood with Jacob’s arms around my waist, watching the others. I gave in to the pleadings of my friends and tried to dance to one of the songs. I failed miserably, but it was fun to try, and the friend I was dancing with, who was female, danced just as poorly as I.

One of my closest friends, Annette and her boyfriend we naturals. They both swayed and rocked their hips to the music. She had told me before that dancing at prom was like clothed sex, and, watching the two of them, I understood what she meant. It was amazing to watch them, and soon others were joining in. Annette had always been a trend setter.

I danced the slow songs with Jacob.

I had been told that there were hardly any slow songs played at the junior prom, which I had not attended, and I had worried that I would not be able to dance at all. My worries were groundless, however, the DJ played several slow songs for the poor souls like me who could not ‘pop, lock, and drop it.’

It was like heaven.

The music drifting around us like clouds; the lights traveling soothingly about the floor and casting shades of blues, greens, and reds on our faces; the gentle, swaying motions; his arms around me; it was heaven. Pure heaven.

For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to feel as if you were walking on air. It seemed to me that the ground had dropped away. Pink and white, fluffy clouds had replaced the dark floor, and a sunny, blue sky had taken the spot of the ceiling above us. There were no other dancers, only birds that sang the melodies and words that were drifting like sweet, nurturing lullabies into our ears.

We kissed.

For the first time, I was really kissed. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and mine responded.

Another, private dance occupied our attention, and then the kiss ended, and we fell back into our gentle swaying. After a few dances, we went into the sitting room and sat down on one of the couches.

I was nestled against him with his arm was around my shoulders. I rested my head against his shoulder and smiled a little, closing my eyes as he held me under the soft lights that brightened the area.

“Having a good time?”

Yes. I murmured contentedly. I opened my eyes and looked at him, smiling. He chuckled and leaned down as if to kiss my neck, but stopped.

“Vampire kiss.” He whispered.

The vampire kiss was a gesture of affection in an online game we both played. It involved one person biting the other person’s neck, just like a vampire. I smiled a little and, just like in the old vampire movies, I brushed the hair away and offered him my throat. He responded the way a vampire would, leaning down and nibbling my neck.

I knew then why so many girls were taken by vampires. It felt amazing. My heart felt as if it were going to explode, and I shivered a little in excitement.

Later on, just before we would break up, he would ask to literally taste my blood.

The rest of the night passed like a dream, and like dreams, it ended far too soon. I came home exhausted, but nearly dying with happiness. I thought that my troubles were over, and that I had finally found what I needed in a guy.

I went to bed thinking that one day, I would marry Jacob.


Of course it didn’t last.

Of course it all blew up in my face.

Of course I was not allowed to be happy.

Summer came. We graduated, and I hugged Jacob and kissed him as we went to our cars in our caps and gowns. I went on a small vacation with my mother, it was my graduation present, then came home to relax.

We went out a lot. He also had an instant messenger, so we spoke online as well, not to mention he called. I was suddenly getting a whole lot of attention, and I wasn’t quite sure if I liked it. Our favorite place for a date was behind a park in the woods. There was a large, smooth rock at the edge of these woods by a creek. Jacob carved our initials into one of the tree trunks.

We would lay together on the rock and kiss, nothing more, nothing less.

Until that one day.

It was just like any other park date. We stepped off of the paved trail and trekked off into the woods to our rock, pausing only to look at the markings he had made on the tree. We laid down on the rock like we always do, and true to routine, we began to kiss. This time was different.

This time, he shifted and flung one leg over mine and nearly laid himself on top of me. This made me a little nervous, because I couldn’t get up. I was mildly claustrophobic, and having no area of escape made me uneasy. I pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on kissing him, forgetting everything else until I felt his hand slide up my shirt.

His hand went beneath my bra, and he proceeded to grope my breast. I stopped kissing him then and told him to stop. He continued as if he hadn’t heard me, and I was beginning to think that all males were deaf.

“I won’t hurt you,” He promised softly. “I love you, I’d never hurt you.”

