Goodbye, Lia

                A sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sign, trickled out between my parted lips. I imagined the noise as a fine stream of light green mist, rising into the clouds.

                I could hear my heart pounding through my ears. My body felt overwhelmed, bursting at the seams, alive.

                The sun’s shine dried small drops of rain off my arms and chest. The grass beneath me was soaked.

                I used to think that I could outrun the rain. Not the drizzle-type rain, the deafening kind of rain. The weather where people crash their cars and houses topple over. People call me crazy for being in a wide open field when the skies are in the midst of a war. I find it the safest place in the world to be. Especially with Lia.

                I heard her muffled thud as she lied down beside me. I listened to her ragged breath as she attempted to slow her pulse.

                “You always beat me,” she said, the same green smoke trailing along her words.

                I smiled. “Only because you stop and look at every tree you pass.”

                “Why don’t you stop to look around? Have you ever noticed how beautiful the world is?” Her tone was light, the topic was not. She pulled her left leg up to her forehead, stretching her toned muscles.

                “I like to get here before you. After that I have plenty of time to observe my surroundings.” I reached over and curled a stray piece of her hair around my finger.

                Lia laughed. “Always so competitive,” she said.

                I turned my head and felt the rubbery grass crinkle around me. Her eyes, soft and golden, held mine. It was scary how she could do that, look and me and fill me with so much love. Sometimes I wished she would just away, I needed her to leave. I needed to step out of this frightening lust, and back into our comfortable friendship. I have to… but part of me wasn’t ready to let her go. This love felt so right, why should I have to give it up?

                Lia looked up at the sky. It had begun to rain again. Fat drops of water landed on my jeans. I watched them settle through the fibers.

                “I’m going home tomorrow,” Lia said her voice indifferent.

                “I know.” What else was there to say? I know you’ll always walk away. I know my home will never yours. I know I’m not good enough for you. But I can’t change her mind, I and I don’t want to either. I wished she would change her mind on her own. I suppose there could be a chance for her to come out, and tell me how much I mean to her. This happening was immensely unlikely.

                I stood up and brushed dirt off my palms.

                “Where are you going?” Now she begs. But it’s too late.

                “Lia, I cannot keep being your toy. This-” my voice cracked. She’s begging for this last moment, why am I backing away? This was what I wanted.

                She watched me as I wringed my hands and let out short sputters of breath. “Naomi, please, I’m sorry, you know…” Her words trailed off. She suddenly sounded very childish.

                I looked up and sighed toward the sky and I dug my heels into the soft soil. Rain splattered down around me. I was preparing for takeoff. I looked ahead to the line of trees. They were far away, but not far enough. Nothing would be far enough to get away. “What, Lia, what do I know?” I whispered to the floor, this beautiful, rich green floor. She heard me.

                “If you run again,” she gulped, “I won’t come after you this time.”

                Tears of fury shot up through my throat. “This time? Are you implying there was a time when you would try to find me? Have you ever put me first?” I could feel my muscles flexing, craving for me to run. I wanted to run so bad, worse than I ever had before.

                “No, no, I know you understand, come lay down, the clouds are so pretty.” She grabbed for my hand. Her eyebrows were knit together tightly. Her knees were bent, as if ready to pull me with all her strength. Lucky for me, she’s the weakest person I know.

                I shrank away from her touch like it was a burning flame. I don’t understand. I have no idea who this girl in front of me is; all I know is who she pretends to be.

                Lia plopped down on the ground, looking like a pitiful seven year old. And oh how I did pity her.

                “I just, I feel so lost, and I don’t know. I can’t be as confident as you. But that’s why I need you, because I know you can fix it and you…” She was talking to me, I think. She was whining. Dear god, shut up.

                I gazed off into the woods, thinking about all those kind whispers, and a pair of soft hands drifting over my face, never holding back. I thought of how different these two girls were. Then it struck me, after all the thinking and crying and thinking and expressing, I know what I want. Lia was still talking, now hiccupping in sobs.

                I reached down and pulled off my sneakers. I tied the laces together and hung it over my wrist. Lia screamed my name, she screamed for me to stop, to save her.

                It was pouring as I ran through the forming mud and flattened blades of grass. The sound of Lia’s cries was drowned out by the crack of thunder. My hair flowed behind me. Our field wasn’t so big. Before I knew it I had reached the edge of the woods. Of course, this didn’t stop me. I jumped over fallen branches and tapped on the trees that flew by. My legs had a mind of their own, my soul drifted above my body, watching as a gleeful smile reached my eyes.

                Go back to your boyfriends, Lia. I can’t keep waiting for you. I need someone who knows who they are, and she’s here. But it won’t ever be you.

