Apr. 22nd, 2011 11:47 pm
mintmeow: (Default)
Prompt: Dessert
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Characters: Ciel, Sebastian
Word Count: 100

Cream, fluffy as a cloud, and ornate as a rose sits upon a surface of a slick chocolate spread. Sandwiched between two lawyers of spongy, brown cake lays a layer of cream cheese frosting, which is also smoothed over the top and decorated with a dancing fork. Very fancy.

With a gentle tap the white gloved hand of the smooth butler lowers the plate to the table. An ornate spoon sliced easily though the cake. Lips close about the smooth silver. A subtle sucking sound escapes hungry lips, thirsting for something sugary sweet. He munches it slowly, savoring the delight.
mintmeow: (Default)
I Love You My Darlings.

Numbered are the breaths
Shakily erupting from my breast
Like the moon,
About to swoon,
Quickly fading.
Nearer come the shadows
Bringing to me the gallows
Clearly come the faces
Carrying remnants of traces
Memerance of places.
So weak
I can’t speak
What matters now?
The family I’ve found
My ghostly father
My two daughters
My only son,
Oh what fun.
My wonderful wife
Please stay by my side.
The lights dim on the stage
I can leave my sickly cage
For now I take my bows
Floating up to the clouds,
There to wait
For destiny’s fate
I love you my darlings.
mintmeow: (Default)
The importance of a Letter

What is the importance of a letter?
Could it be a note to say:
I miss you
This is what I did today
A confession of your truest feelings,
What is the importance of a Letter?
A hard copy from a dear one’s true
It is something they, yes dear they
Yes it is that, it is you and me
Sharing one thought
One experience
One feeling utterly
And completely.
Sealed with a lick on a sticky stamp
In the shape of a heart
And a pure white envelope.
What is the importance of a letter?
Oh! And I love you!
mintmeow: (Default)
His Fingers Dance

His fingers dance, they make their way up and down the neck
Each chord plays the melody
His fingertips race, strumming vibrating strings, much like a spider.
His art is beautiful; he’s been working hard to find the perfect note.
I can see him wince, old battle scars, he faces.
But when the song rises to higher tones, a weight seems to come off his shoulders.
He is living sky high, on top of the world.
The melody sags, the notes are like falling rain.
I bow my head, feeling the calm, quiet peace of the moment.
The song is dead. Silence fills the spaces.
His eyes are watching me.
I look up to meet those light blue eyes.
Suddenly tears well in my eyes, burning, as I find the guitar in my hands.
I look down; the soft strings are the same,
The wood, so beautiful and polished, like the desert as it wrinkles beneath the wind’s blow
Like a snake skin hide.
Light reflected it winks at me, coaxing from me a sound.
I put my fingers in place, my thumb hovers over the strings, pulsing with energy.
I strum.
From that point on the melody takes off. I follow to the highs, sag to the lows, and again I hear the sound of falling rain.
But this is not my finger’s creation. Outside my gray window shines a blinding light, rain pours gently to help me in my quest.
I play my part, creating for them entrance, the music becomes the rain. The sun shines still.
He smiles; I know he’s watching me, like he did so long before. The light has renewed in me what was lost, germinating new hope.
I can play once more, the guitar calls me, and he calls me too. Now I can answer.
mintmeow: (Default)
I wish I could have taken you for a walk tonight,
The snow was beautiful.
It shone and gleamed like the sparkle of your eyes.
It would fall in big, light clumps onto our waiting tongues, plentiful.
With a flashlight in your hand we would trail through the trees of a forest haven. Sighs.
It was not cold, but your arms around me helped with that.
There would not be a single sound, but the tinkle of snow hitting the ground, and your breath blowing so softly against my ear.

I wish I had you in the car tonight.
The shaky glow of my head lights caught each dazzling thing.
I saw two deer, prowling the side of the road.
It did not matter though; you were there to keep my eyes on the road.
Your voice changes with the tunes on the radio, your beautiful voice.
I could have turned the radio off just to listen.

I wish I had you in my arms tonight.
So my sweet breath, crisp and foggy with the chilly night,
Could fall upon you and sooth your mind.
So our lips could touch and set my mind awhirl.
Together we would be like the snow,
The snow glistening so brightly
Detailed and special
Light and airy
Wild and crazy
But above all else eternally happy.
mintmeow: (Default)

“I confess I did what I should not have done. I said what I did not mean. I acted as I never would have, but does that mean I must pay for my mistakes? For the sins that burn so how that they scorch my skin, but also freeze my soul. It seemed like a good thing at the time, when it began, when we met. I never dreamed that it would begin this way, nor end quite this way either. All that I really know is that it was great, it was fantastic, but I had no idea it had to hurt so badly.”

“I can make your dreams come true.” The man in the red cloak said. “The price is not much.” He grinned, a sinister grin. He discussed the terms calmly with eagerness in his weathered voice. It was obvious he had made many deals in his life. He knew what to say to make the deal sound absolutely perfect. It was, in fact, so perfect that Maggie could not say no. She reached out a trembling hand to the man. His own oddly golden, shriveled, fragile looking hand closed sternly over hers. With a swift up and down movement they shook, and before Maggie’s eyes the elderly man’s hand filled with the muscles of youth. The hand became smooth to the touch, and healthily plump, but it kept the same golden tint. Meanwhile Maggie witnessed, for a brief second, her own hand shrivel and prune. She pulled back with a scream, taking her once more youthful hand in her other hand. She felt it, confused, and sighed in relief.

