As

Hardly a flicker on a movie reel, it passes like a brief scratch on a record.

But it was there.

As sure as the sun is in the sky, as sure as the grass will still be green tomorrow, it was there.

His face is composed now, staring at me with a sort of haughtiness, like he is above it all. "Why should this concern me?" he asks, one eyebrow arched like a wave at its height before it crashes and falls to the shore, enveloping your feet. I stare at him, not sure what to say. I could reach out to him, try to coax him, pretending to believe his façade; that my words have no impression on him whatsoever.

But I saw it on his face.

He didn't want me to...

but I did.

He is thrown off by my silence, and another flicker passes over his rough, dark eyes, which so wish to be mysterious and brooding but cannot hide their secrets anymore than the stars can turn off their lights and disappear from the night sky. "None of what you've told me," he says, trying to build back his poker face rather unsuccessfully, "has anything to with me. I'm not sure why you told me at all." And then he laughs, a short, nonchalant thing, but in the laugh for the shortest fraction of a second his voice breaks, and I hear what the laugh is really doing: disguising the tears. Finally, I open my mouth; to be merciful, if nothing else. I can no longer watch this without feeling cruel and sadistic. "I'm sorry," I say to him. His face goes completely blank, only now the blankness is not to hide the flicker of emotion which shown as a lightbulb shines before you flip the switch. Now the blankness is a confusion, a lostness, a desperate cry of, "Everything is gone– what shall I do now?" I feel cruel once again, but there is nothing more I can do for him, and I know that the sooner I am gone, the sooner he can build himself up again. So I turn from him, and even as his arm reaches out to take hold of mine, I do not turn, but stride forward, with a vow as strong as the oath the earth makes that it will continue spinning that I will never look back.

© 2011

Have a Nice Day

The radio is on too loud and the air vent is blasting, making me too cold, and the lights in here are too bright, and the woman standing behind me has been on the phone for too long. I'm so tired, and my head is aching where I hit it this morning, before I turned the lights on. My hair is a mess because I didn't have time to brush it since my toaster was not plugged in the whole time I stood there waiting for a stinking pop tart. My meeting is in ten minutes and it takes me fifteen to get to my firm from where I am now, but the man currently ordering is simultaneously changing his mind about what he wants and telling his kid to calm down, and there are three people, besides him and his child, between me and the cash register. A pop song about summer and sandy beaches- really, sandy beaches? What else would they be?- comes on the overhead speakers. Just as the woman behind me hangs up her phone and starts tapping her long fingernails annoyingly on her Blackberry keypad, a teenager standing two people behind her starts singing along with the song, terribly, her voice loud and clear because she's singing to a friend, tugging on her arm, confident to inflict her awful voice on all us innocent bystanders because she has a friend to hide behind. I have to pee and I accidentally took my roommates shoes- we have the same pair, but her feet are a size smaller than mine- so my toes are squished and burning with the promise of blisters. A guy struggling with a huge box squeezes between me and the man in front of me, and the box proves to be heavy enough to justify the expression on his face as he promptly trips slightly sideways, catching himself before falling on me but slamming the box, which must be holding something metal, right into my funny bone. He hurries off, not realizing the pain he's caused, and I scrunch up my face and hold my injured arm with my other. I finally step up to the counter, sighing and ordering straight black coffee, hoping it's scalding and strong. When I pull out my wallet, I realize my roommate took the last of my cash, yet again. I sigh again and pull out my card, and the infant behind the counter rolls her eyes dramatically and says, in a tone that's been soaked in a vat of duh, "You can only pay in cash, ma'am," I close my eyes for a moment and am about to start screaming my head off when I feel a hand on my arm and my eyes shoot open as a tall man hands a five to the cash register girl and says to me in a soft voice, his eyes on mine, "Let me take care of that for you." The cash register girl looks baffled but rings me up and starts to hand the man his change, but he looks at her with a smile and says, "Keep it," before turning back to me and saying, "Have a nice day." He smiles at me and walks off, and I walk slowly over to pick-up counter, baffled as the cash register girl. Then, when a kid with a red afro and an oily face hands me my drink with a huge, brace-filled smile, I smile widely back at him and say, "Thank you." I start to walk off, but then turn, abruptly, and add, "Have a nice day."

© 2011

Five Minutes

Five minutes left.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

I used to dream about being an astronaut. Space, "the final frontier", what could be more fascinating? But now that I'm here...I dream of being home again.

I'm the last one. Once it became inevitable that we would all die out here, I, like everyone else, came to grips with death- with never going back to Earth.

But I never thought I'd be the last one.

And it's just not really something you can prepare yourself for.

There's no food left, of course, and we ran out of water yesterday.

Or, I guess, I ran out of water yesterday.

