No Words

No words are coming to my brain,
it seems to be a one way train.

The thoughts go in but none come out,
and so I want to scream and shout!

Why oh why is this so hard?
you'd think my brain was under guard.

For sometimes it's just too hard to think,
and all your words seem to do is sink.

My imagination is soaring off somewhere, free,
but I'm like Alice at the door to Wonderland--needing a key.

I try to shrink, I try to grow,
but neither helps to help me know

what to say??? O M Gee!
If only a muse would flock to me!

It seems today, the muse is gone,
the dreams asleep, awaiting dawn.

So I guess that means the end of this poem,
for my soul needs--I think--to roam.

Enjoying the Rain

As the old man walked down Second Street he noticed dark clouds in the distance and suspected a storm was coming. The air was humid, and a slight breeze swept past him as he spotted the park. He sauntered over on his creaky bones and halted before a decrepit wooden bench. It was in the shade of a giant tree, and had moss creeping up its legs. The words “Dedicated in loving memory to Catelyn Vinder,” were engraved in the back rest, already starting to fade from the years of constant abrasion that the bench had endured as people sat, read, ate, talked… All of them unknowingly erasing the memory of this woman with every shift in their seat.
With a sigh, the man sat down heavily, and the bench reciprocated with a grunt of its own as his body weighed down on its feeble frame. All around he could hear the sounds of everyday people’s lives, all of them reminding him of his long past youth. The chatter of two women ambling through the park, the quick pacing footsteps of a jogger taking advantage of the temporary sunshine, the laughter of a child as a dog licked his face, the serenading of a man to his paramour. All of this he heard, and all of this he ignored, immune to the happiness felt in life. He was detached from these people; now he related more to the old bench. After all, he knew what it was like to be overlooked and alone. His life was very languorous these days.
“What should I do today?” he asked himself, “I have no doctor’s appointments, no friends to see, no family members in town…” The last thought made a sudden reverie come upon him. Back when he was a young man, in the prime of his life, he used to love the close proximity that he had shared with all of his family members. Aunt Gale had been on Third, Cousin Tony on Fifth…they were encompassing. But now… well, the world was not what it used to be. Over time his family had relocated itself all around the world, to Japan, England, Texas… All for different reasons, but leaving behind them the same feeling of desolation. The gloomy city was now unfamiliar to him, a spectral wasteland full of old memories. He was doubting life, wondering what the point of it was when there was no one to share it with. After his wife died three years before, he had never been the same man. He became contentious, pessimistic… and so on. He lacked the ability to show love after feeling it ripped from his breast as easily as a petal is torn from a flower. He couldn’t bear to talk about her, to think about her. And yet she was all he could think about. Though he tried and tried, his attempts to forget were futile, and resulted in the departure of his last family member in the city. After years of his irate behavior, his son had given up on him and decided to explore the world. And so the old man was all alone all the time, and he dreaded each new day, wondering when God would be merciful and end his suffering.
These were his thoughts when all of a sudden a young voice muttered, “Hew-wo”. The man looked up. Standing directly in front of him was a young child, scarcely taller than the man’s knees. He was wearing blue jean overalls that displayed a picture of Winnie the Pooh in the center of his chest. His shirt was long sleeved, with brown and white horizontal stripes, and his pants were rolled a few times at the bottom, indicating to the old man that this boy was either extremely young or uncommonly small. Looking back at the boy’s face, he noticed flame red hair, spring green eyes, and an array of light brown freckles from one cheek to the other, engulfing the bridge of his nose.
“What do you want?” the old man asked tersely.
“I cawn’t find me parnts, hewp me?” the boy asked pitifully.
The old man looked around, scanning the park for signs of a panicked couple looking for their lost child. He saw a man ride past on a bike, heard an ice cream truck drive by in the distance, and noticed that the ominous clouds were getting closer, but he didn’t see anyone who fit the description of a despairing parent. Scratching the top of his head he asked, “Why aren’t you with your parents?”
“They wouldn’t bwing me the doy I wan-ed, so I wan away to find the big mountain with the happy elves I eard about on a comecial,” he mumbled so quickly that the man could not understand him.
The little boy was picturing this toy, a superman action figure that had a light up “S” and talked. He saw it on a commercial one time and ever since he had been nagging his parents to get it for him. But they told him that he couldn’t have it because it was too expensive, which meant little to him since he was only four.
“Slow down boy, so you don’t have any idea where you’re parents are now?”
“Ummm… maybe at the… the… ho-home? Or the plond, with the alligators…?” the boy trailed off, deep in thought, “OH! Or maybe they’re at the orange peel. We went there once,” he said, very matter-of-factly, picturing the big field full of ripe oranges. They had gone there on a tour because he had wanted to learn how orange juice was made.
“What was the boy talking about?” thought the man, “A plond? Alligators? An orange peel? And what on earth was a ho-home?”
“Whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses kid,” said the old man, “I need to think”.
The boy looked around with a confused expression on his face, “I don’t see any horwses”.
“What do I do?” thought the old man, “I can’t just leave him here, but how can I help? I’m just a feeble old guy…” He huffed and thought, “Well, I have to help him, it’s just a tacit rule, and what would my wife say if I just left him?” The thought was a stab to his heart. Up until that point, he had forgotten about the pain she left behind, had been distracted by this interaction with another human being, even if he was only a child. The world’s ceaseless gloom returned, and the old man got up and asked the kid, “What do they call you anyway?”
“Huh?” asked the kid.
“What’s your name?” the old man asked, rephrasing the question so that the he would understand.
“Bwandon. What did the fairies name you?” he asked sincerely.
“Ned,” said the old man, ignoring the fairy aspect of the question. He noticed that people were starting to leave the park now, and felt the air get a little colder. “Let’s just look for your parents around the park, I’m sure they can’t be far,” said Ned.
“Otay!” the boy shouted excitedly, and began to run around in a circle with a bounce in his step that could only be achieved by someone anticipating the excitement of a fresh adventure.
Ned began to walk down the pathway leading away from the comfort of the bench, Brandon trailing along beside him.
The little boy looked up at the sky as they walked and saw the storm clouds too, but unlike Ned they made the little boy happy. “Do you think it will wain?” he asked.
“Cats and dogs, I’m sure,” replied Ned in a gruff voice.
Brandon was about to ask what that meant when he spotted an airplane in the sky. “Look! A hairplane!” he exclaimed, and then began to run around with his arms outstretched making airplane sounds as he went.
Ned watched him and chuckled. It reminded him of when his son was that age, and how he used to ride on his shoulders as Ned was the airplane and his son the passenger. This thought brought another painful feeling to his chest. “Why have I been so mean?” Ned asked himself, “Why did I have to push my son away?” He pondered the question for a moment, feeling a small wind blow against him that caused his coat to flap around as internally he answered, “Because he reminds you of her…”
He was deep in thought, which was why he didn’t hear the little boy right away as he asked, “Mr.? Mr.?
Clearing his throat he replied, “What?”
“I think it’s stawting to wain.”
The old man was about to disagree, but then he felt the first drop hit him squarely on the top of his head. He looked around and realized that the park was vacant. “Looks like your right kid,” he began; the little boy smiled in response, “But that’s no good for us. It’s just going to make finding your parents even harder, like finding a needle in a haystack.”
The little boy thought about that and then said, “Mr., why would I look for my parnts in a haystack?”
Sighing, Ned simply said, “I don’t know boy, I don’t know.”
As they continued to walk around the sky grew increasingly darker, and Ned knew that if they didn’t find his parents soon they were going to have to go to the police station. It seemed to Ned like they had been walking for hours, and his old limbs were starting to show it. As he attempted to walk up a small hill, he grew so tired that he had to stop until Brandon said, “Look! It’s the bench where we started!”
Ned looked at where his outstretched finger was pointing and realized that the kid was right. “How is this possible?” he asked himself, “Why is this happening to me?”
He was wondering why the world was so cruel, why every day had to be torture to him, why his life was so meaningless now, why he couldn’t fix it. As he watched Brandon jump into a nearby puddle, he had an epiphany that came upon him as suddenly as the earlier rain. Seeing Brandon once again reminded him of a memory that he shared with his son. It had been before his wife’s death, back when he used to be happy. He and his son had been enjoying the rain, puddle jumping, skidding on the slick earth, and having a great time. He remembered there was a storm, eerily like the one that was approaching, and he had told his son, “See Robb, this is what life is about. You have to enjoy what nature gives you,” he had grabbed his son’s hand and extended it, palm up, so that he could catch the rain drops. “You have to see the good in the bad, the happy in the sad, to get the most out of a rainy day. But most of all you have to treasure the finite things in life, because they won’t last forever, and when they’re over you have to realize that everything has to end, and that’s okay.”
“I will daddy,” he had said, “Always.”
Ned found that there were tears in his eyes when he heard the shouts distantly in the background. He looked up and saw Brandon running towards two people by a pond a few hundred yards behind the bench. He noticed that they were a man and a woman, both shouting, rejoicing. “These must be Brandon’s parents,” Ned thought.
He hobbled over on his now excruciatingly painful joints, and saw that Brandon’s mother was still planting kisses all over his face. The boy’s father was getting up to come meet Ned, as Ned noticed the raindrops pelting the pond. The concentric circles were so beautiful, he thought, beginning to recall the beauty of nature.
When she saw her husband approaching, Brandon’s mother got up and started walking over too, clutching Brandon’s hand in an iron grip, as if afraid he would float away.
When they finally reached him, Ned was staring at Brandon, who was regarding him with a curious expression. The rain was lessoning as Brandon’s father extended his hand to Ned for a shake.
“Jon Snow,” he said.
“Ned Vinder,” he replied. Jon noticed that the old man had a strong grip.
“Thank you so much for finding our little boy!” exclaimed Mrs. Snow.
“No problem. We had quite a little adventure, wouldn’t you say so Brandon?”
“Yeppiseesuri!” he shouted jovially. “Mr. Mr.! Come see the plond with the alligators!”
He started running towards the pond. “Oh,” Ned realized, “the pond…But then what were the alligators he was talking about?”
Mrs. Snow began to laugh as Brandon almost fell into the pond after chasing a little lizard around a large limestone rock a couple of times. As Ned got closer, he saw what Brandon was following, and decided that this must be what he meant by alligator.
“You have a very interesting boy, Mrs. Snow,” he commented.
“You have no idea. You should see him when he’s really excited, he’s not even the least bit understandable!”
“Oh, I believe you. We’ve been through the mill today,” he chuckled.
“What miwl? We didn’t go through any miwls… I would wemember that,” said Brandon, who had silently joined them while they were talking.
“Oh no honey, he doesn’t mean a real mill… I’ll tell you about it when you’re older,” she consoled him.
“Otay,” he replied, grinning.
“Well, I better go, I’m pretty tuckered out,” said Ned.
“Okay, well thanks again, so much,” Mrs. Snow said smiling sweetly, right before she gave Ned a big hug. He froze. He had forgotten what it was like to be loved by someone, to receive a hug, to get a call on a lonely day…it was nice, he would have to call his son.
“Well goodbye,” he repeated.
“Bye,” said Jon, waving.
“Byeee!” shouted Brandon, running and slamming into Ned’s legs at full speed as he gave him a big bear squeeze; well, as much as a four-year-old can give a bear squeeze. “I wove you Mr.,” he said, gazing up at Ned’s face.
“I love you too,” Ned replied without even thinking.
After that he began to walk back home. The rain had stopped, and now the clouds were starting to move past. People were once again in the park and the atmosphere was the same as it had been before he had met Brandon, only he felt like his perspective on life had changed, as though it was no longer a curse, as though he could deal with it and actually enjoy it. Astonished at this sudden vindication from pain, he noticed a ray of sunlight hitting his wife’s bench, as though the universe was showing him that his wife was still with him. He dragged himself a little farther to rest on it. Though everything around him was much the same he could not feel more different. He understood now, understood why he could never be happy before. In order to appreciate the good things in life, one must also appreciate the bad. And that’s what had happened with his wife. He had loved her so much, but life didn’t last forever, and now he understood that you just had to enjoy it while it lasted, even if it wasn’t all happy, it was still life. Just like a stormy day, it may not be sunny and perfect but if you could learn how to enjoy the rain, life would be so much easier. And that’s what he was doing, enjoying the rain.