As Maggie fussed over her hand the man in a red cloak pulled, with his youthful hand, a small utensil from the inner pocket of his robe. With an open hand he presented the normal looking red pen to her. “Here you are.” He said, waiting for Maggie to take the nib from his hand. “Do not lose this, you only get one,” the man in red warned.

Maggie reached out more hesitantly to take the pen from his hand. Once she had it she pulled it close to her body, and holding it before her, she began to examine it. She opened her mouth to comment, but when she looked up she saw that the man was gone. Maggie looked all around for the man. She even ran to the end of the long alleyway where she had been. Maggie was forced to shield her eyes from the bright light of the outside world. She peered through the light in all directions, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Just then Maggie thought she could feel the pen in her hand pulse. She looked down at her hand where the stick laid, clinched in her fist. It pulsed again, eager to be used. The thing was alive.

With the eyes of a keen thief Maggie ran out of the alley and down the road. She was eager to get home and try it out.

Minutes later she was inserting her own small, metal key into the lock. Hearing the clicks she threw open the door, turned around and locked it again. She then rushed up to the security of her room, all the while the pen in her hand pulsed.

Maggie tossed her back pack to the floor, and with more care she placed the pen on her desk. She spun around and rushed to her mirror which sat atop her dresser. Here Maggie placed her cold, pale hands on her face and took in every detail of her familiar self. Cool, blue eyes stared back at her. Maggie’s heart shaped lips parted slightly as she breathed through her mouth. Shoulder length brown hair framed her pale face, and accented her eyes. Everything seemed to be in order. Her hands were their normal color, and as always had their normal, youthful appearance.

Sighing, Maggie walked around her room before she plopped down in her seat at her desk. The pen still sat where she had left it. She looked at it nervously, as if she did not know what to do. Then, very suddenly she reached out to take it. She panted slightly at the effort, and sighed once more.

Forcing herself to breathe slower Maggie pulled a yellow spiral notebook out of her bag, and opened it up to a blank page. She took the cap off the red pen and poised it over the lined paper. Maggie ran the fingers of her free hand through her hair. She lowered her pen again to the paper and raised it just before it made a mark. She could not bring herself to write. She feared the mark it would make on the pure white paper. What if she did something wrong? To make it all worse the pen was pulsing again now harder than it had before.

Carefully, she placed the pen off to the side of her desk and ripped out the piece of paper. She placed this beside the pen. Maggie then continued to pull out another black pen and a large text book from her bag. She decided she would return to her prior task once her homework was done.

Hours later, after a satisfying dinner Maggie returned to the small desk. She once again eyed the pen as it seemed to eye her back. Yes, it. It was alive, Maggie was sure of it. She pulled the lined paper back towards her.

Maggie looked out of the window at the street light as it grew brighter and brighter as the night darkened. She tried to imagine the perfect person, the perfect guy, her dream guy. Maggie was nineteen, and a dreamer. She had never dated before, she had never had a boyfriend, and at this point in her life she was beginning to worry she might never have one. It was her despair and sadness that had called the red figure to her. He promised her this, and all she had to do was write it, and it would come to life. He would make it so. Whatever she wrote he would give it to her. There was a price, of course, but it really did not seem like much.

Maggie reached once more to lift the pen into her hand. She adjusted the paper before her and began to write.

“A soft cap of brown hair sits on top of his perfect head. His bangs fall down messily, obscuring his fixed eye brows, and his ears. His eyes, a perfect, most beautiful blue, are constantly laughing. His cheeks hold a soft blush over mild freckles, quite adorable when he smiles. His lips are placed perfectly on his face, and his chin rounds smoothly around his face.”

Maggie continued on to describe his muscular body. She did not make him a twig, but a man with a slight bit of pudginess about him. She ended on a more fantastical thought.

“Maggie Swift was the apple of his eye, the center of his affection. He loved her from the moment his eyes fell on her. He promised himself that he would cherish this angel who seemed to walk so innocently into his world. She would, of course, love him too.”

Holding up the paper Maggie looked it over and smiled. In her hand the pen began to purr happily she smiled now, and she began to wait.

Fifteen minutes passed by, and in that time the red pen seemed to regress into silence and stillness, until it appeared to be nothing but an ordinary pen. As she waited, though, nothing happened. Maggie wondered how long it might take for her writing to spring to life. She thought it would have happened right away, before her eyes. She had used the pen from the man in a red cloak. From her understanding of his instructions that was all she need to do.

Thirty minutes later Maggie’s head was hanging. Her eyes were sagging. She sighed and got to her feet. She folded the paper and inserted it into a notebook. She moved tiredly around the room, and into the bathroom where she prepared herself for bed.

Maggie could not help but feel a little cheated. What was that man up to? What was with that strange pen that wrote in such a beautiful blood red color? Maggie closed her eyes with a couple very unhappy mutters in respect to the man. He had lied, she was sure of it. Regardless her last thought was of the boy she had so carefully written about. She had described everything, anything about him she could think of. A smile spread across her face. Slowly Maggie gave into the darkness of night. She embraced it with a warm, open heart, and she fell asleep.

Maggie found herself, suddenly, sitting at a table with a clear wooden finish. The constant chatter of voices created a dull roar in the background of her conscious. The morning had just blown away. There was a steaming cup of coffee sitting on the table before her. Her head rested peacefully in her arms, and she began to drift. Maggie wondered how she could be so tired. She never remembered ever being quite so tired in all of her life. “Hey there Megs!” called the overly cheerful voice of her college friend.

“Hey there Janice.” Maggie mumbled just loud enough for her friend to hear her.