Stop it, please.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated.

Stop.

He said nothing, and I fell quiet. Soon, he removed his hand and moved off of me. I sat up and pulled my cell phone from my pocket, glancing at the digital numbers. It was the time that saved me.

Dad’s expecting me back soon. I told him, standing up from the rock and starting away.

He shrugged and nodded and walked me to my car.

We broke up a week after that, and two used spoons and bowls, still marred with melted orange liquid, appeared in the sink for mother to wash.

I cried until I fell asleep. This is how I was able to sleep those next few days. Then a couple of months later, my other grandfather died. I kind of felt like Job, though I knew things had not gotten that bad. No, I was just dealing with life. This was normal, wasn’t it?

So, I began to piece back together the shattered fragments of my tortured heart, and on New Years Day, I resolved to never date again.

I was single through my first three years of college, and I had resigned myself to a life of being single and a virgin until I died.

It wasn’t so bad, after all. I could hang out with my female friends and flirt with my guy friends without the pressures of having a boyfriend. My guy friends didn’t like me, though I must admit I had a crush on one or two of them. They all loved Annette, who had become my new best friend. Naomi and I had had a fight, and we had stopped speaking. Annette had been there through it all, and me and her became as close as sisters.

I remember once when she and I were talking about our futures and what kind of husbands we would have. I told her that I could see her as a famous actress with a business man as a husband. They’d both make a great deal of money, obviously, and they would live in a big, ritzy mansion in New York or some other large city. She’d have two kids, a gothic, rebellious son, and an older, preppy daughter. Annette told me that that is exactly what she wanted, and I honestly told her I could see it happening. When she asked what I saw for myself, I responded that I could see myself in an two story, old farmhouse out in the country with a dog and a computer.

Yes, I was going to be alone, and I was beginning to feel it wouldn’t be so bad.

Then I met Abel.


Abel was tall, slightly pale, black haired and blue eyed, and had just the right amount of muscles. He wasn’t bulky, and he wasn’t skinny. He was perfection in human form. I had dreamed once that I had a guardian angel, and in the dream, that angel had looked just like Abel.

When I saw him, he took my breath away. I nearly leapt out of my seat and yelled at him from across the room that he was my angel and mine alone. Turned out that I didn’t need to do that at all. He had seen me around the college even though I hadn’t seen him before, and we soon started to talk to each other.

We seemed to click right off the bat, and we soon were dating.

Days became weeks, weeks turned to months, and months to a year. We were inseparable. After a happy year together, I felt secure and safe in the belief that he was really the one. I could imagine no other. He never touched me in a disrespectful way, he held open doors, he pulled out chairs, he was a singer, and he wrote songs for me. Everything was like a dream.

I let my guard down, and I let myself fall madly in love with him.

As we grew closer, I started to bring him along when I went out with my friends to see what they thought of him. Annette and him immediately became friends, and exchanged numbers. They talked and hung out almost as much as me and him did, and all of us together were the happiest group there ever was.

Then it happened.

It was a normal Friday night at the mall with Annette, Abel hadn’t been able to come because he was babysitting his younger sister while his parents went out for their anniversary. I had offered to stay with him and little Kristen, but he had told me to go ahead and go out with Annette and to have a good time.

Annette and I were sitting in the food court, finishing up our pizza when she sighed softly and sadly. I glanced up at her, immediately concerned about her. She was always so wild and energetic, hearing her sigh like that was strange, and I immediately knew something was wrong.

Annette? Is everything okay?

“Hm? Oh, yeah.”

You’re not fooling me, something’s wrong. What is it?

“Its nothing.”

Annette! I’m your best friend, tell me. Please?

“I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

Why would I get mad?

“Leslie…”

Annette, you can tell me anything. I promise, I won’t get mad.

She used my full name. Now I was really nervous.

“Leslie, I think… I think I’m in love with Abel.”

