Literature's Next Frontier


Flamingo

FICTION:

Now is Our Forever

by SweetMemoir13 Quill-red

Prologue

 

      'Always', 'Forever', and 'Infinity'. If you count the letters it contains I have exactly place it in ascending order, not that it matters though. But, let's face it; they are synonyms in which each and every one of us dream of having. But, for some people it's just a word anchored with hollow promises enough that it can drown you to endless abyss.

      I don't hate the word but I don't particularly like it. But, this guy came without a certain warning. He came fast like a lightning, swept me off my feet like a whirlwind. He totally shaken my world but nonetheless if he's the ground that will swallow me up, I'll gladly jump in between.

 

 


Posted on: September 15 2014

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FICTION:

Of vengeance and love.

by HorrorOfLovecraft Quill-red

It was a dark night as the neon lights flashed, the dark alleyway was cold, cold enough to see his own breath. He stood over a body, it had been his latest victim. A rich man, owner of a nice company, but not smart. He had fallen prey to the "sirens call" as many referred to it. All it took was some nice whispers, and he came into the alleyway, handed over his wallet, and killed himself. Not very hard for Alcatraz, he had been doing this for a while. He needed the money, but still enjoyed it. Some called him a psychopath, some just plain demented. He dint care, he did his sins with a grin. he had been saving up, for him and his girlfriend. Now he was just saving for the next night at the bar. She had left him, without a reason and took all the cash he had. They were gonna buy a nice house, he had thought maybe he could settle down, now he hated her guts, and would love to see them on the floor. She always was one for a man with some good coin. Someone else had come and offered a better deal and he knew it. He dint care anymore, as they say, vengeance is a dish served cold. And his cold heart could serve it well.

        He finally got a lead. The new man his former girl was with was finally in his grasp. He was gonna make her pay. Pay for breaking his heart, by ripping hers out. He followed the man for a while, getting to know all his usual places. He usually stopped by a bar, not to far from the one Alcatraz usually spent his nights. There were alot of bars, but the closer they were, the easier this would be. It took time, the man was smart, and in most ways his sirens call would most likely not work. So he waited, and waited, till one night when he got just a little too drunk for his own good. He was vulnerable now, so Alcatraz threw on his special made gasmask and waited.

Don, that was his name. As he stepped out of the bar it looked like he could hardly keep on his feet. It was now or never. Alcatraz concertinaed and let his voice bounce, luring the man in. With a grin the man, in almost a sleepwalking like trance, stumbled into the alleyway. As soon as he was engulfed in shadows Alcatraz grabbed him. The man woke out of the trance but his mouth was already covered. Slowly and with an angry voice he asked him" Where is Molly right now" Don shook his head in defiance of answering the question. Alcatraz socked him in the gut, the man threw up getting it only on his shoes, Alcatraz had moved his hand so none would get on him. He asked again “Where the hell is Molly." As he said this he pulled a long hunting knife from the sheath on his left leg. Pressing it on the mans Adams apple. Don wanted to scream but he knew it would mean death. He slowly spoke with a trembling voice" A-at my house. Its over i-in the Richardson area on west street. Alcatraz smiled " rich boy huh? I knew it. Though drinking at a shitty bar like this makes you look dumb. thanks for the info" And with the last sibyl he slit Dons throat. Leaving him to choke on his own blood to death. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the blood off his forearm. Silently, and with a demonic grin he set out, he had a special date tonight, but only one would be going home.

It was a quite neighborhood. Most lights were off by now, with it being so late. It was around 1am, all the rich folk were sleeping happily, except one. As he stood in front of the house, he noticed it was the only one with lights still on. He saw her figures shadow in the window, most likely up waiting for her rich hubby. He wasn’t coming back, but if there was an afterlife they would see each other soon. He had picked up the keys off Dons body before he left. He slowly unlocked the door, as he head her rushing down the stairs he pulled his gun. Her face went from relief to pure dread. It wasn’t her precious Don, but Alcatraz standing in the doorway, gun pointed at her. She looked like she wanted to run, but she knew him, it wouldn’t do any good. She sighed heavily" So....he’s gone isn’t he". Alcatraz nodded, having only a blank expression on his face. "I told him you would come, I told him to take someone with him, now look at me and him, he’s dead and I’m gonna be the same soon" Both were silent for a long while, no movements. She came down the stairs, slowly approaching. She looked into his eyes with a soft smile" It was fun Alcatraz, but i guess I messed up. Do it." Within moments a wicked grin was on his face, he had been waiting for this moment. He felt no sadness, no remorse, only a strange amount of content. Aiming it for her forehead he pulled the trigger. It was over, she was dead. He felt more alive than he ever had. As he walked from the house the thought about his future. He had been working on this for a while, what now? He knew what to do. There were people all over. Some wanted someone dead, and now for a modest price it could happen. His eyes seemed to flare with an evil glow. This was his future. Death itself would be his new best friend. And he was happy for the first time in years.

 


Posted on: August 30 2014

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FICTION:

The Life of Jarion.

by HorrorOfLovecraft Quill-red

It was a simple night in the kingdom of Cornel, much like any other. The peasants sat on the street corners, begging for a spare coin from any late night passer. The more well off citizens slept in their beds, unaware of the horror the kingdom was performing, and the king slept in his royal palace, blissfully ignoring the fact that he has issued such horrific experiments on both magical beast and humanoids. Bret Ainsley, royal advisor and scientist, spent his night doing much, much more then sleeping. Not long ago he had acquired a new test subject, an elf man by the name of Jarion. His village, friends, and family had all been shown no mercy when the king raided the small elf village, killing off them all but Jarion to show his people “the might of the kingdom”. It was not might that had one though. No it had been a sneak attack on the small village. The kings numbers far excided the elfs but he knew of their ability to talk with the animals and plant life. He had also heard many stories of the strong earth magic the elfs could use. Summoning towering earth elementals to fight for them, raising roots from beneath the earth to entwine their enemies, and moving large boulders and amounts of earth to crush any enemies near them without breaking a sweat, the might of the elvs was astonishing. The king craved this power. Craved it with every fiber of his soul, and would do anything for it. During the raid the weaker elvs were trying to escape, but were caught by the party of the kings men stationed outside the back gate of the town. It had been mainly women and children, accompanied by a lower class warrior,Jarion. After slaughtering everyone else, Jarion was left, badly bloodied and bruised, with a broken right leg. They tied him up and threw him into the back of a wagon, putting a gag in his mouth and warning him that any noise he made would be his last.

 He now awoke, strapped down to a long metal table, with odd glowing braces on each of his wrist.  They seemed to pulse with his heart; the faint green glow was the only light in the dark room. Suddenly the lights were on; he squinted and groaned at them shinning. A tall man in a dark long coat stepped in the room, “So our new friend is awake finally? Good, now the test may begin” within an instant he recognized the voice, it was the voice who had ordered him to be beaten and put away, keeping him from death, cruel letting him live with the pain of seeing his friends, family, all cut down before him. Jarion snapped back “YOU BASTARD YOU KILLED THEM, KILLED THEM ALL!”. The doctor took his time, when he was standing right in front of the table, he smack Jarion, hard in the mouth with a test tube, leaving small shards of class in his cheek.” You will learn to behave filthy elf, or you will be punished!.  Jarion spat out some blood and glass, glaring over at the doctor, “Fine you tyrant”. It had taken a while but Jarions eyes had finally adjusted to the light, looking around the room he saw many strange objects, scalpels, test tubes, beakers. He was confused, what was going to happen to him? He could only grimace at what hell awaited before him.

For many days the experiments went on. Each day, he lost more blood, as it was being used. Sometimes they would cut a vein and let it run out, only sealing it moments before he would bleed out. Sometimes they dint need to. For the first two weeks they tested his physical healing abilities. They would slash at him with swords, daggers; hitting him with battle hammers, ect. Somehow he survived for another day of pain. Two weeks past. Night after night, new ways of testing him were introduced. Finally, one day Ainsley walked in, looking smug and content as ever. “The king is pleased with the work ive done on you. He has given you the luxuries of a prison cell for your days now, but don’t try any magic; the cell has protective barriers for that”. Jarion sighed, as he was unshackled he was led to the cell, tired and still in pain. He lay down on the cold stone floor, and for the first time in two weeks, he slept. He soon regretted this though, for his dreams plagued with the images of his family being slaughtered.  He remembered his mothers head as it rolled away, still with its horrific look on its face. He awoke, frightened by the terrible dream.