“Wow,” Janice whistled. “You look… like you haven’t slept in a week! What happened?” She demanded, shocked by the dark circles under her friend’s eyes.

“I have no idea.” Maggie confessed. “I was up kind of late last night, but no later than usual.” She was so wrapped up in her tiredness, and talking to Janice, that she did not notice the new student walk into the class.

This new student, however, did notice Maggie. He was happy to see the seat beside her was empty, and so he stepped up to take it.

Janice noticed the new student though. She watched as the stranger moved closer to her and her tired friend. “M-Maggie,” she said in a quiet, but very, very high tone. “You might want to look around.”

Maggie opened an eye and looked at her friend who seemed to be wired to an electric current; her hair was nearly standing on end. Maggie did follow her friend’s gaze to the boy. Her jaw dropped, and she too stared. She recognized the hair, the smile, the body build, the eyes. Each characteristic of the boy was exactly how she had imagined them. This man was the exact image she had had in mind as she wrote last night. Somehow the pulsing pen had found its way into her hand, as if to remind her of how this boy now walked towards her. Those perfect blue eyes watched her with the utmost satisfaction. He now stood beside her, looking down at her. “M-May I sit here?” He asked softly, and there was that perfect smile and blushing cheeks. He was even more perfect than she had imagined.

“S-sure,” She stuttered back, and became aware of her own burning, blushing face. “I mean, please do!”

The boy chuckled, “Thank you.” He pulled back the chair and sighed. “Wow, this is a nice college.” He said and tilted his head back just enough for a couple prefect strands of hair to slide back to the side. “By the way, my name is Kyle, well Katurian, but I prefer Kyle.” He winked at Maggie who bore hearts in her dancing eyes.

“K-Kyle.” She said dumbly, “It is wonderful to meet you! I am Maggie, Meg, or Megs. Whichever you prefer!” She exclaimed and giggled. “Oh, and this is Janice.” Maggie said after she received a hard poke to her arm from her friend. Kyle did not even turn to Janice; his eyes remained intently upon Maggie. In fact he did not even acknowledge her! He was completely fascinated with Maggie.

“Megs, I like it. It’s cute, like you.” He chuckled, a ringing laugh, like bells.

“Do you?” She asked in an oddly high voice. “I’m glad. So, um, you’re new here?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that. I’ve actually lived here for a few years now, but I just got all of my registration done, so I have just started attending classes.” He grinned, “And this is my first one!”

Maggie had completely forgotten about Janice, who was still trying to gain some attention. “Biology as your first class, hm? What other classes do you have? What is your degree?”

In a low, slow, lulling voice Kyle answered all of her questions. Maggie was alarmed, but pleased to find he was in every one of her classes! Could it have turned out any more perfect? He was even studying for the same degree as she was. It was almost creepy.

As one would guess the two became a couple, and for three weeks life was perfect. Kyle, the man she had created, was perfect, he was flawless, the ideal boyfriend. He paid for every dinner, for every date. He knew what to say, and when to say it. He was very caring, a great listener, and very supportive of her. He loved to hug her, and snuggle, and kiss, but he never pressured her for more. He was the perfect boyfriend, and it almost hurt Maggie to realize it. He was too perfect!

She still loved this creation of her, but she soon realized that there was such a thing as too much perfection. She hadn’t seen her friends in days. She spent every waking minute with Kyle. Her perfect grades were slipping. Maggie had sunk into some alternate reality. Her parents would yell at her for her failing grades, and she would run back to Kyle.

One night Maggie realized she could not take it anymore. She could not take another perfect day, and so she took out her red pen and wrote.

“The loving couple lived together each and every day in perfect bliss, but it was all about to end. Life was becoming too monotonous. Someone would come between them and shake up their humdrum lives. He would spoil the loving routine they had fallen into.”

Maggie sat back to admire what she had written. In her hand the pen pulsed, happy to be used again. “There,” Maggie said to herself, “That should do the trick.” Maggie did not want anything too terrible to happen, so she had left it fairly open ended. Tomorrow was Saturday, and she and Kyle were going to the park in the afternoon, and then if everything went well, as it always did, to dinner and a movie.

Jumping into bed Maggie quickly fell asleep; her dreams explored the possibilities of what might happen tomorrow afternoon.

The impeccable date began smoothly. Kyle came to pick up Maggie, and together they walked to the park. It was a cool day, but the sun was happily shining down on them, blessing them. Maggie’s eyes darted all around the park. She pointed out interesting things, but never let it out that she was looking for this thing she had written about. She had not done another thing to that paper. It lay in a drawer of her desk. She could almost recall every word that she had written. Now where was this disturbance?

The two were walking down a long, cobble street path. Maggie hardly noticed that rain clouds were moving in. She only really became aware when she heard the distant rumble of thunder. Then, like a bird in flight, a sheet of rain quickly approached. She lifted her bag up over her head, and Kyle moved closer to her as if he could keep her safe. “Just there.” He said pointing forward. Conveniently there was a dome shaped tunnel that passed over the road. Together they raced forward, trying to escape the pelting rain. The day had grown very dark, very suddenly. However this sudden darkness did not cause the lights along the path to come on. They remained dark and menacing, lifeless in the sudden gloom. So as they raced under a nearby bridge the lighting around them remained dim and dreary.

They were both panting as they entered their sacred sanctuary, and just as Maggie lay back against the rough brick of the building she sensed something. From the darkness a man appeared. In his hand he wielded a long baseball bat. There was a vicious grin on his face as he approached Kyle. Maggie screamed just as the man swung. It was not nearly enough time for him to react. With a hollow clunk the bat swung around and hit Kyle on the back of the head. Maggie’s perfect boyfriend fell to the ground. He was out cold.