Everything faded away, and in place of the open food court and Annette sitting in front of me with a blaring orange sherbet ad hanging behind her, in its place was Abel. It was as if I were watching one of those Lifetime movies, only I couldn’t change the channel or cut it off. I had to sit and watch helplessly as the memories rolled in front of my eyes like a montage.

How could I have not seen it before?

Those looks they shared. The casual touches, the smiles, the laughs, the hugs, even the occasional kiss on the cheek that I had brushed off. I might have missed it then, but I was sure seeing it all now. I felt my eyes beginning to burn as I was struck with a wretched epiphany.

“Leslie!”

I was brought back to the present, to Annette, and I blinked. It was all I could do not to burst into tears then and there.

“Is everything okay? I’m sorry, this is why I didn’t want to say anything.” She murmured guiltily.

No, I’m fine! I just felt a little dizzy. I always get that way during my period.

I lied. I hadn’t even started my period that month, but a small lie was the least of my worries. God would forgive me. He would understand.

In fact, Annette. I’m feeling kind of sick. I think I should call it a night.

“Oh, that’s fine!” She said nodding. “Are you sure it wasn’t because of what I said?”

I promise! Don’t be silly! I laughed, though to this day I really don’t know how I managed it.

“Okay, well. I think I’m going to hang out here for a little while, is that okay?”

Don’t you need a ride home? I said with a frown. After all, I had driven her up there.

“Nah, its okay. I can get a ride. You just go home and feel better! Get some ice cream, maybe that’ll help.”

I felt like I was going to vomit.

I went home to our apartment alone that night.


Me and Annette had only just finished moving in. It had always been our plan that once we were able to support ourselves financially, we would get an apartment together.

That night, though, I wished I was living alone. I even went so far as to toy with the idea of going back home for the night. I quickly chased that thought away.

I went home that night alone. I took off my clothes and pulled on my Snoopy pajama pants and a tank top. Then, I crawled into my bed and stared at the ceiling until I fell asleep.


We had been dating for a year and a half when he made the phone call that dreary Sunday and asked me to meet him at the old Fisherman Park that night. He said he had something to talk to me about.

It had been raining that afternoon, the grass was still damp, but the air was warm. The moon was full and beautiful, and the stars were winking at me as they whispered secrets to one another. I was wearing faded American Eagle blue jeans and a black, zip up hooded sweatshirt that I had purposefully gotten in a size or two too big. I liked them to fit big. My blonde hair was hanging in waves against my shoulders. My dark, brown eyes were fixed on the sky.

As I walked beneath one of the trees in the abandoned, old park, it sprinkled raindrops on my face. They ran down like tears across my cheeks.

I found him sitting on a picnic table in the middle of the park, and I stopped. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I wanted to prolong the dreadful conversation for as long as I could.

I let my eyes wonder numbly over the rusted merry-go-round and the forlorn slide. Gray puddles had formed in the sandbox, and the swings were eerily swinging to and fro without occupants.

“Leslie?”

I looked up, but I did not move. He walked to me, that beautiful smile brightening his face so that he seemed to shine like the very stars above us.

He truly was an angel.

I felt like dying.

Hey, Abel.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Yeah, just… what did you want to talk to me about?

The small box in his hand answered that for me. I began to sob as he knelt down and opened the box, the ring glistening in the dim light.

“Leslie, will you marry me?”

I couldn’t breathe.

I pulled my hand away from his and took a step back, murmuring my answer softly.

“What?”

No. I repeated through my tears.

He dropped his hands to his lap and sat back on his heels, ignoring the fact that his pants were getting soaked through from the grass. “Leslie… I don’t understand.”

Yes, you do. What about Annette, Abel?

He froze and dropped his eyes. “What about her?”

You love her don’t you?

My voice was trembling, and I couldn’t stop the tears. Oh, God. I thought to myself. Why did You create the heart? Why did You allow such pain? Why couldn’t this just be a dream?

“I love you…”

I’m not blind, Abel.

“I love you both, Leslie… what am I supposed to do?”

His words shattered me, and I felt a physical pain tear through my chest as I fought back another sob.