I could do like the Donners and devour my dead shipmates bodies. But I'm going to die anyway, so what would be the point? I would just make my last moments more torturous.

For whatever reason, it takes a week, to the second, for this spaceship to self-destruct. We pressed the button last Tuesday at 7:53 PM, and eleven seconds.

So here I sit.

Tuesday, 7:41 PM.

Just waiting to die.

I stare at my hands. They're thinner than they've ever been, just skin on bones, and my fingernails are long and broken. I haven't had the heart to bite them. I close my eyes and think about rain. Summer rain, warm, wet, free. Fleeting, indecisive, wonderful. I want rain. I would give anything to feel rain on my face right now- not that I have much to give, in the present circumstances. I think about music. I play scraps of songs over in my head, wishing they would play now, out loud, wishing they would burst over the busted radio, blowing out my ears for my last few minutes. I think about the glamour becoming an astronaut presented. I think of my friend's expressions when I told them, how my boyfriend split us up because he said he couldn't wait for me, but how I couldn't have cared less because I was going to space.

Things can always go wrong, with anything and everything. Something always goes wrong. Some theater actors wait for something to go wrong, filled with fear until it does- because if it doesn't happen during a rehearsal, then it will happen during opening night.

But this. This is so much more than the lead coming down with the flu the day before the play is set to open. This is so much more than a thesis paper being deleted by a computer glitch. So much more than the streets closing because of an accident when a businessman needs to get the airport to make a meeting in Vancouver.

This is so much more.

7:46 PM.

I wish I could go to sleep. But we've been doing nothing but sleeping, hoping desperately to never wake up again, or to at least wake up on Earth, realize this was all a terrible nightmare.

Because of all those attempts at escape, I can't fall asleep now, when I need more than I ever have before to just be unconscious. To just close my eyes and drift away from this terrible reality- now, right now, so I'll never have to wake up here again.

But I can't sleep, no matter how hard I try, so instead I stare at the clock, watching the seconds tick away.

7:48 PM.

Five minutes left.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

© 2011

Everyone Likes To Be Held

The cries wake me in the middle of the night again.

I knew this was going to be a regular thing, I knew this was coming and I knew I was going to have to get used to sleeping only during the day.

But it never really hits you until your dreams are interrupted, once again, by that sputtering. You open your eyes, stare at the ceiling for a moment, and then squeeze them shut again, knowing exactly what's the coming next.

Cue the transformation of sputter to holler.

I sigh, push the cover off of me, and lean forward, pressing my thumbs and my index fingers into my eyelids. I count to five and stand up, feeling around the floor for my slippers. Once found, I slip them onto my feet, stubbing my left big toe in the process, and make my way over to the closet in the dark, where I know my robe is waiting for me on the door handle. Yawning, I reach out and feel the soft material. I pull it off the handle and behind my back, shimmying my arms into the sleeves. I push them up to my elbows and shuffle over the bedroom door. It's my turn, and when it's Jack's turn and he turns on the light, I feel like smacking him with the lamp on our bedside table, so I slip into the hallway in the dark and ease our bedroom door shut behind me quietly as Jack falls back asleep easily. I turn to my left and shuffle down the hallway, closer and closer to the source of the hollers. Jesse sits up in her bed, which I see since her door is left just a tiny bit open, the light from her book lamp pouring out into the hallway. "Mom?" she murmurs, her voice thick with night. "Go back to sleep," I reply in a whisper, and her book light flicks back off, leaving me alone in the darkness again. I tighten my robe around myself and continue my shuffle down the hallway. I approach the door from which the hollers are coming just as the front door opens and Justin strolls in, laughing and waving. He looks over at me and his smile falls, and I narrow my eyes at him. "Justin," I hiss, "Do you know what time it is?" He looks guilty, "Sorry, mom," he whispers, eyeing the room where the hollers are still strengthening, "Ron's dad got home from work literally ten minutes ago, and I couldn't have come home earlier." I close my eyes and shake my head. "Go to bed," I sigh, and he looks relieved, until I continue, "We'll talk about this in the morning." The relief shrinks a bit, but he slinks off to his room. I finally reach out and turn the doorknob, releasing the hollers into the hallway. I press the door shut behind me quickly and shuffle faster across the room. I flip on the lamp next to Jamie's crib and her screaming face is illuminated. I'm always filled with a surge of pity when I see her face like this, no matter how tired I am of getting out of bed at four in the morning. Her whole face is red, as if there's a flashlight underneath her head, shining through, and her tiny dark hairs are caked to her forehead with sweat. I reach out and pull her into my arms. I cradle her against my chest, and her warmth sinks into my chest as I murmur to her and move smoothly from side to side. She slowly quiets down, until her hollers have been transformed back into sputters, and then her cries are quieted completely and I look down at her tiny little face, her eyes, wide, staring up at me, and murmur, "You just wanted to be held, didn't you, darling?" And her eyelids flutter closed as if her long eyelashes are nodding, "yes".