The punk turned now on her. “Hey there pretty lady.” He mocked, obviously searching for something, something he was not afraid to take by force. Maggie wanted to hurry to Kyle’s side and see if he was okay. She could see a pool of crimson liquid pooling beneath his head. The same color stained the side of the bat the punk held. She could not, however, turn towards Kyle. She had her own problem coming right for her. After a few slow steps, which completely blocked Maggie from any escape, he suddenly moved very quickly. He rushed forward, holding Maggie’s throat with a tight, crushing hand. She began to gasp. His filthy hand slipped down to the belt of her jeans. He began to work the buckle, waiting until she fell into unconsciousness. Frantically she tried to fight back, push either hand away. She was surprised to find the pen suddenly in her hand. Her mind raced frantically, she was quickly fading. With a last bit of energy she pushed at him with all her might. The pen was uncapped, and as she pushed the fine end towards him she was almost surprised to feel his skin soon beneath her hand. Through half closed eyes she saw a flicker of crimson light as it splashed against her hand. The pressure left her neck.

Maggie staggered and panted as her own hands curled loosely around her throat. She gasped for breath as the man grabbed for his neck. Glancing up she could see a thin stream of blood trickling from the pen sized puncture on his neck. There was a dangerous flash in his eyes that scared Maggie. She took another step back, but he seemed ready for revenge. What would he do to her now?

Maggie tried to fumble around in her pockets, searching for something, anything she could use against him! Finally her hand closed around a piece of paper which crumpled in her hand. It was perfect; she could make him go away. Like the beat of a racing drum the pen pulsed in her sweaty hand.

For each step Maggie took back he took two towards her. The second he burst forward she would be done with. She had to risk it. She, as nonchalantly as she could, tried to flatten the old receipt over her palm. She took a deep breath before she lifted the pen to the paper and frantically began to scribble. Her attacker was confused at first, but his confusion was quickly replaced with a need to act. He raced forward with the intent to harm.

The small space in the tunnel lit up quite suddenly. There was a crashing, booming sound of deepening thunder all around them. It shook the ground with its ultrasonic waves. Maggie screamed, but the shrill shriek was easily drowned out.

She staggered backward, both in pain and shock. The bright flash of lightning died, and after a couple seconds of complete silence the beating of the heavy rain resumed its heavy drawl.

One sound stood out above the monotonous tone, however. Drip, drop. Pitter, patter. Like the slowly beating lub, dub of a dying heart; a cold, black, smoldering, dying heart. The evidence of the trembling man’s murder lay in a charred heap of blackened flesh on the cobblestone walk way. The nineteen-year-old girl held the pen, that monstrous pen, in her taunt fist. In her other hand, mixed with the seeping blood red ink was the words she had managed to write.

“Then he was gone!”

It was short, simple, something that she could write in the second or two till her attacker hit. It had been enough, however, to save her life. Maggie dropped both the pen and the paper to the ground. She fell to her trembling knees, forgetting the intense pain in her arm. After an attack of panic she recognized this pain she was feeling. It burned and seared her skin. Looking down at her arm Amber watched in horror as the words she had most recently scribed began to etch themselves there. “Then he was gone!” The crooked, horrid thing read. It was then that she realized where the ink that fueled the pen originated from. Droplets of blood began to drip down her arm, but oddly enough her message did not end where she had written it. Beneath her desperate cry for help another word began to emerge in the same twisted font. “Murderer.” It read.

Maggie’s eyes grew wide as fear grasped at her floppy heart. “N-No.” She gasped unbelieving. She looked up at the charred remains before her. She looked over at her perfect boyfriend whose head rested in a lake of crimson. The two things she had created both lay dead, and dying. “No, no, NO!” She shrieked and jumped to her feet. “NO!” She screamed again. “It can’t be. I didn’t, I DIDN’T DO THIS! I’M NOT A MURDERER!” Maggie took off running, leaving the two where they lay. She ran and ran, out into the rain, out of her cave of safety. She ran away from the bodies that were marked with her inky sin. Maggie had not seen it, but the words she had written to summon them were slowly becoming a part of them, etching themselves into their pallid skin, or ashy remains.

No matter where Maggie ran the evidence of her crimes could be found all around her. She turned one corner and saw Kyle; she raced away and nearly ran into the visage of her attacker. Even the rain that fell about her was her creation. She screamed again and ran down a dark alleyway. There was a brick wall, marking her dead end. Maggie stopped, and kneeled over to catch her breath. Seconds flew by before she noticed the soft sound of pulsing behind her. It started out softly, but steadily grew louder, and harder, and heavier. Maggie knew this was not her heart beating. She was afraid to turn around. She knew what was there, or what must be there. What else could it possibly be?

Slowly, like a door on a creaking hinge, Maggie turned around. Standing before her was a man: tall, red, and menacing. Clutched in his golden hand was the pen. She could visibly see the vibrating movements of the quill. Trembling, Maggie staggered backwards. She did not know why the man was here, or what he wanted, but she knew the result would not be good. She was hardly surprised when, from behind his back, the cloaked figure removed a tall, silver, shiny scythe. The blade curved seductively down to a very fine point. Even in the dull light of the pouring rain it seemed to give off a faint glow.

A voice from the pits of Hell itself began to speak, “Maggie, you called to me, you asked me for help. You looked to the night for the solution to your problems. Now here you stand with the murder of two on your hands. Your name has been written now.” The man said, and pointed the scythe at her trembling body. “You must now pay the price for what you have done.” He raised the long pole of the silver scythe above his head, and it began to glow with an eerie red aura. Taking the weapon he swung it around, once, twice, and a third time before finally it hit its intended target.