Go out with her.

“What?” He stood up and walked over to me.

I want you to go out with her for a little while without me around. Don’t talk to me or have any contact with me for… a week, and you both go out. If after that week, you still want to marry me, then call me.

“Leslie…”

I forced a smile.

I love you, Abel, and I love Annette. I want you both to be happy. I don’t want you to settle for me if you love her more.

He tilted my face up and kissed me. My whole body was shaking when he pulled away, and I watched him as he walked away.

I stood in the park until I couldn’t hear the hum of his car anymore. Then, and only then, did I go back to my car and drive back to the apartment.


The next call I got from Abel was to announce his and Annette’s engagement.

The months of preparation passed by in a hazy blur.

I was a bridesmaid at the wedding, and I smiled and congratulated them like a good friend should. I could see in Abel’s eyes a happiness and love that I had never been able to spark in him, and Annette was indescribable. She cried, she laughed, she never let go of Abel. I immediately knew that I had done the right thing, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Annette moved out of the apartment, and I was left alone.

It all brought me to this point, me sitting on the couch crying in my apartment while my orange sherbet ice cream sat contentedly in its container in the freezer. I looked up and glanced to the portrait on my entertainment center in a shelf above my television. It was picture of Annette, Abel, and their kid.

It had been about a year or two since they had been married. Abel had gone into business, and Annette had been discovered on her and Abel’s honeymoon. She was now filming in Australia for her role in a new adventure movie. She had a little girl resting in her arms in the picture. That girl was named Paige, and she, even as a baby, was wearing designer clothes. I had just gotten a call that week. Annette was pregnant again, and it was a boy.

When she wasn’t filming, Annette and Abel and their gorgeous little girl lived in a huge house in New York.

So, Annette had gotten what she wanted. What I had predicted she would get.

As for me, a month after that cold, lonely, rainy night, I moved into an old, two story farmhouse. Abel bought me a collie as a house warming gift.

I named her Faith. I got my career as a librarian, and I am currently finishing my first novel.

That night though, sitting alone on the couch and staring at the picture of Annette and her family, I made a decision.

I stood up and walked into the kitchen, opening the freezer door and grabbing the ice cream.

The next morning the orange sherbet lay in the trash can.

Rainy Days and Mondays (cont)

He walked by me every morning after her class. I could talk to him then. He did always look at me after all, maybe that meant something.

Okay, I guess. I finally agreed with a shrug. My mother drove up then, and I stood, pulled my bags from the table and left Naomi sitting there with that stupid grin plastered on her face.


The next morning, I was so nervous that I had almost talked myself out of it. I had talked myself out of it, but Naomi appeared in front of me with Jacob beside of her. I glared at Naomi briefly before she nodded toward me, turning Jacob’s attention to me. I quickly changed my glare to a pleasant, yet nervous face. I smiled.

“Leslie, this is Jacob Harting. Jacob, Leslie.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Nice to meet you, too, Jacob. I stammered then I stepped forward and hugged him.

He laughed and patted my back. “What was that for?”

Today, is hug a random person day! I exclaimed with a nod.

“Awesome,” He replied, nodding back. Giving a little wave, he moved around us and submerged himself into the sea of people. I stared after him, my heart still throbbing from my bold move. My eyes then shifted toward Naomi and my arms folded over my chest.

Naomi. Why? It was all I could think to say. I was almost shaking, and my cheeks were burning.

She had the gall to laugh. “That was adorable.”

It was… embarrassing. I said with a frown, but my anger had faded by then. I couldn’t help but think about him and how he smelled of my favorite cologne.

After that initial encounter, we started talking. Everything began to happen so fast that my head began to spin, and just like that, I had a date for my senior prom.

It was very last minute. By ‘last minute,’ I mean that the prom was the next weekend, and I had no dress, no shoes, nothing. Zippo. He didn’t have his tuxedo, but we had the tickets and each other and for a while that was all that mattered.