Come home...

I opened my eyes lazily and watched the bare light bulb swing back and forth on a thick wire. I could hear the strands of copper rubbing against each other. I could smell the rust.

I closed my eyes and blew out a spiral of icy breath. I opened my eyes again. The light stopped swinging.

I was in an old kitchen; the house was thought to be abandoned long ago. But we never left. There was nowhere else we would rather be.

The counters were bare and shining, we never had a use for them. It was daytime. But no sunlight ever came in. Only shadows did, which made the kitchen sadder and more gloomy-like. The floor was cold, but there were no bugs or rats here. They didn't dare enter here.

I stood up and brushed the dust off my clothes. Instantly, I was struck with vertigo. I wondered how long I had been lying there, changing the world inside my head.

Lia coughed from behind me. One of us was always sick. She came to stand next to me. She was emitting fiery warmth. I put the back of my hand against her forehead.

"You're warm. You should take some medicine," I whispered. It was always whispers around here. Part of me was afraid if we're too loud, then the house would shatter.

Lia put her hand over mine, and held it tight. Half of her face was illuminated by the light. Her short hair was sticking out at odd angles, as it constantly was when she wakes up. Usually, she put her bangs into a ponytail that stuck straight up. It reminded me of a unicorn. But Lia was more beautiful, more majestic, and real. If only I were real too.

"I've been thinking a lot..." she said, avoiding eye contact.

"I love you," I said. I looked her dead in the eyes. I rubbed my thumb in circles over the smooth skin on the back of her hand. It brought me back, all the way back to when we ran down the empty streets, kicking pebbles, laughing at the breeze, smelling the grass that was never cut, splashing water from the pure ponds, the whole time we were hand in hand. We were always connected.

I watched her swallow hard. Look at me, Lia, please. Smile, for me. Something, anything. LIA COME BACK HOME. I pushed the thoughts at her, and I hoped a thousand times that one day she would get them. She would wake up from her daydreams and know how much I need her, right now.

Suddenly, my world got hot. So hot I could feel the thick air shoving its way down my throat. I choked. Lia stared at me hopelessly, like she always did at this point.

I knew how things went now. The air would get hotter and hotter. I would cough and scream and fall down. Lia would wrap her arm around my waist from behind me. Then she would put her nose against the back of my neck. Her cold breath saved me. Her simple words kept me alive. She would murmur into my ear, see you in the morning, love. Then she did. She was there when I woke up that day. When we woke up we laughed at each other's bed head, and ate breakfast together, and walked together, and then we sat with each other. We sat and neither of us talked, but both of us knew. We knew each other so well, words weren't necessary anymore. The world around us spun and spun, but we were living to our own tune. Eventually, time found us. Then I broke.

Now, I will wake up, because right now, at this very moment, it is time for me to keep going. I will count down the days. Worst of all, I will cry because Lia is hundreds of miles away and I have no idea if she is just fine without me. I have no idea if she has replaced me. Please, Lia, I love you…

7.39

                “Page four seventy-one…” I murmured, flipping through the massive text book in front of me. Bright red blue and greens flashed by.

                “Do you really have to do that now?” Olivia said, glaring at me over thick navy glasses.

                “Yes, actually I do. In case you haven’t noticed, this book weighs as much as I do, and I don’t fancy lugging it around school all day.”

                Olivia grunted. Ana grinned down at her book.

                I squeezed my eyes shut and focused my mind. Problem number thirty-two… graph the inequality. I sighed and leaned back in my chair to examine the ceiling.

                Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia pull a book out of her backpack, obviously bored with Ana and me.

                X is less than seven which is more than… The rain beat harder down on the windows. It sounded like someone was throwing rocks at us all. Not even the comforting library could make me feel better.

                “So I texted my mom and she said you could sleep over,” Olivia said in her high pitched voice.

                I rested the legs of my chair back down on the floor and looked across the table at her. But not before I could catch sight of Leah.

                She was wearing a navy-purple button down shirt. It filled into the perfect curve of her waist, and flared out at her wide hips. She leaned on one leg, in a very casual position. Her body rocked back and forth, she was never still.

                “Um hello?” Olivia was agitated, more than usual.

                “Huh? Sorry, what was that?” My mind was completely blank; whatever she had said didn’t register.

                “What are you staring at?” Olivia’s face twisted into a snarl.

                Leah leaned on her other leg. She rested her slender arms on the main desk where the librarians sat. I felt it an injustice to her to say that I was looking at nothing.

                “Everything,” I breathed.