A gasp escaped from Maggie’s mouth. She screamed, loudly, more loudly than she had ever screamed before. It was then that reality hit her. Maggie’s eyes fluttered, and she paused a moment to look around the room in wonder. Her entire body was bathed in a chilly sweat. She could feel her poor heart racing to save its life. Her claw-like hands found her face and ran through her hair. After a moment of feeling around she began to laugh. Softly, and slowly at first, then faster and louder she began to laugh until her laughter became hysterical. “I-I’m not dead.” She gasped, surprised even as the words left her mouth. “I’m not dead!” She shouted in triumph.

There was a loud knock at the door, and without another warning her mother raced into the room. “Maggie! Oh my dear Maggie!” She raced forward and wrapped her arms tightly around her only daughter. “What is wrong, did you have a bad dream?” She asked tenderly. “Darling you’re burning up.” She began to stroke her daughter’s hair.

“Mom!” She exclaimed. “Oh God Mom, I am so happy to see you!” she hugged her mother tightly.

Maggie’s mother, who was very confused, sat back a little and looked sternly at her daughter. She reached up to her daughter’s forehead and placed a careful hand against it. “You’re not going to school tomorrow.” She said resolutely. “And that is final. I’m going to go grab you a wash cloth for your face.” Maggie’s mother left and returned a minute or so later. Tenderly she dabbed at her daughter’s face. “Now you lie down and rest up young miss. You need to sooth this fever of yours.”

“Yes mother.” Maggie said quietly, obediently. She accepted her mother’s kiss on her cheek before the woman got up and headed for the door.

“If you need anything Maggie, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call me. O.K? ”

Maggie nodded, “Yes mom.” She said and blew the woman a kiss. She smiled at her daughter and left the room. Once Maggie was sure her mother was gone she slowly got up from bed. She felt a little dizzy as she wavered from side to side. Slowly, and carefully, however, she made it over to her mirror. She took in the image staring back at her. She lifted her arm to see that there was nothing written there. Sure enough there was nothing but pure, clear, youthful skin. Maggie sighed in relief. “Wow,” She sighed, “What a freaky dream!”

More assured now she turned around and headed back to bed. She lay down and pulled her thick, warm sheets over her tired body. Maggie was just about asleep when she heard it. The noise began softly, a gentle thumping, almost pulsing, sound. Maggie opened her eyes wide and pushed herself up off the bed. There, sitting on her bedside table, was a normal looking red pen with a removable lid. Maggie stared at the item, horrified. She thought, for one single second, that she had seen the thing pulse.
mintmeow: (Default)
Okay, so this morning I am just about to leave with my mom so she can take me to meet my Aunt who I started car pulling with... so just as I am about to walk out the door the phone rings. I think it is my aunt so I pick it up. Well, it is actually my stalker (Prom date/friend guy, thing), and he is asking if I could drive him to college since I would be going in too. I told him I was just about to meet my aunt at town pump, and he asked if he could come along... but it all got messed up kinda so by the time we got there he was there too.

So he rode in with my Aunt and I, and called us clones of each other and such... he said we laugh the same, talk the same, and act the same. Not to mention we look alike...

Anyway she drops us off, and I noticed, as I got her phone number, that he was waiting for me to get out of the car.

I got out and she left... and he approached me and talked, and talked, and talked, and so on. I told him I had to get to class (which didn't actually start until an hour later) so he offered to walk me there... >.< Well when we got there all the lights were off and it was quite dark in the class room. I exclaimed that I was the first one there, and after a moment he left. I waited until I saw him walk away before I went down to the study lounge down the hall.

So then later, at lunch he found me and my friend and pestered us for awhile. *gags* He babbled on about nonsense, and such we were not really interested in. Then he started getting really annoying and began rubbing against my friend, all the while "purring" "Friend... friend."

Then after class I hung out in the scholar's lounge for an hour and a half, and when I was about to head outside I see him out there waiting for me again. He wanted a ride home... so I waited until it was officially 4:30 Then I came out.

He came at me and said, "I thought you had left without me!" He continued on more with that for awhile... and then started talking about other things. I wasn't really paying attention to what he said... at all, but instead was practicing some dance steps... so he asked if I was going crazy or something and I told him I was just practicing. Unfortunately he knew the time and date that the classes took place and he said he might start attending them... if he does I may be quitting... last thing I need when I am trying to dance is someone who is laughing at me when I am messing up and am trying to learn... but idk. We'll have to see how that works out.