© 2011

It's So Cold...

The wind bit at my skin. Bit, scratched, stabbed-telling me over and over to cover myself. Stop with the stubbornness. Put a coat on. But I ignored the longing and spread out my arms, moaning deeply and letting a sob escape my throat as my mind screamed at me to warm myself. Screamed, begged, pleaded for warmth. I bent my head back and let out a screech, a cry for help. His eyes, dancing, smiling, laughing, played over and over in my head. Screams, screams, escaping my throat-but all I could feel was the cold. All I could see was the cold. "Darling," that person, so distant now, so fake, "Come inside now."

Come inside now, sweetheart.

You're going to freeze to death, beautiful.

Lovely, what are you doing out there?

More screams. More cries. Who were they coming from, though? Me? Or someone else. Someone outside of myself, someone impossibly determined to bring him back. That distant person closed their eyes begged again, "Come in now, darling. He's gone now."

He's gone, darling.

You need to move on, sweetheart.

He's not coming back, lovely.

"No," I moaned, my hands up at my eyes. "No, no, no." Arms. Around me. Folded around my waist, pulling me away from the cold. "Stop. Don't bring me back inside. Stop it! Stop it now!"

She's not getting any better.

We've done everything we can.

She's beyond the stage of help, ma'am.

I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do.

Was there really? For me, was I done for, was I beyond the point where I could return to sanity? But more than that, for him? Was there nothing more they could have done? Could they not have saved him-if only we had a little more time, a little more money, a little more warmth?

It's so cold...

Come inside, you'll be warm.

...will I? Ever again?

© 2010

Wait, What?

"Um, Ok, you don't make any sense."

"Look who's talking."

"What did I say?"

"Nothing."

"Then how-"

"Exactly."

"What?"

"See!"

"See what?!"

"That's exactly my point!"

"What is??"

"That!"

"What?!"

"Exactly!"

"Exactly what?!"

"What!"

"That's what I'm asking!"

"What is?"

"What!"

"Huh?"

"UGH."

... because I can. :)

© 2010

Can You if Out it Figure

Before had she way the just life her live could she, now least at. Less care not probably could they, honestly, though, her to nice be to way their of out going or looks weird her giving be would one no that, her for bad feel to pretending be would one no that relieved rather was she, fact in. Her about cared one no that her harm not did it. "Now why, before did ever one no? Will one no course of." Thought she,"Notice will one no maybe." Way her glanced even one no. Disease her about out finding after school at back day first her was today. Day normal no was today but. Day normal any on clothing of item unflattering an such wear never would she. Forever like seemed what in time first the for hat a wearing was she that noticed had anyone if see to around looked she.

© 2010

In Love With This

I kissed his hand and looked out at the sky. Caught up in the moment, I hummed an old love song I heard when I was a little girl as he ran his thumb over my knuckle. The trees just barely peaked into my vision from where I was laying. They were gone. They couldn't do anything to us. There was no one but him and me and the sky. The trees hovered over us, protecting us from what lay on the outside of this safe place-excluding us from the danger zone. It was warm and the grass was soft. "Can we stay here forever?" I asked. He kissed the top of my hair and said, "If only."

© 2010

Smiling For You

Side note:

If you are reading this, please read the entire thing before making judgements about it.

It was as if there was snow inside of my body...snow with a fire inside of it, a flourishing flame growing larger and larger so that I could still feel the chill of the snow but also the burning heat of the fire. It ate me from the inside out...it was as if there was nothing I could do to escape it. And my back, feeling as if it were permanently stooped over, sang a note in falsetto of pure pain, filling me with the undeniable truth that this...this thing, this...horrible, horrible thing...would be the end of me. Not only of me, but of everything I loved and cared about. And what I had forever wished to die would conquer what I had forever wished to triumph, creating a kingdom of nothing but opposite of my wildest dreams.

This is not a love story. It is not a tragic romance in which my Romeo runs off, leaving me in agony to tell you of how much the loss of his presence hurts. No, I am to tell you of real pain.

Death.

