9. A Study in Solitude

Walking slowly with her eyes closed, Emery tries to calm her constantly racing heart for just a moment. She takes everything in: the soft blades of grass running along the bare soles of her feet, the tiny rocks poking out of the shallow dirt and gently scraping across her skin. There's hardly any sound here, only the soft rush of the stream. No birds. No signs of any wildlife. Nothing.
Emery always hated quiet.  She could never concentrate when it surrounded. She just wasn't the kind of girl who found peace in silence. So she does as she always did in situations like this and relies on electronics.
She grips her iPod classic tightly with one hand, reaching up with her other to fit the buds into her ears, one at a time. Then with a slight pressure against the play button, the music ripples into her head. She stands like this for a long time, gently swaying to the familiar but oddly distant rhythm. Where had she heard it before? She doesn't care. At least, not anymore. She no longer has anything to worry about.

Not far off in that same garden, a young man watches the swaying girl.
"So young," he says simply to himself, as if he's ignoring the other boy standing behind him, who shrugs.
"They don't choose to be here, Ethan. You didn't."
"No," Ethan replies, "but some do."
He tugs some blades from the dirt and rubs them between his fingers, leaving green stains on his skin.
"She doesn't know we're here," he says, letting the blades slip from his fingers.
"No," his friend replies, "I don't think she wants to. Perhaps she wants to be alone."
"Why?" Ethan asks, "Who would want to be alone in a place like this?"
He looks up and meets his friends pale grey eyes, and he shrugs. "This may just be her solitude, Ethan. Everyone has different interests. This must be hers. She's getting what she never had in her life."
Ethan glances back at the girl, who keeps her eyes shut as she listens to her music.
"Perhaps."
His friend moves to walk away, but Ethan stays where he is on the ground, watching as the girl starts to slowly spin in circles around one of the garden fountains.
"Solitude," he says to himself.

8. (still not named) part 3

~Kiri~

I wake in an slightly uncomfortable position, lying on my side with a hand pressed over my mouth. Fear shudders through me for a moment until a voice says, "Don't scream. I won't hurt you."
I shut my eyes momentarily then take in a shaky breath as the hand leaves my lips. The it grips my arm and pulls me to my knees. When I open my eyes again I meet dark brown ones, the iris' dotted with worry and determination.
"Come with me," the girl says hurriedly, tugging on my arm. She manages to drag the disoriented me to my feet and towards one of the village homes, all of which look unfamiliar to me. Where am I? This can't be my village.
"Wait-" I say, only to have a hand clap over my mouth again, but not by the girl. I freeze as I'm pressed against a hard chest.
"Not so loud," a deep voice behind me commands. The girl lets go of my hand and turns.
"Icarus," she urges, "Not now."
The boy restraining me ignores her, and as he leans closer I feel his breath against my earlobe. "We're trying to help you out, so just shut up and follow us."
Perhaps under different circumstances, maybe I would've done something rebellious to protect my dignity, but instead I nod against his hand and he releases me.
"The hideout, Sif," he says to the dark-eyed girl, who nods and takes my wrist, pulling me away. As she does, I look back at the boy, Icarus, who meets my gaze. As Sif turns a corner and drags me behind her, I tear my eyes away from Icarus' slightly relieved to escape his dark grey iris', speckled with gold, like lightning striking a stormy sea.
"What's going on?" I ask Sif, trying to shake my hand away from her's, but she holds tight. "Where are you taking me."
"Quiet," she says simply, tugging me further and further into the darkness of the unlit village.
"Why do I have to-"
My breath is knocked out of me as she throws the two of us to the right. The back of my skull meets the hard red clay of the walls, and I gasp.
"We have to hide," Sif hisses in my ear, "You have to be quiet. Now."
"Why," I choke. "Who are we hiding fro-"
She puts an arm across my chest, pressing me tighter against the wall and quieting me. Then I hear it.
The soft shuffle of feet.
I look over at Sif, but she doesn't meet my gaze. Her seemingly warm brown eyes stare straight forward, cold against the darkness that surrounds us. The shuffling grows closer, and following it is forced, shallow breath coming out in heaves. Sif's arm tightens against me as it nears the end of the wall we're pressed against.
It stops, and I turn my head towards it as it stares at the road in front of it. For a moment, I expect it to turn and notice us, but its hooded face stays hidden from me as it continues down the path, its dark cloak trailing behind it in the dirt. As it passes a few more houses, seemingly out of hearing range, Sif whispers,
"We're hiding from the Collectors."