                Olivia rolled her eyes. Anything that wasn’t crystal clear bothered her. “Well, you’ll need a bus note if you’re coming over. You know what a bitch my bus driver is.” She examined her nails.

                “Yeah okay,” I replied, only half meaning it.

                I looked back down at my math homework. Numbers and letters blurred together. All I could think about was Leah. The thought of her was like an infestation, eating its way through the dips and curves of my imagination, leaving blissful rainbows in its wake.

                I ran my hands over the blank sheet of paper in front of me. I closed the textbook with a thud. “Math is too difficult for my small brain to comprehend,” I sighed.

                Ana laughed, peeking at me over her novel. Her wisps of hair cascaded across her face.

                Olivia broke into a wide smile, and started her rant about her latest crush. “So I’ve been waiting all day for him to text me, but now I’m thinking that I should text him first.”

                “Text who,” I asked, my eyes still glued to Leah’s back.

                “You know…” She gave me that I-don’t-dare-speak-his-name look.

                “Oh, right. Go on.” When Olivia is distracted, she stops asking me questions.

                “But I don’t want to seem obsessive…” She droned on.

                Leah pushed off the front desk and spun around. For a split second our eyes met and her face slackened. Oranges, greens, and violets exploded through my veins. But everything was a torrent and I couldn’t find the words to get her attention, or show that she had mine.

                Then she was gone, and the moment felt sour and disgraceful. My small world was shoved back into a tube of black and white. No muscles worked, I couldn’t even raise my hand to say hello to Curtis, who was smiling at me.

                “…Even though he has a girlfriend…” Olivia just doesn’t know when to stop.

                I heard Leah’s voice echo from the outside hallway. I still had time to go after her. The black was engulfing the last small speck of purple now.

                “She’s trying to get your attention,” Ana whispered into her book.

                I kicked her under the table. Olivia looked startled but continued blabbing. Why would Leah possible be interested in me? No, no, she does not care for me. If I admit that she does, I would fall right through the thin layers of my defense. I will not love Leah. I will not be in love with Leah. But all the hope I had left seemed to stream out of me. I know it’s too late to backtrack on my feelings. I can refuse to believe it, but every fiber of me knows. I am drowning in a current of passion.

3.07

I knew what he was saying before he said it. I hoped that if I played stupid then he would give up asking. I hoped that there was hope for our friendship. I was wrong.

      “What’s wrong?” He asked a smile on his face, his knee close to mine.

      We were close, I could trust him. “Well, there’s this… person, that I have deep feelings for,” I said, not really knowing how to make the words sounds right.

      He nodded, smiling wider.

      “And,” I continued, “They really understand me. They can see beyond what’s on the surface.”

      His leg touched mine. I jumped up and changed seats so I was sitting in front of him.

      “But, this particular person…” I looked at him. His features so familiar, I can trust him and he is my friend. So I let my heart free, and the words just started flowing. “I get so lonely and desperate. I want someone, anyone to see me instead of just looking. I can’t tell if my feelings for her are real, or if I’m just searching for a love that doesn’t exist. I feel like I'll never find that love. I want these feelings for her to be real, but I don’t want to hurt her if they’re not.” Oh God, that whole rant made so much more sense in my head. It sounded like my words were tripping over each other as they spilled out of my mouth.

      “I love you though, isn’t that enough?” So I guess he comprehended that in the slightest.

      “You know I need a different kind of love.” I sighed. Guys just don’t understand.

      “I do know what you mean, and I do love you like that.”

      I froze.

“You always have other choices,” he said, a slight trace of his smile still visible.

      “What are you talking about?!” I was outraged. How dare he do this to me? Somehow, my legs had worked so I was standing up, backing away from the picnic table.

      “Well it’s quite obvious that I like you, and you’re bi, so it’s okay.” He was smiling again.

I felt the grass in-between my toes as I kept walking further, further away.

Please stop talking now, tell me it’s a joke. Laugh about this all. Please.

“I’m not bi,” was all I could manage.

“So you’re straight? That works too.” His smile was huge, disgusting, and devious.

I was so angry. I found my voice again. “I’m gay. I told you before. When you asked me on that stupid date? I TOLD YOU. I am a lesbian, homosexual, a dyke, what is there not to get about that?” I stopped walking backwards. Now I was digging my bare feet into the earth, my fingernails digging into my palms.

“Wait… you… I thought you were… joking…” His body went limp. Eyes wide open, mouth slightly parted in disbelief.

At first I wanted to yell, and then I decided I would keep it all bottled up as usual, just to make him feel guiltier. “Why the fuck would I joke about that.” Those were my final words to him, a statement, not a question. Then I turned on my heel and ran.