This is actually a story I wrote for English in 10th grade, but I'm still proud of myself for it, so I think that it's earned a spot on the blog :)

Shattered Dreams and Kindled Hopes

As Elle sat on the green and brown striped comforter that sheathed her bed, she reflected on what had happened that fateful day when all of her dreams had been shattered like the window through which they had flown away... She had FINALLY found the journal! It had been in her grasp! The one thing her mother had entrusted to her...

And now it was gone--swept away as fast as a light is blown out by a gust of wind. All of her hopes, her dreams--extinguished. In a moment of pure frustration she violently grabbed the key at her throat, unclasped the chain that held it there, and threw it with all her might across the room, hearing it bounce off of her door and land on the hardwood floor below.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she squeezed them tightly shut, head hung, hands reaching for her face. How could this possibly happen to me? How could a BIRD steal my mother's legacy from me? This CANNOT be real! she thought to herself in distress. All she could think about was how she had failed her mother--the ONE task she had been given, the ONE means of discovering the answer to nothing and yet everything! For how can one know the importance of the answer they'll find if they don't know the question which creates it?

Painfully, the girl allowed herself to fall to her side, pulling her legs up and curling into a ball in order to create some semblance of comfort for herself. What was she supposed to do now? For months all she had been thinking of was finding the key's partner and invariably uncovering the answer which her mother wanted her to find. It had been a curse, a plague! All traces of friendship had been lost as she grew apart from everyone she once knew--it seemed as if the life she had lived before her mother's accident was not her own...Or, perhaps it was more as if she had died with her mother and now she could not go back to her old life, for it was not hers to begin with. She was a changed person. A person whose sole goal was to fulfill a quest--without that there would surely be nothing to live for.

Her depression was overwhelming--sobs wracked her slender frame as her arms rushed vainly to hug her sides in an attempt to hold herself together--as if she were physically falling apart. It felt like she was--like checkmate had just been called on her life.

She had given up--all hopes lost, when, all of a sudden, knock knock

Her father was at her bedroom door, and she knew that if she didn't pull herself together in two seconds she would have to tell him of her disobedience--for how else could she explain this pain?

"Honey?" she heard him say, sounding worried. "Honey, are you alright?"

Frantically, Elle released the grasp on herself and pulled back her comforter, scrambling underneath and trying to lay in what looked like a passable sleep pose. She turned to the wall that resided on one side of her bed, and pulled her blanket so that it concealed the back of her head and most of her face.

The doorknob twisted and clicked open as Orion stepped into the room quietly, seeing what appeared to be Elle's sleeping form bundled in a green and brown mound on her bed. Elle's nerves were on edge as she heard him walk closer--fearing that if he saw her face he'd know she had been crying again--and demand an explanation.

As soon as he reached her bed she snapped her wide eyes shut and attempted to make her anxious expression peaceful--as if she really were dreaming.

Orion sat down on the edge of her bed, put his hands on his knees and looked around at Elle's room. Directly in front of him--to the left of the door, was a large, dark brown, wooden bookshelf, filled with countless collections of Elle's treasured stories. Then on the right hand side of the door--against the right wall, was a bright red desk, upon which resided a cup of writing supplies--i.e. pencils, pens, highlighters, etc-- and a small desk lamp, as well as an old cup of coffee.
Then, to the right hand side of her bed was a medium sized aquamarine dresser with small white curved handles on each of its four sections.

Beneath his feet a bright orange rug obscured the smooth, cool, wooden flooring.

All of these things he had seen countless times, and with a sigh of what seemed like disappointment he got up--never having inspected Elle's disheveled face--and began to walk towards the door.

He was about two steps away from the hall when his foot encountered a bump that should not be, and he looked down to see what he had tread upon. Beneath his foot was a gold and turquoise key on a silver chain. He stared at it in disbelief for a moment, all the breath leaving him in one swift exhale, and then a malevolent grin spread across his face as he reached down to pick it up.

"The key!" he exclaimed in a whisper, with a tone of utter amazement.

Then, glancing back over his shoulder at the still unmoving form of Elle, he crept mischievously out the door, shutting it gently behind him as he stuffed the precious object in his back pants' pocket.

The moment she heard the door close Elle ripped off the blankets and rushed to where the key had been on the floor--it was gone! Her father had taken it, but why? "The key!" he'd said...but how did he know about the key? Had her mother confided in him too? Did he possess the answers which she so desperately sought--no, NEEDED--to survive?

To all of these questions Elle had no answer, yet a new hope was kindling in her heart--what if her father knew the solution?! What if she hadn't lost ALL hope of fulfilling her mother's sole request after all?

With a nervous smile, she opened the door and stepped into the hall--after her father... after the truth...

Shimmer

The woman looked down adoringly at her little baby girl.