Mother and I went shopping the weekend before the prom and got the exact dress I wanted. The dress was perfect, it was in my size, and it was on sale. God was with me, and He wanted this to work out. The thought gave me a light feeling, and I felt like I could fly. I had been praying so much lately about everything. About Jacob and my life and what I was going to do, and now it seemed like I was getting the answer to my prayers.

Jacob was the answer.

Jacob was going to be my knight in shining armor.

Jacob was my happily ever after.

The dress was long and black, strapless, had a band of white across my chest, and it had to be altered because I was freakishly short and the dress was for normal people. The alterations were done within a couple of days. We got a great price on it, too, because my mother had known a woman that could do it for us.

Rainy Days and Mondays (cont.)

“He draws these cute little cartoon cat named… oh, what was it? Its named after some kind of candy!” She struggled.

Twix? I suggested. It was my favorite candy bar.

“No, not Twix.”

Milky Way? Snickers? Kit-Kat? I grinned at that and hoped that that wasn’t its name.

“Skittles!” She cried in triumph with a bright smile. I stared at her for a moment, taking in her slightly frizzy red hair that fell down to her waist and her small, blue eyes that hid behind her thick rimmed glasses. Her shirt was loose about her slender frame, and half tucked into her jeans. I was pretty popular at this high school, and had tons of friends. I was popular even though I was hanging out with one of the most unpopular person in the school. Everyone hated her, and everyone loved me. It was strange.

Skittles?

“Yes, isn’t that a cute name for it?”

Its random. I replied with a crooked smile.

She shrugged and looked down at her book. “He’s single, you know.”

I hesitated, thinking back onto my last relationship. I was wary now, kind of afraid to try dating again after my first experience went so horribly wrong. With a slight frown, I looked down at the table we were sitting at. It was a stone picnic table outside where the students sat after school to wait for their rides. I didn’t have a car at the time, so I was there waiting for my mother.

“You should talk to him,” She pressed, lifting her eyes to look at me. “Maybe in the morning when he walks by.”

I still hesitated. It was a good idea, really.

Rainy Days and Mondays (cont.)

Robert stood up, too, apparently he was going to my high school now. I rose to my feet and bent, gathering my things as he continued to talk.

“….so I can call sometime.”

What?

“Your number?”

Oh! Yes.

I rattled off the numbers to him, and he scribbled them onto the palm of his hand with a pen. It was just like in the movies, and I felt like I was floating on air.

Like everything good in my life, the relationship did not last long. It last about three months.
I can count the number of dates we had on one hand. Our first date, he was late.

We were supposed to go to the movies then out to eat. He wanted to eat first even though it was almost time for the movie to start. He seemed to think we’d get done in time. We’ll just miss those annoying commercials, he had said. We sat across from each other at the table and made small talk, but we soon ran out of things to say. During one of those awkward silence periods, I looked up from my food to find him staring out of the window at this slender brunette wearing tight, black dress pants.

“I really love that kind of pants.” He said with a grin.

You do?

“Yeah.” He paused then added. “I mean, I bet you’d look nice in them.”

I looked away, mumbling something to him with a small smile. Nice try, I thought.

We missed the movie.


Robert had a favorite spot on the female body, a kind of fetish I suppose you could call it, and it happened to be the spot between my legs covered by striped Fruit of the Loom and a glistening zipper. I found this out not long after we starting dating, if you could call it dating, that is. We kissed on the lips once in the three months we dated, and it was just a small peck, a teasing sample of what most other girls’ boyfriends would bestow upon them. We hardly went out together, and when we did, it was nothing romantic at all. I felt more like I had a close friend. A friend that poked and prodded me whenever he saw fit.

The first time he had leaned over, his lips hovering by my ear, I felt giddy. I thought maybe he was going to tell me he loved me in person as we had only casually tossed out the words as an end to our phone conversations.

I was wrong.