The guard entered the small room “Wake up elf, it’s time for more experiments.” Jarion slowly picked himself up off the floor, sluggishly making his way to the door.  As the guard put on his wrist restraints, another guard had come down, telling him to hurry up. In his frustration and quickness, he slapped them on, not locking them at all. The restraints did not glow like usual. Feeling like something had changed he finally understood what they had been. Magic restraints, they had used these to make sure no earth magic was done.  Calmly keeping his head high he began to walk along with the guard. He did not notice, and soon revenge would be his. And this mighty king would see the full magical power and elf could use.

Jarion could feel it finally. His magical energy returning, all he needed now was a plant, or some earth. And he could make his escape. As he stepped inside the doctor’s chamber, his eyes darted around. Over in the corner laid a strange looking plant. Its red and purple leaves showing off its poisonous nature, trying to communicate with it, he seemed to see it move ever so slightly. He took this as a yes to his question. He had asked if it had a way to make the poison airborne. He has seen the small amount of dust on it guessing it was a powder. As the doctor approached him he grinned wickedly. “So how is our prisoner today? Did he sleep well?” The doctor laughed an obnoxious laugh but, in the middle of it, Jarion joined in. The doctor looked confused, beginning to become angry he yelled “ what do you have to laugh about!?”.  Jarion smugly replied”…Doctor, you fear what you do not know. And what you don’t know, is that the guards dint put on my wrist shackles on right” Suddenly Jarion jumped back out from the doctor, holding his breath. The air began so shimmer with glowing dust expelled from the plant. It smelled of sour apples, and suddenly, the guards and the doctor began to choke. For a few minutes they choked, faces red in pain. They fell to the floor heaving and gasping for air. As they slowly died at his feet when the dust had settled, he looked into the dying doctors eyes and said “ Your king is next”.

Jarion stepped into the night. Throwing off his shackles, he looked in the distance to see the castle. He began to walk, and then running, soon he was shifting the earth itself to make his stride longer. He has never felt this rage before. But he knew the king was behind this. And for that, the only judgment was death. The same kind of death he had brought all of his friends and family. Blind, painful, angry death, it was all he deserved. And Jarion dint care if he died too in the process. His mother had always told him revenge was not the answer, but now his mother was gone forever. All due to the kings lust for power. No, it was time for the king to meet his end.

As Jarion approached the front gates the guards stopped him.”Halt! What is your business?” and with a deranged smile he replied “I’m here to kill your king!” As he said this two large branches sprung from his hands, impaling both guards, he went on like this, killing many guards. His branches punched right through their armor, his eyes glowing dark green, he was ready for his revenge.

As he walked up the last flight of steps he saw it. A huge door at the end of the hallway, with red doors and designs traced in gold, this is where he was. He walked down the path, all other guards laid dead in their armor. As he swung open the huge doors he saw him. A young boy, only 11 or so, playing by the side of the throne as his father laid in wait. “ So, you finally arrive, a guard told me you were coming then returned to the fight. Im guessing he is dead now.” Jarion nodded slowly, an angry scowl on his face. The young boy looked up from his play things at his father “ daddy…why is there a dirty elf in here?”Jarions face grimaced, this king, this horrible man, had already taught his son the ways of hated. As he thought about it he wondered if his father, the king before this, had taught him the same way. It was sad, knowing that this hatred was taught to innocent kids. But it had to be stopped, and there was still revenge to be had. With a quick flash of his hand the boy was dead. I small wooden spike piercing his throat. Jarion look sad for a moment, then the king spoke “ Come now elf. You did not come all this way to gawk at me did you?” Jarion shook his head, coming closer to the king “ Just tell me why you did it” He mumbled. The king sat back in his chair and frowned “ We humans fear what we do not know, and crave what we do not have.” Jarion nodded knowingly and with a quick, wave, his arm was covered in a branch, what had impaled the king straight through the heart. It was over, but he felt no different. They were all still dead, and there was no going back. This was his life now, and it would not change.

 


Posted on: August 27 2014

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FICTION:

Childish Things

by TheTravellingLemon Quill-red

FOR SOME REASON THE PARAGRAPHS AREN'T SHOWING UP. I'M NEW TO THE SITE DOES ANYONE KNOW WHY THIS MIGHT BE? When the pixie stepped out of the rhododendrons, Abigail gave it only the barest attention before she returned to the half finished daisy chain snaking in the grass before her. She saw fairies in the garden all the time. This one didn't look very interesting. She might talk to it later, if she had nothing better to do. Pixies only startle people who don't expect to see them, otherwise it's just like seeing a rabbit, or a butterfly, or other common garden creature. This was the sixteenth pixie Abigail had encountered since moving to the new house. She knew, because she'd counted. The house in the country had been her father's idea. Something about bracing country air and living in green and not grey. Abigail hadn't really listened. It didn't make much difference to her where they lived, so long as wherever it was had books and pencils and big windows you could stare out of and watch people through. The new house had the books and the pencils and even the windows, though there were no people to watch through them. The new house also had a garden. It was green and had daisies in it and there was a beehive in the corner which you weren't allowed to go near in case you got stung. There was a bush which scratched your arms and your face if you didn't take care. There was an apple tree you could sit in and read your book, if you promised not to tear your clothes. There were animals which dug under the fence and stole the vegetables and the strawberries. There were also fairies. Abigail liked talking to them at first. She liked people and fairies were, basically, just very small people. The difference was that when you got bored of people and asked the to go away, they did. The fairies in the garden stayed until they were bored, talked when they wanted to talk, threw apples at you if there were apples to be thrown and so disrupted whatever you tried to do. They laughed if you asked them to leave, politely or otherwise; and adults never noticed them, so they didn't move for them either. They left only when they wanted to. The best way to get rid of them was not to give them a reason to stay; so Abigail usually ignored them. She was going to ignore this one. The daisy chain she was making was a long one, thirty one daisies and one clover she had put in when she wasn't concentrating properly. She scanned the remaining flowers carefully, looking for the biggest, the thickest stalked, the one which had lost the least petals. The cough was a quiet one, muffled by a small hand, but in the still morning, broken only by bird song and the lazy buzzing of bees, it was loud enough to be heard clearly. Abigail knew it came from the pixie, as she knew it was meant for her, but she ignored it. Her eye had just alighted on another perfect daisy. The cough was louder this time, sharper and there was no hand to muffle it. Abigail reached out and squeezed the daisy stem between finger and thumb. I don't want to talk to you, she thought to the pixie. You're boring. Please go away. The kick came as a surprise. None of them had ever kicked her before. The foot that delivered it was incased in a small, pointy, steel capped boot. The pain in her calf was sharp, there would probably be a bruise. A big, purple black one. She cried out slightly and as she did, her arm jerked. The daisy stem between her fingers broke, right below the flower. She wouldn't be able to use it now. "Look what you did!" She shouted to the pixie, before she could stop herself. "Well you wouldn't listen would you?" He said. "I didn't want to." Abigail scowled petulantly, crushing the flower in her hand. "I want doesn't get." The pixie taunted. "Do you know it's rude to talk to someone with your back to them?" "It's rude to kick people, especially if they haven't kicked you first, especially if you don't know them." Behind her, she heard the pixie blow a raspberry. This one, Abigail thought, was annoying. He was going to be persistent, she could see that. He didn't plan on being ignored. She opened her hand and let daisy petals trickle through her fingers like sand grains. A small shadow was cast over the grass in front of her, as a miniature figure flew from behind her to hover in front of her nose; hands on hips, lips stretched in an impish grin, wings pushing gently at the air with a slight buzzing sound. Abigail wrinkled her nose. "What are you wearing?" He sighed theatrically. "Would you believe me if I told you it was traditional dress among my people?" She shook her head. "No. They usually wear leaves and flowers stitched with grass, or something. That," she said, tipping her head on one side, considering, "is a nightie." The pixie's face had gone slightly red. "Look, I don't like all that flowery stuff alright? Never have, but proper material's very hard to come by." Abigail grinned. Aside from the nightie, the pixie didn't look much different from others she had seen. Short, silver blonde hair, eyes that changed from sky blue, to sea green, to hazel, depending which way you looked at him. He had a sharp chin, pointed ears, wings that resembled those of a dragonfly. He must have been about five inches tall, bigger than many she'd seen, even if she could still send him flying with a flick of her finger. The boots which had left her calf still throbbing were dark brown leather, with shiny silver caps. "Why'd you want to talk to me so much?" She asked him. "Who are you anyway." "My name is not important." He told her "I'm bored." "Read a book." Abigail turned back to the daisy chain. "Don't like books." "Draw something." "Don't like drawing." "Talk to someone." "I'm talking to you." "Talk to someone else." "Don't like anyone else. Don't like you either, but at least you make a change." Abigail sighed. "Do you like anything?" The pixie who's name was not important shook its head. "Nope." She rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being difficult." With great care, she picked another daisy from the lawn, split its stem and, with a flourish, added it to her chain. Thirty three flowers. Finally. "Do you want to play hide and seek?" The pixie asked. She considered. She did quite like hide and seek, but she didn't like the pixie she would be playing with. Besides, she had a daisy chain to finish. "You're too small, you could hide anywhere and I wouldn't find you. You could hide in the flowers, or the compost heap, or the hollow in the apple tree or even the bee hive and I wouldn't see you, because you're too small. You'd always win." "I would." Said the pixie, satisfied. "I wouldn't hide with the bees though. Very nasty. I don't like bees." "I do." Said Abigail, watching his shudders with amusement. "Buzz." "Stop it." He muttered. Abigail only smiled wider. "Buzz." The pixie aimed a kick at her nose, but she dodged to the right. "Buzz." The pixie tried another kick, this time to her chin. Abigail winced as the boot connected with her face. "Stop it." "You stop buzzing." Said the pixie. "Shan't" She stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry, then "buzz." The pixie lashed out again with his foot, digging the point of his boot into her cheek. It stung. She felt a drop of something warm and wet trickle down her face and drop into the grass. "You made me bleed!" She exclaimed, but he just grinned. "Go away." She told him firmly, but he didn't budge. "Shan't." A second drop of blood was following the first. "I warned you." She told him, quickly dropping the daisy chain. Unsure what she meant to do, he was too slow to get out of the way. A lazy flick of the finger sent him tumbling through the sky and down again into the blackberry bush. A strangled moan floated through the air, but nothing else followed. The morning was still again, filled with twittering birds and the smell of apple blossom, with not a pixie laugh or cry. Abigail lay back with a sigh and watched a ladybird crawl through the grass, each new blade a mountain to be scaled. She reached out a finger and lifted him up. She liked holding insects. The movement of the ladybird's tiny legs made her hand tickle pleasantly. She had a ladybird and a very long daisy chain, it was almost lunchtime. The annoying pixie was gone and probably wouldn't come back, though you never knew with them. She would get a plaster for the cut on her cheek and the bruises on her calf and chin, which still stung, but not for much longer. The bleeding had stopped. The sun was shining. All was right with the world. She never thought she might have hit him too hard. In the tangle of brambles in the corner of the garden, a tiny, winged figure lay broken and still, as a dark liquid leaked into the soil. In the flower bed from which he had emerged, three pairs of eyes stared malignantly at the girl in the grass.