When reading, one hears pain and death and may often string them together as the death of a lover, depending on the author of the tale. But lose all your opinions of the author for this moment and just think of an ordinary tale by an ordinary person you have never heard of. What then comes to mind when the topic of death is introduced? Is it too dark, perhaps, for your taste? If it was a romance writer, it is to be known that the author would not dwell on the death half so much as the romance that caused the death to hurt. If it were a horror writer, death might be simply the flip of a page, after all, what good horror story ends with every character alive and well? None that I have heard of. If it was a comical author, one who always keeps the reader hurting in the sides, death would often be a surprising thing to introduce. How would it fit in? Would the story, perhaps, turn away from its comical path and veer of into depression? Or would the author simply use the death to introduce new characters or look further into old ones, who end up being a wheelbarrow of laughs? A nonfiction writer, now, would be entirely different from all the rest. Think of a biography: the death of the person the biography itself is about is only important as to the date. It would not speak of how sad the occasion was. If it spoke of any other deaths, perhaps those of loved ones of the person the biography was about, it would most likely mention the person’s mourning and perhaps tell of how it led them to the depression that caused them to do whatever made them important enough to have a biography written about them. All in all, death, when brought up, can bring many thoughts. Frightening thoughts, sad thoughts, perhaps happy thoughts. But I am to expect that your thoughts now will be surprised when you see what I am going to say next.

The death of a perfect stranger.

Perhaps someone you once saw when driving but had not a fleeting thought about. Perhaps someone who walked past you once in a grocery store, who you knew nothing of except that they bumped you. Or, perhaps, someone you have never seen and never will.

A baby is born everyday. A wedding takes place everyday. A birthday is celebrated everyday, and rescues happen everyday. But I might add that someone dies everyday. Divorce papers are signed everyday. A birthday is ignored everyday, and someone is not found everyday. It is not a good thing to think about, and so most try not to dwell on it. But perhaps we should think of the people out there who have no choice but to dwell on it. What if the person you didn’t smile at just lost their sister or brother? What if the person you honked at just found out that their child is deaf? What if the person you snickered at after they tripped hadn’t had time to tie their shoes because they had to get to the hospital while their mom was still breathing?

So smile at that person.

Be patient with that person.

Help that person get up.

And remember that they might be going through more than you think...and you could be the person to make their day. To stop their suicide. To encourage them to never give up. And then the next time you’re down, remember that I’m thinking of you and praying for you...and smiling for you.

© 2009

(Inspired by) Smile by Uncle Kracker

He strummed his guitar and the words spilled out of his mouth like syrup. I felt as if my ears were being touched softly with velvet. He looked at me as he sang, "Oh, you make me smile," with just that smile lingering on the side of the mouth. He stopped strumming as he sang, staring at me and holding the microphone with both hands, his expression lively and lovely. I stood up and walked over to him as he finished, his lips curling up to the widest smile I had ever seen. I sat down and took his face in my hands. "I love your smile," I whispered. He laughed and I smiled widely, kissing his cheek. He took my hands off his face and squeezed them as he kissed me.

"You make me smile."

:)

© 2009

The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 6

I move the skateboard with my feet under my desk, wishing I was on the half-pipe. Mrs. Haags sends me a death glare and I take my feet off of the skateboard. The girl in front of me, Olive, brushes her hands through her hair and puts it into a ponytail. She half-glances back at me, like she's hoping that by putting her hair up while sitting in front of me she will cause me to fall madly in love with her. I look at the white board. Mrs. Haags is writing something about cells separating. I turn back to look at Olive. "Hey Olive," I start. She smiles, "Yes, Mason?"

"Do you have any gum?" She batts her eyes and says, "Yea. One sec." She glances up at the teacher as if she's being a rebel and then leans down and pulls a pack of gum out of her backpack. She smiles and hands me the pack. I take a piece, said thanks, and stare up at the board again, deciding I'd rather pay attention than deal with this girl.

"Put on a helmet!" a leader yells at me as I hurry over to half-pipe. I groan and run back, pulling a helmet out of the bucket and putting it on my head. "Buckle it," the leader says with narrowed eyes. I sigh and clip the buckles. I hurry to the half-pipe and finally start enjoying myself. Before long, there's a bunch of guys on the half-pipe and girls have crowded around it. There's about two on each side and about three lingering on the ramp or on the edge of the ramp. Gigi walks up to me and smiles. "You're really good," she says, standing in the middle of the ramp, totally careless about the boards speeding past her. I pull myself to a smooth stop and smile, "Thanks." Gigi is totally gorgeous. "Do you think you could teach me how to board? I've always wanted to do it, but I'm not very good," she says, looking up from her eyelashes in that way that made anyone give her what she wanted and using the word 'board' as if it is a regular in her vocabulary. I seriously doubt that. "Sure," I say, handing her my board and putting my helmet on my hair. I flip my black hair and push her slowly on the gravel. She tries to go a little faster and starts falling, so I put my hands on her waste and help her along. "Thanks," she says, batting her eyes. "What a flirt," someone behind me whispers to her friend in a hateful tone. I turn to see who it was and see Bella notice me looking and blush four shades of red. I smile slightly. Bella hates girls that flirt. She's the type of girl that you would expect would be very unattractive and hate girls because she's self-conscious. Subsequently, she's about as gorgeous as Gigi. In my eyes, she's better looking than Gigi, although in reality she probably isn't. I release Gigi and say, "I think you should be fine now." Gigi stares at me in disbelief as I walk up the ramp steps and say, "Hey, Bella."

