I'm in my room, quietly lying in my bed. I twirl a red rose between my fingers my it's stem. A whole bouquet of them sits on my desk, happy in its new glass vase. It was one of my presents for my birthday. That's right, my birthday. So why am I not happy?
It's because he's not here.
Dylan had left two days ago for his band tour to Michigan. His plane doesn't get in for a few more hours, and it will be too late for him to come see me. I sigh and let the rose fall to the floor. Then I roll over and try to sleep.
Ping.
Is it raining?
Ping.
No, not rain.
Silence. Then, a soft knock on my window. I sit up fast, seeing a face smiling back at me through the glass.
"Dylan?" I shout in a whisper, throwing the window open. He climbs through, straightens up, and then grins down at me before opening his arms up for a hug.
"Happy birthday!"
I want to slap him for being so dim-witted. Who comes to someone's house at two in the morning? Instead, I fall into his embrace.
"Idiot," I laugh against his chest.
We sit with our backs resting against my bed, my head on his shoulder.
"I told you I wouldn't miss your birthday," he says.
"I thought you were joking," I reply, then playfully poke him. "So, what did you get me?"
He hands me a plain white rose. I take it and twirl it in my fingers like I had the red one. "Pretty," I say, giving him a funny look," did you get it from Mrs. Garnia's yard?"
He shrugs, then reaches into his pocket, revealing a slightly crumpled piece of paper.
"Did you write me a song?"
He smiles and starts to read, picking up the fallen red rose as he does.
"This rose is red,"
He nods to the one in my hands," that rose is white,"
He moves closer.
"Will you give me the honor
Of a small kiss tonight?"
I smile and lean into his kiss.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Blue Eyes- Part Two
"It's always the same, the fear, no way out."
"Sam."
I hear a whisper as Avi slowly crawls beside me, coming shoulder to shoulder with me. I feel her warmth, but it's worse than usual. She's burning up from the inside.
I don't even bother to ask if she's okay, since I know what answer I'll get. She rests her forehead against my shoulder. Her breath is hot against my arm, uneven gasps. She's not okay, and she'll never be okay again.
I've become somewhat close to her in these past weeks. It's a painful and strange process, but we're here, so we should make the most of it. Really, Avi is the only girl I've ever gotten close to.
Avi reaches over to take my hand gently, her newly-healed skin smooth against mine. That's the problem with us: we heal, so we're the perfect ones for torture.
To be honest, I've never learned Avi's power. I guess it's not that strong, seeing as we're still in this godforsaken place. But maybe she doesn't have one at all. Maybe she's just a little bit normal.
"Sam," she whispers. Her voice is hoarse, but still sounds like chiming bells. "Will you sing?"
I think for a moment. Then, after an awkward hesitation, put my arm around her shoulders, part my lips, and sing her to sleep.
"Sam."
I hear a whisper as Avi slowly crawls beside me, coming shoulder to shoulder with me. I feel her warmth, but it's worse than usual. She's burning up from the inside.
I don't even bother to ask if she's okay, since I know what answer I'll get. She rests her forehead against my shoulder. Her breath is hot against my arm, uneven gasps. She's not okay, and she'll never be okay again.
I've become somewhat close to her in these past weeks. It's a painful and strange process, but we're here, so we should make the most of it. Really, Avi is the only girl I've ever gotten close to.
Avi reaches over to take my hand gently, her newly-healed skin smooth against mine. That's the problem with us: we heal, so we're the perfect ones for torture.
To be honest, I've never learned Avi's power. I guess it's not that strong, seeing as we're still in this godforsaken place. But maybe she doesn't have one at all. Maybe she's just a little bit normal.
"Sam," she whispers. Her voice is hoarse, but still sounds like chiming bells. "Will you sing?"
I think for a moment. Then, after an awkward hesitation, put my arm around her shoulders, part my lips, and sing her to sleep.
Friday, September 28, 2012
A Prayer of Thanks
There are many simple things I'm thankful for. For instance, the thick wooden shutters we have over the bare windows of our one room home. The softness of the hand-made quilt on our bed. The partial deafness my husband has. Do you want to know why I'm thankful for these things? I guess I can tell you. You see, you might not think that these things have any concern in this story, but they are actually very important. For a new couple in a war-laced village, we don't get a lot of good things, quiet being one. But this time is different. I know when I close the door behind me, letting my fingers glide a bit over the rough surface. I hold my breath and lean into the door, smelling the sweet old cedar.
"Are you all right, Ella?"
I open my eyes, seeing my husband, John, sitting in his chair at the table. He'd cleared it after supper, giving me time to wash up at the river. I hadn't made it that far, so my hands are still a bit dirty from preparing the food. I hope he doesn't notice.
"Fine." I smile, coming away from the door and striding to the window, glancing out for a moment before closing the heavy shutters. My hand lingers on the latch before leaving it, the cold clinging to my fingers. I turn back to John , who's giving me a strange look. I smile sweetly.
"I'm just a bit tired."
He smiles back a bit and says he's going to get in bed. I nod and go behind a curtain we keep in the corner of our small room so I can change into my nightgown. Walking past the window, I already hear the chaos building up outside. I crawl into the bed beside John and pull the warm quilt up to my neck. Almost as soon as I lay down, though, John lifts his head.
"Did you hear something just now? Outside?"
I shake my head no. But I do. I hear so many horrible things, screams that ring in my ears. But he can't hear them. I roll onto my back so that I'm looking up at the ceiling, gazing at the delicate swirls my sister helped me paint when John and I had first bought the house. That was two months ago. I wonder if my sister will come and visit John and I after the war blows over.