Posted on: August 22 2014

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FICTION:

Making It Right

by Taylor McTague Quill-red

Ch. 1

Today I celebrate my eighteenth anniversary with nobody. We’ve had our ups and downs, but, ultimately, we’ve managed to stay together all of these years. I don’t know how I’ve managed it honestly. I’ve had so many close calls over the years with guys attempting to break that special bond I have with no one, but I made my choice and there is only one person for me.

In case I wasn’t clear enough, that was my obnoxious way of saying that today is my eighteenth birthday and up to this point I’ve never had a boyfriend. That’s not to say guys don’t like me, I’ve just never been that successful at getting them to keep liking me, and today I reached a very pathetic point of officially making it into adulthood without so much as a middle school un-relationship. (A relationship where you say you’re dating, but it’s actually more like an agreement that you’ll hold hands in the hallway, but if you run into them outside of school your relationship goes from technical to nonexistent.) My best friend, Elizabeth, promised me for my birthdayshe would get a guy to kiss me, but I knew very well that was something she couldn’t follow through on; and even if she had done it successfully it wouldn’t have really been the first kiss I was hoping for, and I don’t even want to know the type of guy that would agree to that.

Today for my birthday, I was supposed to go with all of my friends to Dave and Busters, but there just happened to be a huge ice storm two days ago trapping me at Elizabeth’s house. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s not really the eighteenth birthday I was hoping for. We’ve just been incessantly watching romantic movies on Netflix, because I think she’s under the impression that watching other, more attractive people fall in love against all odds will make me feel better about the fact that my life wasn’t written by Nicholas Sparks. I don’t know where her logic is in that, but I’m okay with it because she doesn’t know any better. She’s been dating the same guy for six months, and frankly probably doesn’t remember a time when she was single. Somehow she’s managed to find all of the small group of attractive, Christian, teenage boys who are okay with not going any farther than a Disney Channel kiss. It’s not like I don’t enjoy the occasional romantic comedy, but they make me realize that I will never have what they have in those movies. Mostly because what they have in those movies is very unrealistic and nothing ever happens like that, because, and people hate me for saying this, love doesn’t work that way. You don’t fall in love with someone a week after meeting them, and you especially don’t fall in love in high school. I’m honestly convinced love in high school is a myth created to sell birth control to sixteen year old girls.

We’re in the middle of The Last Song, and I look over and notice that Elizabeth has been texting someone the whole movie. I assume it’s her boyfriend, James, but upon further inspection I realize that it’s not James that she’s texting, which only leads me to wonder. I’m a very nosey person, so naturally I keep trying to see who she’s texting until she notices what I’m doing and sets her phone down.

“Excuse me Nosey Nell, but I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t look over at my phone like you were cheating off a test,” she says slightly joking, slightly serious.

“I’m sorry, but your constant texting is awfully distracting from this movie.”

“It’s a Miley Cyrus movie, why would you be trying to focus on that?”

“Exactly. I’m looking for other things to focus on and your texting is A+ entertainment. Who exactly is so interesting anyway that you haven’t looked up from your phone since you started texting them?”

“If you really must know, I’m texting Andrew about our plans for Thanksgiving. Now if you would excuse me, he just asked me ‘What’s up?’”

Andrew is Elizabeth’s half brother, is a sophomore at our school, and Elizabeth is very well aware of the crush I have on him. It’s not like he’s insanely attractive or anything; he’s actually only like 5’6” and has like a half jew fro, half high and tight. (It makes since because Elizabeth has insanely curly and thick hair, and I suspect their dad used to before he lost all of it) We are just so much alike and I’m only like 5’3” so the height thing isn’t really a concerning situation. He’s so funny and easy to talk to and every time we have a conversation I like him more and more.

I’d heard a lot about him from Elizabeth, but I didn’t meet him for the first time until last January during our school’s production of Les Miserables because neither of them live with their dad. Andrew was playing Gavroche and I was playing Eponine. He came up to me and saved me from an awful conversation with the guy who was playing Marius, Noah Stevens, who was, once again, trying to get me to go out with him. I met Noah in third grade and we always had this back and forth hatred for each other, but around freshman year Noah's hatred turned to an intense crush and it still freaks me out. I don't understand what happens during puberty that turns teenagers into hormonal monsters, but it certainly never fails. This specific time Noah was trying to get me to admit I was in love with him and accompany him to the choir banquet, and I was telling him I’d only consider it if he got Sweeny Todd to shave his beard. Luckily Andrew came up to me and I was able to ditch Noah to talk to him. He told me that he watched me sing On My Own and that it was breathtaking. I told him I was very impressed with his version of Little People and somewhere along the way the conversation turned into us talking about how the creepiest thing you could whisper into someone’s ear is “Where’s the bathroom?” How that happened, I will never remember.

We’ve had a few, really weird conversations since then, but nothing major. I think I just like how it’s so easy to be myself with him and that I can be totally weird and he won’t judge me because he is just as weird. He hasn’t texted me in a while, but I think now is a better time than any.

“Whatever you were going to say, don’t,” I inform Elizabeth, “What you need to say is “I’m watching movies with Kristine because it’s her birthday”. That way he’ll text me “Happy Birthday” and we can have a beautiful conversation.”

“Kristine, I will not play matchmaker for you and my little brother.”

“Come on, please Lizzy. I will love you forever.”

“Are you saying that you don’t already love me forever?”

“I don’t know…I’m starting to lose faith in our friendship…”

“Fine. Just this once.”

I watch her type out the text saying that she is watching movies with me because it’s my birthday and when she presses send it only takes approximately ten seconds until my phone dings. I look at it and, lo and behold, it’s Andrew. I open the text and, much to no one’s surprise, it says “Happy birthday!!”

I text him back “Thanks, I’m amazed you remembered.” I don’t want him to think I employed Elizabeth to say that, and I also want to see if he will pretend that he remembered on his own merit.

 

“Well, I found out when your birthday was

via Facebook, and I promised myself I would remember”

 

“I’m impressed. This is actually the first

happy birthday text I’ve gotten all day”

 

“Don’t take it personally, everyone’s too

focused on their own cabin fever”

 

“Yeah...you gotta love an ice storm that

outshines your birthday. I blame Frozen”

 

“Are you saying you think the Sixteen Candels

air to your eighteenth birthday is due to Disney’s

romanticism of ice? Because if so, I would totally

have to agree with you. Fuck Disney”

 

So...he decided to pretend that he remembered my birthday all on his own...much respect to him. Really, I think it’s flattering he wants to impress me by pretending to have remembered my birthday.