“You know this is necessary, Ana,” said a tall man standing a small distance away from her, also staring lovingly at the baby girl in his wife’s arms. “It’s the only way to make her safe.”

“I know Ono. But still, it’s hard,” Ana said, stroking the baby’s soft face. “I mean, what if little Elle…”

“Elle will be fine. She’ll be cared for by parents who will actually have time for her. Parents who won’t constantly be plagued by assassins attempting to end their lives, and consequently, hers.”

Ana looked up at her husband, knowing that he was right but still trying to figure out a way to avoid this… to keep her little daughter. Her precious Elle. This is not how she pictured motherhood would be.

“Come on dear, it’s time,” said Ono in a sympathetic voice.

Ana looked up from Elle’s face, seeing a shimmer of light in the air a few feet away. It looked like a silver ball, and as she watched it, it got bigger and bigger until it materialized into the shape of a door. It would have been beautiful, if Ana hadn’t known the reason it was there. Grudgingly, she walked closer to it, dragging her feet and hushing Elle as she began to cry. It was almost as if she understood what was happening—that she was leaving her home, her world, her universe. And her parents with it.

Ana stood directly in front of the door now. Ono came over and kissed Elle on the forehead. “You’ll be fine, my little love. You’ll see us again,” he said. Ana began to cry, her tears landing on Elle’s pale little face. Suddenly, the door began to glow, as if a flame was lining its edges. It disappeared and where it once had been was a room, almost identical to the one that Ana, Ono and Elle were in now. Only, the room beyond the door was slightly different. Not in appearance, but something more subtle. There were two people standing in the opposite room. A man and a woman standing in the exact same position as Ana and Ono.

All of a sudden, the light flared again and Ana’s arms became empty as Elle was transported to the other side of the door, and the other woman now had a small bundle in her arms. Elle. The woman smiled and began bouncing the baby up and down gently, as Ana looked longingly on the pair. The men were looking at each other inquisitively, sizing each other up. Finally, Ono made a gesture of farewell at the man who was now to be his daughter’s father. At least, until she was ready.

“Come dear,” he said, and as he uttered the words, the other man did the same simultaneously. With a last look, he grabbed his wife’s hand and they both walked away from the door and their daughter.

Ana was sobbing now. Ono wrapped an arm around her and said, “It’s alright dearest. We’ll see her again. It won’t be too long.” She looked up at her husband, knowing that he was right. She had only eleven years to wait, and then she would be reunited with her precious Elle. Already she began to daydream about the joyous day… Smiling at the thought she looked up at Ono.

“You’re right. After all, what is eleven years to us?” she asked, and then thought, nothing.

Inspirational Quote of the Day:
There is no quote for this one--it's just something I made up...

What a Woman

"Sir?" asked a young woman, as she and her dance partner clasped hands.

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often meet with zombies on their walks to Meryton.

"Well," she began, "there are the few lucky days where we do not meet any of those ghastly undead...but, on the whole, I'd say there's usually at least three lurking between our home and Meryton."

"I see," answered the man, "and do you not fear to walk that path as a result--for it seems to me that such a road, filled with such hoards of zombies, would be quite treacherous for young ladies to traverse alone."

The woman looked into his blue eyes, a slight prickle of annoyance in her mind at his seeming condescension. "I assure you Mr. Redgars--"

"Please, call me William," he interrupted, sheepishly.

"Well then, William, I can assure you that we are quite capable of defending ourselves." Then, lifting her chin slightly, she said, "In fact, my youngest sister, Rose, actually takes immense pleasure out of slaughtering our not-so-alive counterparts."

"Indeed?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "And what do you think of the subject, Ms. Hamilton?"

"I?" she asked rhetorically, "Well, I suppose I share--to some degree--my sister's craving for blood. You see..." She looked away, as if revisiting some long forgotten memory, "...my little brother, Oliver, he...Well, a few years ago--when this dreadful plague began--he was bitten. None of us knew yet that a bite from a zombie would transmit the infection, so we simply called for a doctor to address the wound and expected little Oliver to make a full recovery."

Her sad gaze flickered back to William and then away again, as if she couldn't stand to look at another person as she told her tale, "Well, two days later Oliver was dead. My mother was the one who found him, actually...She had been bringing him some breakfast and found his poor little corpse just laying there in bed." Her eyes acquired a bright sheen, as though she was resisting tears, and her voice became tight, "He was so young and innocent--he didn't deserve to die like that." She shook her head, "No, he didn't deserve it..."

"Then the next day we buried him, said our last words, and thought that we had seen him for the last time--How I wish that it had been--for the next time I saw him was by the light of a full moon, covered in dirt, moaning and helplessly stupid. I had thought at first that a miracle had occurred and he had somehow come back to us, but upon closer inspection I saw that he had merely become one of the undead--and before my sisters, mother or father could see him in such a state, I grabbed the nearest shovel and killed him. A final death."

Her gaze shifted to William again, eyes locking onto his, "So, do I enjoy killing zombies? No. But do I enjoy getting revenge for my brother every time I hack off one's head? Yes. Does that answer your question, Mr. William?"

William inspected her face, sensing the passion and strength the fueled her just behind her face's delicately beautiful mask, "I do."

"And do you enjoy killing the abominable undead?" she reciprocated.

"Why, yes, I must confess that I do--it's definitely a forte of mine."

"I see," said Ms. Hamilton.

William continued to stare into the young woman's face, noticing that her eyes were a bright, burning green. His palms began to sweat and a drop of perspiration down his face shattered his cool and calm facade--for he found Ms. Hamilton quite enchanting.

"Ms. Hamilton," he began, nervously, "I wonder if..."

"Yes," she asked expectantly.

He swallowed hard and continued, "I wonder if you might want to practice with me sometime--fighting zombies, that is."

She looked at him curiously, "Well, I suppose I could arrange that."

"Perhaps I could teach you a few moves of my own," she said with a smile, "Oh, and please, call me Sophie."

"Sophie," he said with a grin--the word tasted sweet on his tongue.

"Well, I--" Sophie began when all of a sudden a loud crash was heard from across the room as one of the giant glass windows in the ballroom shattered. Screams commenced and those without the courage to stay and fight the mob of undead that were inexorably about to enter the building fled--Sophie and William being pelted by their retreating bodies as they fought against the tide.

William gauged the situation: "Looks like there's about twenty of them out there, and a few are already starting to make their way in."

Sophie was also staring hard at the zombies, a plan formulating in her mind. "You take the left and I'll take the right--we'll simply kill them as they enter, that way we'll have the upper hand and they won't be able to surprise us from behind."

"Are you sure you can manage, Ms. Sophie?" he asked skeptically, "After all, that dress of yours doesn't appear to be very conducive to fighting."

Sophie looked at him defiantly and said sarcastically, "Oh, you think so?"

Then, reaching down to one of her fashionably embroidered stalkings she pulled out a knife and said, "Well, luckily, I always come prepared," and commenced to slash the skirt off her dress, revealing a pair of men's trousers underneath. "Let's do this, shall we?" she asked, then began running toward the zombie infested window.

William watched her in amazement, then said, "What a woman," before taking off in Sophie's wake.


Inspirational Quote of the Day:

"He made no answer, and they were silent till they had gone down the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often meet with zombies on their walks to Meryton," Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith

Teenagers...

"I won't do it!" she yelled, with a tone quite unwise,
as Gene looked at her, a questioning look in his eyes.

His daughter, most recently, had turned 13,
and now almost every other word she said was just plain mean.

She refused to comply to any behests,
and yet she made countless requests!

He'd ask her, so nicely, to organize her laundry,
to which she would sigh--dramatically expressing her quandary.

Then she'd say, oh so sweetly, "Daddy, please, buy me those shoes?"
but he knew that her kindess was only a ruse.

"No honey, you're too unhelpful to be givin such a provision,"
so she'd squint, hatefuly, and look upon him with derision.

And occasionally he'd say, "Please don't let your time go to waste,"
and she'd narrow her eyes, and look at him with distaste.

"Oh, please, PLEASE! Get me that necklace??"
"No sweetie," he'd tell her, "your attitude lately has been too reckless."

Then other times, he'd request,
"Could you please do the dishes? I really need to rest."

And she'd yell, "Oh fine, just make ME do the dishes!"
And she'd stomp and shout and be just plain vicious.

Whenever she'd asked to go hang out with friends,
he'd replied, "Well, that depends..."

"Did you clean your room, like I asked you to do?"
"No," she'd say, "But why does it matter to you?"

So he'd have to say, with a tone of regret,
"Nope, then. Sorry--haven't earned that privelege yet."