John lays back down and looks at me. I roll away from him and hope he doesn't notice my trembling shoulders. He shouldn't know. I don't want him too.
His hand rests on my arm, and he feels me shaking. I know this because he rolls me over and pulls me against him. I don't want him to hold me. Then he'll know I'm crying. He'll know I'm scared.
But I let him wrap his arms around me and nestle my head under his chin. My hands grip his shirt as the sounds outside grow louder. Closer. I feel his tears against my hair, feel him trembling a bit as well. I expect him to question me. Ask me why I didn't tell him sooner.
It was already too late.
Why I hid it from him.
I didn't want you to be scared.
We could have escaped.
There was no where to go. Soldiers were everywhere. Those evil soldiers with their screaming rifles and flaming torches.
Such awful flames.
But he doesn't question me. He only holds me against him, not being bothered by my sob-racked body and the tears I leave against his shirt. I love John. I know that when I'm with him, I'm safe. I'm home.
And the two of us held each other when the flames came.
"Are you all right, Ella?"
I open my eyes, seeing my husband, John, sitting in his chair at the table. He'd cleared it after supper, giving me time to wash up at the river. I hadn't made it that far, so my hands are still a bit dirty from preparing the food. I hope he doesn't notice.
"Fine." I smile, coming away from the door and striding to the window, glancing out for a moment before closing the heavy shutters. My hand lingers on the latch before leaving it, the cold clinging to my fingers. I turn back to John , who's giving me a strange look. I smile sweetly.
"I'm just a bit tired."
He smiles back a bit and says he's going to get in bed. I nod and go behind a curtain we keep in the corner of our small room so I can change into my nightgown. Walking past the window, I already hear the chaos building up outside. I crawl into the bed beside John and pull the warm quilt up to my neck. Almost as soon as I lay down, though, John lifts his head.
"Did you hear something just now? Outside?"
I shake my head no. But I do. I hear so many horrible things, screams that ring in my ears. But he can't hear them. I roll onto my back so that I'm looking up at the ceiling, gazing at the delicate swirls my sister helped me paint when John and I had first bought the house. That was two months ago. I wonder if my sister will come and visit John and I after the war blows over.
John lays back down and looks at me. I roll away from him and hope he doesn't notice my trembling shoulders. He shouldn't know. I don't want him too.
His hand rests on my arm, and he feels me shaking. I know this because he rolls me over and pulls me against him. I don't want him to hold me. Then he'll know I'm crying. He'll know I'm scared.
But I let him wrap his arms around me and nestle my head under his chin. My hands grip his shirt as the sounds outside grow louder. Closer. I feel his tears against my hair, feel him trembling a bit as well. I expect him to question me. Ask me why I didn't tell him sooner.
It was already too late.
Why I hid it from him.
I didn't want you to be scared.
We could have escaped.
There was no where to go. Soldiers were everywhere. Those evil soldiers with their screaming rifles and flaming torches.
Such awful flames.
But he doesn't question me. He only holds me against him, not being bothered by my sob-racked body and the tears I leave against his shirt. I love John. I know that when I'm with him, I'm safe. I'm home.
And the two of us held each other when the flames came.
Blue Eyes- Part One
"Blue eyes just smile to the world."
You know when you're in a dream, and while you're in it, you realize you're dreaming? There's that one thing happening that has to be impossible, like you're fighting vampires or running from a dinosaur. Well, in my dream, I'm flying. Wind rushes past me and whips at my clothes. I shut my eyes. No, I'm falling, falling faster and faster and faster. I reach out, for something, anything.
"Sam!"
A hand grabs mine, and I'm gazing into shining blue eyes, reflected with sparkling stars against a navy sky.
I hit the ground, lie there for a moment.
The ground is cold beneath me, stone. Of course, stone. That's what all dungeons are made of. I struggle to my knees, body tired from continuous torture. That girl, Avi, is probably still up there. I can picture her limp against her shackles, blood dripping, pouring. I shake my head, feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach. These last two weeks have been hard, but she was something that made it bearable, with her soft grey eyes, silky brown hair, kind smile. Many nights we sat together, her head on my shoulder, mine against the top of hers, out hands gently entwined as we coaxed each other into the terrible dream world we had to face. I put my face in my hands, wondering how much longer I can take this, and how much longer she can last.
You know when you're in a dream, and while you're in it, you realize you're dreaming? There's that one thing happening that has to be impossible, like you're fighting vampires or running from a dinosaur. Well, in my dream, I'm flying. Wind rushes past me and whips at my clothes. I shut my eyes. No, I'm falling, falling faster and faster and faster. I reach out, for something, anything.
"Sam!"
A hand grabs mine, and I'm gazing into shining blue eyes, reflected with sparkling stars against a navy sky.
I hit the ground, lie there for a moment.
The ground is cold beneath me, stone. Of course, stone. That's what all dungeons are made of. I struggle to my knees, body tired from continuous torture. That girl, Avi, is probably still up there. I can picture her limp against her shackles, blood dripping, pouring. I shake my head, feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach. These last two weeks have been hard, but she was something that made it bearable, with her soft grey eyes, silky brown hair, kind smile. Many nights we sat together, her head on my shoulder, mine against the top of hers, out hands gently entwined as we coaxed each other into the terrible dream world we had to face. I put my face in my hands, wondering how much longer I can take this, and how much longer she can last.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
I'm posting this for my friend, cuz I need her to see it, and I thought this would be a good way for her to view it. By the way, it's, like, my new favorite song. Don't judge. Listen to it, like it, love it. Here you go.
This is Colin Morgan and Bradley James from the cast of Merlin singing You're the Voice by John Farnham. It's amazing.
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