The words he brushed into my ear were neither endearing or romantic in the least, rather he was explaining this deep need he felt to touch me. “Just let me poke it.” He had murmured.
That was one of those times when I wished I could have seen my expression. It must have been something between confusion and disgust. The word ‘no’ spilled from my lips sharply like a sudden gust of November wind, cold and blunt.

It was like I hadn’t spoken at all. He pressed and pressed and begged and begged until I nervously and shamefully murmured a low ‘fine.’ He definitely heard that, and I looked away from him, shuddering a little as I felt the tip of his finger press against me. It was through my jeans of course, but that didn’t make it better. I swallowed hard, feeling completely violated, and the bell rang.

I had never been so happy to hear it.

I thought that I heard the last of it, but it was a false hope. It continued on and on without stop, and was a constant topic of argument between us. He then began to explore his other options, touching my butt and then my breast. All with my clothes still on, but still, every time I felt worse and worse.

Then it happened.

One morning as I was sitting in the cafeteria with him beside of me, he leaned over and asked me again. I had grown so tired of the question that I merely just shrugged and waited for it to be over. Today was different, however, and instead of just a poke, he grabbed the spot and began to move his fingers along it in an almost massaging motion. I cringed and stiffened. The bell rang, and I practically leapt from the seat, murmured a farewell and rushed from the room.

When I got home, I cried until my eyes stung and I nearly passed out on my bed.

I was awakened by my mother shaking me to answer a call. It was Robert.

That was our last phone conversation, and the next morning, mom found a bowl and spoon in the sink with lingering traces of orange sherbet.


I battled a minor case of depression afterwards, for about the same time I lost my first boyfriend, I lost my grandfather to a brain tumor. It was a rough time, but just a month or two after this, I met Jacob.

Jacob seemed to fit my model for my dream guy perfectly.

He had shaggy, black hair and lovely blue eyes. He wore gothic style clothes like I did, listened to rock music like I did, and he loved to write and draw, just like me. He was perfect.

I met Jacob through my best friend at the time, Naomi. She was taking a French class, and he was in the same class. I had seen him everyday at school while waiting on Naomi to come out of French. He always glanced at me as he passed, and I looked back, admiring him. He came up in random conversation between me and Naomi quite often, though I didn’t know his name.

I called him a “blue-eyed angel.”

Rainy Days and Mondays

I started a new story, because I lost inspiration for the other. So here is my story! Its going much better than the first I tried to do.


Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain.

I was sitting on the couch in my small living room, wearing my Snoopy pajama pants, a tank-top, and a black jacket that was slipping loosely down my shoulder. A blanket was draped over my bent legs, and a container of orange sherbet ice cream was nestled in my lap, a spoon protruding from its open top. In front of me, scampering across the television screen, was a happy couple who had just barely survived a run-in with a serial killer.

How people could come up with this kind of story, I’ll never know. It just seemed a little unrealistic that this pair should kiss and laugh as the dead murderer lay bleeding at their feet.

Look, Mark! We just killed someone! Isn’t that great?!

I switched the channels, but the story was the same no matter what I watched. People always got happy endings; they always ended up with a significant other.

Flicking the television set off in annoyance, I flung the remote control to the coffee table and watched as it skidded across the surface and knocked into the pot of a small plant that ornamented the table. For several moments, I just stared at the thing as if it was the reason for my unhappiness. Fumbling blindly for my spoon, I glanced toward my laptop that sat on the other side of the couch, glowing fondly up at me. When I finally found the spoon, I scooped up a bit of the frozen treat and stuck it into my mouth, savoring the taste as it melted, spread across my tongue and gratefully spilled down my throat. Shifting the container of ice cream to the coffee table, I gathered the computer into my lap and looked at my Buddy List for my instant messenger. Everyone was away; their messages boasted lives full of dates and movies, school work and jobs, and sleeping.
It was not uncommon for me to be sitting here like this: basically alone and without a way to entertain myself. The rain added to the overall feeling of gloom, but I mostly liked the rain. If it had not been midnight I would have gladly pulled on my clothes and rushed out to dance and run about under the sprinkling rain, but it was midnight and I was alone. I had always wanted a dog, but my parents had never allowed pets in their house and when I had moved out, I just never got around to getting one. I would have never thought I’d turn out like this when I was younger, but then a lot of things were different then.