Some days he'd ask, "Could you please make us dinner? and maybe a pie?"
Then she'd kick, and yell, and sigh sigh SIGH.

One day he asked if she'd be a doll and sweep,
and she'd said, with "the look", "YOU'RE SUCH A *beep*"

Everything he asked, she scorned and dismissed,
and, quite frankly, he was starting to get pissed.

He'd had it--HE HAD--he didn't know WHAT to do!
His hormonal teen daugher was making him blue!

So one day he decided to end his despair,
her blatant teen angst was just plain unfair.

So he'd tell her: "Darling, I love you, but could you please abstain?"
"For it seems to me that all you do is complain."

And she'd whine--he was sure--and clench her teeth,
but maybe, just maybe, she'd be changed underneath.

So he told her--quite plainly--to please change her mien,
for her love and daughterly affection for him was perpetually unseen.

But--to his surprise--all she said was, "Whatever Dad, you're just lazy!"
for a daughter she could drive him quite crazy!


Inspirational Quote of the Day: "Gene looked at her, a tone of surprise in his eyes," Slightly Ajar by Helen Wilcox

A Sinister Twinkle

There once was a twinkle that resided in a young boy's eye,
whose sparkly shine doubled whenever the boy started to cry.

So in order to increase his captivating shimmer,
he made sure the boy's days grew constantly dimmer.

That way, he figured, it'd be easy to make him shed a tear,
And it had been easy--easier still every year after year.

Well one day, this sinister twinkle was shocked in surprise,
He couldn't believe his very eyes!

Hitherto this moment, he never had seen,
another child's eyes that possessed such a sheen.

They were positively radiant, these little girl's eyes,
Then the twinkle thought, "I wonder if that's because she always cries?"

His curiosity was enormous, GIGANTIC in size,
for he just could not figure out how someone else could steal his prize.

He'd ALWAYS been the brightest, the shiniest, the best,
everyone else knew to dull themselves on his behest.

Yet this little girl had a brighter twinkle than he,
"Well," he thought, "We'll just wait and see."

And so the sinister twinkle resolved that he would spy,
so that he could figure out what other methods to try.

He watched and waited, day by day, but never saw the girl made sad,
it was so very annoying to him, and made him very mad.

"The girl's not sad, yet still,"
"The twinkle in her eye beats me every time...What could it be? Mere skill?"

The sinister twinkle continued to ponder,
his mind never left free to wander.

Then, just like that, his boy made a friend,
the very girl on whose eye the infuriating twinkle did depend.

"But, this is good for me,"
the sinister twinkle thought with glee.

"Now I'll truly uncover the secret of her shine,"
and then a triumphant, "And it shall be mine!"

However, upon inspecting the girl at a closer range,
he thought he'd finally figured out what he had to change.

"So that is the secret..." he thought with disbelief,
"Well with a treasure like that, it's a good thing I'm such a cunning thief."

The secret, it seemed, was happiness--who knew?
and all along he'd been making the boy so blue...

"Alright!" he thought, a changed twinkle,
"I'll make him so happy his heart will tinkle"

And so the once malevolent twinkle became the epitome of joy,
and no longer resorted to any misguided ploy.

And quickly, he noticed, with still growing surprise,
that he was becoming the alpha twinkle again, out of everybody's eyes.

The machinations dropped that once he wore,
and he shines more brightly than he did before.

Inspirational Quote:

"And he shines more brightly than he did before," A Light in the Attic by Shel Silverstein

A Pointed Dream

He was falling, falling...Orion woke up with a jolt of fright to hear the sound of his mother vacuuming the hallway outside his room, the noise profound for the six a.m. silence that he was accustomed to.

Keeping his eyes closed, he remembered the strange dream/nightmare that he had just experienced.

First of all, he had been an elf...So, obviously, he had had pointy ears...

Not exactly a human mother's favorite anatomical discovery on her little boy. He had been getting ready for school when his mother decided to put a beanie on his head, saying how he'd catch a chill if he didn't wear it--it was December in dreamland. But to his mother's horror, his once cute, round little ears had become grotesquely pointed. "Like a goblin!" she had screamed.

Orion had tried to tell her, "NO Mom, I'm NOT a goblin. I'm an ELF."

"An..An..ELF?" she had asked, dubiously.

"What?" the boy had asked defensively, "Elves are REAL, don't you know?"

She had just shaken her head and said (mostly to herself), "No, no little Orion must have just super glued those Halloween ears on...he couldn't be an elf...His father is Charlie Hasse, not SANTA CLAUSE..." she had continued her little deluded speech until she exclaimed, "I know exactly what we'll do! There's this new doctor up the nearest hill...He specializes in Halloween-make-up-gone-wrong-ectomies."

"Mom, you don't really think--" began Orion.

"Get your coat," his mother commanded, "even though you're an 'elf' you might still catch a cold on the way to the doctor's office."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so he had been dragged to a wacky, random office that stood alone at the top of a wacky, random hill, where he met a very wacky, VERY random doctor named Jason Lawrence--but who called himself "Dr. J-La".

"Like J-Lo!" he had exclaimed, laughing, when Orion's mother had asked his name, "but J-LA, ahahaha".

Orion's mother had gotten a kick out of the crazy man's unfunny sense of humor, but Orion had been too preoccupied with worry about what was going to happen to his poor ears to care.

After a thorough inspection of them, Dr. J-La had announced the verdict: "Well, it seems to me that your boy has super-glued on the, uh, ear points."

"So what can you do for him? Please tell me he'll get to keep the ears doctor!" said Orion's mother desperately.

Then he said, "Hmmm," turning to Orion, "I'm going to have to give you a local anesthetic and cut them off."

Orion's eyes went wide in terror, "MY EARS???"

"OH NO!" Orion's mother had wailed, "My poor boy. Earless," and then she had begun to sob.

Upon hearing Dr. J-La's sharp intentions, a plan had started materializing in Orion's mind...He would have to get out of there, but how?

All of a sudden, the sound of sleigh bells in the distance made Orion turn and look toward a window that had just appeared in the doctor's office. He had just been able to make out the silhouette of reindeer and Santa's sleigh as they grew ever closer, and had begun edging his way toward his freedom quietly as Dr. J-La tried to comfort his mother.

When Orion had been able to tell that his escape vehicle was close enough, he had shoved open the window, climbed into it, turned back to his hysterical mother and insane doctor and shouted, "You'll never catch me, I'm an elf!" and with that, leaped onto Santa's sleigh, landing with a dull thud on a soft black leather seat.

The driver, he had noticed, was not in fact Santa but a fellow elf, who had said, "So, what's the deal with that?" gesturing at the stupefied face of Orion's mother and the narrowed eyes of Dr. J-La, present in the window growing ever farther away.

"Oh, well, my mom wouldn't believe that I was an elf...she thought I super-glued bad Halloween make-up to my ears to make them pointy, so she took me to this specialist who supposedly specializes in the removal of bad Halloween make-up, and then he said he was going to have to cut my ENTIRE ears off, so I was making an escape plan--when I heard the sleigh bells and saw you approaching," he had looked at the elf in a more grateful light then, "Thanks for saving me."

"No problem kid, no problem."

Orion had barely smiled when the elf had yelled, "Uh-oh, looks like we're going to be experiencing some turbulence!"

In the distance a storm had suddenly appeared, and before Orion could even yell out in fear the sleigh had tipped sideways, launching Orion into the air...

But just in the nick of time, the elf had caught Orion--by the ears.

"Don't let me fall!" Orion had shouted.

"Don't worry, I gotcha!" the elf had said, until, all of a sudden the tips of Orion's ears had started to peel off. "What the...?" was all the elf had gotten out when his confusion was interrupted abruptly by the sound of Orion's scream as he was dropped. He had watched the boy fall, then opened his closed fists to see a Halloween make-up elf ear resting in each.

"Hmmm, well, that kid really made a point of lying about his ears..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Orion opened his eyes, feeling the solid bed underneath him with his shaking hands. It was just a dream, he told himself, just a dream.

He heard the sound of the vacuum sputter as it sucked up something it shouldn't have, and then his mother came into the room, looking annoyed.

"Is this YOURS?" she asked, holding up a rubber ear extension, with a pointy tip.

"Uhhhh," Orion began, thoroughly confused now, "But, it was just a dream...JUST a dream...."

Inspirational Quote of the Day:

"Then he said, 'Hmmm. I'm going to have to give you a local anesthetic and cut them off.'" Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers by Louise Rennison

Death and Inexorable Wrath

The night was mournful as a family anguished over the death of their youngest member, the sounds of the crickets' melancholy music that enveloped them synonymous with that of a funeral procession.