 

~~~~~

 

The conversation went along like that, as they always did; talking about nothing for a really long time. All of our conversations are really shallow and something inside me yearns for something more. I want to get deep with him. (No sexual innuendo intended.) It’s 1:30 am now and Elizabeth fell asleep approximately two hours ago. I’m assuming Andrew fell asleep sometime around then too, because he stopped texting me back mid-conversation.

When she fell asleep I turned off Netflix and put Perks of Being a Wallflower into the DVD player, because I like being reminded about the reality of what life is like in high school. (Minus the whole traumatizing child molestation, suicide of best friend, 90’s drug tolerance shit of course.) The movie just ended and I can’t help but think of Josh Parsons. I met him sophomore year when he moved to our beautiful, little Nebraska town all the way from Arizona.

It was the second day of school, and I was walking to the pizza line in the cafeteria when Elizabeth came running up to me. Well, I use the term run loosely, it was more like a scuttle because of her insanely high heels. I knew something was up because she was holding her obnoxious Vera Bradley lunch box, which meant that she didn’t come with me to buy food. (She wouldn’t eat anything that would risk giving her a zit.) I let her walk with me in silence for a while, not humoring her obvious desire to tell me something until she couldn’t wait for me to say anything anymore.

“So, I have this friend Josh,” she said, “And I told him it would be okay if he sat with us at lunch, because he doesn’t have very many friends.”

“Why doesn’t he have friends?” I inquired, “Is he some kind of freak or something? Does he look like Sloth from the Goonies?”

“No, he just moved here from Arizona. I know him from church,” she said, annoyed with my comment. There was a pause because I didn’t know what she wanted from me here. “So, is it okay if he sits with us?”

“It’s not like if I said no it would change the fact that you already told him he could.”

“Thanks, you’re the best,” she said like anything I said actually had any impact on her decision. She walked away and sat down at the table to show Josh where to sit.

I never told her at the time, but when she told me about Josh I thought “This is my chance. Maybe I’ll get a romantic comedy this time...maybe they exist. He could be my first boyfriend. The new kid I just met; it’s the perfect cliche.” I got my cafeteria pizza and sat down at the table. He was already sitting there, and, though not glaringly attractive, I knew he was just my type. He was the “nerdy cute” every girl says they are into...about 5’11” with bad posture, slight acne on his face and yummy old school Justin Bieber hair. I knew that in a year or so he would get a haircut, go on Proactive and maybe work on his posture and he would be the guy every nerd girl went for and I had the upper hand on them. I knew him when he knew no one.

We introduced ourselves and then went on like normal. I developed a crush on him really fast and it kind of seemed like he could have liked me too, but there was no way to know. Homecoming rolled around and I tried everything I could to get him to ask me, even mentioning that my friends had all bailed on me, but no luck, or so I thought. When I got home that night at around 11:00pm he messaged me on Facebook asking me how homecoming was. We talked for about four hours until I fell asleep, and then proceeded to do that every night for the next five months. When I look back at all the messages now I realize I missed blatant flirting and shoved it off with bitchy comments, but back then I thought I was protecting myself from losing a best friend by not letting him know I liked him.

Finally, around February, he manned up and asked me on a date to go ice skating with him at the ice rink in our local mall. I got so excited, but what I didn’t think about was my mom. Even though Josh was a grade higher than me, I already had my license and he didn’t because of the all the permit stuff being transferred over from his move, so I had to drive. I told my mom where I was going and she freaked out more than when I told her I was going to homecoming with Ross Esparza the year before. She always was pushing for me to get a boyfriend and I didn’t know why. She went crazy knowing that I was going on my first real date and I had to practically run out the door. It took twenty minutes to get to his house because we lived on the complete opposite side of town and the date...went...awful. He insulted my driving the whole time, made fun of my lack of ice skating abilities instead of holding my hand like a romantic would, and the entire time I couldn’t help but think of my mom freaking out, and how she would act if this went any further than one date. That made me freak out and almost want to throw up so I cut the date short and took him home. When we got to his house I knew he wanted to kiss me, so, naturally, I kicked him out of car. I didn’t want to puke in his mouth, now did I?

Things got really weird between us after that night and I just stopped texting him back. After the last day of school I thought I would never talk to him again, and I didn’t for six months. I saw him in the hallway going from seventh to eighth period every now and then, but he didn’t really acknowledge my existence. That is until January this year, while I was just casually playing Temple Run suddenly a shocking notification showed up at the top of my screen.

Josh Parsons. Text message.

I opened it up and was surprised by a very casual “Hey you”. I didn’t know what to say. I was in so much shock that I didn’t text him back at all. The next day I went to Les Mis rehearsal and showed it to Elizabeth who was less than surprised.

“I was talking to him the other day and brought up your name. He said he missed you, so it’s really not that big of a surprise he texted you,” she said.

“Well, I was pretty surprised.”

“Yeah. You didn’t even text him back. Ouch.”

“What do I say?”

“I don’t know. “Hi”, maybe.”

“I can’t just say “Hi” after everything.”

“Clearly you can. He did,” she said and stared at me for a second, “How about you say something like “Hey stranger”.”

And so I did and thus we had a conversation about everything we missed in each other’s lives, from car wrecks to family drama to failing classes, we talked about it all, including the unmistakable fact that Josh now had a girlfriend. I didn’t care though, because I knew from the beginning he would be the nerd of every girl’s dreams, but then there was the night of 20 Questions.

Josh and I were texting like always when he confessed to having drunk some Nyquil before starting this conversation, but I didn’t care. My parents were drunk a lot of the time so I figured how much worse can Nyquil be. In a game of 20 Questions he asked me who my first kiss was and I told him it hadn’t happened and he was so genuinely shocked. Then he proceeded to say that he wanted my first kiss to be with someone who loves me, so it should be him. I told him that was the Nyquil talking and he insisted it wasn’t. Then, after that night, he flirted with me like crazy, much against my request and then when Elizabeth texted him to stop he proceeded to flirt with her too. That’s when I knew I had to cut ties with him forever and along with the awkwardness that was basically me breaking up with him even though we weren’t dating, I also had to ask for my copy of Perks of Being a Wallflower back that I had lent him. He gave it to Elizabeth, who gave it back to me and that was the last time I had any contact to Josh Parsons. I knew he was mad at me because he had torn it up and bent my book when he knows how OCD I am.

I look at the clock and realize that it’s now 2:30 am and I’ve just been sitting here staring at the title menu for an hour. I should probably turn the DVD player off and go to sleep. There’s no way we have school tomorrow, because the ice isn’t supposed to melt until afternoon, but here’s to hoping we can at least get out and do something.

 


Posted on: August 01 2014

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FICTION:

And it started.

by midnightshadow Quill-red

It all started that night. The night I won't ever be able to forget. The night that everything changed. Yes, one of the best nights of my life. 
I lay on my bed waiting for his text. Damn, I really like him, I thought. I still remembered the first time I saw him. Yellow shirt, blue trousers, hair falling on his forehead. I was in the corridor walking towards my class, with my friends when I saw his beautiful face. Yes, beautiful. I liked to call him that. It perfectly described him. I never said that to him though, just kept it to myself. His hazel eyes met my eyes, and I guess, that's exactly when I fell for him. I looked away, suddenly feeling paranoid. I did not want him to think of me as some desperate creep. Why was that, I failed to understand at that moment. I thought about him the whole day and could not stop wondering if he had a girlfriend. Pshht, girlfriends. Wrong, I know, but he did look like a playboy, after all. How could such a hot person, like him, just not, not be a playboy? And somewhere deep in my mind I could not stop wondering if I had a chance with him or not... 
Just when I was living that moment again, my phone beeped. I loved talking to this guy. I was finally going to tell him today that I loved him. I was nervous, very nervous, probably more nervous than I had ever been in my life up till this point. I knew it would make him happy, but what I did the last time I told him I loved him, was pathetic. It made me sad and I hated myself for that. I, clearly, had no right to hurt someone like that. Another flashback popped up in my mind. 
"I can't do this anymore, I think we should just be friends again." I messaged Sam. 
"Why did you do this to me?" He replied. 