I ran all the way off the high school campus, past the gardens and mismatched tables. Past the classroom where my shoes lay in a heap along with various used books and almost dried up pens. I ran all the way past the track field where people called to me. I ran past girls that snickered and whispered behind their hands. I ran all the way into the woods.

My calves were getting cut all over from broken branches and I could hear the pitter-patter of my feet, and the snap of twigs, the crunch of leaves.

I will not cry.

I trusted him.

I sat on the forest floor and stared at the sky. I turned up my imaginary music and blocked the world out. I’m sick and tired of being invisible.

I am weak, and I choose to take the easy way out. Realizing and accepting feelings means that I have to do something about them.
I will not like her.
Time is running out, anyways. It's too late to start now. But of course, there's nothing to start.
Because I choose to not like her.
In my little world, where I feel so lost and alone, so desperate and hopeless, she saw me. When everyone else gave me dirty looks and whispered...
She called me beautiful.

Sorry... didn't know people were actually reading this thing!

Dear readers,

So last time i checked... no one cared about my blog. it was kinda lame. and my life was going downhill fast anyways. so i gave up, and was too wimpy to check back. BUT i've been doing some deep breathing (and yoga, against my will) and lots of reading, and i'm starting to get better. and luckily, on my track to getting better, i have written lots of new stories :). i'll be putting them up asap JUST FOR YOU.

thank you for being,
<3

Alien Skin

I have transformed from brick wall of smiles into mirror with cracked edges. When people look at me, they see what they want to see. They refuse to look a little deeper, to see the pain. If they saw it, then they have to deal with it. Let’s be real, no one wants to deal with each other’s pain. We’d rather stay in our fantasy worlds and pretend everything is just dandy.

I have become a mirror.

I blend into the background. I copy my surroundings. I can become invisible.

Eight out of eighteen. Overall grade: eighty-five. Four questions answered incorrectly. But we get a second chance, because it’s a pretend test. You get three tries. Outside three crows fly by, and one seagull lands on a roof. I listen to the buildings cry and try to look past the stains on the window. Students laugh around me, but I don’t hear them. I feel the air vibrate and the waves float past my hands. The laughter wraps around my fingertips and mocks me.

I raise my hand and count to seven. I put my hand back down. My vision goes blurry and my cheeks catch on fire. If I cry, my mascara will run down my face, stick into my pores, and never let go. I’ll feel the pain for weeks. I look up and turn my mind white. Count to thirty. Back down to my paper. Number four, incorrect. Grab the text book, turn to the glossary. Dry skin rubs against itself. It hurts. I have to stop. Left hand reaches for the back of my neck, where my spine juts out, and my hair covers the skin. Jagged nails dig, dig, dig, until they hit raw muscle. Wade through muscle until I hit bone. Around the bone, grasp the spinal cord, become paralyzed. The nerves stop communicating to the brain, I stop tasting the air. I stop hearing metal rust. I stop seeing atoms zip through empty space. I stop feeling every section of my skin stretching against itself.

Is that how normal people live? I don’t know if I envy you… or pity you. My world is so beautiful. It is full of florescent colors, conflicting with each other to create an explosion of light. Everywhere. What is yours like? Faded greens splashed over layers of gray?

My world is magnificent. The pain is bearable, as long as I get the glorious shine. It makes me feel alone. But that’s how I like it. My solitude never leaves me. If you had my brain for a day, you would go mad. Years and years and years have trained me to come to peace with my malfunction. I embrace it all. And in return, it will never leave me.

You have memories in images, pictures.

I have memories in fugacious smells. I can know exactly when and where they came from. It makes me sad to remember like that. You can’t draw a scent. You can’t name a scent. You can’t take a picture of a scent. All I can do is hope the memory will come back someday. But I hate to rely on hope.

More photography...

My cell phone buzzed on the coffee table. I sighed and answered it.

“Hello?” I said in a dull tone.

“Leah? It’s your sister, Tiffany. Mom’s in the hospital.” She said.

I just sat there for a second. I stared off into space. Then I grabbed my keys as fast as lightening. I raced out of my dorm. My roommate stopped me by the entrance.

“Hey Leah, where are you going, you’re going to miss class!” She said.

“Don’t care.” I said back, pushing her out of the way.

She gave me a questioning look.

“My mom is in the hospital!” I screamed in her face. I ran out the door and raced to the emergency room.

That was four months ago. I had debated moving back to Seattle after college. Now, without my mother to hold me in Cleveland, I was free. I liked being stuck here rather than my mother being dead.