Harriet, the mother of the family, was inconsolable in her grief over the loss of her precious little daughter, while John, her husband, was shocked into a superficially apathetic state, though internally a battle raged between his profound anger and monumental sadness. Harriet's feeble whimperings seemed to resonate throughout the night as Hunter, her grown-up son, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her closer to himself, quivering lips kissing her forehead and turning them away from the grave where his sister lay, to lead them both to the humble wooden cabin that for the moment they called home.

Emily, the middle child, remained outside with her father, listening to her mother's weak cries grow ever fainter as Hunter shut the door behind them.

The moon was glistening palely through the trees now, and its rays mingled with the light spilling from Hunter's window to illuminate Penny's body lying on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot-high mound of freshly dug earth.

Penny's long red hair stood out vividly in contrast with the pallid complexion she now possessed--her lips' blue tinge, her skin's opaque white, the emotionless expression that would now be present on her childlike face until decomposition had erased it.

Her small hands rested to her sides beside the navy blue dress that her mother had dressed her in the lifetime ago that had been that morning--her favorite dress in life now her permanent attire in death. On her small feet were scuffed, black little shoes, the bottoms still dirty with the mud of the forest floor that she and Emily had so often explored before this day.

John and Emily stood there in utter silence, both trying to pretend that Penny was simply sleeping...that she'd wake up well rested and convince them to go on another adventure with her bubbly enthusiasm...However, their attempts were thwarted by the sickly red brown gash ever present on her neck--the illusion of peaceful sleep shattered by its deadly finality.

"What do we do now?" asked Emily quietly, restraining the rage that felt like a tide breaking over her heart from entering her voice.

"We move on," said her father simply.

Emily looked at him furiously, "Move on? That's it?"

"There's nothing else we can do," he said bluntly, "What's done is done, we have no control over what will happen to us in the coming days, but we do have the power to decide to carry with some semblance of our normal life for as long as we can."

Emily shook her head in disgust, letting some of the anger burning in her heart seep into her retort, "How can you say that?" She stormed over to the pit by where her sister lay and pointed down into it, "These people deserve to be avenged. None of them deserved to die--especially not like this, not like animals tracked down and feasted upon for sport." Looking down into the mass grave, Emily saw the mutilated bodies of her childhood companions, her parents' friends...the people she had known and loved her entire life--all wiped out by an infectious mutation. Some of their faces had begun to show signs of the change--teeth slightly longer and sharper than normal, blue patches across their cheeks and noses where blood vessels had broken. Their heads showed patches of white where their hair had begun to fall out, arms and necks covered in scabs where they had itched to the point of skinning themselves, and, if she could have seen their eyes, she knew that they would have been luridly red. All the victims had been in a different phase of the change when Emily and her father and brother had ended their suffering, however every corpse shared two similarities--at least one bite wound somewhere on their bodies, and a bullet hole in their heads.

Emily knew that Penny was lucky to have been one of the few to carry the gene that caused her to die upon infection, unlike the multitudes that had suffered slowly as their humanity slipped away, gradually overshadowed by the monster they were becoming.

John looked at his daughter, admiring the strength and passion she possessed, even at a time like this. "I'm sorry, Emily, but that's too dangerous. I won't risk losing you or your brother or mother like I lost Penny. We were naive to think we could escape the infection merely by moving away from densely populated cities--and it cost everyone in that grave," he said, gesturing towards the pit, "their lives. Now, I think it's time we put your sister at peace."

Treading slowly, as if his feet were made of lead, John reached his daughter and bent to pick her up, her small lifeless body dangling limply in his strong arms. Kissing her forehead for the last time, he laid her down on top of the pile of deceased that had formed in the grave, brushing a stray red curl away from her tiny angelic face before standing up and walking back to the house without another word.

Emily stepped over to where he had been, directly in front of her sister, and crouched down. Reaching into the grave she lightly caressed her sister's face, remembering its bright green eyes and glowing smile...the way her little nose had crinkled when she ate something sour...the way she would stick her tongue out at Hunter whenever he would mess with her hair...The way her eyes would grow wide with curiosity whenever they would spot a new plant or animal on one of their adventures...

A single tear was shed by Emily then, the first and last she would ever shed for her sister, for in her mind there was no longer room for sorrow. Unrelenting rage was fermenting in her heart, and was inexorably consuming her grief.

Her father had said that all they could do now was move on, but Emily refused to accept that her sister's death could go unavenged, and, as she stalked back to the house a plan was materializing in her mind...for nothing--not her father, risk of infection and death, or the solitude she knew she would most likely have to endure--would stop her from killing every last infected that got in her way.

With her sister's death, so too had died any hope of a normal life, and the void of empty space in her heart where her loved ones had been was now filled with utter wrath.

Don't worry Penny, your death will not go unpunished, she thought to herself as she entered the house. Then, with a last glance outside, she shut the door, knowing that that the next time she stepped out of it, there would be no turning back.

Inspirational Quote of the Day:

"The moon was glistening palely through the trees now, and its rays mingled with the light spilling from Hagrid's window to illuminate Aragog's body lying on the edge of a massive pit beside a ten-foot-high mound of freshly dug earth," Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by JK Rowling

The Break In

On an evening seemingly like every other, near a factory on the border of the small town of Slumbers Down, a man camouflaged in all black stealthily made his way through dense, obscure forest as he reminded himself repeatedly, "You can do this. You can do this. You are Daniel Sarfs--government agent--and you will make it in and out of this damn factory no problem."

With every footfall, his heart picked up its pace--as though there were a race going on between the frequency of his steps and his heartbeats, and his heartbeats were winning.

The woods were dead quiet as he anxiously trekked over the unpredictable pathway created by the forest floor, occasionally hearing the sound of a cricket's lament, or an owl's melancholy howl.

Although his path was dark, the full moon looming ominously above him shone with such brightness that he could distinguish enough out of the gloom to avoid hitting, and tripping on, too many things.

Eventually he spotted lights in the distance, silhouetting the trees in front of him and making him pause mid-step. There it is, he thought to himself, the factory from Hell. He recalled the rumors he had heard about the goings on of this particular factory...Experiments, mutations, wrong, twisted...Rumors he wasn't exactly keen on finding out were true first hand.

Taking a deep breath, Daniel began jogging towards the imposing factory, whose evil presence was manifested by the darkness swathing it. The only lights visible emanated from two dull bulbs secured above an inconspicuous door that was at the top of a small flight of stairs lining the building. There were no windows to be seen on its solid, cement walls, and the only thing that seemed to be capable of escaping it was a cloud of steam--barely visible in the moonlight--dissipating into the night from two tall cement pillars on the roof of the factory.

As he crept towards the only visible entrance, Daniel's eyes incessantly scanned his surroundings for any signs of danger, senses heightened and on the alert.

All of a sudden, he heard the sound of the door opening, and glanced up to see a flustered man in a white lab coat emerging from the illuminated doorway. The man was obviously afraid, and glanced back into the factory one last time before swinging the door shut silently and scanning the silent night around him. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, and the man jumped, startled--on edge. He took another look around, and, finally satisfied that he was alone, paced quickly down the stairs, occasionally taking two at a time as if he were running away from a ticking time bomb.

Once he reached the ground, the man took off sprinting into the darkness in the opposite direction of the woods, lab coat flapping behind him like a poor imitation of a superhero's cape. Probably heading to his car or something, Daniel thought, then with another deep breath to calm himself, he proceeded to the stairs, one hand on the railing to his right and the other grazing the smooth stone wall of the building on his left.

When he arrived at the door, he shut his eyes and let the fear wash over him. There was no question that the scientist had been extremely afraid, but of what? Daniel wondered, placing his shaky hand hesitantly on the doorknob in front of him, flying rats and man eating men?

With an internal groan he twisted and pushed--relieved and disappointed to find the door unlocked. Opening his eyes, Daniel saw by another dim light immediately inside the building that he was entering a stairwell, and as soon as he stepped inside he sensed there was something wrong.

With a wriggling worm of anxiety in his gut, Daniel walked to the base of the stairs and looked up, observing that there were four stories above him. Where to begin? he asked himself with a sense of dread.

Though he knew there were inevitably secrets to be uncovered behind every door, the last one--on the fourth floor--caught his eye with a bright, conspicuous yellow sign that was posted in its center.