When I was a teenager, I always had people on the internet to talk to; I would get online and stay there for hours chatting and weaving stories with my friends. Role-playing was, and still is, my favorite pass-time. However, as I got older, so did my friends, and they began to loose interest in made up worlds and online conversations. They went off to college and met friends, and those friends became boyfriends and girlfriends, and I was left in the background to wave as their ships carried them away to broader horizons.

I was still in college, getting my master’s degree in library sciences. I was almost done, too, and about to launch into a career of books and late fees.

I ran my fingertip idly over the touchpad on my computer and watched my cursor swirl about like a kite caught in a heavy wind. After staring several moments at the screen, I opened my media player and cut on some music. The first song that began to play was a sappy, Celine Dion song, which I quickly switched with a grunt of anger.

It seemed like my whole world loved to remind me that I was indeed alone. I rose to my feet, setting down my laptop on the couch, and grabbed the container of ice cream. Crossing over my soft, carpet, I stepped onto the cool tiles of my kitchen floor and went to the refrigerator. After I had pushed the now closed ice cream into the freezer, I licked my spoon clean and tossed it into the sink. Frowning at the soft clang it made against the other dishes I had not yet washed, I hurriedly rushed from the kitchen and stood for a moment just inside of the living room to stare at the couch where my blanket and laptop laid.

I felt like crying as I started toward it. Was I doomed to live my life like this? To come home from work to an empty house without anyone to talk to, without anything to do. I glanced back vaguely at the hallway that led to the bedroom and bath before I sank down onto the cushions and released a soft sigh. Tears gathered in my eyes, and I blinked them away. I couldn’t believe how childish I was acting; I had known this day would eventually come. Time killed all happiness, I was convinced of this.

I sat there for a moment, thinking about my life so far, and I let the tears fall.

I have perhaps the most strict parents on the face of the planet.

I was not allowed to date or even talk about boys until I was seventeen; my father hated the idea, which was normal, but he would go so far as to get downright furious whenever I brought up the subject. He would dodge my questions or ignore them completely. My mother wasn’t much help either. She didn’t want to talk about anything, but always insisted that I would find someone at some point.

I was home-schooled for nearly my entire school career, and so, my parents sheltered me from the big, bad world. When I reached high school, I was flung into a public school, and I was immediately shown that the world was anything but the innocent place I had thought it to be.

In ninth grade, I got the talk from a pair of teenage boys, who, as they told me proceeded to laugh in my face at my ignorance. I came home from school that day crying and furious at my parents. The day before I had bluntly asked my mother to tell me about sex, and she had bluntly refused. She seemed sorry she had when I got home from school that day bawling my eyes out, but the damage had been done. She asked me if there was something I wanted to know about, but I just cried more and told her that it didn’t matter now.

People at the school picked on me a great deal, but more in a friendly way than a cruel one. Still, their words struck me. I felt naïve and out of place in their world, especially when I didn’t understand their crude jokes. They would look at me with a patient smile and explain while their friends laughed and giggled at my horrified expressions. It didn’t take long for me to get used to it, though, and I did learn. I was able to play along, and by the time I was a senior, I had a wide circle of friends that branched into all of the grades at the school. For the first time in my life, I felt popular. I still was struggling with some problems relating and interacting, however, because not only was I a sheltered child, I was a Christian.

This meant I didn’t join in the cussing with my friends, I didn’t do drugs, I didn’t lie to my parents, and I was altogether a strange teenager to them.

I got my first boyfriend at that high school when I was in twelfth grade. His name was Robert, and we had been childhood friends. He had lived across the street from me until I was eleven and had abruptly moved without any sort of good-bye. I had thought about him a great deal, and I have to admit, I had had the biggest crush on him when I was younger. I just never had the chance to tell him before he left.