I noticed the garden across the street when I was walking to the grocery store one day. I remembered my mother’s Rose bush she had when I was a little girl. Then the doctor diagnosed her with ALS. The roses died. My sister went away to college. My mom went into a nursing home for a while. Then she came out and my sister and I moved to Cleveland to take care of her. A cold drop interrupted my thoughts. It rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. That night I bought a packet of rosebush seeds.

When I came back to the garden I looked around for a shovel. I wanted to buy one the night before, but I didn’t have enough money. A woman leaned a small shovel against a wall and walked away. I quickly grabbed it. I searched for an open spot of land and dug as fast as I could into the ground. Someone tapped my shoulder. I pushed them away and kept digging. The person grabbed the shovel.

“Hey!” I yelled.

“This is my shovel you stole.” She said calmly.

“Oh.” I put my head down sadly.

“What are you planting?” She asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said walking away.

“You can borrow it,” she called after me.

I turned around and took it and went back to digging. We talked as I dug and planted. She wanted to know a lot about my mother, so I told her the whole story. Then she told me about her granny and the goldenrod she planted. It was getting late by then, so I told her I had to go. Before I left she told me I could keep the shovel.

When I came back to the garden a couple days later I saw a boy pulling weeds out from around the seeds I planted. It was very early in the morning and the sun was just rising. There was barely anybody at the garden. He looked up from the dirt. I noticed that his hands were rough and scratched like sandpaper. He saw me. So I walked over and said thank you.

“You should check on them every day, water them and weed ‘em,” He said.

I nodded. Then he walked off. But I didn’t notice where he went because I was focused of my roses. A small speck of green was coming out of the ground. It was withered and sad looking. I watered it thoroughly. I had planned on going back to school right away, but instead I sat down on the ground next to my mound of dirt. I took my textbook out of my backpack and studied. It started to get very hot so I went back to my dorm.

I came back that evening, when it had cooled off again. I watered my roses again. Right next to them was some goldenrod. I gently picked it up. I knew exactly what to do with it. I ran to the nearest bus stop and hoped on the bus. I was anxious the whole ride, but held onto the small flower with care.

When I got off the bus, I ran to the spot and dropped to my knees. I laid the goldenrod down gently right in front of mom’s headstone.

On my way back I called some friends and did some favors and earned enough money to buy a small shovel, and a pair of gloves.

Then I smiled, which was something I hadn’t done in a long time.

It's time for a happy story.

I think it’s time for a happy story.

I sat at the window, staring. I watched the death melt and flow away. Everything is temporary, right? That’s what I told myself over and over during this season.

I hate winter.

Everything is dead.

The trees are dead, under those three feet of hideous, rotten snow, there is dead grass, and in every crevice there are small things with barely a pulse, trying to hang onto life.

But none of that matters anymore. Because now it is spring. I can feel it and I can smell it and I can see the air better. It’s so beautiful, this world.

And now the grass is wet and the color of hay because it was just raining and the grass is still dead. The sun came out though, now everything is marvelous. I want to stay out there forever. I want to lie down and feel LIFE beneath me; I want to feel a part of something.

Even the bugs, yes I miss those stupid little bugs. I hate bugs usually because I don’t like how they feel on my skin. It tickles and sometimes I can’t tell when there’s something on me and when there’s not and then I get paranoid and then everything hurts.

I don’t think about that right now. I ignore how cold my toes are and the fact that the bottoms of my pants are getting wet from walking through puddles. Not even the little things can ruin my mood right now.

The sky is so blue. I remember we learned at school why the sky is blue. But I wasn’t paying attention that day because outside it was raining and I like to watch the rain. Today there is not a single cloud in the sky either. I remember my father used to say this almost every morning when we walked to his car to get bagels for breakfast.

The wind is still a little cold. I’m sure in a few months I’ll be trying to remember how cool and fresh everything was. But now I’m hoping for it to be warmer faster.

I don’t feel so alone when I’m outside. Well, I do feel alone, but it’s a different kind of lonely. It’s the peaceful kind. I feel that even though I’m alone and if I cried, no one would be here to comfort me, my little complex world feel whole. As if the missing piece to my puzzle has been found, and after everything is put together, I can smile without having to convince someone I’m okay even though I’m not. I just smile because I’m happy and that’s what people do when they’re happy.

Despite everything that is happening with my friends and that boy, I am happy. At this moment, I’m so happy that I think I’m going to cry. Because when you cry when you’re sad, your heart hurts and the world looks like a single shade of gray. When you’re happy and you cry, things are brighter and you notice things you normally wouldn’t notice, like how there are so many blandes of grass so close to you. Then you remember how much you love your friends and family because they would cry for you too.

So I cry, because I’m so in love with my solitude.

Gone.