As he made his way up the winding staircase, Daniel glanced in each of the little windows on each door--only to find that vacant, white-walled hallways were all he could see. Upon reaching the fourth floor, however, he discovered that where the windows had been on every other door there was a sign reading: "Enter at your own risk. Authorized Personnel Only." So this must be where the secret stuff goes down? he thought to himself. Directly underneath the sign, by the door's handle, was a keypad and an ID card scanner. How am I going to break into this one? he wondered. Then, figuring he might as well try, Daniel grasped the handle and twisted. The door was unlocked.

He stood there in utter disbelief--what could possibly have gone wrong here that would enable a high security door to go unlocked unnoticed?

Beyond the door, the silence was deafening. Daniel could hear his pulse in his ears, and the rushing whoosh of his ever pumping blood.

He stepped lithely down a mundane, white hallway, turning sharply left into a big, laboratory room after about ten feet. Beakers and mysterious chemical bottles were resting on lab counters that enveloped the room, as well as multiple monitors, including a computer screen displaying what appeared to be a blue and red double helix. Another screen showed several feeds from surveillance cameras present in the factory, all of which appeared to be devoid of movement. Except...

Daniel had just begun to walk towards the sole patch of screen which showed some signs of life, when all of a sudden he heard the sounds of footsteps in the hallway. Frantically searching for a place to hide, Daniel ran and crouched behind a nearby counter. He knew that being caught braking into a place like this would not be easy to worm his way out of.

From his slightly obscured view behind the counter, Daniel made out the figures of two men--also in white lab coats. The first man appeared to be coming to this room despite his fellow scientist's wishes, which was evident when the second man grabbed the first's arm and forced him to turn around. "The bell gave us the signal to disperse," he told the first man roughly.

"I know that Gene," said the first man, "But I can't leave. Not now. Not when there might be a way to stop utter chaos from happening."

Gene looked at the man with a sympathetic look in his eyes, "There's nothing you can do Robert. Face it. Someone betrayed the company and let the goblins loose, and now no one on Earth can get them all back into their cages."

Robert returned Gene's hard gaze, then said stubbornly, "NO. There has to be SOMETHING. Some drug we've overlooked that can reverse the effects of the mutation...or..."

"Or...?"

"Or kill them."

The men looked at each other solemnly. "Even if you could find a miracle drug to kill them all quickly, you wouldn't live long enough to create the amount necessary to take down an army of them as big as there is."

"I still have to try," said Robert reservedly. "You go, Gene, get as far away from this death trap as you can."

"I'll miss you," said Gene, embracing Robert in a bone crushing hug. "Don't do anything stupid, please."

"And by stupid you mean...?"

"Don't do anything I would do," Gene responded with a chuckle, and the men were both laughing as they turned and went their separate ways. Robert walking farther into the lab and Gene leaving it.

Daniel watched as Robert walked over to a stool near the surveillance monitors and sat down with a sigh, as though he were just realizing the crushing weight of what he had just committed himself to.

Daniel was debating whether he should make a run for it or just remain where he was when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a man's yell and gunshots being fired from the stairwell. Robert immediately jumped to his feet, yelling "Gene!" as he rushed into the hallway.

Daniel followed close behind, fearing that the foul rumors he had heard might be about to come true.

Rushing through the doorway and into the stairwell, Daniel reached the railing of the stairs and looked down to see where the yell had come from. Directly below him a scuffle was going on. He could see Gene, fighting for his life, as Robert ran fast as the wind to reach his friend.

Forgetting his fear of discovery for the moment, Daniel took off down the stairs to assist the two men--only to discover to his horror the sight of a two-headed goat with giant horns protruding from its head and sharp, elongated teeth from its mouth. It let out a cry of outrage as Gene managed to get a good kick in and Robert pulled a knife out of his pocket and aimed for one of the goat's two throats.

What have I gotten myself into? Daniel asked himself, and then, with a battle cry, ran to face the goblin, the certainty of discovery by the men, and most of all--his fears.

Inspirational Quote of the Day:
"'The bell gave us the signal to disperse," Night by Elie Wiesel

About July 9th...

Well, first day missed...Which stinks-breaking my three day streak :P But it was inevitable. I was on a boating trip all day--leaving home about 6:30 in the morning and not getting back until almost midnight. However, I will continue with my stories again today... :)

-Infinite Dreamer

A Bird in the Night

Arthur was pacing--back and forth, back and forth--in his penthouse apartment in upstate New York, occasionally pausing to glance out the wall of windows that enabled him to oversee the city's plethora of lights as he wrung his sweaty hands together to conceal their slight tremor. "That pesky bird should be back by now," he complained to an old, brown bloodhound, who was sprawled lazily on one of the many luxurious couches of the kingly suite. "I give him ONE job. Get me the journal--just ONE little journal--and be back by sundown," he stopped suddenly, wiped an untidy lock of blonde hair back from where it had fallen in front of his eyes, and proceeded to pace.

"Don't worry about it, sir," replied the bloodhound, "Nathan's probably just lost or something...he is a pretty stupid bird. I've told you that a million times."

"Gawaine, do not patronize me. Molly trusted this bird, and therefore--"

"Yeah, well Molly didn't exactly put her trust in the best people, did she?" interrupted Gawaine, "She trusted that scum bag husband of hers to protect her--what's his name...? Orion. And look where that got her."

Arthur's nerves were temporarily overrided by a wave of sorrow as he remembered her mysterious accident...And the way she had sounded on the phone merely hours before its occurance--voice shaky, whispering as if she feared being overheard... Molly had seemed to know that death was waiting on her doorstep preparing to greet her as she confided in Arthur, and gave him the task of keeping their daughter safe. And despite his pleadings for her to trust him, to tell him what was wrong--what was coming for her, she had only told him, "Everything you need to know is in my journal--EVERYTHING. It's of the utmost importance that you read it and use it to defeat," she had paused, and then continued in a practically inaudible whisper, "to defeat my enemies."

"But who are your enemies?" he had begged to know--only to hear with a sense of dreadful finality the crisp click proclaiming that Molly had hung up--on him... on life.

That had been three months ago, and although Arthur had tried his best to recover the journal, it had proved to be an arduous and seemingly impossible task.

He had no clue where the journal was. He couldn't search Molly's house, as he wished to, because of Orion and Ella. Ella was his daughter, true enough, but she didn't know that--she still believed Orion to be her true father. And although Arthur knew he had to tell her sometime, he had held back, not wanting to spoil her chance at a normal life. So, instead of confronting her directly and revealing all of his secrets and baggage, he had sent Nathan to keep watch outside her home and, if he ever spotted anything that might lead to the whereabouts of the enigmatic journal, he was to report straight back to Arthur.

This he had done two days ago--claiming that he had overseen Ella trying to muster up the courage to sneak into her home's long uninhabited attic, simultaneously clutching a blue and gold key which had been dangling around her neck since her mother's accident. Arthur knew that this was no coincidence. "There must be a connection," he had told Gawaine, "The journal MUST be in that attic, locked away somewhere that only THAT key can open."

And so he had instructed Nathan to do whatever it took to recover the journal, even if it meant exposing himself to Ella. He was to be back by sunset, today. And it was getting dark.

"What the devil could be holding him up?" demanded Arthur, talking to himself. "I swear, when that bird gets here I am going to--" but Arthur's angry promise was stopped dead by the sight of a small, flapping figure in the distance. Arthur hardly believed his eyes at first, but due to the city lights' background illumination, the silhouette of a crow was visible and approaching. "There he is!" exclaimed Arthur excitedly, relief starting to spill over the dam of worry that had been like a flood in his mind since the sun went down.

Rushing over to a glass door amongst the glass walls, Arthur eagerly swung it open and stepped aside, allowing Nathan to glide into the living room and land with a resounding thud on a nearby mahogany coffee table.

Arthur rushed over to the crow excitedly and snatched the journal up, hugging it to his chest--a gesture which emphasized the profundity of his relief.

"Well, seems like you actually did it Nathan..." said Gawaine, "I confess, I had my doubts."

The crow responded with a shrill caw! and retorted defensively, "I'm not as stupid as you make me out to be, Gawaine."

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you aren't a little--" began the hound before Arthur interrupted:

"Stop arguing you two," he ordered, and then, "Nathan, tell me how your trip went."

The bird gave one last look at Gawaine before turning to Arthur and saying, "Well, sir, it was smooth sailin' most of the way...The girl was waiting outside the attic door when I arrived at the house--must 'a been tryin' to work up some courage or something--and then luckily, one of the attic windows was open so I snuck in to wait for her--but of course I tried to shut the window as much as I could so she wouldn't be suspicious. It was really nasty, sir, cobwebs all in my wings and beak...Anyway I watched as she came in and started taking the sheets off of all the old things in there, and then she got to this mirror...and she was looking into it all sad for a minute, and then she got this look on her face like she had just seen a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, and she rushed over to a chest with a lock that matched her key..."