"Um...hi," she says, still blushing. "Sorry about that...I didn't mean to...like...offend you or something. I was uh-"

"Its fine," I say with a chuckle. One of the best things about Bella is that she's usually confident. She doesn't get nervous around me, or other guys, like most girls do. She also doesn't approach me obviously and flirt even more obviously like Gigi. Not that I really hate it when Gigi does that. Bella looks up at me with her almost golden eyes and half-smiles. Her dark waste-length hair circles her face perfectly, and a gust of wind sends it out in front her perfectly for a moment before it gets all over her face. I chuckle lightly as she tries to face away from the wind as she desperately tries to keep her hair out of her face. "Ugh," she moans. "Let's go inside," she says to her friend Shayna. "My hair is everywhere." I wave lightly as she and Shayna walk down the half-pipe stairs and she complains, "I don't know what the heck people are thinking when they say that hair isn't alive. Dead things can't eat you alive." Shayna puts up a finger and says, "You're forgetting zombies."

"Aw, true. But they're kind of alive, too."

"True." I laugh as they walk inside. I like Bella. I like her a lot.

© 2009

The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 5

'Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep,' the noise played out in my head and I slowly opened my eyes, thinking it was my alarm clock. The unfamiliar room spun for a minute beofre I was able to see clearly. I looked around and realized I was in a hospital. I looked down and saw an IV in my wrist. Ifelt something on my face and touched it, finding tubes leading to my nose. The beeping continued, a familiar noise but not one that I thought I would ever experience personally. The white-washed walls had pictures on them that I couldn' make out. "J-josh? Josh?" I whispered, filling with fear. There was no one in the room. Wow, who came up with the idea of leading the patient alone in the room not knowing what the heck happened to her? I found a button and pressed it, recognizing it as the button that is used to call the nurse. A woman in srubs walked in. She smiled sadly at me, "You're up, sweetheart. I'm sorry no one was here when you awoke." I shook my head, dismissing her comment. "Why am I here?" I asked. She shook her head, "You don't remember at all?" I shook my head slowly. "You were in a motorcycle crash, you hit your head. That's probably why you can't remember anything." I rose and eyebrow, "I don't ride a motorcycle. Too dangerous." She shrugged, "Apparently you were riding one this time." I furrowed my brow. "What did the motorcylce crash into?" I asked. "A small car, porsche I believe."

"Shame. Are you sure I wasn't in the car?" I inquired. She smiled sadly again. "No, honey, you weren't in the car. The motorcycle driver has been in here all day, he's just gone down to the cafeteria." I tried to rack my brain for the memory of riding a motorcycle with someone, but nothing came. "It was my bike," a warm, familiar voice said from behind the nurse. I heard the door click closed and exclaimed, "Josh!" He smiled sadly at me, much more sadly than the nurse, and said, "Hi baby. I'm so sorry about this." His eyes were welling up with tears, which is a rare and weird occasion for Josh. I waved it off like it was nothing, "Ah, no big deal." He laughed half-heartedly at me and said, "Actually, it is a big deal. You're on life support." My eyebrows raised. "Really? Wow. I don't feel a thing." The nurse hurriedly said, "Its just in case, I think you'll be fine. And its normal not to feel anything at first." I groaned quietly and said, "At first?" She smiled, (yes, sadly,) at me and said, "I'll be right back. You two can catch up."

He lost his smile and frowned deeply. "I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself." I waved him over and he kissed my lightly before sighing and dropping easily into the chair that had been placed, (most likely by him,) next to the hospital bed. "I love you," I said, "its fine." He groaned, "Its not fine, you're seriously injured Emma!"
"No I'm not, its just few scratches," I said. He looked up and down my body, noting the broken bones and purple-ish bruises. "and a few broken things. No big deal." He laughed lightly, "Always and optimist." I put my hand on my neck and felt the cold chain. I pulled the long necklace out from my hospital gown and held up the dog tag for Josh to read. It read 'optimism'. He laughed, "Like I said."
"I love you," I said with a big smile. He smiled back, "I love you too. Even if I did break your ribs." I laughed and felt myself drifting back to sleep.

The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 4

I walk up the stairs and sigh heavily. Middle school. Again. Will it ever end? Luke bumps me hard and says, "Welcome back, loser. I would say we missed ya', but I'm not a liar." He laughs and walks away from me. Great. What a perfect way to start my first day back. I see Mindy across the lawn. She laughs and pushes her hair behind her her ear. I sigh. She's gorgeous. I sigh again, for a different reason. I really need to get over Mindy. I walk over to the main office and ask if anyone took my locker. "Last name, please?" a woman at a computer asks. "Joven."