So then on the way home he fell asleep in the back seat. My aunt scared him awake by wiggling the steering wheel to make the car swerve slightly. It was not long till he had fallen asleep again. As we drew closer to the point where we would be dropping him off she tapped a few times on the braks as we approached a red light. This made us all bounce forward in our seats, and it did wake him up. At that moment a favorite song of both my Aunt and myself came onto the radio, and together we began to sing. "You and me baby, we're stuck like glue. Wooo hooo woo hoo Stuck like glue, you and me baby are stuck like glue." That was pretty fun, I must admit!
mintmeow: (Default)
Okay, so here we go. I had class today from 11 to 12:15. I could have gone home right then and did my homework or whatever for the rest of the day. I had two other plans however. First, I searched and searched the house several times this morning before leaving for school. I couldn’t find my sunglasses anywhere. I checked in all of my usual places, but they were nowhere to be found. So with a sunken, woe is me soul I left the house, reluctantly wearing my mother’s sunglasses. This of course happened out of the kindness of her heart, but I had to be nasty in my foul mood and poke fun. “So I’m going to go to school wearing Willy Wonka’s sunglasses?” I asked her, a jab at the amusing rounded shape of the shades.
“Don’t poke fun at the glasses offered to you.” She said, and as fate would have it I did end up wearing them.
So after class let out I walked out into the blazing hot sun and with squinting eyes I walked across campus all the way to Walmart. I looked at their sun glass selection, nothing extraordinary. I found one pair I kind of, sort of liked, but not really all that much. I called mom and asked her if $19.99 was too much for sunglasses. She suggested I go to target, and so I put the sunglasses back and trekked the miles long path over to Target. I felt good about doing it though, so there was that at least. Walking into Target my eyes were greeted with a wall of sunglasses. There were all sorts of sunglasses, ranging from dorky to dorkier, even going to the point of “Who in the right mind would buy these?” Finally I found a suitable pair of sunglasses that would work for what I needed. They weren’t too tight, or too restricting, the only problem was they were not mine. I was thirsty so I went to get a drink as well. Coming back to the check out I had somehow accumulated a 15 pack of multi colored glow sticks and a adorable pumpkin sticky note pad. (I collect paper, well not just paper but stationary.) So I get to the check out and open my bag. What is the first thing I see in the bag? Of course I found none other than the mysteriously missing sunglasses. I stand in line for a moment and nibble at my lip before I gather my small amount of stuff and walk off to return the glasses that I no longer had a need for.
So I return to campus now to wait for another four hours for a club to begin. I heard about the club at Orientation, and I was in the high school version of this same club. So after sitting around for four hours I find out after the meeting that I cannot actually become a member of the club until I have at least 12 credits under my belt. Fantastic. What a wonderful, beautiful waist of my time. Oh! And in addition to this I ran into (not literally) the guy who took me to prom as he sat out at a bench and waited for his cousin to come pick him up. “I was going to call you,” He says, “My mom said I should find out what your breaks are.” Great…. The last person I really wanted to hear say that said it. Starting college I was hoping to meet lots of new and exciting people! I was also hoping that I might break my no boyfriend streak before I turned 19; well I guess the bar has risen to before I die. He is a nice guy and all, but I don’t feel as happy as I should around someone I might take romantically. He remembers everything, and when I say everything I mean every fault of mine he knows of. That is what he talked about at dinner before we went to Prom. Yes, he is a keeper. *gags*
Okay, so then there was also this great big dog that was chained to one of the columns next to the part of the school where he was sitting. I wanted to pet it, so I walked up to him and let him sniff my hand. Once he was done I tried to pet him. He did not want that. So my friend gets this idea in his mind that he will teach me how to touch a dog... Like I haven't been doing that ALL SUMMER LONG! ((For those of you who do not know I work at an animal clinic.)) So he walks up to the dog and ends up chasing him around this column. I laugh to myself as my finger tips skim over the dog's fluffy back, and my friend is still chasing him. Oh yes, and what was it he was suppose to be doing? Teaching me how to touch a dog.
mintmeow: (Default)
It's not my fault that I got a ton of homework tonight... it's not my fault that they called me into work on a day I was suppose to have off... so when I ask if they are busy because if they're not I'd like to stay home and do some homework and study for tests then everyone has to know. I called just to ask if they were busy, simple enough... everyone got involved... of course they were busy! So I was ready to say, "Alright then, I'll come in, it's not a big deal..." But then before I knew it they were telling me to hang up because my boss would be calling me. So I hung up and went to get my clothes together for work. I needed to get to work soon I figured... So my boss called my cellphone. She started by asking me how I was and all that nice stuff, but then she started talking to me like it wasn't alright that I asked if they were busy. She said I really was needed at work, even if it didn't seem like it. She said that it was important for me to be there when I was scheduled and she asked if this was something I could foresee as being a constant problem... I tried to explain that it was just a random thing and that I had several tests tomorrow. Simple enough right? Well she gave me one hour off and then I came in the last hour of work... It was nice of her, and it helped. I appreciate it, but even then she was saying that I shouldn't make a habit out of it... I think that is how we lost Megan. She recognized that I've never done it before, but really... it was a harmless question I thought...

So I went into work at 5 and I felt like a ghost. No one said hi when I walked in. They all seemed angry with me. They had nothing to say to me. Then they bustled around the clinic doing all of the work... I felt like they really didn't need me there. And I felt like they were proving it. So ya... not only did I have all of this homework, but the whole work thing was very upsetting and it made me cry. Not that anyone was being rude or anything, I just have a problem with people talking at me... it started in 5th grade with my teacher there... she shattered my emotional stability when it comes to having someone talk at me, teacher, boss or other.

I want this week to end... I NEED it to end soon...
mintmeow: (Default)
My first period class is Living on your Own. We are trying to study more places as we look into possible professions. I already know what I'm going for, so luckily our first field trip took us to a near by hospital. I was thrilled to go, and I really wanted to go, so I did.

So first we talked with a pharmacist, and then a pharmacy tech, then we met with a nurse. The hospital rooms were beautiful, really. Bright and beautiful. We went around to many other parts of the clinic, into the lap where we looked at their samples of growing bacteria, as well as white and red blood cells. They were very cool!