7. (Still don't know what to call it) part 2

~Noah~

The trees thicken, their spindly, needled branches gently scraping my legs and face. I blink against them as I run, every once in a while looking to my right as the sun slowly dips down, further and further behind the mountain. I have to hurry.
Luckily, as this thought rang in my mind for the umpteenth time, a new light catches my attention, and I turn to see flames leaping up from a large torch reaching out from a guard tower nearby. Heart clenching in hope, I quicken my gait, ignoring the sharp thorns burying themselves into my feet as I tear my way through bushes. I stop near the edge of the wood, resting my body against the barked trunk of a large pine. I eye the tower, then look towards the main building, one small mark signifying my destination.
A small carving of a feather etched into the wood.
I surge forward, ignoring the shouts from the guard tower that soon grow softer as the sound of my ragged breath reaches my ears. I throw myself towards the opening of the hall, running my hand along the wood for balance as I pass it. My finger slides over the carving before the rest of my body crosses into the hall. I run, my feet thankful for the soft but sturdy dirt floor beneath me. I let out a gasp as I see the large wooden doors. Then I notice the armed guard in front of it. The dark-skinned soldier spots me immediately.
"Stop!" he shouts.
I open my mouth but can't manage words to come out with my gasps. Instead of following his orders, I decide to use something stronger than words. I come up to him at a run, stopping just short of him and resting my palm against his bare chest. He steps back, but my hand stays on his skin. He reaches out to knock my hand away, but he can't seem to get his fingers around my wrist. A barrier-like force keeps him from harming me.
I don't have time to explain, I urge, my words reaching him through my fingers spreading further across his dark skin, My name is Noah. I mean your master no harm, but I must see him this instant.
The guard falls away from me, stunned. I push past him, thankful when he makes no move to stop me. I through myself against the door and sprint into the room, immediately falling to the carpet of animal skins. My body shudders, finally giving way after hours of exhaustion.
Then I feel two hands on my shoulders, gently holding me upright. Then a palm rests against my forehead.
"Ila," I mutter, my lips barely able to utter the name.
"Yes," the man answers softly, "I'm here, prophetess. What have you to tell me."
I meet his eyes, as equally dark as my own, then shut them, feeling my breath leave me for a moment before coming out in heaves.
"Noah," Ila says worriedly. I reach out to him, touching his chest like I had the guards, and muster that thought once more before falling into the darkness of sleep.
The Marksmen have returned. 

6. (I don't know what to name it yet!) part 1 :P

~Noah~

I run.

I don't know what else to do. 

I'm lost. 

Alone.

I've no home to go back to. At least, not anymore. 

I'm a stranger in this land. 

Worst case scenario, I'll get picked up by soldiers.

But I've gotten this far, and I know who I need to see.

So I run, the soles of my feet sore and burned from my attempts to leap over the flames now far behind me. Even still, black smoke billows against the sky above, dark against the pleasant color of the evergreens reaching far into the wood. Even though I've reached the wider part of the forest, far from my abandoned village, I don't rest. I can't, even though I know that I'm not being followed. What soldier would follow a simple girl when ranks of angry farms-men stood in front of them. I clutch my chest at the remembrance of my brave kinsman, the one reason I was able to escape into the safety of the forest. I owed them, and I would make it to my destination. I tug my thick woolen cloak tighter around my thin shoulders and continue my quick gait, determined to get to the other village before nightfall.

Because I'm afraid if I don't make it by then, it will be too late. Already I can feel the one thought I'd played over in my head start to slip away, no matter how much I think of it.

That one thought that may well save us all.

5. Future Movies

Les Miserables-

I'm really mad about this one, because I've been looking forward to it for so long only to be greatly disappointed. I mean, sure, I'm being pretty biased by immediately fixing all my hatred onto Amanda Seyfried, but the girl uses too much vibrato and I just can't see her as Cosette. Also, in the scene where Javert is releasing Valjean, they freaking changed the words in the script, and that really makes me angry. If you're going to make it a musical movie, then at least leave the songs as they are. They didn't need to change anything, the regular words would've fit perfectly. Soooo yes basically if they changed Cosette, I'd be cool with it. And Eponine is freaking perfect in so many ways.













The Hobbit:

I'm freaking out about this. I get to go see it next friday and I'm just like asjdsdjfhsfhaskfasjdsaakfajflasjfaksflasjfasfhkasfkasdfjakdf. Enough said there.