"So I was right," said Arthur proudly, "the key WASN'T a coincidence...Go on."

"So, she opened the chest, took out the journal--admired its shiny suns and moons and stuff, and then I guess I scared her, 'cause I sorta knocked over this punch bowl...and it shattered on the ground pretty loudly..."

Gawaine barked quietly, trying to conceal the short burst of laughter that had escaped his lips. Nathan gave him another look, then proceeded:

"She was holding the journal, so I started to fly towards her to grab it, then thought better of it...but by then she was really freaked out by me--guess she thought I was going for her face and not the journal--and she started to run back to the door but she tripped on something and the thing flew right out of her hand. So I seized the opportunity to grab it--swooped down fast as lightning, I did--and then I went and landed over by the semi-opened window. Then your daughter through a big metal candle holder at me! Can you imagine?"

Gawaine let out another barkish laugh.

"Well you can't say she's not passionate," admired Arthur.

"Yeah, right..." commented Nathan with a tone of offense, then muttered under his breath, "Who cares if the bird gets beheaded by a flying candle holder, right? So long as Arthur's daughter threw it because she was so passionate."

"What was that?" asked Arthur.

"Nothing," replied Nathan quickly, "Anyway, the thing missed me--luckily--and broke a nice, Nathan sized hole in the window, so I just took off out of it, and I've been flying here pretty much ever since..."

"Why did it take you so long to return?" asked Gawaine skeptically.

"What do you mean 'pretty much'?" inquired Arthur.

Nathan shuffled his feet and hung his head as he confessed, "I got a little bit lost on the way back."

"Ha! I knew it!" exclaimed the hound, "What did I tell you sir?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Nathan squawked defensively, "It was nearly sunset when I left with the journal, and my night vision is not what it used to be. So...I stopped to ask someone for directions..."

"You WHAT?" demanded Arthur.

"And what did this person think of you? A talking crow," said Gawaine.

Nathan looked at the hound in disbelief, "You don't really think I'd ask a HUMAN do you? I'm not crazy! No, I asked a fellow bird."

"And was this bird helpful?" asked Arthur.

"Well, he would have been--" began Nathan.

"But the boy never answered him back," said Gawaine gruffly at Arthur's other side.

"Well, yeah," admitted Nathan sheepishly, "Not all birds can talk, you know."

"Lucky for us," commented Gawaine to Arthur, who had started walking over to stand by the wall of windows, journal clutched to his side.

The journal was the only thing he saw, in that moment--the only thing with an ounce of significance. The journal--which he had so desperately sought out--was finally in his grasp. Now all he had to do was read it and come up with a plan to defeat his unknown enemies. With a sigh, he turned back to Gawaine and Nathan, pulling himself out of his introverted state and said, "Come on boys, time to get this ball rolling..."

Unaware that the ball had begun rolling when his daughter had entered the attic and altered the course of their lives forever.

Inspirational Quote of the Day:
"'But the boy never answered him back,' said Gawaine gruffly at Arthur's other side," ~ The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley

Oh, rats

It's funny how the people who you think are completely nuts turn out to be the ones with all the answers...

The ones who people call: paranoid, insane, lunatics, attention seekers, deranged... the list goes on and on, and in most cases if the majority of a town thinks you're crazy, there's probably some justification--just sayin'. That's what happened in my little town of Slumbers Down. Not many people lived there because of this giant, imposing factory on the outskirts of town that supposedly was involved in animal related experiments...mostly just testing new drugs and medications--however there were plenty of rumors that experiments were being done on more than just rats and pigs, if you know what I mean.

I grew up under the impression that if I was bad my parents would sell me to the factory workers to be used for whatever wacky experiments they would subject children to. Of course, now that I think back I don't think my parents would have actually sold me to a bunch of psycho scientists, but let's face it, kids are pretty impressionable...Which is a nice way of saying comepletely and hilariously gullible. You have to be careful what threats you use on them--some can never forget. Like my friend Toby for example--his parents used to tell him that if he wasn't in bed on time the goblins would come and nibble his toes off... what freaks, right? What sort of demented parents would subject a child to that kind of fear...? Anyway, he's eighteen now and he still can't sleep without something covering his feet. Even if it's flippin' hot outside, he must have a sheet on top of his precious toesies (otherwise the goblins'll get 'em, of course). It actually used to be quite funny really, if you thought about it... Which I did... A LOT. My brother Travis and I loved to tease good old Toby about the "goblins". If only we had known...Well, I'll get to that.

The goblins were actually part of the whole science experiment rumor--Toby's parents didn't completely make up the goblin thing. So, supposedly the goblins were comprised of experiments gone wrong at the factory. Pigs with two heads that could walk on their hind legs and had monstrously sharp teeth... Rats the size of big dogs with unnatural webbing between their arms and sides so that they had the ability to fly... and then the worst and most dangerous goblins were the ones that used to be people, like you and me. They said that the humans used in experiments were the bad guys who carried life sentences from the prisons of the nearby counties...It would be pretty convenient, wouldn't it? Just ship away the dangerous criminals to be used for the advancement of science? That way they could actually contribute to society. Ha, yeah right. More like the government didn't want to pay for their room and board anymore, and who really cares if a few murderers and rapists go missing, never to be found again? No one, that's who.
Anyway, supposedly these human goblins were super agile and had heightened senses--especially of smell. I would not want to meet one of those things...

Oh, and did I mention that all of the rumors said that the goblins ate only meat? ANY meat? Meaning: PEOPLE.

Pretty ridiculous though, right? Nothing to worry about...? Couldn't possibly be true...?

That's what I thought too. So when Betty and Jonathan Thornton--already considered a little cuckoo due to their obsession with taxidermying everything they killed (which was pretty much any forest creature you can think of--seriously, their house was like Noah's Ark...Only the stuffed heads edition)-- came rushing into the town hall during a very boring meeting about whether or not this guy named Phil had stolen this other guy, Collin's, cow from his little backyard pasture, there was quite a fuss. Everyone wanted to escape the monotony of:

"Phil, I know you've had your eye on that cow!"
"Collin, I did NOT steal your stupid cow!"

And Collin's gasp as he shouted, "How dare you call Bessy stupid!" and I swear, Collin was as offended as if Phil had called his mother stupid or something. "She was the most intelligent cow you have ever seen, believe me. In fact, the other day she..."

But no one got to find out what Bessy did "the other day" because that's when the Thorntons burst into the hall and started rambling on about how they had just tracked down a goblin and killed it in the woods. I guess they really had killed virtually every forest creature if they had to resort to tracking down fairy tales.

As you can imagine, there was quite a fuss. The Thorntons took off to lead the way to its body, and a mob of curious people, (some eagerly hoping that their suspicions would be proved correct and others dreading it), swarmed in their wake. I was one of them.

I won't bore you with all the details of the rest of that night...how when everyone got there the thing's body had conveniently disappeared and the Thorntons were condemned as attention seeking liars. Everyone in town beat down on them pretty hard actually...I felt bad for them, but hey, what could a 16-year-old do right?

A couple days later they took off into the woods for good, and I thought I had seen the last of them...Until the day when all of the rumors became facts and life as I knew it was altered forever.

The day the world changed is kind of a blur to me now...what, with all the confusion, screaming...fires erupting randomly, howls and snarls being heard in the streets, doors slamming, car alarms going off, gunshots, flapping of wings... In short, UTTER CHAOS.

I don't know if you've ever been in a fear filled situation, such as a robbery, where everything's normal until some guy takes out a gun and points it at the employee behind the register. You're absolutely shocked--this isn't supposed to happen in real life, not to me at least, right?...only in movies should this be a reality. And then when the cops ask you later to describe the thief, you just can't remember. Weird right? You'd think your recollection would be all the more crystal since the incident is branded into your mind so deep. But no, it's just the opposite. Anyway, that's what happened to me.

I remember waking up to the sound of a door slamming in my house, and the sound of my mother screaming. I think I dismissed it at first as a nightmare, but then I saw a slight glow emanating from outside through my window, and I looked out and saw the chaos on the streets. People running, screaming, scattering... Some with bags of their possessions, others merely trying to hang on to their children... It was surreal. I couldn't believe it. That is, until I went downstairs and discovered the reason for my mother's screams.

My father was brandishing his "emergency-use-only" shotgun, and at his feet was what appeared to be a very dead, mutant pig. Its teeth protruded from its slack jaw, the incisors about an inch long, and to my horror I saw that it had not one--not even two--but THREE heads. I think I screamed too...and before I could ask what was going on my father was attacked by another goblin that had just broken through one of our home's many windows. My mother screamed again, told me to get Travis and RUN, and then said that she and my father would find us. Not to worry.

"Find the Thorntons," she said, "they'll know what to do".

So I ran. I got Travis--who had slept through the craziness somehow...Only 8-year-olds, I swear--and we hit the road.

After that is especially blurry...We ran as long as we could through the tumultuous streets... somehow managing to evade all the goblins, although there were some close calls, and eventually we made it to the woods. Which, not that surprisingly, were not any less scary than the town. I mean, sure, they were more quiet, but that's even creepier, if you ask me.

So after walking around like automatons with only the light of the full moon (how ironic, huh?) to guide us, we eventually passed out under one of the seemingly infinite amount of trees.

I don't know how long we slept there, but when I woke up the face of Jonathon Thornton was looming over me. I was both shocked and relieved, for I believed him to be our savior.

"Come with me," was all he said before he took off, walking pretty quickly, through the forest. I hastily woke up Travis and dragged his sleepy, zombie-like self with me to follow Mr. Thornton.

"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To my house. We're nearly there."

What seemed like HOURS later (evidently Mr. Thornton's and my views of "nearly" were quite different), I finally spotted the Thorntons' humble abode. It was suspended above the ground, a ladder hanging down from its minuscule porch. Their house in the trees was cruder than the house Travis and I had occupied, its walls made of rough logs, no glass in the windows. That's good, I thought, remembering how the goblin had broken through our window at home and gotten my dad...Dad--but my burst of anxiety was halted by the startling shout of Mrs. Thornton from above, saying, "Jonathon? That you honey? You better have brought us back something good for dinner, because if I have to eat one more--"

That was when she finally spotted Travis and I. "Oh, goodness gracious, what the devil are they doing here?" she asked, as she made her way down the ladder.

"They had to run away," said Mr. Thornton.
"Run away...Why, aren't those Bob and Linda's kids? The...oh, what is it...? The...The Rodgersons?"
"Yes, but town's not safe anymore. The goblins are out of their cage."

Mrs. Thornton looked horrified by her husband's words, and was about to ask another question when little Travis beat her to it.

"Where are Mommy and Daddy?" Travis asked me heart-breakingly.

"Don't worry, Trav, they'll find us soon. Don't you worry." But there was cause to worry. What if they hadn't survived the goblins' attack? What if their bodies were rotting away somewhere, or worse, feeding the evil science experiments, nourishing them so that they could track down more people...like us.

I was about to ask what we should do, when Mrs. Thornton screamed, "Something's coming! Hurry, to the house!"

Without further ado we all rushed up the ladder that led to the Thorntons' home in the trees, about twenty feet off the ground. Like a giant, extra sturdy tree house. Mrs. Thornton led the way, with Travis behind her, me behind him and then Mr. Thornton bringing up the rear. I reached the house's small porch just in time to see a mob of frightening, nightmarish creatures approaching in the distance...and then, to my horror, I saw that yet another rumor was true as Travis shouted, "What are those flying things?" and I replied, "Oh, rats..."


Inspirational Quote of the Day:
"Their house in the trees is cruder than the house Travis and I occupy, its walls made of rough logs, no glass in the windows." ~ The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan.

Into the Horizon

The attic's dusty stillness was disturbed as the girl stealthily slipped through its neglected doorway and quietly shut the door behind her, exhaling deeply as she did so. Her hands, still sweaty and slightly shaky, remained on the doorknob, her head down, eyes closed, standing perfectly still, as though she were debating whether to just pretend she had never stepped into this long forgotten room and slip out the way she had come before her father realized her disobedience.
Resolving herself to carry out her mission, however, the girl lifted her right hand from the doorknob to grasp the key dangling from a chain around her neck--her mother's last gift to her before the unexplainable accident that had claimed her life.
With a dramatic sigh the girl dropped her hands to her sides, opened her eyes and turned around to face the mysterious room before her. The room, and all its contents, was coated in a layer of dust. Light filtered through the two windows at the opposite end of the room, illuminating the sheets that were strewn over everything, creating a mass of indefinable lumps that filled most of the attic.
As she looked again at the windows she noticed that one of them was slightly open, unnoticed at first due to the cobwebs concealing the minute gap.
In the midst of the city of dusty cloth buildings there was a road and, after a moment of hesitation, the girl started to trek down it, wondering what she might find along the way--if the answers she so desperately sought were somewhere in this room.
As she walked she started to unceremoniously remove the sheets that obscured the ancient inhabitants of the room. She yanked arbitrarily the sheet from an object on her right--an old dresser--and then her left--a broken lamp. She continued this method of unveiling things until she reached a particularly tall lump on her right near the end of the room.
Stopping before it, she gazed, entranced, and for reasons she could not fathom she had to know what this alluring thing was. Reaching up with a quivering hand, excitement bubbling in her stomach, the girl grasped yet another dusty white sheet and slowly slid it off of the unknown object, leaving her to face the image of a pale youthful girl whose long, black, untidy hair fell around her face all the way to her shoulders. Around her eyes was puffy and red, accentuating their bright green irises. Gazing into the reflection's eyes, the girl asked herself, Is this really what I've become?
Breaking her gaze away from her seemingly perpetual grief stricken face, the girl admired the peculiar key her mother had given her. It was made of copper, but it had partially oxidized so that now it was both golden and bright, magical turquoise. And although the girl found it beautiful, she also thought it was a nuisance. Her mother had bestowed it upon her so that she might find the answer to...to what? All her mother had told her was that she'd know when she found it, but so far the girl hadn't had any luck. She had tried the key in every lock she came upon, and yet none matched.
She sighed with annoyance and had begun to turn back the way she had come when she noticed a bright patch of turquoise reflected in the mirror's lower right corner.
Feeling hopeful now, she jerked around and eagerly stepped over the partially obscured item, casting off the sheet and revealing a locked chest. With a sharp intake of breath the girl removed the chain from around her neck and held the key up to the chest's copper lock, knowing impossibly that this chest contained the answer she had been searching for. With a nervous exhale the girl fit the key in the lock and twisted, hearing the click that assured her with a sense of finality that her disobedience in sneaking into the attic had not been for nothing.
Upon lifting the lid she discovered that the only thing in the chest was an old, elaborately decorated journal. On its dark blue cover were stars, moons and suns, all golden and metallic so that when she picked it up and moved it back and forth, the light from the windows reflected off their surfaces, making it all the more magical.

The happiness she experienced at this discovery did not last long however, for upon standing up she heard a bang from behind her and hastily turned around as what appeared to be an antique glass punch bowl shattered on the floor, causing a plume of dust to rise up in its wake. Then through the haze of dust she saw a small creature coming towards her, its feet lightly scratching the ground as it hopped closer and closer. What is a crow doing in here? she wondered. Then all of a sudden the bird took off, flapping frantically as it dove straight for her. She screamed and ducked, hands outstretched in front of her to protect her face from its sharp beak and talons. However, it averted its path at the last second and disappeared ominously in the city of sheets.
The girl seized the opportunity of its absence and began to run toward the door, only making it a few steps before she tripped on a fallen candelabra that she hadn't seen--the journal flying out of her hand to land with a loud thud a few feet away as she fell. Suddenly, the crow let out a shriek of excitement and swept out from behind a sheet, diving for the journal and snatching it up in its fierce talons.
The girl frantically scrambled to her feet and shouted at the bird, which had landed on another sheet covered object near the window, to drop it, throwing the candelabra that had been her downfall as she did so. The crow sprang out of the way at the last second and landed on the mirror as the candelabra broke through one of the old windows with a resounding crash.
The girl glanced at the broken window and then the bird, already knowing with a sick sense of dread what was about to happen. Then it gave two strong hops and flew, skimming toward the window, toward the light. She shouted, "No!" as the crow flew through the window, and watched as it got farther away... as the answer that she so desperately craved disappeared with it into the horizon.


Inspirational Sentence of the Day: "Then it gave two strong hops and flew, skimming toward the window, toward the light." From A Gathering of Gargoyles by Meredith Ann Pierce

The Goal

The goal of this infinite dreamer is to write a short story a day this summer in order to improve her writing skills as well as learn patience and discipline.

For inspiration for each story she will pick a random sentence from one of the multitudes of books on her bookshelf and use it somewhere in the piece. She will include the sentence separately so that you may see the source of her inspiration for the day.

Feel free to comment, contribute or constructively criticize. Enjoy! :)