Well, one of the places we went was to the ultra-sound room. After they talked to us about the uses for the ultra-sound they asked for a male volunteer. Well, this guy, Ryan, was chosen. He was chosen without the knowledge of what would happen. The man asked him to remove his sweater... and his shirt... This boy is a guy who I've had a secrete crush on for a few years now, ever since he and I met on the dance floor after the guy I was with left... it was the last dance of the night, and we were both standing at the side lines, looking expectantly, longingly forward. He asked me to dance. Our hands met, we came a little closer... and the song ended... such a heart breaker! I want so much to get that dance back. But I digress.

Anyway, he was selected to remove both layers before our group of 12 people, 10 kids (high schoolers), 1 teacher, and our guide, and if you count the guy running the machine that would make 13 people. I will admit he looked really good. He was somewhat defined in the chest region, there was a tickle of orange hair down the middle of his chest, and he was pale. A sign, this wasn't a hobby of his, removing his shirt where the sun shines and eyes watch. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic, but it's a thought, right?

We watched them put the probe, covered in goo, to his chest. It took the man no time at all to focus on Ryan's heart. We watched the blood rush though it, though the chambers. We heard it beat, lub-dub, lub-dub. I was amazed both by the ultrasound and by the boy. The process amazed me, maybe this is where I will go for eventually. Maybe I'll start as a RN, but then progress to a specialized profession working with the ultra sound.

Anyway, after that we went back to meet Stitch, our newest in surgery technology. Our brain surgery, hysterectomy, and many other surgery doctor. This great machine that looks like it came out of a horror story! You know the movie Deep Blue Sea? Well this thing looks like what they put on the shark when they were testing the doctor's theory and drawing out the serum for a cure to Alzheimer's. Well it looks like that, and it's operated, like a game, by the doctor! This thing is freaky! I don't know if I would choose it when going to have a surgery, but what ever... I want to see it work first!

Then went to the baby ward, but sadly there were no babies. That did upset me, but it didn't crush me. That also sounded like a nice place to be, so we'll see. From the sound of it many of the people working there have many degrees, so maybe I will follow that path at some point. We shall see, but there is my thoughts anyhow on my first field trip this year.
mintmeow: (Default)
So my aunt and Uncle brought us some fish that they caught while fishing... So mom cooked them up the next night and we had rainbow trout. But she cooked them with the heads and eyes and tail all still on. She was going to teach us how to take them off, well my sis took one look at it and lost her appetite... she accidentally touched the tail, screamed, and ran away to the bathroom to wash her arm where it touched her... I actually learned something and ate it, it was good!
But anyway, now a week or so down the road Bella finds the place where mom hid the heads she ate it when she was walking the other day, and she went to find it and brought it to bed last night, my brother's bed.
So my brother sleeps up there with mom, and he woke up with bits of old fish stuck to the back of his head and the mess all over the bed mom didn't notice when she got up. This is what we call, sleeping with the fishes. Needless to say he was not happy, and he didn't approve of our jokes though out the day.
mintmeow: (Default)
"You should be asleep in about 45 seconds." The doctor says to me as he finishes hooking me up to his strange machine,and taping up the needle now in my arm. 45 seconds? I think so myself, That's craziness! I tell myself, I'm going to see how long I can fight it for. I stare at the x-ray on the board across from me. But surely enough, after hardly any time at all, I feel the room spinning all around me. The wall begins to warp, to twist and change.

Before I know it they are slapping tape over my arm. There is a little piece of gauze there. My mouth is full of the cottony stuff. Slowly someone helps me into a wheel chair. I think I fall asleep again, but not for long because soon again they want to move me. I am not laying back on a green sofa like thing. I can hear my mom, and the nurse, they are talking. I understand it, but I can't remember it.
mintmeow: (Default)
Miracles are there for those who wait for them. They give you peace and help to release you from your sadness after a loss. I sat at the supper table talking with my mother, brother, and sister. The conversation we shared was not something I remembered, though it might have been concerning dad. The door bell rang. I jumped from my seat to answer it. The world around me was oddly bright and colorful, but it was home, just as everything is. I was almost to the entry way when my father walked through the door. I stopped; amazed that he was standing there just before me. I jumped forward and hugged him tightly, but when I opened my eyes and looked up, he wasn’t in my arms anymore. Dad said nothing, he only smiled, but for a mere second. He simply walked past me and to the stairs where he disappeared into the darkness of the basement where I sleep. I reached out as if I could stop him, but I could not, he was gone.

I woke up. My eyes fluttered. I lay on my pillow. What had awakened me? My eyes were closed again as I prepared for sleep. I felt something soft, like a feather, brush past my cheek. I opened my eyes. The world was suddenly shrouded in light. The curtains that surrounded the area in the basement where I slept glowed with a heavenly light. They blew lightly and brushed against me. My room around me disappeared and the bright light supported me. On the other side of the white sheet I saw a silhouette of a man. Immediately I knew who it was. It was my father, and this is where he was now. The silhouette moved around, unhindered by health problems. I recognized him and realized the strength by which the figure moved was indeed the strength of the undying soul. He had returned and was stronger now than he had ever been.