Warm Bodies:

This looks really good. It's like a romantic comedy about a zombie falling in love with a human. I haven't read the book yet, but it is currently beside me in my purse, so yes. I'm excited about this one as well.

4. Lonni ~part 1

Alright, I'm sick of the cliche beginnings of stories, so I'm just going to start this out like I was taught in third grade English.
Hello.
My name is Lonni Creever, and believe it or not, I am your completely average teenager. I'm about to finish my third year of high school, and truthfully, I've no idea what I'm going to do over the summer. Even though I have a sorry excuse for a car, I don't have a job yet, and my folks say that if I don't get one soon then college is looking pretty far away, even though right now it's hard enough to see as it is.
"Just get a job, then," my acquaintance (okay, friend) Emmy from first period history says to me constantly.
On other occasions I would just shrug the suggestion off with a snort, but today I meet her gaze loosely and ask, "Do you know where I can find one?"
That's how I ended up where I am now, standing in front of a large (and almost threatening) office building. I gently tap the toe of my boot against the sidewalk.
"Newspaper, eh?" I question indirectly, looking down the sidewalk on both sides. Finding it empty, I take a step forward and wrap my fingers around the door before turning the knob.
I call into the foyer of the building, or at least, I would've if a hand hadn't hastily snatched mine.
"Hel-."
I'm tugged away from the door and pulled a bit further down the walk, away from the building. I require a moment to come to my senses before tugging my hand away.
"Let go of me!" I try to hide the rising terror in my voice, which fades as soon as my hand rests again at my side. My captor turns to me, and I promise, I don't lose my breath, even though I want to very badly.
The boy looks at me, tossing a long tail of black hair behind him and focusing his dark eyes on my own green. For a moment, the message they send is urgent, screaming. Then he softens and looks away.
"Sorry about that," he says, "it was uncalled for."
I look at him for a moment, then see the packet in his hand not unlike the one gripped in my own.
"Hey," I say, "If you want the job instead, go for it."
He doesn't meet my eyes, only raises a hand to rake his fingers through his hair, causing a few wispy strands to fall from the tail. He doesn't really seem like the chatty type, so I decide to finish it there, as much I think I'll regret my choice later.
"Go ahead," I say, "I'll back off."
He shakes his head slowly, eyes still refusing to meet mine again. I bite my lip.
"That's not what I pulled you away for," he says, obviously staying quiet out of confusion, not because he's shy.
"Well, whatever the reason, it's okay," I say, turning. "It's okay."
"Sorry," he says again.
"It's cool," I call back without turning. Little did I know that the headache and fever that will settle in later tonight will not be caused by stress, but because that boy had grabbed my hand.

3. Searching for Refuge

"I'm so tired."

That was the one thought that ran on repeat in my mind as I walked along the sidewalk. Rain had fallen earlier that day, and the heat from this painfully scorching night brought up small wafts of steam from the slick concrete. Even among this heavy heat, I still felt a chill shudder along my neck every once in a while. Once again the phone in my back pocket vibrated, startling me enough to make me slow my gait. I took a deep breath and ignored the device, stepping. I didn't know who the caller is, and honestly, I couldn't care at that moment. I hugged my arms loosely, my fingers gently gripping the material of my light material of my long-sleeved collared shirt.

"Just one more block."

...

"I think."

I sighed heavily at this, turning my head away from the street and towards the empty park before me. Near a patch of thirsty tulips I spotted a bench.

Yes, a bench.

The weary soles of my feet begged for rest, and I took a moment to digest this thought, all the while gazing at the smooth marble seat. 

"But I'm so close."

I stepped forward, back on the sidewalk and away from the bench. As I quickened my stride I slipped the phone from my pocket and flipped it open, my thumb already flying as it punched numbers. Thankfully, as late as it is, the receiver picked up on the second ring.

"Kally?"

"Hey," I said in a soft voice. "Can I come over?"

"Sure." He sounded tired. I dreaded for a moment that I'd woken up, then he said."I was just studying. Do you need me to pick you up?"

"Actually," I said, stopping my gait. "I'm kinda already here."

A small hesitation. "Oh. Okay."

I looked up at one of the small windows on the third floor and spot a shadow behind the curtains. "C'mon in, then."

I slapped the cellphone closed and continued looking at the window, waiting for the shadow to move away. Then it was drawn back, and the boy looked down at me, a small, almost pitying smile on his face. But I knew better. It wasn't pity. He just knew me.

I step towards the door and rest my hand on the knob, wondering why it took me such a long time to find my refuge.