"I'm sorry, really sorry, but I just don't want to ruin our friendship." And with that, I went offline. I knew I had hurt him, but I just didn't like him in that way. I felt something for Zack. I couldn't do this to both of them. Zack had been telling me that he loved me from the past week. I didn't want him to wait anymore. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to let him know that I loved him. I texted Zack and then when he told me that he loved me, I told him I loved him too. Gosh, I didn't expect him to be that happy. It melted me. I never thought someone could actually be that happy by just knowing that I loved them. I was not used to that. I was used to getting hatred, being abused, being bullied all the time. This was new and I liked it. He told me he loved me again and again and again. All this made me happy. I had put Sam at the back of my mind till I suddenly realized what I had done to him. I didn't like hurting people. I felt bad even when I accidentally hurt a stranger and well, Sam, he was my best friend. The reason I had yes to him on the first place was because I didn't want to hurt him. I never felt anything for him. He was my best friend, that's all. And now all this was killing me. 
I went online and checked my inbox. As I expected, there was a message from Sam. 
"Three words, eight letters, one regret- I love you." This broke me. I had just hurt my best friend so badly. I sucked. I wasn't a good person. I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve Zack. U didn't deserve anyone. I had to fix this as soon as possible. I had to stop thinking about my feelings. With tears in my eyes, I told Sam that I wasn't going anywhere and I loved him too. It was a lie but I had no other choice. I couldn't see anyone hurt. I knew what this meant, though. I knew I had to tell Zack that I couldn't be with him. This was even harder than telling Sam to be just friends. I rushed to my room and took out a blade from my bag. I couldn't take this pain. It hurt way too much. I was a bitch. I started cutting my arm. It didn't take away the pain but it did temporarily take my mind of it. 
Another beep on my phone and I came back from the past. I realized that I hadn't replied to Zack since the past ten minutes. Shit, he'd be upset but I knew exactly how to make him happy today. The thought made me smile.
"You never call me, why?" I texted him, excitedly. 
Exactly two minutes later, he replied: "You've never asked me to call you." WHAT? Seriously? He could've said something sweet. Well, maybe he thought I'd say no to him. Yeah, that might be the reason. 
"Lol, you can call me whenever you want to." I replied. 
"Okay, I will from now on." 
"Okay."
"I love you." Ahh, FINALLY. I've been waiting for him to say these words since we started talking. Okay, it was my turn now. 
My heart beat faster than before I sent "I love you too." There. I said it. Oh my god. Oh my god. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn't remember the last time I had been this nervous. 
"But promise me that you won't ever lie to me." I sent quickly after that. 
A second later my phone vibrated. Wow, that was quick. "Can I call? You can take as many promises from me as you want to." He had said. 
"Yeah, sure." Oh my god. I couldn't believe this. He was actually about to call. I wasn't good at talking to someone on phone for long. How would I talk to HIM? I mean, I just got nervous every time I saw him. How would I say "I love you too" to him on phone? 
I still remembered the first time I talked to him in person. It was just a few days after we had started texting each other and he had confessed that he loved me. He had texted me that he wanted to talk to me and told me to come to the physics class when everyone had left. That made me nervous too, a thousand times more nervous than this time, actually. Texting him was something different. Hell, seeing him was different too. But actually talking to him was...overwhelming. What if he didn't like my voice or my style of talking? I kept on thinking about this stuff when my friends pushed me towards the door where he was. He was sitting on a chair wearing a black shirt. And he looked breathtakingly handsome. I could just look at his face all day and never get tired. I could smell him from a distance. He was looking right at me which made me even more nervous and I just couldn't look at him. I wanted to, like really wanted to but, he took away the little confidence I had, from me. He gave me butterflies by just looking at me. The way he looked at me made me forget all the worries I had...even that I had a so-called "boyfriend" whom I didn't consider one, though. I kept my eyes on my phone and pretended that I was texting someone when in real, I wasn't. I was just scrolling my messages up and down. He kept on talking and talking and I kept on nodding me head. He was asking me to tell him whether I like him or not. Stupid him, he should've understood by now that all my guts had already run miles away from me. A few minutes later, one of his friends came to the class we were in, to put his bag on his seat. He gave Zack a "oohhh" smile and i wanted to hide in a hole and never come out of it. And then after what felt like an eternity, I heard him say "I love you, Kate." And I looked up at him, right in his eyes." I felt something, I swear I did. I felt like I belonged to him. I wanted to be his, just his. I wanted him to be mine. After like two seconds, I broke our eye contact. I thought I'd fall any second with just what he was doing to me. Urghh. Why was he making me feel this way? When I finally couldn't take the oh-my-god-you're-so-cute-i-want-to-be-yours feeling any longer, I turned around saying "okay, I gotta go" and left, just to feel bad about how rudely I left without saying a proper bye, later. So, I texted him that I was sorry I had to go and he told me that it was okay. Yeah, he wasn't a bitch like me. 
He called and I picked up just as my phone rang. 
Okay, let's do this. "Hello?" I stuttered. 
"Hey, how are you?" He seemed comfortable, unlike me, and my confidence seemed to come back..a little. 
"I'm good, what about you?"
"I'm good too." 
"Oh." What? Are you out of your mind, Kate? Stop being a bitch. A voice inside my head started to say. 
"I love you, Kate. I love you so much." Heartbeat fast. Out of breath. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. What do I say? Shit. Shit. Shit. 
"I l..l..love you too, Zack." I stuttered. See? That was not hard. 
"You won't do what you did the last time, right?" 
"No, ofcourse not." And all the guilt came rushing back. Not now, Kate. Not now. Just concentrate on what he's saying. 
"I love you. I seriously do." 
"I love you too Zack." I managed to say it perfectly this time..well almost. "But promise me now that you'll never lie to me." 
"I promise, Kate. How can someone lie to a person whom he loves so much?" He said immediately. 
"I don't know, but you know when someone lies to me, it feels as if I'm not good enough. 'Cause if I was, they would've told me the truth. There wouldn't have been a need to lie to me. It hurts, you know?" 
"Kate, if someone lies to you, that doesn't mean that there's a fault in you. It's just that, they are the people with flaws. I might lie to a million other people, but I promise that I won't ever lie to you. No matter how bitter the truth is." 
"Thanks. This means a lot." 
"I love you." 
"I love you too." And we talked all night. Talked about random stuff. Talked about him. Talked about me. Talked about us. And somewhere between all our talks, I started to like him just a little more.


Posted on: July 05 2014

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FICTION:

Photosensitive

by lex Quill-red

CHAPTER 1: APERTURE

As I watched his bright blue eyes fade to a dull gray I realized he was telling me the truth. The truth that I didn't want to hear but the truth is what he swore to me long ago. At that moment I couldn't tell if the truth is what I wanted to hear or if I wanted him to lie.

I held my breath afraid that if I let it go then he would somehow disappear all too quickly like breath in the wind. I watched him clench his teeth like he had done so many other times but this time it was to me. He always did it when he was forced to admit something he didn't want to. That was one of the many things I had learned about him.

My body shook softly inside as my outside stood strong and steady. I felt as if I could feel every single one of my veins and the blood pulsing through each of them. My heart was at a complete stand still and I was sure that if someone checked my pulse then there would be nothing. Absolutely nothing.

 

 

 

August 21st

“You made the right decision by letting him go,” Evi said hopefully. “You're nineteen, you can't just pack up and move all the way to another country just because he wants you to.”

“I could have,” I noted taking another bite of my ice cream. Ben & Jerry's was a life saver and forever will be. The fact that I was in boxers and a T-shirt with no bra on at two in the afternoon was a definite sign of heart break.

“Yeah but that would have been stupid and insane,” she replied. “You have a future here in Maine. I mean who in the hell goes off randomly without proper reasoning?”

“He did,” I replied vaguely.

“Okay, I get it. You miss him. It's understandable.” Evi and I had been friends ever since I could remember. She was always there for me when I needed her and even when I didn't think I needed her. She was the shy type in front of people but around me she opened up. She gave her honest opinion to me and me only but to others she was a total people pleaser. “But he has moved on and you know that.”

“Maybe there's still a chance that--” I tried to spit out but there was no use. He wasn't coming back and I knew that but the memory of him wouldn't leave. It just wouldn't go. I had tried everything but he left and took everything with him including a piece of me. It sounds cliché and stupid, yes I realize but I can't forget him.

“I don't think that ice cream is working,” Evi decided, taking tub from me. The spoon dangled from my mouth hopelessly. “We have tried everything, Rorie. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate seeing you like this.” She was right, we had tried everything. I just shrugged and glanced over at the mirror on my dresser. My long light brown hair was in a messy braid and my freckles popped out like tiny angel kisses. That's what my mom always called them when I was little and it always made me giggle. “Your mom has considered a therapist, you know that right?”

“She's mentioned it.”