I use to think heaven was on the other side of the clouds, where the sun shone so brightly, but having seen the tops of those clouds I no longer believe it. Heaven is in a place that humanity cannot touch. Heaven is somewhere within ourselves, within the space that grants us life. That is where he is now, safe and sound, forever a part of me.
mintmeow: (Default)
Silent as a gentle breeze, bright balls of cottony delight whisper and twirl through the sky. Gently, one by one, they fall to the ground and settle into a spot just perfect for their settlement. They rest on tree limbs, and on the etched details of the great evergreen's bark. Slowly it builds up. Sitting at the window looking out at the falling snow a calico cat. She purrs softly, enjoying the snug warmth of the house. She presses her head forward so that her button nose presses against the cold window. She pulls back and with beautiful hazel eyes she watches the fog dissipate.
mintmeow: (Default)
So my brother and his friend are playing guns and so she ran to hide with her brother, so they were hiding behind a chair my mom or my brother asked where the boy was and his little sister said, "We're hiding right here!"
mintmeow: (Default)
Lauren's heard raced within her chest as she ran down the dark streets lit by dim street lights. Rain clogged the spaces around her, drowning her in her sadness. It started first as a single drop, just like the single drop that had begun it's sluggish trail down her face. Then it too picked up speed till the dark gray clouds above wept and sobbed. Their cries thundering throughout the valley. Lauren stopped and wrapped her arms around herself. There was no where to hide out here where she could escape even nature. So instead of trying to hide she allowed it to wash over her. Soon her small, trembling frame dripped from the wet.
mintmeow: (Default)
I'm very sorry for being away so long. School is keeping me oober busy and and and everything else... I got sick and it's been keeping me down too. Not so fun... But I'd like to work on some more writing... Hopefully!


Nov. 7th, 2009 11:20 pm
mintmeow: (Default)
I have been so unbelievably busy lately... I am so sorry for not being online... I was in Hawaii for two weeks... and I missed 10 days of school. So I've been trying to get back on track, all while attempting to keep my sanity, something that has been keeping me busy... I have been losing to my mind. Living more inward than outward. It's not helping at all. And in the end it is my mind I am giving into. Hopefully things slow down soon.
mintmeow: (Default)
I close my eyes and let my mind take over. Music plays softly into my ears. A new song, sweet and beautiful. Melodic, to say the least, lulling also. What am I passionate about? What in this "one wild and precious life" calls to my heart? What is the meaning for me to be here, to experience this life? I believe my passion is found within my writing, drawing, and on occasion within my job working with and handling animals. I often find myself believing that I was placed here to cater to others, to forget about the me in team and worry solely about the whole word. I find myself talking to strangers, acquaintances, and I listen to their stories, I try to take their pains and help them support the problems at hand. This I try to do before I look at what is going on in my life. I want to, more than anything, make people happy. In doing so to be comfortable with myself I must conserve and live by my morals.

My passion though falls into my writing. I love to jump into the body of another creature, human or not, and make them come alive in a whole new way. I love to give them life, and to experience what I cannot here in my living room. My first love, actual love, I believe was a writing partner. The first man who I "kissed" was a man made purely of words. But even though the development of the characters I became closer to him. This has happened now a couple times where I get so far into the character my feelings, me, I am the character. That was my first experience for love. I am still a dating virgin, as well as a virgin in many other fields. I have yet to experience a few things before I could ever dream to write about them, even so I don't think I could bring these fingers to type the words in my head and my heart.

Being a lover of writing, especially fiction, my imagination can remain forever youthful. Because I can dance within the body of one and love within the body of another my experience of living broadens. In the most awful of positions I get a look within myself, what would I do? Getting so into characters as you play a persona of ones self you get an ultimate source of life and your own morals and values. Never have I been more afraid than having a character in my image come an inch from death. When mortality is on the verge of immortality.

Deep within every soul that walks this blessed earth, on the lands given to us by our Lord, whom ever it may be, lies a child, a seed, waiting to grow. Every living thing experiences change. It is an important part of who we are. I have seen change in myself, not only physically as my body matures, not only mentally as my senses seem to come alive, but also spiritually. I feel a deeper connection with my Lord, and with myself. Though the power of words I could paint you a picture with any amount of detail. I could read to you the most beautiful poem, but what makes it all a part of you is the realization of what it means to you. What does it mean for me to have a made up world where I can play with others, my age, older, and sometimes younger. What does it mean for me to play people of all ages? A different type of experience is what I am given.

So for now it looks like my rant has taken me where I didn't expect to go. I went far past what I wrote for my English class. So my last question for the day is, what are you passionate about?
mintmeow: (Default)
The first time heard his voice I think my heart came to a complete stop. With another word of that southern tongue I think I was reborn. He continued to speak, leaving me a dumbfound fool. I knew right then and there the world would never be the same again, I would never be the same again.

With a strange, avid fascination I watched that brown haired boy speak. His lips met perfectly in a shy, crooked smile, oh and that laugh, that oh so perfect laugh that ran throughout the hall and slithered into my eager ears.

My eyes danced, or so my watching, giggling friends said. They described my face to be cherry red with flaming blush, and my jaw dropped nearly to the ground as I spotted the "god" of my existence.

I think my heart stopped again as those unnaturally blue eyes passed over my gawking face. With a loud, "EEP!" I leaped, much like a frog, behind my closest friend. "What is he doing?" I ask her timidly just as my picky ears picked up his soft chuckle.

Grinning from ear to ear my friend says to me, the red faced monster, "I think he saw you."

"Oh dear lord." I groan and buried my ashamed face in my arms.

"Whoa there!" My friend exclaimed, "Don't you ever think about setting this school on fire with those flames." She said indirectly about the heat that seemed to radiate from my body. "Oh look," She said smugly, "He's coming this way." The grin on her face widened to something much to the likeness of the Cheshire cat.

"No way!" I retort in an oddly high voice. I poke my head up over her shoulder to get a better look at the hall. Sure enough he is approaching out small group. My heart stops for the third time today. The world will never ever be the same. This I know for a fact, and it all started that morning I saw the brown haired southern boy who stopped my heart.

April 2011

1718192021 2223


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 21st, 2017 11:52 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios