Poetry

•  Untitled 1

• Alone

• Untitled 2

• You

• Untitled 3

•  When Pen and Paper Meet

•  Pain

• Ribbons

• a book of me

• Untitled 4

• Untitled 5

• Untitled 6

•  Fight to Overcome

• Waking Up from Consciousness

• Poetry

•  Untitled 8

• Ballin

•  Hello

• Untitled poem

•  Learn to Love

• Untitled 9

• Untitled 10

• Untitled 11

• Galaxy Breakaway

• Monster

• Good-Bye

• Distant

• When It Hurts to Live

• Untitled 12

• Tastes Like Teen Spirit

•  Follow me

•  My World

•  Untitled 15

•  If only you Knew

•  Untitled 16

• If You...

• Paradox of Normalcy

• Words

• The Deep

• Senses of Death

• Untitled 19

• Chaos

• A Girl Called Me

• Untitled 20

• Untitled 21

•  Untitled 22
   

Essay/Book Reviews

• A Child Called It (Book Review)

•  Untitled 14

•  Untitled Essay

• Movie Star Looks

• Untitled 18

Short Story

• The Clock

• Jake's Closet

• The Dreamkeeper

•  Untitled 7

• Fallen Star

•  Petey

• Too High

•  Untitled 13

•  Ella

• Untitled 17

The evils of this world consume all of us
Evil prevails over us
no matter what good we do
evil is always lurkin in the shadows
watchin, waitin for a vulnerable moment
where it can jump in and take over
We're all doomed
Doomed to walk in this mortal life
like a bunch of zombies
oblivious to what is real and what is not
monotonous lives we live
chalked full of activities we fill them with
to break the monotony of this surreal existence
but in the end its worthless, at the end of the day
evil rises....from the depths of our souls
it penetrates thru all that is good
it breaks free, free from its entrapment
the mechanics of everyday life
gradually lose grip on reality 
thus evil rises......

I sit alone all by myself,
Like a broken toy on a dusty shelf.
No one to chat with as I sit,
Not even small talk, not one little bit.
Alone with my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams,
In tune with myself, or so it seems.
I write small and illegibly to avoid embarrassment,
I sit and write my poetry, the way in which I vent.
But one day maybe I'll have a best seller, flying off the shelf,
One can only hope and pray, as long as I'm happy with myself.
So this is my day to sit and reflect, of not one specific thing,
Maybe not anything important at all, just leave my brain to sing.

fall against the toilet
too dizzy to even sit
eyesight blurred
and my words become slurred
my body is staved
torn and carved
stumble to the ground
my stomach is screaming yet not making a sound
i collapse hitting my head
so weak i feel dead
everything starts to spin
bones break because they are too thin
my throat is razed
the vomit made me fazed
delirious i still manage to rid some more
i vomit my food like weight is my war
but I have grown pale
my body continues to become frail
no matter what I do
i can't win the war I pursue
i try to be perfect
but here is a secret
i am no where near
despite how things appear
by doing this thing
pain and suffering is all i bring
dead and pallid i try to quit
but i can't do it
it controls me
so i continue on and let things be
each time repeating the feeling of death
slowly until one day i won't take a breath
the pallidness won't be from the vomit
and the emotion of wanting to be fit
instead
i'll be dead

Ok, so I saw it.
And I saw you.
I saw you watching.
Standing
Waiting for the last wisps of rose
To melt from the sky.
You watched it.
You saw the burning disc
Falter
Then slip away
Unseen by many
Seen by millions
I saw it.
I saw the tangerine scarlet clouds
Hover and vanish
I saw the bruised sky
Elegantly turn to shade from hue
And I saw you
You were there
Only at dusk.
Only at twilight, your favorite time.
You're gone, but you were there.
I saw you.

Jake looked grimly at the ground. Another missed game, he thought. This would make the fifth game in a row that his parents missed. He stared disinterestedly at the sidewalk that lie in front of him. It seemed to go on forever. If only his parents would put him first instead of their jobs. He knew they had bills to pay, but overtime? Wasn't it a bit extreme? They had only come to one of his soccer games so far. They promised to come to the tournament next Saturday, but that seemed like an eternity away and he wanted them at this game. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the rain start to fall. It started gently and then poured. He was drenched by the time the babysitter called him in. Up in his room, he sulked. He felt the world was an unfair place, and he plotted revenge at his parents. He tried to think of what horrible thing he could do, but nothing came to mind. He stared into his closet, and finally an idea struck him. It was bold, but h!
e figured it was worth it. Even his tiny seven-year-old brain knew what would worry his parents most. He could disappear for a few hours, and that would teach them. He immediately began making preparations. He packed cookies, chips, a frozen pizza that he cooked in the oven, pop, a few comic books, and a couple of video games. He didn't think he'd need a pillow or blanket, so he didn't take any. He quietly sneaked into his closet and shut the door without his babysitter noticing. Ten cookies, one pizza, fifteen chips, and seven sodas later he heard his parents arrive. Good, he thought. They're right on schedule. Now the fun begins. He smiled as evilly as a seven-year-old can and turned off his closet light. He waited for the discovery. He heard the Jessica, the babysitter, leaving. All right, how long will it be until you realize that I'm not there?  He was getting frustrated. Things were taking a long time and his legs were cramped. He heard someone approaching the door to !
his room. He lay very still. The door opened. He heard nothing, and he knew they were looking around for him. The door closed again. He lay back and relaxed. Now they would go ballistic. He was surprised at hearing nothing. His parents just went about as if nothing was wrong. He was puzzled. Did this mean that they really didn't care about him? Was he not important enough? What happened? He was about to cry. His parents didn't even remember to look for him. They probably just looked in to see if his room was clean. They didn't love him anymore. He thought, I know how orphans feel now. He started to cry. It wasn't one of those loud bawling cries that you use to get a teacher or parent's attention; it was a bitter cry. It was so sad that he made no noise. He just sat there and tears ran down his cheeks and he almost couldn't breathe. His head ached and his stomach was mad at him for the last six pops he drank. He felt sick to his stomach and wanted to embrace his mommy, but she doesn't love me anymore, he thought sadly. I'm just an attachment to this family. I don't count. So he stayed in that cramped little closet space for several more hours. Finally, it became his bedtime. He glanced at his light up watch. It was almost bedtime. He didn't want to face his parents. He hadn't brought any pillows or blankets with him. Now he would have to sleep in his closet without a pillow or anything. He was just about ready to try to go to sleep when the closet door opened quietly and his mother smiled down at him.
"You'll get awfully cramped if you stay in there. Here's your pillow and favorite blanket," she said softly as she handed him his pillow and blanket. He stared up at her with innocent eyes of wonder and amazement. He hadn't given away his position. How did she know? His mind said to be wary, they didn't love him after all, but his heart overruled that vote. He sprang out of his closet and gave her a huge hug. He got changed into his pajamas and got into bed. A few minutes later she came in to tuck him in. He said his prayers and then he asked her one question.
"Mommy, how did you know I was in the closet?" that question had been puzzling him from the moment she opened the door. Mommy smiled. She said, "Jake, I was a kid once too."

Golden girl, pretty girl
To the world you have no flaws
The weight of your crosses;
Unseen to the uncaring world

Raw, blood gashes
Hidden behind a charming, deceiving
smile
(A curve of sarcasm, dripping with
Indifference)

Contorted features,
Dark and sinister,
Writhing, diffusing into
A labeled heart of plastic

Tainted revelations
Unfold in shadows
(Misery and confusion gnawing
Incessantly in the wearied mind)

Outside they see you easily
Conquer (What seem like the world)
With such ease and confidence                             

Inside you crumble,
falling to every adversity
(Straight into the grinning depths
Of depression)

Breaking undaunted spirit,
Breaking lingering hope
A painted picture,
Each hue a different mask,
Each one that was never you

Golden girl, broken girl
With your hidden teardrops
And bleeding soul (Strip)

Strip until each hue is no more
Strip until your soul is bared
(Let all the world with its misconceptions
See)

Strip until your heart bleeds no more
Strip until you are golden girl no more

He drifted along the walls, and through the cold-hearted city.  He looked down at the passing strangers as he floated high above their heads.  He was the Dreamkeeper.  He belonged to the night.  He was a creature of death, torment, and sadness.  He paused by an open window, and listened to the soft, quiet breathing of a sleeping child.  He slipped inside the bedroom, as quiet as a whisper, and leaned over the peaceful child.  The Dreamkeeper swirled and broke apart.  He became one with the night, then moved back together.  He became darker, like a shadow.  He swept down and through the child.  As he passed through it he got flashes of peaceful dreams; of ponies and lollipops, cars and toys.  The child cried and started to toss and turn in its sleep.  With its dreams stolen, it was now left with a nightmare.
The Dreamkeeper looked on sadly.  He wished that there was something he could do, but stealing dreams was a part of him, just like the stars were part of the night.  As he heard the child's parents hurrying down the hall to comfort it, he slipped out the window and on to another child.  He found that the dreams that children dreamt tasted sweeter than those of adults.  Their dreams were unmarked by the worries of everyday life.
He crept into the next bedroom and stood stock still with shock.  He had been so sure that a child was in that room.  He had felt it, but instead a sixteen-year-old girl lay sleeping soundly in the bed.  Her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders and fell in cascading waves across the pillow.  Her dark lashes curved softly against her cheek and her full pouting mouth looked like it had been kissed by the heavens.  She was an angel; beautiful and innocent.
 The Dreamkeeper moved closer to get a better look.  The coldness that radiated form his heart touched her and she moved away from the cool air.  He quickly moved back and towards the window.  It wasn't that he was ugly when he chose to take his human form.  No. it was more that he struck a deep, primal fear into the human heart.  It was a dark, unreasonable fear.  They were afraid of him the way a child was afraid of the monsters under the bed.  They couldn't see it, but they knew it was there.  She stirred again and he disappeared through the window.
He drifted down to the street below and took his human form.  He leaned against the hard, brick wall behind him, and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans.  His hair was a dark brown, almost black, and incredibly thick.  It had a bit of a wave to it and curled over his neck.  His eyes were a dark brown, like rich, liquid chocolate.  His lips were sinful.  Full and sensuous and one taste of them could make your knees weak and your mind go numb.  Right now they were curved in a sullen smirk at life in general. 
He wore a black t-shirt that outlined his muscles and clung to his skin.  He wore faded jeans that hugged his narrow hips, and left his running shoes unlaced.  The few women that walked the street at that time of night turned to give him a second, admiring look.  Women were attracted to him because of the danger that he emitted.  He had a ruthless spirit that drew them like flies.  He smirked and moved away from the wall.  He walked across the street without bothering to look for cars.
He was heading for his apartment down the street.  He lived in a tall, ugly building.  The paint was peeling off, and a couple of the windows were broken on the first floor, but he wasn't worried about intruders.  He could easily handle them.  The thieves and murderers usually stayed away from the building; they could sense that a dangerous man lived inside.  He slammed open the door with the flat of his hands and stormed up the stairs to the third floor.  He opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside.
He was angry with himself for having a moment of weakness towards a human.  He couldn't believe it.  He couldn't feel this way about a mere human; not after he had managed to become so powerful.  Mighty kings shook in their beds when they saw as much as the hint of his shadow on the wall.  He threw himself into his armchair and shook his head to clear it of his disturbing thoughts, but her face remained to haunt him.  He put his feet on the coffee table, not bothering to take off his shoes, and turned on the TV.  He flipped through the channels and settled on a news station.
One item caught his attention.  The TV showed a group of people gathered around a bloody corpse lying on the street.  The reporter was white as a ghost and was reporting how it looked like the victim had been stabbed repeatedly with some sort of knife.  The Dreamkeeper leaned forward and studied the area behind the reporter intently.  It was definitely Eric Verkov, his rival.  Eric was a human, but the most powerful human that he had ever encountered.  The thing that made him so powerful was his obelisk.  It was made of a magical stone that an Egyptian queen had given him.  The stone made him immortal and gave him magical powers.  The dagger had the power to suck the souls out of the still warm bodies, as their hearts slowly ceased beating.
The Dreamkeeper couldn't stand Eric because of what he did.  When the souls were taken the humans didn't have peaceful dreams.  The relatives and friends were often plagued with nightmares for weeks afterwards.  The Dreamkeeper couldn't steal nightmares.  They weren't of any use to him.  He needed the pleasant dreams to survive.
He ground his teeth in anger as he stared at the picture of the twisted body.  He stood up and turned the TV off with a quick movement of his hand on the control.  He threw the remote onto the coffee table with a loud smash.  He turned around and rubbed a hand over his face.  He was so tired of chasing Eric.  The Dreamkeeper had been after him for three years now and still had not succeeded in killing him.  He wanted to see Eric suffer.  Any other death would not be half as satisfying.  Slowly, Eric's victims began to grow in numbers and with it, the Dreamkeeper's hate for him.
He strode into the kitchen to get a drink of water.  Suddenly, the silence erupted with loud, shrill ringing tones.  The Dreamkeeper turned around and grabbed the phone.  "Hello."  He said, shortly.
"Ah yes. The Dreamkeeper himself."  A soft chuckle slid through the phone lines and echoed through the Dreamkeeper's mind.  "I have something that will help you on your hunt for Eric."
"Who is this?"  The Dreamkeeper asked, stunned that anyone knew who he was.  H liked to blend into the shadows and stay hidden.  He didn't talk to anyone unless he had to. 
"Someone who can help you.  Meet me in Stark Alley in an hour."  With that, the unknown caller hung up.  The Dreamkeeper dropped the phone back in its cradle.  He thought for a second.  He could get to Stark Alley in forty-five minutes if he used the shadows.  He could check out the surroundings from the sky.
He concentrated his powers and thought of the shadows; the way they leapt and quivered.  His human form dissolved and melted into the night.  He would have to hurry back or he would be trapped in the golden cage of daylight.  The dark shadow that looked almost human slipped out of the window.  He sped along the walls, drifting with the darkness.  He took the curves with graceful skill, and hugged the corners.  He made it to the street in forty minutes.
The Dreamkeeper hung in the air and looked around the street.  Nothing.  No one was there.  He slowly began to slide to the ground.  The minute his feet touched the ground, the world exploded into light.  His molecules shocked, he was forced back to his human form.  He knelt on the ground, trying to shield his eyes from the blinding light.  He looked up, straining to see through the light.  He couldn't identify the silhouette that was walking towards him.  Suddenly, the light disappeared and he was left with dazzling spots in front of his eyes.  When his vision cleared he saw that, to his surprise, the person that stood in front of him was an elderly woman!  The Dreamkeeper 's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the woman in front of him.
  She had a wrinkled face and a crooked nose.  Her black eyes flashed with intelligence and her wispy, gray hair floated around her head.  "Ok, who the hell are you?"  The Dreamkeeper asked angrily.  "Is this some kind of a joke?"  He had been expecting someone powerful.  How was she supposed to help him kill Eric?
"That does not matter, and no.  This is definitely not a joke."  The woman's voice echoed off the buildings, and bounced back.  "All that matters now is that you kill Eric."
"Why?  Why do you want to have him killed?  What's in it for you?"  The Dreamkeeper asked suspiciously.
"The real question is, why do you feel the need to ask so many questions?  If I want to tell you the answers, I will.  Be patient."  The old woman said, lifting her arms.  All of a sudden, a knife lay in her hands.  At the top of the dagger lay a stone that glowed eerily in the night.  "You can kill him with this if you stab him directly through the heat.  Afterwards destroy his knife so that no one will have his powers again."  The woman disappeared and the knife fell to the floor with a loud clatter.  The Dreamkeeper carefully moved towards the knife.  He bent down to pick it up.  He let out a cry of pain and dropped the dagger.  It was as hot as fire!  He reached toward it again and carefully touched it.  That's funny.  It wasn't as hot as before.  It was rapidly cooling down, and soon the Dreamkeeper was able to pick it up.  The stone at the top of the knife was as white as bone; Eric's was midnight black.  
The Dreamkeeper looked up at the sky as the sun was reflected in the knife's surface.  The Dreamkeeper swore under his breath.  Now he would have to take a taxi like normal humans; the morning sun would have chased away all of the shadows.  The Dreamkeeper tucked the dagger into pocket and walked out onto the busy street at the end of Stark Alley.  He looked around and found a taxi waiting at the curb.  As he walked up to it, he pulled out dark sunglasses and put them on to shield his eyes.
He reached out and opened the door.  He slid into the passenger seat and gave his address to the taxi driver.  The Dreamkeeper glanced at the driver out of the corner of his eye.  Good, no sign of fear.  The Dreamkeeper used the sunglasses to hide his eyes from humans.  If they couldn't see his eyes, they weren't as afraid of him.
The Dreamkeeper turned and looked out of the window.  All of a sudden, he yelled, "Stop!  Here's the money, I'll walk from here."  The Dreamkeeper dropped the money into the surprised taxi driver's hand, and bolted out of the taxi.  He looked around and caught a glimpse of beautiful auburn hair before it disappeared behind the corner.  The Dreamkeeper followed, and saw her.  He caught his breath.  Her Beautiful brown eyes sparkled with the joy of life.  She was wearing a breezy, black skirt with red roses on it.  She wore a red tank top and red jangling bracelets.  Strappy, black sandals and a black purse, slung over one shoulder, accented her outfit perfectly.  Her hair was loose and fell in waves across her shoulders.
She stepped onto the road and began crossing the street.  All of a sudden, her cell-phone began to ring.  She bent her head and looked through her purse, trying to find her phone.  The Dreamkeeper looked on with horror as a red sports car careened around the corner and straight towards the girl.  He didn't think.  All he knew was that he had to save her.
The Dreamkeeper raced towards the girl and pushed her out of the way just in time.  Her purse had fallen off her shoulder and lay where she had been standing just seconds earlier.  The car barreled on and ran over her purse, silencing the phone.  The girl turned pale and hid her face against his chest.  She trembled all over, but she didn't cry.  "Ssh. it's ok.  I've got you."  The Dreamkeeper said soothingly.
When she felt a little calmer she sat up and said, "Thank you so much.  If you hadn't been there in time."
"It's no problem, really.  Can you stand?"  The Dreamkeeper asked when he realized they were still sitting on the pavement.
"Yes."  She said, with a nod.  "Thank you again."  The Dreamkeeper gently helped her to her feet. 
"What's your name?"  The Dreamkeeper asked curiously.
"Cathleen Sajhoir.  Do you have a name, or are you an anonymous knight in shining armor?"  She asked, staring at him intently.
"I think I'll stay anonymous.  Maybe I'll tell you someday."  The Dreamkeeper answered, mysteriously.
"You know, you have beautiful eyes."  Cathleen said.
The Dreamkeeper looked at her in surprise.  That was when he noticed that his sunglasses had fallen off and been broken by the speeding car as well.  Why wasn't she afraid of him?  She had seen the dark, bottomless depths in his eyes.  Weren't the eyes supposed to be the windows to the soul?  His soul was definitely evil through and through.  "Um. thank you.  Are you sure you can make it back to your house by yourself?  Would you like me to take you to the hospital?"  The Dreamkeeper asked with worry.
"No, I'm fine."  Cathleen said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Ok.  Well, I'd better get on my way."  The Dreamkeeper said, excusing himself.  He was unsettled by the direct stare of her warm eyes.
"Oh.  All right.  Thank you again."  Cathleen said.  The Dreamkeeper nodded and began walking away.  He couldn't stop himself from giving her one last glance.  With surprise, he saw that she was also looking after him with a thoughtful look in her eyes.  He gave her a last smile and then turned the corner.  He gave a sigh of relief that he was out of sight from her prying eyes.  It was as though she could see right through him and to his heart.  He had to forget about her before someone got hurt.
The Dreamkeeper knew what could take his mind off of the human girl. killing Eric.  He would finally be able to get rid of him for good.  He walked faster, pulling out the dagger at the same time.  All of a sudden, he knew exactly where Eric was.  He walked faster and faster, almost running.  He could feel Eric's blood running through his fingers.  In a half an hour, keeping up the same pace, he reached his destination; a run-down hotel near the water.  The Dreamkeeper tucked the dagger back into his pocket.  No one tried to stop him, no one cared that he was running up the stairs to the hotel rooms.  Somehow he knew exactly which room Eric was staying in.  He shoved open the door of room 323 and entered.  The Dreamkeeper didn't stop to wonder why the door was unlocked.  All he could think of was getting to Eric. 
"Ah.  Here he is, my dear.  Right on time."  Eric said, stepping out of the shadows, holding a stopwatch in his hand.  "Exactly 35 minutes and 54 seconds.  Did you know that you can make it here in half that time with a sports car?  Isn't that right, Cathleen?"  Eric asked, pulling a chair into the light.  Cathleen sat, bound and gagged, on a desk chair.  Her eyes were wide open with fear.  "See, I knew that you would fall for those pretty, innocent eyes, so I used her as bait."
The Dreamkeeper was horrified.  He lunged towards Eric with the knife, but at the snap of Eric's fingers, two well-muscled men stepped forward to restrain him.  "You can come out now, Mother." Eric said. A curtain parted and the old woman, that had given him the dagger, stepped out.
"You?  What?  Why?"  The Dreamkeeper stammered. He had not been prepared for this turn of events.
"Yes.  Quite surprising isn't it?"  The old woman said mockingly.  "Who would have guessed?"  She rested her hand on the back of Eric's neck.  All of a sudden, she grabbed the letter opener off of the desk and stabbed her son through the heart.  Dark blood pooled out of the wound, and Eric fell to the floor. dead.
"You're an animal!"  The Dreamkeeper yelled, shaking off his captors and lunging forward.
"Just a second.  Not so fast young man."  The old woman said, holding the letter opener to Cathleen's neck.  Cathleen shook with fear and her eyes pleaded with the Dreamkeeper to do something.  Suddenly, he remembered the dagger.  He took it out, but he was too slow.  The old woman threw the letter opener at him, and it pierced his body.  With surprised detachment, the Dreamkeeper stared down at his own blood as it stained the floor.  The old woman laughed and turned back to Cathleen.  The Dreamkeeper fell, but with his last strength he charged and stabbed the old woman with the dagger.  She screamed and disappeared in a flash of smoke, as the Dreamkeeper's heart stopped beating.

Epilogue:
A month later, Cathleen walked down the street with her two best friends, Alexandra and Juliana.  "I'm so happy you agreed with us to come see the fortune teller!  She's supposed to be really good!"  Alex said excitedly.
"Yeah.  It's about time you got out of the house more.  Ever since the police got you out of the building you won't do anything except sit inside.  I was really worried about you for a while there.  It's not healthy to hide from everything."  Juliana said to Cathleen caringly.
"I know, but it was so hard to face my fears and finally just walk to the grocery store by myself again.  I'm happy I can finally be semi-normal again."  Cathleen said.
"Me too."  Alexandra said warmly and wrapped a friendly arm around Cathleen's shoulders.  "This is going to be tons of fun.  I've never been to a fortuneteller before.  This could also help you to accept and look forward to the future."  Alexandra suggested.  Juliana snickered and Alexandra hit her on the arm.  "What are you laughing about?"
"It just sounds so deep.  'You must accept your future.'  Where did you get that from?"  Juliana asked teasingly.
The three girls reached the door, to the fortuneteller's house, laughing.  They rang the doorbell and waited nervously outside.  Suddenly, the door swung open and a beautiful, oriental woman answered the door.  Her ebony hair hung, luxuriously down to her waist and was pulled back with tortoise shell combs.  She wore a red tank top and a pair of blue jeans.  She ushered them inside and they took seats in the living room.  "Ok, which one of you would like to be first?"  The fortuneteller asked.
"Um, I'll go first, if that's ok with you guys."  Alexandra said.  The others nodded, and Alexandra followed the fortuneteller into a separate room.  It was bare except for a small table and two chairs.  On the table lay a deck of tarot cards.  The fortuneteller began to set up the cards.  "Hm. I see a close friendship that will help you through all of the bad times.  A fascinating story will wind itself around your life and lead you to find a new love.  A mystery will uncover itself and you will strive to find its answer."  The fortuneteller went on to tell her a few other things and then Alexandra thanked her and entered the living room.  Her friends were waiting excitedly for her and Alexandra promised them that she would tell them all about it later.
The next one to go in was Cathleen.  Nervously, she sat down across from the fortuneteller.  The fortuneteller once again set up the cards once again.  "Your friends have helped you through a terrifying ordeal, but it is not over yet.  You will meet someone that will be who he appears not to be.  You will try to figure out who he really is, but you will get tangled in a mass of lies.  Only you and your friends will be able to untangle the spider web of lies that you are surrounded in."  Shakily, Cathleen got up and went back to her friends. 
"What did she say, Cathleen?"  Juliana asked, when she saw Cathleen's face.  Cathleen shook her head and said she would tell her afterwards.
Juliana was the last to enter the room and sit down.  The fortuneteller looked at her cards and said sadly, "You are the only one that will have to face her fears without the strength of her friends.  You will be in a new place, where you know no one.  You are sad and lost.  You will believe that you have found new friends, but don't trust them too quickly, or you will be lost.  A young man will enter your life and set you back on the right track.  Together you will have wonderful times, and it will make the pain of leaving your friends less."  Juliana and the fortuneteller left the room and joined the others.  The three friends paid the fortuneteller and began walking home.  For once, a heavy silence hung over the girls as they thought about what the fortuneteller had said.

I'm going across country, and all I can think about is your face. All I see is me getting out of the car, and having that feeling of composure that I have finally saw you after all this time. See, we've gone though some hard times, and have some long lasting memories. Only the both of us could possibly account for the moments our hearts will let us share. You might be my soul mate. I might be meant to be your wife. We might be the two people that hearts want to share each other's life. I know we are young and not yet do we choose our future. But my heart longs for you so eagerly sometimes. And almost doesn't want to go on without you. My love for you is more than an accomplishment. Others I have cared for so frivolously. Something I wanted that I couldn't have. Having attachments to people who don't care. That is my own stupidity. But you, you are real. You are hard work and suffering. But along with those you bring happiness and joy. I've taken everything slow, and therefore everything we're shared has been as special as it could be. I can't explain this crazy feeling that makes me feel we should be together. Today on my way up to see you, I cried. Because of all the ways to be with you have all been tried. I can't believe I will see you in a day. But I want to cry because I'll always know you live thousands of miles away.  

When I look up I do see,
the truth in your eyes that will never be,
a heart that has yet to be freed,
a troubled boy that seems obscene,
with a will to fight that can't be seen,
a struggle hidden behind the face,
his heart stuck in a forbidden place,
a soul hurt by treachery,
someone cursed by destiny,
with love for one who only knows hate,
pain in you that shouldn't be fate,
the binding blood that hides the truth,
from the bruises to the missing tooth,
the reason you run and stay alone,
never thinking of going home,
hiding behind your eyes so cold,
running away from what you're told,
wishing for just his love,
wanting help from the heavens above,
to cease the hits and catch you when you fall,
an angel to help you through it all.

Hey sweet pea!"
"Hey back, stranger!"  Emily Matthews grinned at her boyfriend, Peter.
"It's been a while."
"It's been too long!" Emily replied to Peter.  Emily was 17 years old, and was still in Sixth Form College.  Her long-term boyfriend Peter Stone was 19 years old and had began university earlier that year.  He went to a university in Scotland, and therefore had to live there.  Emily hadn't seen him since last September.  Now it was April, which meant spring break - and which meant the young couple not only got a break from school/university, but also got to see each other at last.
"So how's it all goin'?" asked Peter.
"Okay.  Nothin' exciting been happening, but I guess that's what ya get livin' in Northern Ireland!"
"Believe it or not, I've really missed Northern Ireland.  But even more than that, I've missed you."
"Aw I've missed you too.  Let's get you back to my house, and I'll make ya a special welcome back tea."

"You're a great driver!"
"Well I just remembered everything you taught me when I went into the test.  Now it all comes naturally!"  Emily turned the steering wheel and glanced at Peter.  His handsome eyes were staring back at her.  She smiled.
Then, suddenly and without warning, a horn screeched angrily at them, and they turned just in time to see a large lorry coming right at them.
"TURN!  QUICK!" screamed Peter.
Emily grabbed the steering wheel, but it was too late.  The lorry didn't seem to be able to slow down, and it seemed to take forever for Emily's small sports car to turn.  The next thing the couple knew, there was loud sound of crunching metal and they were thrust forwards.  Then everything went black.

"Where am I?"  Peter slowly opened his eyes.  His surroundings slowly began to focus, and the slim figure of his mother came into view.
"Oh Peter!  Thank goodness you're okay!"  She ran forwards and wrapped her arms around her son.  "When I heard you'd been in a car crash."
"The crash."  Peter suddenly remembered everything.  "Emily! Where is she? Is she ok?"
Mrs. Stone took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak.
But before she could speak, Peter quickly sat up straight and alert.  "No! She's not.?"
"No!  Of course not. although I'm afraid Emily came off the worst in the accident.  She's still unconscious."
"Will she be okay?" Peter asked, a worried expression on his face.
"I'm sure she will. the doctor's aren't sure when she'll wake up."
"Can I see her?"
"Not today - the doctors want to wait and see how she's doing before she gets too many visitors.  Only her mother is with her at the moment.  Wait 'til tomorrow."

Emily wore a peaceful expression on her face.  Peter leant down and kissed her on the cheek.
"What exactly happened, Peter?" asked Emily's mother.  She looked extremely tired - large bags hung under her eyes.  It seemed that Mrs. Matthews had been sitting, awake, with her daughter the whole night.
"All I can remember is a big lorry coming near us."
"Didn't you both see it coming?"
"Well Emily might have taken her eyes off the road for a second, but."
"I knew I shouldn't have bought her that car!" interrupted Mrs. Matthews.
"When's Em gonna wake up?" asked Peter.
"The doctors think she may be going into a coma," replied Emily's mum, tears forming in her eyes.  "I'd better not lose her. I've already lost her father. I couldn't bear to lose my little baby too."

A week later, Emily still hadn't woken up.    The police had talked to the lorry driver, who stated that he had lost control of the lorry.  Peter and Emily's mother had spent most of their time sitting with Emily.  The doctor's said that Emily was in a coma, and they weren't sure when she would awaken.  It could be a day. or a year.

"Mom. why did we hafta move to this place?  I don't know anyone and I'm feeling so lonely."
Lucy's mother affectionately patted her daughter's head.  "Lucy - I know it's been hard moving to New York.  It's been hard on all of us. We all loved Florida.  But we had no choice - your father was told that he could either transfer to here or lose his job."
"Well maybe he should have."
"Darling, we need the money.  You know I can't work with my bad back.  It's just because you're so shy - you'll make new friends eventually."  She slowly pulled herself up and made her way to the kitchen.
"Fat chance." muttered Lucy.

Lucy made her way through the busy dining hall.  Crowds of teenagers chatted and laughed.  Lucy walked past all the packed tables, to her usual seat - alone in the corner.  She suddenly stopped as she noticed someone seated at the table.  A girl was sitting at the table, picking at her lunch.  She looked up as she noticed Lucy.  The bored expression on her face turned to a friendly face.
"Hi!" she said with a smile.  "Are you new too?"
Lucy returned the smile, grateful that she was actually talking to someone.  "Yeah - we moved here a few weeks ago but I still don't know anyone."
"I arrived in New York just the other day.  I was adopted by these two really nice people. I don't know anyone either."
Not wanting to pry into the girl's life in case there was a sad story behind it, Lucy asked the girl's name.
"Amy.  Amy Phillips.  And you?"
"Lucy Anderson."
As the bell rang, the girls rushed along to their next class, both grateful to have found each other.

"How was school, honey?" asked Amy's adoptive mother.
"Great!  I met a really nice girl.  She's called Lucy.
"That's great, dear," said her adoptive father.

"How was school?" asked Lucy's mother.
"Great! I made a friend at last!  Amy - she's really cool!"
"That's wonderful news, dear," said Lucy's father.  "I think we'll all be fine now!"

"Hi there, beautiful eyes.  Wanna dance?"
Amy smiled and nodded her head.  "I'd love to!"
It had been 11 months since Amy and Lucy had became friends.  Since then, they had spent all their time together, whether it was doing homework together, shopping, or talking about boys.  Tonight was the school dance.  Amy and Lucy had been dancing, and now both girls were dancing with boys.  Amy glanced across to where Lucy and her partner were dancing.  Lucy caught her eye and winked.  Amy smiled back, and then moved her eyes back to her partner.
"So, what's your name?" she asked him.
"I'm Tyler.  And you, sweetheart?"
Amy told him her name, and then the two of them danced and talked for the rest of the night.  By the time she got home that night, Amy felt like the luckiest girl alive - she had the best best-friend a girl could have, and now the had found a wonderful guy.

"He is so nice!  He's amazing!"
"So's Ryan!  He's so romantic!" replied Lucy.
It was the following day, and the girls were talking together on the telephone.
"We all hafta do something really special together!"
"Yeah!  Like a double date!"
"We could go to that new restaurant in the city centre!  It's real posh - it'd be real special!"
"Yeah!"
"You know, Lucy, I'm so glad we're friends."
"Me too!  I'm so glad we came to here from Florida."
"Well, I better go, but I'll see ya tomorrow in school!"
"See ya!"

"I can't wait to see Tyler again!" whispered Amy.
"Yeah, I can't wait to see Ryan.  What are you gonna wear?"
"I dunno - wanna go shopping tomorrow after school to get something new?"
"Girls! I've already told you, be quiet and get on with your work!" their Math teacher called out.
As she went back to marking, Lucy whispered back to Amy, "Yeah! I'm gonna buy a new top, and a new."
"GIRLS!"

"Okay, I'll see ya tomorrow!"
"Yep - half six at the Chop House Inn! Can't wait!"
Amy and Lucy waved goodbye to each other at the bus stop, arms full of bags of clothes.

"Ryan!"  Lucy ran towards Ryan, and embraced him in a tight hug.  Then she noticed Tyler standing beside them.  "Oh, hey Tyler!  I take it Amy's not here yet?"
"No, you're kinda late, but she's even later!" laughed Ryan.
"Don't you guys know that it's fashionable to be late?" Amy laughed back.

It was an hour later.  And still no Amy.
"Okay, fashionably late is one thing, but this." said Tyler, trying to joke, but sounding quite impatient.
"She really should have been here by now. I don't understand," replied Lucy.
"Maybe something's turned up," suggested Ryan.
"I'll try phoning her again," said Lucy.  "Her mobile's off, but I'll try her house phone."
Lucy dialed Amy's home telephone number on her mobile phone, and waited.
"Hello, Amy?" came the voice of Amy's adoptive mum.
"Um, no, this is Lucy."
"Oh." she said, sounding disappointed.
"I was just wondering if Amy was there, because she should have met us an hour ago?"
"No, I'm sorry Lucy, but Amy didn't come home last night.  I tried phoning your mobile phone but it was switched off, and I couldn't find your home number.  I thought you might know where she was?"
"Really?!  But I said bye to her at about six thirty last night, when we got off the bus.  She went straight home."
"God, if something's happened to my baby."
After saying goodbye, Lucy told the boys about Amy's strange disappearance.  "I just don't get it. this really isn't like Amy."
"Maybe she wanted to get a break and spend sometime alone, you know, walking or something?" suggested Ryan.
" At night?  No - I've known her for a year - in fact, it was a year yesterday - and Amy just doesn't do stuff like that.  Something must have happened to her. my best buddy."
"Look, don't worry yet," said Tyler, "She'll probably come back right now with some excuse.  She'll be fine!"

But she didn't.  Amy didn't come home that night, or any other.  Although police searched high and low and all over New York City, they could not find a trace of Amy Phillips, or come up with any explanation as to where she had went.  For those who cared about Amy, it felt worse than if she had been dead.  It was not knowing where she was, alive or dead, that caused Amy's loved ones to be so distressed and upset.

"You know, Emily, it was exactly a year ago that the car crash happened.  A year without you, a year of sitting with you every day.   I never missed a day - not one.  And I've had endless conversations with you, even though you can't answer back."  Peter stared down at his girlfriend.  She looked as peaceful as she had done a year ago.  He felt proud - Emily's own mother had even given up on her.  She had visited her daughter every day, until a few months ago when she started coming less and less.  Now she didn't come at all.  As far as Mrs Matthews was concerned, she had lost her daughter, as she felt her daughter was as good as dead.  And now all she could do was mourn.  Peter, on the other hand, hadn't given up hope.  Sometimes, he felt that he would never speak to Emily again, but he made himself be strong, for her sake.  If he didn't believe she would wake from her coma, then what hope did she have?
Peter slowly moved his eyes away from Emily, towards the window.  In the distance he could see a young couple walking together, hand in hand.  He sighed.  Then he heard a noise.  He looked around, wondering where it was coming from.
"Pe."
"Emily!"  Peter looked at Emily, and noticed that her mouth was moving, just a little bit, but he was sure of what he was seeing.  "EMILY!" he yelled again.
And then her eyes opened.  "Peter."
"Em!"  Peter bent towards her and kissed her on the forehead, before embracing her with a deep hug.
"Peter. where am I?"
"Shh now darling, don't tire yourself out.  You're fine, it's all gonna be just fine."
"I had a really weird dream Peter. I was adopted. New York. my name was Amy Phillips."
"Shh now darling."

So, a year after the car accident, Emily was back.  Everybody was shocked and surprised especially Emily's mother.  Peter felt like he had been given a blessing.  He was determined to take care of his girlfriend, and never let anything happen to her again.
"Emily." he began, a few years after the miraculous recovery.  "I never want us to be apart. ever again."
"I feel the same, Pete."
"Will you marry me?"  The words were out of Peter's mouth before he had even realized he was saying them.
"Really?!" Amy asked, after a speechless moment of silence.
"Well yeah. it makes so much sense!" said Peter.  "We're in love, we have to always be together!"
"Of course I will!" said Emily happily.

And so it was arranged.  Emily didn't even have to think about where she wanted her honeymoon.
"It's the one place was always in my mind, since the accident, Peter. New York."

"New York, here we are!" cheered Emily merrily.
"Indeed we are, Mrs. Stone!"
The newly wed couple walked down the street, hand in hand.
"I feel like I know this street." said Emily.  "Like I've been here before."
Then suddenly, Emily saw something that made her gasp in shock and stop suddenly.
In front of her, was a restaurant.  At the front of the restaurant, large letters spelled out 'Chop House Inn'.
"You okay, darling?" asked Peter, sounding concerned.
"My dream. that was in my dream."
"I'm sure it's just a coincidence, dear."

Emily soon forgot about the 'coincidence'.  She was too busy enjoying herself, with her new husband.
A few days after they arrived in New York, Peter took Emily shopping in New York City.  As they walked through the streets, Emily continued to feel that she had been here before.  But she dismissed her thoughts, and tried to enjoy the shopping spree.
As the couple came out of a large shopping mall, Emily saw something that really did make her stop dead in her tracks - standing in front of her was. no, it couldn't be. it was just a coincidence. it looked like the girl from her dream, Lucy Anderson.  After overcoming the shock of seeing a replica of the person in her dream, Emily started to walk again, assuring Peter that she was fine.  But, apparently, the girl recognized her, because the girl ran towards her, with a look of disbelief on her face.
"Amy?  Amy Phillips?"
"Lucy Anderson?" asked Emily slowly.
"Yeah!  Amy, what happened to you?  We all thought you were dead!  You just disappeared!  Your parents. adoptive parents, I mean, were so upset.  We all were."
"Look, I'm afraid you seem to have got the wrong person," interrupted Peter.  "This is my wife, and her name is Emily Stone, not Amy whatever."
Lucy seemed to notice Peter for the first time.
"Who's this, Amy?"
"She's NOT Amy!" repeated Peter.
"Peter. I know this sounds strange. I don't get it. but this is the dream I've told you about. the one I had during my coma."
"What?!  A dream?!  What're you on about Amy?" asked Lucy, half-smiling and half looking confused and surprised.
Then Amy noticed that two men had appeared beside Lucy.
Lucy noticed this too, and quickly said, "Oh!  This is my husband, Ryan!  You remember Ryan, right?! And this is his best mate."  She stopped.
Standing beside Ryan (whom she recognized from her dream), was TYLER!
"TYLER!" she exclaimed.
"Emily, what is going on?" asked Peter.
"Amy. you got someone else. is this why you left?" asked Tyler.
"No, I."
"What's going on, Em?" asked Peter again.
"Amy, why did you leave?" asked Lucy again.
"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" screamed Emily, and everyone became silent.  "I'm sorry for whatever has happened here." she said to Lucy and the two boys, "and I don't understand it any more than you do. you know I'm okay, but I really do have to go. I have a life already, you know."  And she grabbed her husband's hand and walked away quickly, with Lucy, Ryan and Tyler watching her with a look of puzzlement and confusion on their faces.

Back in the hotel room, Peter asked, "now will you tell me what's going on, Emily?"
"I can't really explain it." she began.  "Peter, something really weird has happened.  I don't know how.  But while I was in that coma, I somehow appeared in the USA. and lived here for a year. and then, as I woke up, after one year, I disappeared from here, and appeared back with you."  Amy sighed in confusion and frustration as she finished her explanation.
Peter simply sat there, silent, for a while, obviously thinking.  Then he said, "That's. weird."  He looked baffled.
"Yeah. weird."
"Well, I guess hat just shows ya. strange things do happen!"

Her eyes, in a captive moment mirror,
The screaming veins of thousands.
Surrounded, claustrophobic, alone.
In the hooded darkness who can hear you scream?
'Stay with us child'.

Take the next hit,
Can't fly any higher, couldn't feel any lower.
Things couldn't feel much worse.
Dive into her bloodshot eyes,
Tell me, do you see me?

Is she dreaming or still awake
Because the pain seems so far away, now.
Its so much easier to sleep, to dream, now
'Stay'....please just let me go.

Laura
graduate
Warwickshire

Everything  I feel, you express
You alleviate all my stress
With you I can explain
I'm glad you found me; with your help
I maintain
Before you I had no voice
Therefore I had no choice
But to suppress everything inside
Eventually pain became hard to hide
 Now I flow
You water me down
And like a tree I grow
There's no end to what we can be
Like a soul mate you console me
When I am down, you pick me up
You are the only thing
in my life that isn't corrupt
Oh poetry
Oh poetry
You are the only one
Who Seems
To know me

Everybody talkin 'bout heaven
aint goin' there
why not son?
'cause you aint got no good?
'cause you don't believe?
cause you a negro?
"what kind of negro's?"
I'm talkin' bout old-fashioned negros!
The kind that run a tub of water
"i'm going to run m e a tub of water up to here!"
Lord, have mercy, aint the living gall!
Why? Why?
"why you always arguing with me?
'cause everybody talkin' bout
heaven ...and I aint going there!
Your living under my roof
You believe in my god
talk about old fashioned negros

Rain
10 grader
Seattle Washington

Ah, for only a smile fleeting,
Among slaves of the wakened sleep;
For even the most solemn greeting,
Where emotion lies skin-deep.

None should I find, nor should any find me
In all the mindless hordes, the bell their master
But a lone man treads the peopled waters,
And my heart pounds all the faster.

Do not mock me, fair stranger, pray
I am a mouse among behemoths of vibrant personality-
Else I should sigh and turn away,
To scurry for the nearest classroom-hole.

Remembering, I remember
The music in your voice, the laughter in your eyes,
As we, two lonely isles of existence found
A friendly entity in flesh's crude guise

Enlightened sophomore, novice freshman
But time stands still at our meeting
Cautious smiles, my questioning eyes-
Are the sum of our greeting

Wherefore, then, should I begin?
Torrents of confessions reside
In lieu of awkward silence, but
For fear of myself, remain inside

Life is full of ups and downs.
Smiles and frowns.
It only matters how you deal with it.
Don't let others influence you,
and do what you want to.
Others aren't supposed to make your choices,
so just listen to your inner voices.
Life is full of ups and downs.
Smiles and frowns.
It's how you deal with them
that changes tomorrow.

Fallen Star

The newspaper headlines on that glittering Sunday morning read, “Georgianna is gone; family and friends are at loss.” But these words would never be seen by the 16 year-old high school Jr. who was most commonly known as “Gia”. She would have never guessed that the night she had been anticipating for many months, would be her life’s finale.

In the bathroom of Anthony’s restaurant, Gia glanced at herself in the mirror and smiled.

Thanks mom, she thought to herself. I really am beautiful.

The hours that were spent before she left had been worth it, she decided. Gia’s mom had done her makeup and after all the sitting and primping, she was grateful. Her eyelids had a dusting of cream champagne that brought out her deep brown eyes. Natural dark hair swept up like it was, showed off a beautiful smile, which she thought was her best feature. On her lips shone a subtle amount of strawberry lip-gloss, never being one to wear lipstick. The dress was her favorite of all the ones she had worn; but then again this was Prom, it had to be the best. The white-silver of the silky fabric was covered with small shiny sparkles, so whenever she moved she twinkled.

Leaving the bathroom she sat down with her group, across from her prom date. She remembered how long she waited to be asked. Then one day a boy she barely knew walked into her classroom smiling and holding a dozen roses out to her. He bent down next to her chair and asked her to make him smile, by being his date to Prom.

She sat across from Bret now and although there were many other people in the room, it was as if no one else mattered. Their group of friends had decided to go to dinner after they appeared at the dance. Prom that year had been held in a beautiful old building near the water in downtown Edmonds. The decorating in the halls seemed to go with the night, everything was perfect. The dancing was slow and it seemed like all the pairs of feet dancing on the floor were in love. Balloons decorated the walls as she floated around the room on her date’s arm. She had only been good friends with Bret but the second he asked her to Prom she knew that it could become more.

After eating the wonderful meal and laughing with all her friends, they stood up leave. Exiting the building she felt so special. All eyes on her, glowing in all this beauty. She knew this would be a night to remember forever.

The night was dark and deep. There was no moon to cast a shadow and soften the thick darkness. It had seemed romantic to Gia in the Restaurant, but now outside she was thankful for the light shining from the Anthony’s sign. Standing by the door with the rest of the girls, they waited for their dates. The group had driven in a large van so there would be enough room for the eight. But her date was not one of them who held his hand out to his girl. Bret was missing from the vehicle.

She smiled as the little horn on her new white mustang beeped and Bret pulled up behind the rest. At the last minute the two had decided to take Gia’s most prized possession on this memorable night. Bret jumped out and took her hand. Leading her around to the other side he did not loosen his grasp on her. Gia smiled as he opened the door and helped her in. She pulled her belt over her shoulder and Bret ran around to the other side to jump in. He pulled away from the curb, closely following the others.

            “How was your dinner?” He asked when they got going. The two were headed to a hotel to visit with other friends before going home for the night.

“That was the best salmon I think that I have ever had. Thank you so much for bringing me here.” Laughing she looked over at him. And she meant it. Gia was glad to be here with Bret.

Turning on the radio, Gia heard a widely known trio and it reminded her of the events that had happened the week leading up to this night. A member of TLC had died. The group was one of Gia’s favorites and she was saddened by this loss. Only months earlier, another established artist had lost her life. Aaliyah’s death had been the result of a plane crash that had killed her along with several others. As these events had happened so quickly, Gia couldn’t help wonder, who would be the next star to fall? She sadly sighed and popped in a CD.

A few minutes later the two, still singing along to the music, were passing a sign that read,

“CLICK IT – OR TICKET”

As the sign grew smaller behind them, Gia noticed that the belt was missing from Bret’s shoulder.

“That’s 86$ right there.” She gently pointed out to him. He smiled at her and reached up to pull the belt down over his head. He handed the buckle to Gia so she could fasten it for him.

            “Thanks,” he said, “I am always in such a hurry, I never remember.”

            “It would just be a bummer if you had to pay for something that could save your life anyways.”

            Bret nodded in agreement and turned onto the four lane, two-way highway. He cut quickly into traffic that was moving at 55 mph. This road they traveled on now was thick with vehicles. Lights extended as far as they could see. So many of them that they no longer looked like they belonged to individual cars, but as though they were single lines of red and white lights that bent around the corner to the left.

            The speed at which the events happed next is immeasurable. The two never saw it coming and didn’t even have time to react. While on the gradual bend to the left, a Ford Expedition came barreling out of his lane after illegally passing over a double yellow. The huge vehicle sped into oncoming traffic and swerved head-on into the right side of Gia’s much-loved mustang. The blaring headlights of the Ford blinded Bret and there was no time to turn the wheels in an attempt to miss the collision. The passenger side, where Gia sat, her lips smiling for the last time, was crushed.

            Thankfully, there was no pain for the girl in the white Mustang, her life had been taken instantly. The driver of the other vehicle walked away with small bruises and a heavy conscience. He had been involved in a case of road rage with another vehicle before passing illegally over the double yellow. Gia’s date’s side of the car was merely scratched, a little banged up. Bret, thanks to his shoulder strap and the airbags, suffered only a broken nose and a few bruises, but he would carry scars of this night forever. The last memory he had of his prom date was holding her lifeless body in his arms before the car door was ripped open and he was torn from his seat and away from her forever. I’m sorry to say Gia, but the next star to fall turned out to be you.

I guess my mother had wished she had taken more pictures when I was growing, but she couldn't.  My mom has been a recovering alcoholic for as long as I can remember.  She used to refer to herself as a "recovered alcoholic who happens to drink a lot," but when she saw Henry Kiddiler, the man from down the street that always had a dopey grin and wore a black fedora no matter what time of the year it was, die of liver damage after a long night of binging, I guess she decided it was time to kick the stuff for good.  I never quite took Henry Kiddiler for much of a drinker, but then again, anyone who actually chooses to wear a black fedora day in and day out is slightly off their rocker to begin with.  But still, he just grinned all the time, he was the kind of guy you could walk right up to and say, "Henry, that damn hat is about the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my life," and he'd thank you for your concern or something like that.  Anyways, when my mom decided to stop !
drinking, the little things that she had for years neglected in her state of drunken oblivion began to really bother her.  Her first week sans alcohol, she reupholstered all the chairs in the living room and hired a kid named Jimmy that wore fake leather jackets and chewed on a toothpick to replant the small garden outside our trailer.  But what really bothered my mother most about our life wasn't puke green chairs or the weeds that grew thick and overpowering through the dead and yellowed blades of grass, it was the photo albums given to us for random birthdays, Christmas's, Cinco de Mayo's, and Easters that lay vacant and unused on shelves that lined our living room.  We had about a million of them because apparently a photo album seemed to everyone to be a highly appropriate gift for a drunk and her daughter.  We didn't even own a camera, and even if we had, my mother couldn't have operated it anyways, so years slipped by undocumented, and when our memories of special events faded, it was almost as if they never had happened at all. 

I remember the day my mother decided to clean the living room, I came home from school to find her in tears on the floor, flipping through the empty sheets of photo paper and commenting on what photos she wished she had taken.  She wished she had taken a picture of my 5th birthday, when she had dressed up like Barney (she duct taped pillows that she herself has dyed purple all over her body, and created a horn out of cardboard) all because she couldn't afford to get a clown or anything like that.  She wished that she had taken a picture of when my first tooth had fallen out in the middle of a petting zoo, and a duck bent down and ate it right off the ground.  There were so many pictures that my mother didn't have the chance to take, so to rectify this problem for the future, she immediately ran out and bought a small camera, nothing fancy, just a 35 millimeter that she could use to photograph me as I "shot up like a weed" as she liked to phrase it.  Pretty soon, she had fill!
ed up all the scrap books with some photos of me doing significant things with captions such as "Lela sings in choral concert," and lots of pictures of not so important events, with captions such as "Lela eats bowl of cereal," "Lela watches television," and her favorite "Lela throws up after eating bad Chinese food." This last picture pissed me off.  I mean, when she came home at two o'clock in the morning and ran to the bathroom having had one beer too many, I sure as hell didn't photograph her, I held her god damn hair back, I didn't stand and watch it happening through the lens of some stupid camera.  Don't get me wrong, I love my mother and all, but she sure as hell goes to far with that camera. way too far. She photographed everything, and I soon resigned myself to the fact that she would wake me up most mornings with a little flash bulb and a meek 6-am smile.  "Priceless memories" she would say as she sauntered out of my room, quite pleased with herself.  She always loved to capture me in my "natural state" as she put it, and I guess that was because I wore so much makeup everyday that I didn't look too "natural" for most of the day.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not ugly or anything, my skin's just not the greatest, and so I refuse to leave the house with nothing short of a pound of concealer on my blotchy pepperoni face. 

A few days ago, I took moms' 35 millimeter (or 'Petey' as she lovingly refers to him) to school.  I didn't really want to take any pictures with it, but ever since my mom had become some photographer, she had tried so hard to get me interested in her craft.  She said that photography saved her life (which kinda depressed me, 'cuz isn't your kid supposed to be your inspiration for not drinking any more, not some dopey camera?!) She said that it would mean everything to her if I would just "add to the memories" or something nostalgic and soap opera-y like that.  So I told her I would bring the damn camera around with me, try doing a "day in the life" piece or something. whatever makes her happy.  I felt the little thump-thump against my chest as I walked into school with Petey dangling around my neck.  The Navajo pattern strap my mother had bought for him coiled around my neck, and I could hear the delicate glass lens jingle like a little bell with every step.  The lens was my!
 favorite part of the camera. it was just delicate and beautiful, it wasn't bulky or anything like the hunk of junk it was attached to; it was kinda like a butterfly sitting on top of a mound of garbage or something, blissfully ignorant of its surroundings, it just jingled like a little god damn bell, that's what always got me.  Trish, who I guess you could call my best friend since she was my only friend strolled up to me when she thought no one else was looking and cringed at the sight of Petey. "What the hell's that?" she spat as it I had come in wearing a garbage can around my neck.  Trish had always been more superficial than I had. She was one of those really pretty girls that could be popular if she wanted, but for some reason chose not to be.  We both knew that all Trish had to do was ask, and she would be admitted without a second thought. She was that pretty.  I'm not quite sure why she hung out with me, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it was pity 'cuz my mom wa!
s a drunk.  I hadn't told Trish that my mom had quit drinking, I couldn't bring myself to just in case she thought that now I didn't need her anymore or something, and it would be fine for her to just slip away when my eyes were closed or something, and then there would be nothing I could do about it.  We both knew I was a doormat, and if she chose to leave me, it's not like there was much I would do to stop her.  She looked at my camera with shock and total disgust.  "Say cheese" I said faintly as I clicked the small button freezing Trish's blind rage at my fashion blunder onto a little square of film.  No one else seemed to notice, or if they did notice, they didn't seem to care that I had come with an old 35 millimeter strapped around my neck, and I had no intention of taking it off.  "It's my mom's camera." I muttered faintly as I stared down at the new black leather boots I had bought last weekend.  I used to wear Converse, black ones with thick laces and doodles all ov!
er the sole.  Trish hated my Converse.  "Strictly trailer trash," she called them.  She was always worried about me looking low class.   So I bought these boots, they cost me damn near one hundred bucks from some fancy store at the mall.  That was my entire years allowance, but Trish said they made my toes look "just ever so cute."  They weren't bad I guess, they made my feet hurt all over, and I'm not really a fan of killing animals for shoes, but Trish let me be seen with her more often since I had bought them, which was good, 'cuz I hated being alone in public.  I stared at my shoes, and she was practically screaming now,

"Did you even realize how trailer park that camera looks? Its' lens is practically falling off! Did you even realize?"

"Well Trish, I do live in a trailer park."  Trish always acted like she forgot that I did, and feigned this little "oops what a faux pas" smile every time she referred to something of mine as "trailer park."  Trish didn't live near me, she lived on the other side of town "Strictly Uptown" is how she referred to herself. and boy don't you forget it.  Normally, I would immediately take off the offensive item of clothing and stuff it in my locker before another soul could see me with whatever fashion sin I was committing.  But something really ticked me off about Trish insulting Petey. It wasn't that I necessarily wanted to walk around all day toting him around my neck, but it was just that Petey was my mom's savior in a weird way.  This stupid little camera meant more to my mom than anything else in our little "trailer park" existence.  "Trish, I'm not taking off the god damn camera. so take it or leave it."  Well, I knew what would happen before I said the words. she left it.!
  She could stand my little fashion "quirks" up to some point, but my denying her supreme authority over my closet? That was unacceptable.  She stalked off and left me and the stupid camera standing like jackasses in the middle of school.  I wasn't supposed to stand up for stupid stuff like that, I wasn't supposed to care if Trish told me that I looked trailer trash, but for some reason, I did.  She stomped off, and people turned their heads to look at me, the demented friendless loser with some stupid camera strapped around her neck.  But I guess it didn't matter, I didn't really care, and I turned and walked out of school and back to my home. my trailer. 

My mom was sitting on the floor of the living room exactly as I had left her, writing little captions under random pictures of me playing with the neighbor's cat.  She looked up at me, and her blue eyes pierced my own dirty brown ones.  I looked at her, and I could feel my heart fill with blood, her blood, our family's blood, the blood that was thicker than water, friendships, beer, or a better photo lens.  It wasn't the camera that had saved my mother, it wasn't Petey that was her savior; it was the person standing right in front of the lens.  For weeks, I had been jealous of a god damn camera, the one that had photographed me playing in my one and only soccer game before I realized that I had no foot-eye coordination, the camera that had greeted me when I woke up in the morning, and the little flashing bulb that flashed in my dreams at night.  Those eyes, my mothers eyes, were why I wouldn't let Trish take that stupid camera off my neck.  I was never ashamed of my mother, !
even when she came home from bars and couldn't form sentences, I wasn't ashamed, you gotta understand that.  I was never ashamed of my "strictly trailer trash" wardrobe or of Petey and his little butterfly-on-trash-heap lens.  I was never ashamed, but when I stood in the halls that day, I felt pride. I was proud of who my mother was, and who she had raised me to be.  My mom didn't ask why I wasn't at school; I guess the rivers of mascara running down my face were enough to tip her off.  She dropped the photos that she was holding, and just held me in her arms.  She rocked me the way she would have if I were five.  She rocked me like she should have when I was five.  I guess she wished that she had taken more pictures of me as a child, and I guess without pictures once we forget about them, the memories might as well not have happened, but when my mom rocked me in the corner of my little trailer park existence, it didn't seem like those memories were really gone at all.  And w!
hen we were sitting there, I did something strange; I reached out my hand and felt the cool strain of metal against it.  Shaking, I brought Petey to my face. "Smile," I said between tears and gasps for breath. But by now, my mom was sobbing too, sobbing and laughing and holding me, as if funerals and Christmas' and birthdays had been rolled into one solitary moment.  I clicked the little button over and over again, each time capturing my mother in a state more intoxicated, more beautiful than I had ever seen her before.

Learn to love what you can get
The family you see, all the people you have met

Learn to trust those who seek
To bring you back from being mild and meek

Learn to see the world around
View the beauty, hear its sound

Learn to care about the earth
It gives you far more than your worth

Learn to accept what has to be
That fish must swim, and birds fly free

Learn to speak your mind on things
Let your thoughts run wild, in fact, give them their wings

Everyday
Night falls
As dew settles on the grass
The last bird calls
Twilight soon will pass
Stars twinkle as the moon rises
And animals of all shapes and sizes
Come out to play
And all have their say
When the humans are not around
There is no sound
As dawn breaks
The whole world wakes
And life starts all over again

Why give in and eat?
For one moment of bliss
Look in the mirror
Before the deadly kiss.
You don't need it
In order to survive.
Without it,
You'll feel more alive.
The words are false,
They only teach you lies.
You eat the fat
And you'll be the first who dies.
Don't listen to your "friends"
When they tell you to eat
They just want you to lose
And see your defeat.
You don't need them
When you have me,
Do what I tell you
And you'll be what you want to be.
I'll never leave you
I'll stay by your side,
Open up your thoughts
And let me inside.
I'll help you to
Finally reach your goal.
The less you eat,
The more you feel full.

A Child Called It is a gripping biography by David Pezler.  David Pezler had a terrible life as a child, and had to fight for survival.
As a young child, he was beaten by his mother. He was treated very badly, unlike his brothers who were unharmed.
He had to sleep in the basement, and had nothing to keep him warm for when he went to sleep, so he had to keep himself warm with his own body heat.
It is an amazing book of his horrific childhood, and has 2 sequels, of 'Lost Boy' and 'A Man Named Dave'.
It is terrible to think that there are some people who could do such terrible things, to innocent children, and these people deserve to be put away.
I think that David Pezler was a very brave and strong man to have been able to live with it for such a long time.
I would definitely rate this book a book, a 5/5.

Perceived your alluring Facade,
I'm breathing in your vacant aura,
Movement revolves around us,
But you'll never observe mid-focus,

Walking absent from you, walking away...

Redistribution steals you away from frozen ground,
I watch as it takes you from lost to found,
The foundations in our space are shifting,
And I'll in no way look upon your drifting,

Walking absent from you, drifting away....

"Justin, can't you drive any faster?" I asked, with as much patience as a three year old.
"Yes, but what makes you think I will? This isn't the auto bond, and I haven't gone completely crazy yet. We won't be there any quicker anyways, Lea. It takes days to get to Colorado, especially from New Hampshire. Besides I've been driving all day. Why doesn't someone else take a turn?" Justin searched the car for an available driver. Seeing David asleep he said, "Noelle, next stop you're driving. I've had enough of that back seat driver."
 "Whatever, I like to drive! We'll be in the Rockies in no time at all with me behind the wheel!" Noelle answered with a grin.
"Yeah, you and your lead foot." I said.
The car ride there was basically speechless. We had the music going, and I guess it just lulled us all into a trance. Kansas seemed to go on forever. You could see a tree, and it appeared to stay in one place. Besides that, Kansas was very flat and long. Contours in the land began to appear somewhere once we got into Colorado. Snow is only found on the white-capped peaks of the Rockies in the summer. So naturally it was the place for us to go. We were adventurous and loved cold weather.

Salvation! Civilization! We finally arrived on Thursday evening, just in time for sunset. Rays of brilliant light spread across the clouds. Majestic colors spread over the horizon, with a little patch of sun shining between twin peaks. I looked over at my companions; the sunlight was beaming on their faces, illuminating their smiles as they watched the sun as it slowly crept into the mountainside. When the light had faded away we turned to each other. All we could do was smile; there was no other explaining this natural phenomenon we had witnessed.
"C'mon guys we better go find our condo." David said suddenly. He was always the most organized and time wise.
"Yeah, good idea, I think it's this way." Noelle put in.
"Up that staircase?!" I said shakily. There was no way I wanted to go up over the stairs; I could see through the gaps in between the stairs.
"You want me to carry you?" Justin offered.
"Sure. Thanks a bunch!" Grateful would be an understatement; he had my gratitude.
"This way she can close her eyes! Ha ha." David laughed.
"Eh, shut up David!" I retorted.
"But I'm right, aren't I?" David said. "You're horrified of looking over the edge. If he carries you, you won't have to look over, or through the stairs." Then he stopped when I looked away ashamed.
 I managed to ignore him until I caught a glimpse of the condo. Mountain view, hot tub, it was great! We were all ready to stay the next two weeks. It was well worth the fearsome climb.
After the first night at the Arapahoe basin, we climbed out of bed and into the car. The morning was full of smiles and wide eyes as we gaped at the spacious and breathtaking mountains. The slopes flowed down the side of the peak into a basin. At the bottom of the basin there was a menagerie of stores, lodges, and ski shops. And just to think this would be our temporary home! The conditions were going to be chilly with some gusts of wind, but I guess it's as good as we could have expected.  The Rockies are always a bit chilly and windy. Lift lines were short and the slopes weren't crowded. We whizzed down the curving mountainside, flying over the stumps and moguls. Morning snow had settled on the pines, making it look like Christmas in July. Deep greens from the trees enveloped the basin. And the wide white expanse stood at our feet, begging us to ski down. The tracks from previous skiers and snowboarders guided us down to the bottom.
We ate lunch at the local eatery that other tourists suggested, and to our surprise it was quite small. It reminded me of one of the restaurants that you would see in the old western movies: pleasantly plump waitresses, and an older gentleman serving at the bar. While drinking coffee, we mulled over the plans for that afternoon. Playing it by ear sounded perfect; it was vacation. We departed the diner with smiles. Somehow a small place like that is just the place to keep a good day going.
Later that day, Noelle and I spent some time away from the guys. We ventured to a different part of the mountain, the summit. The East side Gondola was the only transportation up. It was also the highest cable. I hate heights. My knees quake and my forehead beads with perspiration every time I even think about high places. I've never even gone on a Ferris wheel without flinching. Noelle has no problems with going on stairs with spaces in between them: I did. I was envious of her for that, but I felt secure with her there. Noelle was my best friend so she would comfort me just by being there. Maybe I could've thought the gondola traveled on the ground or something. Like a mind game and I could imagine it was a train. Still, the gondola didn't come near to being "low". My imagination didn't go that far. Neither of us had ever been on a gondola. We probably wouldn't be going on another one for a long while.
There was one other person in the car. Her name was Hannah. She was younger than both Noelle and myself by about two years.  However, she looked like a professional. She was a native Rockies girl. We talked to her while the car waited for passengers. Knowing the mountain well, she told us about the gondola. The gondola was made with strong cable and steel brackets. She reassured me that nothing could ever go wrong.
"There's nothing that could go wrong Lea. Don't worry!"  Noelle said, trying to comfort me by repeating Hannah.
"Are you sure, Noey? You've never been on one of these things either!" I replied, gripping tightly to the side rail.
Hannah turned to me and said, "Eh, don't worry, these things are sturdy and reliable.  Like I said before, around here things are all right."
"Well it's too late now, Lea, we're moving," Noelle answered me as the door mechanically closed.
"Oh God!  Why did we have to come to the Rockies?! Why weren't we satisfied with the slopes back east?! Couldn't we've just skied in the winter?!" I squealed.
"Settle down! We'll be fine! Ahh! You're so nervous." Noelle said to me, a bit irritated.
That was the end of the quarrel with my nervousness. My eyes scanned the interior; four plain walls with wide glass panes didn't catch my attention for very long. Two fluorescent bulbs lit the car. I saw the small heater attached to the side, just large enough to heat the 10 by 12ft space. My eyes were stopped on my companions' faces. Noelle was the kind of person that took everything softly, and wasn't afraid of much of anything. She always looked the world in the face with her navy blue eyes determined and almost black hair cropped around her chin. Hannah had bright blue-green eyes that seemed to say, "I'm coming through, so watch out!" Sitting side by side they looked like an antithesis of one another, Noelle with the dark hair and light complexion, and bright-blonde Hannah. Both, however, were smiling which made them separate from myself.

In the midst that daydream the lights flickered a bit and went out. I backed to the wall, groping for a rail. Oh my God, oh my God we're gonna fall- No we can't. It'll all be fine, it's just practice. The cables are strong. My mind was arguing with itself, to be apprehensive or to be calm? I thought.
"Noey, where are you? Are you okay?" I cried.
"I'm right here, I'm fine. The lights just went out, I'm sure we're still on our way up to the top. We'll be fine, just be quiet!" I know she said this to help me, but I could sense she didn't completely believe what she was saying. Her voice was shaky and I could hear her boots scratching the floor. Besides that, she didn't really help by shutting me up!
Hannah was cool, humming an unrecognizable tune. Maybe these things do happen all the time. How would I have known? The gondola lurched to one side groaning eerily.  A creaking sound came from the bracket attaching us to the cable.
"I don't think we're moving to the summit anymore!" I whispered, afraid any sound might disturb our secure position.
A little light in the corner came on indicating emergency procedures. It said to duck low and move to the center. I moved as cautiously as my bulky skiing gear would allow. But it didn't seem to help any; we lurched further and further to the right side. Hannah's humming stopped, and I glued my face to the floor window. I watched the skiers below on the slope, all looking up as if to warn us of our inevitable fate.
"Do you think this a drill? Do they do these things often?"
"I don't know, Lea. I really don't know. I've never been here before. Remember?" Noelle hissed.
I heard something snap. It was more of a cracking noise, but I knew it must've been the cable. We were weightless as the car flew closer and closer to the slope below. There was nothing any of us could do but to hold each other.  A whistling sound came through the small cracks in the walls and floor of the car. As we got faster, the sound got louder, until it was unbearable. The sound wouldn't go away. It just kept growing and growing in volume. I'm going deaf, I thought, but that was the least of my problems. We were going to fall forever, if it weren't for the slopes below.
The ground rose quickly. We had hit the ground and were sliding down the mountain. We were flying over the terrain and the powder. Fortunately slopes out there weren't very icy; the snow formed a cushion for our fall. Unfortunately, falling out of the sky makes a hard impact. As the gondola, our only means of survival, ripped down the mountainside, a little light streamed through the thick layer of snow that had coated the car. I saw Noelle's face anguished and she was just about as frightened as I was. I grabbed for her hand, but we hit something.  My body was jolted away as I flew backwards into the interior of the car. Hannah soared weightlessly across the car, her eyes wide with fright and her arms flailing. I could hear screaming, it had to have been all of us because that's all I could hear-screaming. The whistling was inaudible. Anything else I can't remember.
"Lea! Noelle! Is anyone here? We're here to help you! Answer if you can!" I heard the voice but I couldn't make any sound.  No sound would come out.  I felt my throat tighten as I tried to speak. My head began to spin. Immediately I worried about Noelle, where was she?  Was she okay? How was she doing? I heard a moan; it wasn't Noelle's moan.  Then I remembered Hannah. Was she okay?  I couldn't see either of my companions. It was pitch black all except a strand of light on Noelle's eyes, and they were closed.  Everything in my mind was mixed together, but I heard a muffled barking. Everything I could see became blurry. There was a scratching sound coming from above me, but I blacked out again.
Five days later in the hospital I awoke to David and Justin's faces. That was the happiest I've ever been to see anyone, and seeing good friends was even better.
"Where's Noelle?" I asked.
"Right over there. She's sleeping. She asked about you too," David said with a smile.
"You're ok!" Justin said, rising from his chair.
"Yeah, I'm okay."
" 'Okay'? How can you possibly be 'okay'? You just fell like a thousand feet out of the air. I'm surprised you're not dead!" David said; trying to make me laugh- it worked.
"Guys, you're great!" I said
 "Hey, is Lea up yet?" came a voice from the other bed.
"Yea, I'm up Noey. Are you up, or are you talking in your sleep again?" I said succeeding in making her laugh. I was so happy she was okay and that she was still there to talk to. "That had to be the scariest thing that has ever happened to me before," It was true. Nothing scary ever happened to me.
"Yea, but at least you weren't by yourself! Although