“And still, here you sit. Not even trying to fake that you're alright,” she shook her head. Then my door slowly creeked open.

“Hey girls,” my mom's head peeked from around the door. Her hair was in a high pony tail and it appeared that she was getting ready to go to yoga or something.

“Hi Ms. Faye,” Evi was always cordial with my mom which was odd considering she'd known my mom for years. My mom always insisted on Evi calling her Jen but Evi wouldn't have it.

“Still in your pajamas, I see,” she tried to hide the shame in her voice but it was evident.

“Yup,” I replied. I watched Evi and my mom exchange a look.

“Well I am off to pilates so I'll be back a little after four.” I nodded and she was gone. Evi looked at me with puppy dog eyes like she was begging me to pretend I was okay.

“It's going to be fine.” I reassured her. She sat puzzled for a moment then all of a sudden popped up like a spring. Hope spread throughout her face.

“Come on,” She tossed my jean jacket to me and grabbed her keys from my dresser. I met her at the bottom of the stairs and finally out the door to her sleek black jeep. Well it used to be sleek until Evi got it. She is very responsible and neat but her friends aren't which is the result of her dented and banged up jeep.

I skittered after her. She threw herself into the jeep and started it before I could even get it.

“Slow down there,” I said. “Where are we going anyway?”

“You'll see,” she waited patiently for me to put on my seat belt. She was a nazi about safety.

“You know, I don't really feel up for a road trip right now.”

“I don't care. This is for your own good.”

“Ev,” I desperately tried to get her to turn the car around but it wasn't happening, I knew that.

“We are almost there,” she whipped onto a back road and then I knew where she was going.

“Why would you do this?” I almost screamed.

“You have to face your fears, Rorie.”

“I'm not fucking afraid,” my mood had changed from desperate to pissed off in .2 seconds flat. She was taking me to the one place I didn't even want to think of. “I just don't see why you would even do this.”

“Maybe if you talked about it and got back to it, you could let it go.” I just shook my head. I had no words for what she was doing. She pulled into an empty field and shut the car off. “Alright tell me about it.”

“You were there, you know exactly what happened.”

“I forgot,” she lied.

“Evi,” I pleaded.

“Listen, I am not going to watch you mope on and on about this bullshit anymore. You have to get over it one way or another. Tip toeing around it won't do you any bit of good.” I thought about it for a while but it still didn't make sense. Taking me back to place where Asher and I met wasn't going to help me get over him, it was going to make me wish I was with him even more but I guess I had nothing else to lose.

“Alright, alright. Fine.”



 

May 17th

“I'm going to lift you up in one, two, three!” I heaved Evi over the fence with so much force that as she toppled over the fence, her skirt flew over her head. She spit with laughter as she rolled on the ground. “Oh, shit! Are you okay?”

“I'm—fine--,” she howled. I shimmied my way over the fence and met her on the other side where she was finally on her feet. I looked ahead of us where lights were strung anywhere possible. Stages lit up like lighthouses showing people where to go. Guitar riffs filled the air and the smell of alcohol consumed what was left. “I can't believe we snuck out.”

“Well technically we are back on summer break and we are nineteen so we don't have to abide out parents rules anymore!”

“I guess that is true.” We had been living near Portland, ME where things are always buzzing for our first year of college. We came back for the summer because Evi was convinced that her childhood crush Matt was finally going to hook up with her. She claimed he called her a few weeks ago but he called at about 3am so I don't think that counts for anything but a booty call. “This place is electric!”

Electric was the exact word for it. This festival was where all of the hippies came out of Maine. Alternative and Indie music was what was luring them in.

“It's amazing!” We walked across the field to where the action was. We stopped by multiple stages trying to find the right band to stop and listen to.

“Hey, have you seen Cam and Ethan?” Evi looked around but couldn't find them.

“No, they were supposed to meet us right around here.” Just then I see Cam's light blonde hair peek around the corner along with Ethan's flashy blue skinny jeans and a matching scarf.

“It's about time you two showed up!” Ethan's voice was as unique as any other gay guys.

“We had a few,” I paused looking at Evi who was already shaking with laughter. “Difficulties getting over the fence.”

“But you're here now!” Ethan said happily. Ethan and Cam have been friends ever since I had known them. Ethan had a bubbling personality and enjoyed filling silences with words or any odd thing really. Cam was the exact opposite. He was painfully shy and avoided any moments where he was going to be singled out. They evened each other out which was cool to see.

“I have been dying to get a strawberry smoothie ever since we got here,” Evi shouted. I looked at her confused since she hadn't said one word about it but her personality was always a bit over the top when she was with Ethan. It's kind of hard not to be excited about everything when you were with him.

“Then why are we still standing here?” Ethan put his hands on his hips. “Cam Bam, do you want anything?”

“Uh,” Cam ran his hands through his hair. “Sure, I'll have what-- whatever you get.”

“Great,” Ethan smiled, reassuring Cam that it was going to be okay and Ethan forced a smile back. “Rorie, you want anything?”

“Nope, I'm good. I'll just wait here.”

“Okey dokey!” Evi said as she skipped away. I felt awkward as people stared at me just sitting there so I went and sat down by the nearest tree. I ripped out strands of grass from the ground and let them go while watching them float along with the breeze. My daydreaming was interrupted by the flash of a camera. I looked up quickly and saw that a guy about 6 feet tall with curly brown hair had a camera to his face pointing right at me. I instictively put my hand up covering my face. He slowly put the camera down and the first thing I noticed was his bright blue eyes.

“Oh man, that is such a buzzkill,” his accent was not at all American.

“Sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to be ready for a close-up.” He edged closer and closer until finally he sat next to me.

“They are lovely images,” British. He was definitely British. Or European, I wasn't an accent expert. “If you'd like to take a look.”

He pushed the camera towards me. “No thanks. I think seeing the pictures would definitely turn down the stalker vibe.” He laughed.

“I wasn't stalking you, love.” I'm sure he saw my body jolt at that nickname. The kid had major guts. “I just like taking pictures of beautiful people doing meaningful things.”

“Very cliché,” I replied and he laughed again. “How is picking grass from a field meaningful?”

“The way you were doing it. It's like you were letting go of all of the things that were troubling you. It was neat to watch and excellent in photograph.”

“Or I was just passing the time while waiting for my friends to come back.”

“I'm Conall,” he said reaching his hand out.

“You're gutsy, Conall.”

“You know I may have just gotten to America a few weeks ago but in Wales when someone tells you their name and holds out their hand that means that the person on the other hand is meant to do the same.”

“I'm Rorie,” I replied, finally shaking his hand and he grinned.

“Rorie,” I watched my name being made by his lips. “That's an interesting name. What's the meaning?”

“Meaning?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course. Every name has a meaning. For example, Conall means “strong wolf.” Meanings of name can give you a bit about someone before your really know them.”

“Hmm, well my name is actually Aurora.”

“Meaning?” He pressed on and I gave him a sharp look.

“What do you think it means?” I retorted.

He thought for a while before finally replying. “Stubborn,” was all he said. I laughed.

“Stubborn? That's all?”

“Yes.”

Aurora was the mythical Roman goddess of the dawn.

“Ah, I was close.”

“Almost.” I smirked. “So what are you doing in America? Or for that matter, Maine?”

“Photography.” He picked pieces of grass from the ground and let them go just as I had. “Believe it or not, Maine is magnificent.”

“I wouldn't say that.”

“I guess you just haven't been to the proper places.”

“I've lived in Maine my whole life, I've seen all there is to see.”

“There's always something amazing out there that no ones seen.”

“And that's your goal?” I asked sneaking a peek of him. Freckles lined the bridge of his nose and I couldn't help but notice a tattoo peeking out from beneath his button down shirt. I mean who wore that to a festival anyways? “To find the things that no one has seen?”

“Essentially,” he met my gaze and I quickly looked away. I looked up to see Evi dancing around Ethan as Ethan sang the lyrics to the band that was playing. Cam stood by rubbing his neck with his hand awkwardly.

“I should probably get back to my friends.”

“Bummer,” he said. “But I guess that'll be alright.” I awkwardly stood up as he sat rummaging through a bag of his. I guess that was his way of saying goodbye. I spun around just as I felt his hand catch my forearm.

“Hold on,” he said. “I couldn't let you get away that fast.” He held an old-fashioned camera in his other hand.

“Another camera?”

“Take a photo with me,” he urged. “A non-creepy or stalker-ish photo with me.”

“If I do, will you let me go?”

“I suppose,” he smirked.

“Fine,” I replied. He stretched out his arm and faced the camera towards us. I smiled shyly. The photo slowly slid out of the camera and he waved it in the air.

“Just a moment,” once again he reached into his bag. He pulled out a marker and began writing on the back of the picture. I rolled my eyes at him but he continued to write. “Alright, that should be good.” He handed me the picture.

“What's this for?”

“It was very nice visiting with you, Rorie.” He pulled his bag onto his shoulder and walked away. I slid the pocket and went back to my friends.

“Who was that?” Cam asked. Ethan and Evi were too busy dancing and shouting like fools.

“I don't exactly know.”

“Well he gave you something didn't he?”

“Yeah,” I pulled the picture out of my pocket. You still couldn't see the picture but the writing on the back was clear and fluent.

Aurora, it was very grand to meet you but I don't want that to be the last time I see you. Like I said, I can't let you get away that easily. Meet me at the record store down on 21st tomorrow at 10a.m.

-Conrad

“Are you going to go?”

“I'm not sure,” I replied reading the note over again. I flipped the picture over to see Conall's face shining brightly in the moonlight and me smiling meekly next to him. “Maybe.”

 

 

August 22nd

“How are you feeling?” Evi asked sitting on my porch with me.

“Not bad, actually.”

“So my exercise worked yesterday worked?”

“I don't know if I'd say it worked but it didn't make anything worse.” I replied.

“Progress,” she smiled.

“I suppose,” I smiled back.

“So what happened after you met him there?”

“What makes you think I met him there?”

“Rorie.”

“Alright, alright. I met him there.”

“I know,” she replied. “What happened?”

“Well,” I began.

 


Posted on: June 16 2014

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POETRY:

Seaking help

by Maria Quill-red

Im seaking help, help from something greater then me.

I have a head on my shoulders and not many do.

How can I figure out what's happening?

Im trapped in this place where the routine is stale.

The life is no more, I need more to survive.

Show me what's left, Im in need of discovery.

Drifting in and out of perspective.


Posted on: May 11 2014

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POETRY:

Silence

by Maria Quill-red

No one speaks, although everyone hears.

That dull morbid sound that screams through the air.

But it's quiet, oh so quiet. 

Why can we hear yet nothing is spoke?

The eyes tell lies in individuals screams, yet nothing is spoke.

Only the screams in your eyes.

Yet nothing is spoke.


Posted on: May 11 2014

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POETRY:

Powerful Minds

by Maria Quill-red

Inside I seak a greater power,

greater then us all.

But to wish is not to do,

but to dream of all things colourful gets everyone by.

Other minds are dull and hard to read,

until an artist comes and paints the dead roses red.

Thats the greater power I wish to seak,

so where does the road wish to take you?


Posted on: May 11 2014

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FICTION:

I need a job...I need help with my resume intro... In Pursuit of the Visual Hook

by pallbnks Quill-red

 

I have lived in NYC for 9 years. I graduated from the VCU BrandCenter in Richmond, Virginia with a degree in Art Direction and minored in film with an emphasis on post production and storytelling. In 2005 I started working with global agencies such as BBDO, Razorfish, McGarry Bowen, and Olgivy. Early 2010 I transitioned my career path by working with startups in New York City and San Francisco as a full-time user experience and product designer.

 My multidisciplinary background has given me the unique ability to analyze, decipher and translate the language of a product's design expression. It is important to me that the language of a designs expression does not only concern the appearance of a product, but also its function and user experience. As a product hunter and early adopter, I geek-out on novel concepts focused on usability, complex user centered design that is baked into brilliant eye-candy. Analyzing a users or clients struggle with a products functionality or utility keeps me up at night for all the right reasons.

 I am extremely passionate about collaborating and transferring knowledge with team members across departments, pairing with designers, engineers.

 


Posted on: April 29 2014

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POETRY:

Names

by RoseKarma Quill-red

You can`t remember when you first started to hear it. It could have been the night of the rain storm or the morning after. But the way it flowed off his tonge was different. The E was filled with music and the R was scented with lavender. He greeted you the same, same nod, same firm lips to your forehead. Yet the greeting was different. Same tone different voice. You didn`t need to even ask. You had realized he had started to say your name the way you sang his.                                                                                                                      You can`t remember when you first started to hear it. It could have been that awuful blizard ar the night after. But the way it flowed off his tounge was different. There was no more music in each vowel and your slyables were left with only the dying scent of flowers. He greeted you the same, same nod, same firm lips to yur forehead. Yet the greeting was different. Same tone yet different voice. You didn`t even need to ask. You had realized he had stopped saying your name like you sang his.


Posted on: April 16 2014

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POETRY:

Empty Or Full

by RoseKarma Quill-red

I`m not sure what is worse. Being empty or full. To be so full that your sides are bursting, that at any second your seams will split and all your saddness and hatred will spill out for the world to see. To be full to the point of pain. Wanting to let all your inner fullness out, but not knowing how to. Feeling as if everyone who walks by can see it spilling from your soul. Or to have nothing in you, your stomach and things arch inward trying to compensate for the emptyness in side. To not know how to react when you finally hear what you have been craving, bacuse you have closed your lid long ago.                                                                                                                                   I`m not sure what is worse. Being empty or full.


Posted on: April 16 2014

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POETRY:

The Time He Would Never Leave

by RoseKarma Quill-red

"You can close your eyes to the things you don't want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you don't want o feel"

~Johnny Depp

You can close your eyes at his retreating form. You can close your eyes when you see him in the hallways. You can close your eyes and block out the image of him and that woman. However no matter how hard you try, you can't close your heart. Each word he whispered in your ear, each gentil brush of his fingers against your cheek. Each and every time he told you he would never leave. It eats at your heart. The condridictions of his words and his actions will kill you slowly. Your weak heart will always bring up the way his eyes looked right passed you as he told you "we're over." with no emotion. As if he didn't care. The way he holds his new girl, as if she is the only thing that matters. The way he never held you. Your heart will take this new images and fight them against the old ones. But you already know what will happen. Those old happy memories are tainted and weak, filled with lies and missgivings. The new ones will kill them and your heart will be filled with saddness, yet no matter how hard you try to close your heart you can't. The heart dosn't want to close, it still hopes against all odds that he will come back. Come back and hold you like he holds that other woman. But you know he won`t. And it`s all your hearts fault for stealing your hope. You know he won`t come back because your heart won`t let you forget each and every lie, of the time he would never leave.


Posted on: April 16 2014

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POETRY:

Yet

by RoseKarma Quill-red

Yet, people never appreciate the power of the word. I personally think is one of the most powerful words in the english language. It can evoke such saddness while at the same time brightens someones day.

"We haven't broken up, yet."

"We haven't got toghther, yet."

                                      See the difference,

"We haven't broken up."

We haven't got together."

                                      it's pretty big.


Posted on: April 16 2014

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POETRY:

Secret Scars

by RoseKarma Quill-red

"The difference between,

being a child, 

and now,

is that your mum would tend to your cuts.

Now you do,

but only after,

you create them."

~unkown

It's sick, but it's true. When we were little we would scrap our knees and cry. We would get in a fight with little Suzy and cry. But our mommys would come kiss it better, make us cookies and tell us it's going to be alright. And it would be. Our knees would heal, and little Suzy would share her cookies with us at lunch tomorrow. Now we cut our wrists and smile. We find out little Suzy slept with our boyfriend and smile. But our moms aren't coming to make it better, because they don't know about it. Nobody is going to kiss it better and cookies you make yourself just don't taste as good. But we clean up ourselves up, wash away the blood and kiss it better ourselves. Our wrists won't heal as we keep cutting them, and little Suzy isn't about to share the boyfriend she took.


Posted on: April 16 2014

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POETRY:

Remember To Forget

by RoseKarma Quill-red

How fuckin backhanded. While telling me to remember, you want me to forget. You can't have one with the other. That's what I think that saying is about. The irony. The irony of trying to remember to forget. It's one of those things. Like the day you fell in love with that boy. The boy with the messy dark hair and pretty light eyes. You could never tell what colour they were, just as you could never tell if they were really looking into your soul like you felt they could. No matter how hard you try you can't forget the way he spoke your name the day after you started dating. The way he said your name during your first time, or the way he said it the morning after over coffee. You can't forget the way he would grab your hand during a thunderstorm, because no matter how much he denies it, he's terrified of them. The way he would stroke your hair to help you fall asleep, after he would sneek into your room at night. Then kiss the top of your head before he left. Just like the way you can't foget the bags under his pretty eyes the day he told you "we need to talk". You can't forget the way he wouldn't meet your eyes when he told you, you were beautiful one last time. You can't forget the crack in his voice when he said he can't do this anymore. No matter how many times you tell yourself to remember to forget, you still can't forget those eyes. You still aren't sure what colour they are, but you are sure now they were looking into your soul.


Posted on: April 16 2014

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NON-FICTION:

Ciroc Love

by L.W. Soul Quill-red

 

12:55 at night the clock communicates the time to drift away,

It was a year three months ago that the bird left it's cage,

Since then this page has been stuck on repeat forever and a day,

The same song will play time and time again,

Like a rerun I can't escape each one more painful than the last,

The past hold plenty of tears for me to grasp,

So to recapture the lost years in these brown sugar eyes,

The ties that are missed are replicated with each sip,

At the tip of losing it all once more,

I'll drink you up then pour more until I see you,

I'll drink you up until I feel your touch,

I'll drink you up until I hear your voice in my ear,

I'll drown until you are around for me to cradle for life,

The hype of being without you is all lies,

The ties you and I left are still around,

Unfortunately they are bound to die unless I sip out of this cup,

With each shot I feel your presence growing near,

The weakening grip of heartache disappears when you are around,

I know this isn't real but this is better than being completely sober,

Even though this is drunken love,

The dove cries for his mate even though she is long gone,

One thing is for sure the illusion of your love is an elixir that I can't go without,

I know I can't afford to grow a dependence on the your luscious vibes,

Like a plant without water I'll die,

So while I miss you so this Ciroc Love is good enough to keep me going.....or so I think.

 


Posted on: March 22 2014

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POETRY:

Falling Venus

by L.W. Soul Quill-red

 

The skyfall of her unyielding fragrance leaves fragmented shards,

Shards of her broken will the will of her enchanting love,

The dove sits outside her window waiting for her,

But the daily commute of the love birds are to no avail,

The moon is her reflection of her undying beauty,

Though her new moon shows nothing to see,

Her song of romance is no longer sung to all,

Like the deaf ones we hear nothing,

Oh Venus how far you have fallen?

Her window seal remains shut nothing to enter or depart,

The tart cries of her soul keeps her in the dark,

Oh Venus how long will stay down?

The bellows of her aching heart resists the arrival of light,

Her pillow soaked in the oceans of tears,

She is complacent on the heyday of the past,

Her harp of emotions are silent covered in dust,

Oh Venus how long will you stay sheltered?

Does the traveling vibes of the heart grant no entry into your world,

Hurled into the hurricane of deceit,

The cold stare in her wholesome eyes keeps her mansion iced over,

Oh Venus hope still rings louder than Liberty bell,

Longing for a warm touch to sooth her dim soul,

The fire she desires cannot be found,

Oh Venus hold steadfast to your enchanting beauty,

For breakthrough is only but a touch away.


Posted on: March 22 2014

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NON-FICTION:

A tribute to my german friend

by B-ELLA Books Quill-purple

Ich bin eine Ratte, die in einem Baum lebt . Nur ein Scherz Ich liebe Iglus und Adler. Klar bin ich eine Ratte Dichter , uh huh uh huh. Ich bin hier, um Sie über alle Probleme meines Lebens sagen , ich brauche Beratung. Die Nummer eins , meine Ratte Kinder verformt. Sie sind langsam ein Absterben mein ein . Vielleicht meine Frau isst sie , während sie schlafen Spaziergänge. Wer weiß ! Wir sind Nagetiere sowieso. Wir haben nicht den Verbrecher das Leben zu wählen , entschied sich die Thug Life uns . Nummer zwei , hat meine Frau nicht meine Liebe zu schimmeln Graben Fuß zu schätzen wissen. Aber ich verstehe nicht , es ist so ansprechend. Mein Herz rast , wenn ich es sehe! Gott segne Weltkrieg zu bringen mich Graben Fuß . Problem Nummer 3, meine Zahnspange . Die Zweige immer abbrechen , habe ich drei Sätze von Klammern bislang Verschlucken. Meine Zähne sind so lang, ich benutze sie als Zuckerrohr und sie helfen mir Löcher zu graben . Eigentlich ist das Problem gelöst ist , meine Zähne sind ziemlich helpfu alles in allem . Letztes Problem , meine Frau ist nicht reich . Ich sollte heiraten jemand reich , der sich interessiert, wenn sie hässlich habe ! Meiner Frau immer hässlich wie auch immer, ist ihr Fell fallen aus wegen jungen Alter. Um es am Ende aus, ist meine Lieblingsbeschäftigung Yoga in den Schützengräben . Ich fühle mich sehr zen unter den Soldaten einander zu töten. Bin ich seltsam? Glaubst du, ich bin seltsam? Bin ich besessen ? Bitte helfen Sie . Ich brauche psychische Stabilität . Alle Antworten sind erwünscht. Übrigens , ich bin nicht wirklich eine Ratte. Es ist eine seltene multiple Persönlichkeitsstörung , wo ich wirklich glaube, ich bin ein kleines Nagetier . Danke.Die Ratte Leben hat mich gewählt .

 

Translatey

I am a rat who lives in a tree. Just kidding I love igloos and eagles. Sure, I 'm a rat poet , uh huh uh huh. I'm here to tell you about all the problems of my life , I need advice. Number one, my rat deformed children. They are slowly dying off my one . Maybe my wife eats them while they sleep walks. Who knows ! We are rodents anyway. We did not choose the thug life , the thug life chose us . Number two, has to know my wife does not get moldy my love digging to estimate distance. But I do not think it's so appealing. My heart races when I see it! God bless to bring World War I trench foot. Problem number 3, my braces . Always abort the branches , I have three sets of parentheses so far swallowed. My teeth are so long , I use them as sugar cane and they help me to dig holes. Actually, the problem is solved is , my teeth are pretty helpfu all in all. Last problem , my wife is not rich . I should marry someone rich who cares if she had ugly! My wife always ugly as ever , her fur fall out due to young age. To put it at the end, is my favorite thing Yoga in the trenches. I feel very zen to kill each other among the soldiers . Am I weird? Do you think I 'm weird? Am I obsessed ? Please help . I need mental stability. All answers are appreciated. By the way , I 'm not really a rat. It is a rare multiple personality disorder , where I really think I 'm a small rodent . Thank you.The rat life chose me .


Posted on: March 21 2014

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POETRY:

Rap" The Sly Life"

by B-ELLA Books Quill-purple

We're back

In black

Rappin up in the shack!

We're sly

goodbye

multiply two by pi

what do you get?

6. something

We don care

Cause we sly

Thug lyfe

Keep it real

Yolo swag

2 chainz!!

make that 3..

Aww we got the velcro

Did yo mama ever tell you not to talk to strangers that way?

Cause my mama told me that!

Werd

 

#winning

#gangsta

#2kewl

#weout

#jk

#wereback

 

- A

 


Posted on: March 21 2014

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POETRY:

A New Scene

by Ryan Carter Quill-orange

I think it's time for a new scene
Same movie, different screen 
If you know what I mean

New characters, same attitude 
People that understand lifes magnitude
And knows the meaning of gratitude

Or can I fast forward now 
To the end and I take my bow

To the time where all I hear is cheers
And my thoughts have never been more clear

I'm ready for a new scene
I'm ready for a new me


Posted on: March 20 2014

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POETRY:

Monophobia

by Ryan Carter Quill-orange

What makes you so afraid of the night

You're in the same place simply with no light

Are you afraid when you close your eyes

When you're telling the world brief goodbyes

Either way at the end of the day you're on your own

Or do you have a phobia of being alone

Maybe that's why you have to keep your phone

In a world with billions of people like you

You choose a lonely hell to go through

One that leads to only the one end

The one that your thoughts push you further than you can bend

It's time to give it up

Grab the glass of life and take a sup

So get out of your zone

And grow a backbone

Because nobody should make themselves live alone


Posted on: March 20 2014

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POETRY:

If You

by Ryan Carter Quill-orange

If you want something to play with here's my heart
If you don't need any light you can join me in the dark

If you need someone to talk to I'm here
If you're afraid of being alone I'll wash away your fear

If you need a best friend I'm closer than you think
If you're thirsty for love I'll be your drink

If you're blind I'll help you see
If you forgot who cares about you...it's me


Posted on: March 17 2014

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FICTION:

**i need help with a title and figuring out what could be wrong with her mentally**

by LillySkyWorks Quill-orange

She stared in the mirror at her reflection as she slowly did her makeup. She was irritated. Her thoughts were negative and it was as if she was having an argument with someone in her head. Someone who wasn't her. 

-Im irrtated, she thought. Stop it.

Are you? Im not. 

Her face changed and she started laughing.

-No, stop it. Im irritated. Her face went somber and she shook her head. 

I'm amused. She laughed again.

-Why cant I be normal? Whats wrong with me? She was overcame with a sense of despair. 

Yes, because you think everything is wrong with you. Youre fucking insane. Go kill youself. 

-Shut up. Im not talking to you. You dont exist. She brushed the hair out of her face and stared in the mirror. God Im so fat. 

I know you are. Youre obese and pathetic. Eating disorder? More like "eating disorder of fries"

-Thats cruel. Get out of my fucking head. Stop. She hit the wall in anger. "Fuck!" 

This is a really rough draft of the begining of something I could possibly write. 


Posted on: March 15 2014

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