Run. That's what you do when you're trying to get away, right? Okay, so I run.

I throw on a pair of shoes. I hope I'm doing this right. I'm not used to getting away. I'm used to staying trapped.

I feel my way around the hallway. It's dark and I can't risk turning the lights on. He might wake up.

I've been here for three months. I made it a priority to memorize every inch of the house. Stairs in two feet. Creaky board in five feet. I might make it.

The house looked like a shack. It was one of the smallest ones on the street. The outside was crumbling faded brick. The roof desperately needed to be redone. The window panes were barely hanging off their hinges.

I was to the door now. The hardest part. I left it unlocked and slightly open last night. This man must be really oblivious not to notice.

I slid through the thin opening. The only thing between me and freedom. Finally, I was going to make it.

The hinges creaked.

I stopped cold in my steps. Maybe I just imagined it. I was so paranoid lately. Then I heard the worst noise.

Rustling sheets. And the groan of an old bed frame.

I ran. This is what legs are for. Leaving. Going away. Disappearing. I don't ever remember running like this. But then again I don't remember anything past last week.

"Willow, come back!" I heard his voice. That dreadful voice. It was laced with worry for the neighbors to hear. But I heard the anger underneath. I wondered if anybody else could hear it. Or if that tone was special for me.

Run. Don't look back. He's old, he can't come after me. Run to the road. Get in a car. Don't look back.

I got to the main road and bent over, panting, to put my hands on my knees. I watched people out the window when they were running, and I saw them do this. So I thought I'd try it out. My pulse slowed and I regained my breath. I fell back on the rough, dead grass. This whole neighborhood was horrible. Garbage everywhere. Screaming. Hitting. Shooting. Small houses falling apart by the seams. But grass was nature. And nature was not that apartment. Anything was better than there.

I ripped up the grass and sprinkled it across my stomach. I saw little kids do this. Then adults would cone and yell at them. I wondered why it was bad to do. The grass was dead anyways, pulling it up was just making it dead in a different place.

A car pulled up beside me. A hideous noise sounded and I covered my ears and gritted my teeth.

"Ten bucks for that," the man inside said. He had a thick accent and stubble along his jaw line. His clothes were dirty and ripped.

"I don't have any money," I replied. I heard the man in the house talk on the phone and picked up words and phrases. I learned that "bucks" is another word for "money", which is a method of payment.

"Damn you're a stupid girl. That's okay, I'm sure you can make up for it. Now get in." His voice was harsh and rude. His last words were a demand, not questionable. It frightened me only slightly, but I needed a way to get out of this place.

I slid into the backseat of the car. The man gave me a strange look but didn't say anything. The car's interior was covered in dirt and smelled of old alcohol. I choked and gagged a little bit. I tried my best to hold any bodily fluids that threatened to escape down so I didn't offend him.

The man looked middle aged, much younger than the man in the house, but older than the boys I saw running frantically down the street at night. The boys that ran always cried. I watched them as they pulled out guns and waved them around. No one else saw when they returned to their houses, they sat and wept for hours. Humans are so fragile. I don’t particularly like them, I’ve decided.

Twenty minutes later the car started to slow down. I had been laying down across the moldy and faded leather seats in the back. When I felt the car slow down and turn I lifted my head up to see where I was. I peeked just my eyes out over the window, hiding from the world.

The house that I saw didn't look much different from the houses on the street with the man. It was dirty and run down, the driveway was long enough to hold the two cars that were parked there. There were patches of green grass, and a few bright yellow flowers that looked like suns bursting from the ground. This house felt so much more safe. Though still not safe in a general sense, because this man driving the car was a complete stranger.

The vehicle eventually slowed to a stop. The man turned around in the front seat to face me. I examined his face for the first time. He looked to be around twenty five, with darkly tanned skin that led me to believe that he spent a lot of time working outside. His eyes were dark and sunk far into his thin face. I felt smewhat bad for him, since he looked so tired and worn out. A flash of pity went through his eyes as he examined me as closey, if not closer, than I examined him.

"How old are you?" he asked in a curious tone, not treatening at all like he had been earlier when he told me to get in the car.

"I don't know," I responded. Which was the honest truth. I had no idea how old I am, or how I am, or anything about myself. But I recently learned that I enjoy flowers.

"How can you not know how old you are. Are you some kind of stupid-" His voice grew louder and louder until he was shouting at me. I felt my face contorting in a natural instint of fear. He must have noticed and caught himself before scaring me away.

"Sorry. You just seem like one of those weird girls wandering around. Can never be too careful, right?" Again, his fatherly tone was used.