"Grade?"

"Eighth," I say sadly. She nods, "Ok, Mr. Joven. Your locker is still yours. Same combination."

"Thanks," I mutter as I leave the office. Great. Well, there's goes my once chance at coming back to find some change after switching schools for half the school year. I walk over to my locker and turn the lock. I open it and hundreds of "Welcome back, freak!" cards fall on me. I sigh. Well, at least I'm remembered. "Like your welcome present?" Mindy asks me as she walks over with her little group of friends. I roll my eyes and say, "Real mature." Ugh. It really sucks to like the girl who tortures you. "Wasn't me," she says innocently, acting hurt for being accused. "Who was it?" She smiles cruelly, "My boyfriend." I roll my eyes. Of course it would be Luke. I should have known. "Well, its nice to know that he cares," I say, narrowing my eyes at her. She looks guilt-stricken. That's a first. "I'm really sorry Luke's always being a jerk to you," she says. I roll my eyes, "Yea, sure you are." I put my lunch in my locker and slam it closed. "Listen, Mindy, you and your boyfriend are really getting on my last nerve. What did I ever do to you?" I say. She opens her mouth to produce a comeback, but I put my hand up. "Just leave me alone." I turn and walk away. And my parents wonder why I hate school.

I walk into my History class and take a seat in the back of the room. A girl I haven't seen with very short bright purple hair walks into the classroom late and drops all her books and papers on the way to her desk. I jump out of my seat, helping her collect the papers, feeling incredible pity for her since I know what it feels like to be in her shoes. "Thank you," she says as I hand her a math book, a science book, and a pile of loose papers. She takes them from me, pushes her hair behind her ear with one hand, (her hair immediately slips out again,) and smiles weakly at me. She has big blue eyes which are widened as she stares at me for a second and then hurries to her seat. I slip back into my desk feeling shocked. Not only am I no longer the main attraction, but it just so happens that the new main attraction is very attractive!

I walk to my next class with a large frown and a furrowed brow. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Its perfect! Its like the head cheerleader and the quarterback, except its the new to arrive freak and the old returning freak!"

"Were you guys gonna kiss right there in front of us?"

"That's disgusting!"

"How long have you guys been together?"

I take off running down the hallway and turn quickly into the art room. "Hi," I say to Mr. Jinks, "Can I eat in here?" he nods sympathetically and turns back to the painting he was working on. I notice the purple haired girl eating her lunch and staring intently at a blank canvas in front of her. "Hi," I say as I walk over to her. She doesn't respond and I notice that she has headphones in. I look at her iPod, sitting on the desk, and see that she's listening to Dear Vienna by Owl City. I look at her for a minute and then tap her shoulder. She pauses her song, looks up at me, and blushes four shades of red. "Um...hi," I say. She blushes a fifth shade. "Hi...I'm so sorry about, um, causing those rumors...!" she says nervously. I can't help but smile as she pushes her hair behind her ears five times, to no prevail, and stutters as she talks. I grab her hand, finally, as she reaches back to tuck her hair behind her ear a sixth time. This time its my turn to blush. Seven shades. She smiles. "I'm Tyler," I say nervously, sticking out my hand. She laughs shyly and shakes my hand, "Ellie. But you can call me Blue Jay." I wrinkle my nose a little bit and then ask, "Can I call you Ellie?" She laughs, "Yea. Go ahead." So far, this day is going better than I thought it would.

© 2009

The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 3

"I'm thinking red roses," Sarah says as she bites into a cookie. Holly look at her in shock. "What?" she asks. Sarah shrugs, "Well, they're really beautiful, and they represent true love, right?" Holly blinks, "Yea...but...roses? Down the aisle? Won't the thorns poke me?" Sarah shrugs again and says, "You could always cut them off."

"I was thinking more towards lilies or something," Holly's sister puts in. Holly wrinkles her nose, "No. Definitely not. No lilies."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because why?" I look at all the girls surrounding the kitchen table and say, "Do I really need to be here for this?" Sarah blinks at me and says, "You're the groom." Holly laughs at me and says, "Go. Go stare at cars or watch sports or something." I smile and say, "This is why I'm marrying her," to Sarah. Sarah rolls her eyes. I kiss Holly's head and walk out the door. Honestly, why did they invite me in the first place? Its not like its a requirement for the groom to be there for every aspect of the wedding planning. I'm not allowed at the dress choosing sessions. I get into my truck and drive down to Starbucks. "Hey, Sean," Tony says as I walk in. "Hey," I say. "I just escaped flower choosing." Tony laughs, "Congratulations. What can I get you?"