It was a normal morning at the school, and I was sitting in the cafeteria waiting for the first bell to ring when this tall, handsome boy sat down across from me, smiling. He laced his fingers together and chuckled a little as he looked me over. “Hello, Leslie.”

Hi?

“Don’t you remember me?”

No, I’m sorry. I don’t.

“Its me, Leslie. Its Robert.”

I know my mouth must have dropped then because he laughed and nodded, again looking me over and giving a little shake of his head. “Wow, Lee.” He murmured, using my old nickname. “Lee, you look amazing.”

I sat there in shock for a long moment before I lifted a hand to cover my lips, and I gave a soft laugh myself.

Robert, I don’t believe it. You look so different.

“Is that a good thing?”

Oh, of course!

I stammered then glanced up and looked around a little as the bell rang, and the students around me began to rise to their feet.

Beginning of my story

This is just the first draft and just a small part. The story is going to change, I've decided on a new approach, but here is this part anyway :]


I run five miles every morning.
For years I had run across the blistering sand at the edge of a vast desert somewhere in the Middle East; the place had a name, but names are trivial, and I was running out of time. My breathing now was as heavy as it was when I completed my daily runs. I was panting, and struggling for each breath, but on those hot days it felt good. After I had completed my run I would dab myself off with a wet rag; it felt like a small piece of heaven, my own little oasis.

I had always liked to run even when I was back at home in my little one story house in the good ole’ South in the US. That felt like a lifetime ago, but I could still remember the smell of the peaches that fell from our tree in the backyard. I can still recall the gentle breezes that tickled the emerald stalks of grass; the soft creaking of the rocking chair where mother sat in the afternoons, rocking and reading her romance novels; the way the tire swing hung grimly from the thick tree in our front yard like a hangman‘s noose. I had thought of that swing as a place of death ever since that hot summer day when I was told, while I was sitting upon that very swing, that my father was dead.

My mother had not even graduated high school when she had me, and my father was merely a freshman in college. Mom had been scared, but Dad had come to her rescue. They were married on Easter, the day of new life, and together they began the long, hard journey that is parenthood. Dad continued through college and held a steady job; mom stayed at home with me. After Dad got out of school, he became a successful lawyer, and once I started school, Mom got herself a job as a secretary at Dad’s firm. Things were wonderful; I had a great life. I loved my parents, and they loved me.


As I recall these things, I lay on the sand which I ran across everyday; I feel like I am burning beneath the sun, and I can see the smoke issuing from my wearied body. I breathe in and out, panting, and beside of me I see blood.


I did not cry at my Dad’s funeral. I stood outside beneath the clearest, bluest sky I had ever seen, and I clutched a stuffed tiger to my chest. The tiger’s name was Stripes, and it was the last thing my father had gotten me. I could vividly remember the day I had gotten Stripes. Mom, Dad, and I had all gone to see the circus, and after it was over, I had seen Stripes nestled between other souvenirs from the shows. Mom and Dad had followed me over to the table where the tiger sat, and watched with wearied smiles as I picked it up and cuddled it closely. Mom had looked at the price tag, and her eyes had gotten wide. She had started to protest then, but when I flashed my trademark pleading look toward my father, he had passed the bills over the table without batting an eye. Mom had rolled her eyes and flashed a loving smile toward the both of us. “You spoil the boy,” She had whispered as Dad kissed my hair.

I kept that tiger with me at all times, and we were never apart. This lasted for three days. After that, I just pushed Stripes to the side and did not think about him anymore. Instead, I thought about the newest comic or television show; I thought about third grade tests and fickle friendships based upon things like snacks and games.

Gutentaug! :3

Hello there! This blog is going to be just for some of my stories and pieces of things I've written. My professor for creative writing at my college suggested we make one of these so here I am! :3 I'm going to start posting things soon, hopefully. I have a lot of great ideas, I just need to learn how to put them into a complete piece. For now though, I'm busily roleplaying with another friend of mine so I must be off. I'll be back soon.

Aspen