This young man seemed to know a lot about this place, and since there was no one to tell me about myself, I might as well learn about my surroundings. "What weird girls?"

"Do you live under some kind of rock? The weird girls who stand out on people's lawns chanting things. No one can figure out what they're saying, probably some weird foreign language. But we can't get rid of them either. When they're not standing around being weird, they're just gone and no one can find where they went."

I had hoped any new information would spark some kind of memory in my mind, but nothing happened. But the news stuck to me and made me wonder further about these strange girls.

"Has anyone been able to talk to them?" I tried to look menacing so he would tell me, but he just returned my stare with a quizzical look.

"Why would anyone try that? This neighborhood is full of cowards. Anyone who isn't a coward brought out their shotguns."

"Shotguns? Isn't that a little harsh?"

He snarled, I guess it was meant to be a laugh, but his face was so contorted it only made him look more hideous. "That’s how this town works.”

I didn’t understand, but dropped the topic. "Can you bring me somewhere else? This house is ugly, and I don’t like it.”

The man frowned. “You haven’t paid me for the ride yet.”

“I already told you I don’t have any money. I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“You really are that stupid.”

Then the man in the front seat lunged at me. His movements were sharp, but predictable. His hands lashed towards me at the same moment I grabbed for the car door handle. I didn’t know exactly how to react to the situation, on account that I had no clue what he planned on doing to me. But I could guess it wasn’t very nice.

I rolled out of the car and hit the gravel hard. My shoulder and thighs burned where they scraped against the ground.