"Just black," I say. Tony nods and turns to face the coffee machines. I sit down at a small round table and sigh heavily. I can't believe I'm getting married. I can't believe wedding planning is so complicated. Honestly, why is it so hard to get a dress and a cake, walk down the aisle, and call it a done deal? "Coffee's ready, Sean," Tony calls out to me. I walk over to the counter, mumble thanks, and exit the coffee shop.

I walk into the furniture store with Holly and she widens her eyes. "I don't want to do this," she moans. I laugh and wrap my arm around her shoulders, "That makes two of us, dear." Holly's sister pushes us forward and says, "Come on you guys, you might as well get this over with quickly."

"Um...what is this?" I ask holding up a piece of plastic with a hole to hold it with. Holly's sister rolls her eyes. "Honestly, Sean," she sighs, "that's a cutting board." I raise an eyebrow and turn to Holly. "Do we need this?" I ask. She looks at it and turns to her sister. Her sister makes a loud huffing noise and says, "Yes, you need it." I turn around and continue looking through various kitchenware.

We finally exit the store and Holly breathes a sigh of relief. I smile at her and say, "Tired?" She yawns and nods. I kiss her head and say, "Get some sleep. See you tomorrow." She kisses me lightly, sending a chill through my body, and says, "See you tomorrow, good lookin'."

© 2009

The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 2

I rev the engine again and scream in irritation. "Stupid piece of junk! You sorry excuse for a truck..." I mutter as I get out of the pick up truck and slam the door closed. "Car troubles?" an attractive man about my age asks as he casually runs his hand through his hair. I smile fakely and say, "No, no troubles. I just yelled at my truck and decided to leave it on the side of the road for no reason." I smile sweetly. The man laughs and says, "Could I lend you a hand?" I feel like saying, "Yea, you could lend me your cell phone and let me call triple A so I don't have to wait an hour before you give up," but instead I say, "Sure. Thanks." He picks up the hood of my car and I roll my eyes as he looks around in my engine. I know for a fact that only a professional can handle my little crud-on-wheels. After about fifteen minutes he says, "Maybe you should call triple A." I smile sweetly again and say, "I don't have a phone on me. Could I use yours?" He frowns and says, "I think I left it at home."

Two hours later, I get back on the road. I pull into Joch's, the little coffee shop I work at, and kick my car for breaking down by the most inconvenient guy ever. "You're very late," Seth Joch points out as I step behind the counter and tie my apron on. I smile at him and say, "I realize that. Thanks for reminding me." He takes a sip of the coffee he's drinking in his huge 'Joch's' mug and murmurs, "Anytime."

After facing one teenage girl who doesn't understand the concept of Joch's not having Starbucks drinks, one seven year old who stood there for about ten minutes staring at the menu and then announced she couldn't read, and one group of locals that knew all the most complicated drinks and were familiar with that fact that they were the best, Jesse walks in the front door. Finally. "Hi, Jesse," I say with a big smile. Jesse also works at Joch's. He's my reliever. He smiles widely and says, "Hey, pretty girl." He's also my boyfriend. He kisses my forehead as I tell him I got to run and rush out the door to my truck. Aw, the joys of working at a Cafe.

"JA-ANE?" I call into the large empty house. My sister, Jane, recently moved into this monster of a house. She's decided to not use very much furniture so that it will seem more roomy. I told her that, for one thing, the house was already huge, and second, the roominess was really creepy. She decided my opinion didn't matter. "JANE!" I call again. "In here!" my sister's tired voice calls from the study. I walk down the long hallway into the study, a room that always smells like incense and is filled with book cases. I think she should change the name of this room to the library, but she said that people who have libraries in their house only call them libraries to show how rich they are. I think she's a weirdo. "What are you doing?" I ask as I see her leaning over the big mahogany table reading an old looking piece of paper. She looks up at me, smiles, and says, "I'm reading about the history of this house." I look down at the dully colored paper, back up at Jane, and then say, "I'm going to make coffee."

"Could you get me a cup, too?"

"Is that the reason you told me to hurry over?" I ask. She raises and eyebrow, "I told you to hurry over?" I nod and she says, "Oops. I meant to tell you to call Trace and tell him to hurry over." I groan, pick up the purse I dropped on the table, and say, "Goodbye, Jane."

"No coffee?"

"No coffee."

I walk into my small house and breath in the stench of fresh cookies. I smile widely and walk into the kitchen. There stands my best friend in the world, Tibby. I am not surprised that she is making cookies in my house when I'm not even home. "Ello!" she says happily. I smile widely as she hands me a cookie and a glass of milk. I sigh happily, sit down at the table, and say, gratefully, "Thanks." Sometimes a friend, a cookie, and a glass of milk can make everything better.

© 2009

The Beautiful Motion of Life entry 1

Its after hours. WAY after hours. And I am still at the office. I groan and and smack my head down on top of the huge stack of papers on my desk that have accidently been sent to me in Swahili. Honestly, how do you accidently translate a huge stack of papers into Swahili?! Why would you do that in the first place? I feel a kiss on my forehead as Gabe says, "Go home."

"But what am I supposed to do about this?" I ask, hopelessly motioning towards the papers. He sighs and says, "Cassandra can take care of them." I look up at him and say, "You know, letting me go home and forcing Cassandra to take care of this because of your affections for me isn't very fair." He smiles weakly and says, "Yes it is. Cassandra doesn't want to go home, she said her boyfriend's friends are camping out at her apartment and she'd rather scoop up elephant dung then go home."

"Ew!" I shriek. I immediately grab my backpack and stand up. Gabe pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear and kisses me lightly on the lips. "See you tomorrow, beautiful," he says. I blush, wave, and leave the office. It amazes me how the streets of this town are still covered with cars at 2:00 in the morning. Yes, I did say 2:00 in the morning. Cassandra's apartment must be REALLY bad.

I hale a taxi and step out in front of my apartment complex. I look up at the huge building and breath deeply. I hate home. I hate work. I even hate the cinema here. The only good thing in this town is Gabe. I push the big glass revolving door and walk up to the check in table. John yawns and says, "Evening, Lauren." I wrinkle an eyebrow and say, "My name's not Lauren." He nods. "It is now," he says, handing me my key and taking a big chug of black coffee. I watch him wince as the thick goop slides down his throat. "Honestly, John, I don't know why you don't just go to Starbucks. The coffee machine here is way past its golden age." He waves off my comment with his left hand and says, "Too expensive." I role my eyes and ask, "Why is my name Lauren now?" He widens his eyes and says, "What are you talking about?" I role my eyes again and say, "They should really take that 'open twenty four hours' sign down. You're worthless at night." John yawned, waved me off, and said, "Night, Lauren."

"Night, John. I'll go tell your fiance that you're leaving her for the Starbucks boy." I watch as John's eyes widen. "I'm engaged?" he asks. I laugh and step into the elevator right before the doors close.

I step onto my floor and pull my briefcase up above my head. I swing it against Peter's door and it makes a loud 'BAM!' "Go away SAM!" he yells. I laugh and unlock my apartment. I close the door behind me and throw my briefcase on the couch. Mocha looks up at me with one eye and goes back to sleep. "Nice to see you too, dog," I say as I walk over to my closet and change into the long sleeved long legged silk Victoria's Secret pajamas my sister gave me for my birthday. I sigh and walk into my bedroom. I turn on the light and find Genie lying on my pillow. I glance at my window and see that its open. I sigh and say, "Okay, Genie, you win. You can sleep here tonight. But that's my pillow." I pick up the orange and white polka dot cat and put her down on the big armchair that faces the window. I turn the lights off and climb into bed, but after fifteen minutes of listening to Peter's music next door, I know that I won't be able to fall asleep. I sigh, get out of bed, flip my bedroom light on, and stare at Genie, dead asleep. I envy her. I walk out of my apartment and walk right into Peter's, unlocked, as usual. "Your music sucks," I say as I walk over to his iPod speakers. He opens one eye, sees me, smiles, and says, "Hey beautiful." I search his iPod for a good album and finally find the latest Black Eyed Peas album. I look at him and say, "You're a loser. Your apartment is disgusting, your music is awful, and the only female in your life other than your mom is me, and I have a boyfriend." He smiles widely, "I love you too." I roll my eyes, throw a couch cushion at him, say, "Goodnight loser," and lock his door. I walk back to my apartment and finally get to sleep.

© 2009

Why Can't You?

He got down on one knee and I covered my hand with my mouth. It was dark and the candles surrounding us flickered light onto his face so that I could see his sea foam green eyes sparkling. "Will you marry me?" he asked breathily, obviously in love with me. It was every girl's dream proposal. It was the type of thing middle school girls dreamed about in bed at night. He handed me a little black case and I opened it to find the most beautiful ring in the world. The gold circle was shaped like a vine and the diamond was cut ever so carefully as a rose. It was so detailed, you could see every petal softly lay on top of the others. The vine even had small thorns facing away from the finger so that you wouldn't poke yourself. The diamond was tinted lightly with red so that it was red rose, representing true love. My eyes swelled with tears as he slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit so perfectly and it felt smooth and comfortable. "So?" he asked quietly. I looked up at him, he was biting his lip like a third grader waiting for their report card. Tears swelled in my eyes and escaped, flowing down my cheeks.

I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes, and took the ring off my finger. I placed it back in the case and put it in his hand. Now his eyes filled with tears. "Why?" he asked, trying to keep the water in his eyes. "We're soul mates," he whispered sadly. I nodded, "I know," I said through my tears. I started to back away, "but I can't."

© 2009