English Project: Mystery Story

Dawn Rosenberg

I quickly walked out the condo before I could hear any more vicious sounds of delicate items smashing against scratched wood floors. It hurt to see my father like this, but from lessons at school called “life skills” I knew it was best to “remove yourself from the situation”.
The stairs leading down the small living place were ragged and broken. Lots of things had been smashed against those too. They would never be fixed, so we were forced to look at the memories every day.
There weren’t many places to go in Spanaway, Washington. But I had been running through the town enough times to memorize where everything was. My favorite place to go was the playground, which might seem weird for a girl in high school, but that’s just the way my brain works.
I started my jog at a light and slow speed. No need to rush, since I had a feeling I would have to be out for a long time before my father could calm down. The sun was just starting to set, and it spewed brilliant colors against the dusty blue sky. I wanted to stop and gaze at it, but it was dangerous to stand on the side of the road. Sunsets were always the most beautiful in Washington. Not that I had ever been out of the state, but anything more stunning than this would be overkill.
The further I got from my house, the cleaner and fresher the air smelled. In fact, all of my senses heightened with every heavy step I took forward. The warm summer wind against my face stung, but it was a humble reminder of every inch of my skin.
The tops of the three sets of swings loomed ahead over the hill. Most of the metal poles were rusted completely, but they still served their purpose, which was to bring simple joy to children or teens, in my case.
I didn’t stop my jog. Instead I sprinted into the nearest swing. I jumped over the splintering wood and plopped into a sitting position. I took a minute to observe my surroundings and catch my breath.
There was one toddler playing in a sandbox and gurgling to the tune of a song I’d never heard before. A babysitter, possibly, lied on a bench near the child. She stared up at the sky with a look of longing. I too turned my head upward. Now, the clouds looked like ghosts of sharp orange and magnificent magenta. The sun had barely touched the horizon. It was a beautiful, if eerie, sight. I had maybe three quarters of an hour before night settled.
Pumping my legs, I climbed higher through the thick air. Once I was at a height where I could see across the whole park, I reached down and untied my shoelaces. Then I sat back up so I wouldn’t lose any momentum. Closing my eyes, I kicked off my ripped up sneakers. I listened for the thud of them hitting the ground. After forty seconds I opened my eyes just in time to see one navy shoe with threads billowing off its edges hit the dirt. Strange, I thought to myself. I didn’t think I kicked it that high. But my mind was elsewhere today, maybe I counted the seconds wrong.
I continued my blissful swinging, bathing in thoughts of happier times. Then I started thinking about that pair of shoes. Suddenly an odd thought occurred to me. I had only seen one shoe land. I never saw or heard the right one touch the ground. Perhaps I was just losing my mind tonight. But just in case, I slowly opened my eyes, all the time I still swung back and forth on that rusty old swing.
Searching the ground for any object that might resemble a shoe, worry crept into me. The sun was now going down at an alarming rate and now I was barefoot. Even worse, the one shoe that I had seen minutes before had disappeared.
I stopped pumping my legs back and forth and leaned against the movement of the swing. I looked around to see the toddler in the sandbox now having a tantrum. The girl who had been lying on the bench leaned down to pick the little boy up and carried him out of the playground.
The child could’ve taken my shoes, but that was unlikely since it would’ve had to have moved very fast in and out of the sandbox.
Before the swing had come to a complete stop, I had jumped off and was running around the area of where my shoes could possibly have landed. Then a bright color caught my eye. Tucked carefully under the corner of a large stone, was a leaf. In mid-summer, I was not expecting to see a neon red leaf lying around. As I looked close in the dim light, I saw there was a word imprinted in the direct center of the leaf.
Keep.
Keep? What could that mean? Did it even mean something? I looked around again, for anything that would be another clue to this curious word. Then I saw it.
A red treasure chest, made of plastic of course, and the corners were bitten, probably by a dog. I smiled. “Keep” was referring to something you would keep something in. What would be in this little chest, I had no idea. But I doubted it was a treasure, unless of course it was my lost shoe, which would be a precious treasure to me. This seemed like some form of mind game, and though it was frightening, part of me couldn’t help but feeling entertained.
I ran over and opened the chest to find another leaf. This one was electric blue with another single word on it.
Fall.
I sighed inwardly. I don’t think my shoes are worth this effort. If I want to get back before the streets become dangerous, I had better start back now. I felt a prick on my ankle and yelped. Probably just a bug, I thought. I glanced down and saw it was a spider. I’ve been to this spot in town a hundred times. I’ve explored every inch of the soil a thousand times. Never has there been a single spider in the area. I swatted the creature away and looked up for something one could fall from.
The monkey bars would be an obvious choice. But there was nowhere to hide a bright colored leaf there. There was also the rope structure that I used to climb up when I was younger. But I was the only kid who would fall from those. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any other option.
Of course, there was a leaf wrapped around the intricate pattern of ropes. I had a nagging feeling that whoever was playing this joke knew me personally. Something as simple as a rope wall was easy to climb, and anyone else wouldn’t be expected to fall.
This leaf was neon green. It reminded me of the color of the woods in the morning. The word on it this time didn’t give me any help at all.
Forest.
This is just great. The sun had dropped fully under the sky and it was now night. Surrounding the little playground was miles of forest. Whoever put these out must be crazy to think I would just wander into the woods at night with no shoes.
But then again, I had nothing worth going home to.
I started towards the edge of the wood closest to the swing set. At this point I was just wandering based on memory, because I could barely see my own hand in front of me. And because today seemed to be my lucky day, I tripped on a loose rock.
After mumbling some swears to myself, I reached back to find what exactly I had stumbled on, I felt stiff fabric, then rubber, then laces. It was my right shoe. I laughed to myself at how silly the whole situation was. Then I slipped my shoe on and walked further into the woods.
It had been seven minutes, according to my watch, that I had been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar forest when I heard a rustling in the leaves above me. I looked up and saw a figure jump down and land about four feet away from me. As my eyes adjusted to the new movement, I saw the figure was a person. It looked like a boy around sixteen years of age. He stuck out his arm and for a second I thought he was going to strike me, but then I saw a flash and heard a thud. I looked down to see the faint outline of my left shoe. Thankful for the ease off my bare feet, I quickly grabbed the shoe and slipped it on. I didn’t bother to fix the tongue or pull the laces out from the inside. The boy was still standing there. He walked a few steps in the opposite direction I had been coming. He turned around and may have given me a meaningful look, but I couldn’t see since it was pitch black out now. He waved his hand to me until I took a reluctant step towards him.
I am definitely going crazy. Why would I follow this boy? Even if I was lost in the woods, I would’ve found my way out eventually. But who knows where he could be taking me.
Eighteen minutes later our sprint had slowed, and the forest stopped. He stopped and looked straight ahead into the distance. As I leaned over to catch my breath, I realized where we were. This was the back of my house. I spun around taking in the view from this spot. I had never even realized there were trees in our backyard. I was too obsessed with leaving to see what was around me.
I became acutely aware of the boy next to me. Now his features were dimly lit by the street lights in the distance. His features were sharp and it made him look rather serious and unhappy.
He took one backward step, then turned around and swerved between the trees until he was out of sight. That was really strange, I thought. I’ve never seen that boy before, and I knew almost everyone who lived here. Maybe he didn’t go to the local high school. I wonder if I’ll ever see him again… How did he know where I live? Why did he steal my shoes?
Muffled sobs from inside the house distracted me from my thoughts. I remembered my father and how I had left him. One thing to deal with at a time.
Walking up the back porch steps, I turned back for one last look. I could’ve sworn I saw a person hanging from a tree, but my mind was playing a lot of tricks on me tonight.
I made a silent resolution to take my runs in through these woods instead of on the street.