Choice 1

Every person feels emotion; the difference between each person is how great the feeling is. One person can feel sad, while the person sitting next to them is enduring the most intoxicating, overwhelming suffering the sad person could not begin to understand. Many of the less emotional call the sweeping emotional people drama queens when, in reality, they could not imagine such a terrible hurt. Here, we stepped into the life of Emma, who suffered from what she thought was a disorder, almost drove herself crazy every time she felt that emptiness creep into her heart. And her story begins…             Emma enjoyed being alone. She had friends, she had many friends she just did not mind having her own time once in awhile. Her friends did not understand her. Sometimes they would look over her after a joke was told to see a shade of the coldest blue instead of a glowing orange that was evoked from the laughter in the group. Other instances, she would be happiest of all shining yellow above all of them. She knew she was feeling everything different, she just could not understand the reason.             Teen hormones were always thrown out there by her mother as the reason for the problem. Her sister had often times called her bipolar. Her father was oblivious just as the rest of her family, she knew how to put on a mask.             Lately, Emma was feeling worse. All around glum. She stuttered and lost interest in everything about her. She had become more quiet than usual and was not willing to open her heart to anyone. She was convinced she was depressed but refrained from letting any doctor or counselor help her.             On a Tuesday, her least favorite day, she walked the halls of her high school staring out onto the sunlit grounds almost smiling. These were the days she lived for during the god-forsaken school year. She felt a hand round her waste and looked at it curiously.             “Hello sunshine,” said a slight voice above her. She turned to smile at the tall boy who had seemed to absorb the sunlight quite nice. “Scott, good morning!” Emma breathed, her heart racing. She could her face had taken on a red skin tone as he wrapped both of his arms around her.  She was not one for public displays of affection, she found they were slightly immature and honestly disgusting, but, he was behaving and it was a sunny day so she gave in.             The two did not always have opportunities like this; they were on again off again for the past two months, which in Emma’s mind was much too long for a high school relationship. Most days, it was a challenge to look him in the eye. She often used her thick brown hair to shield her eyes from his searching spotlights.             The two continued to walk down the hall. “You look like you are doin’ okay today,” said Scott trying to be careful with what he knew was a bomb that could explode at any second.             “Yeah, well it happens,” Emma replied in a distant voice. She was quite annoyed at the almost psychiatric remark. She didn’t need taken care of like so. “How are you?”             They continued their simple conversation, both of them holding onto their hard outer shell, neither one letting in a little light.             Around noon, she was with her friends on their way to the common area to sit and eat. She listened to Sam, Amber and Jane squabble about weekend plans and gossip that had occurred at Matt’s party Saturday night. She peered around, looking for Scott in his flannel to maybe provide a little bit of more sophisticated information than who puked on who, but she knew better than to hope he was eating lunch at lunch…             She walked with them down the hall to Sam’s locker, near the library. The artwork caught her eye, she was slightly troubled they had framed the pieces already; she saw several of her own works placed in front. She quickly and quietly removed the paper nametags that attributed the artist in front of her paintings before her friends could notice.             She continued her day like this, semi-distant with not much to say. She would never expect the events that would happen that afternoon, assuming it was just another miserable Tuesday.             She returned home and ran to her room at once. She collapsed onto her bed with a sigh of relief, turned Linkin Park on and fell asleep almost instantly. She never dreamt, she awoke from a black sleep at sunset. Her room illuminated and shadows stretching across her cluttered floor. She didn’t move but smiled in the silence.             When the sun had fully set, she willed herself to move. Emma sat up and froze. Something creaked through the darkness which was now entirely soaked through her room. She waited and started to move again, then she heard a hand on the doorknob and her heart escalated. It slowly drifted open.             Emma couldn’t move. Her eyes glued to the shadow beyond the door, trying to make any shape out from the wooden door. Then a deep voice punctured the silence.             “Emma, do not move, do not worry. I am here to your benefit. I am here to help,” said the deep voice.             “Uhm, ok?” Emma replied, still extremely tense.             “You are different, Emma. The way you think, what you feel you are different but you are not alone,” continued the voice. The deep tone was soothing and reassuring, every moment she felt more and more relaxed as the room became much more pleasant.             “You are at the stage of your life where you are finding what you can do the most. You are capable of many things. Emma, you are special but not alone,” the stranger seemed to be finished. She could have been annoyed if did not feel so relieved.             “What, exactly do you mean when you say what I can do?” Emma said.             “Your emotions are just the beginning of your findings. Your philosophies and feeling amount to a passion within you where you will be able to transfer what is in your mind so others can experience it… physically,” the voice said softer, there was movement in the darkness but it remained in the deepest dark. “You have memories of this happening, memories where you may have been frustrated with the simplicity of someone that you had them feel it…”             Emma looked down, reeling through her thoughts trying to think of what he could be saying. She was twelve; Sam was sitting across from her chatting and chatting. Emma felt an overwhelming pain to share her feelings, like they were bursting out of her. Sam would not be quiet; she could not even try to care. Emma grabbed Sam’s waving hand and she pulled it back crying. Sam had seen images and felt an overwhelming heat but not burning, though, she was sure she could have inflicted more pain. Emma remembered all the times she was so mad at Scott that as soon as she touched him, he left immediately.             Every time this happened, she was alone.             “And you say I am not alone?” Emma said desperately.             “That is where we come in,” said a new voice with a slight giggle from behind that one. There was a flash and her eyes went array.             She focused her eyes and found she was not alone. There were four people in the room with her. The closest was a woman with a bright smile. She looked harder, and found the woman was not so much a woman but a girl. She looked no older than Emma yet, when she moved her head to smile, her hair shimmered gray streaks in her brown hair. She also had a mask hanging loosely round her neck. Behind the woman’s stunning smile, her face was worn and almost old, though it the frail skin did not register to Emma at first.             Next was a very normal young man. He did not smile; he did not seem to look her way. His eyes were down but once he felt her glare, he looked up. Emma took a huge gasp as soon as his eyes met hers. The eyes felt like spotlights, swirling green and yellow that no shadow could cover. She felt the warmth increase as her muscles relaxed on her bed. It was a very hard task to look away but curiosity got the better of her.             To his right was an older man, who looked about his twenties. This man did not look normal at all; he looked like a male model crossed with a body builder. His black shirt stretched across his chest, which, at a closer look, seemed to be pulsating. He smiled extremely warmly at her.             The last individual was behind the three of them; his face covered in darkness, all Emma could make out was a silouette. They were all wearing black. Emma sat there taking in breath slowly and letting it out even slower.             “So,” she finally said, “you are all… special?”             “Yup!” said the other woman in the room. “My names Peyton.”             “And I am Phil,” said the muscular man. “This is Tommy.” He pointed to the young man, his eyes sinking lower to  the ground.             “You can call him Slug,” he said, motioning to the dark man in the back.             “That’s right. We are all ‘special’ in a different way. Each fueled by a psychological sense that is frankly unexplained,” said the dark voice, protruding from Slug. “Phil started with the most compassion and character which fueled him to take on a hero role. His body followed suit, as observed—“             “Yeah, his heart is too big for his head,” interrupted a giggling Peyton.             “Peyton emotes something extremely unusual. She has such a strong happiness about her, she took that power and energy to harness it into pleasurable physical abilities humans are not capable of. Speed, for example,” said Slug.             “The more she laughs, the faster she goes,” said Tommy quietly. Peyton giggled and winked at Emma.             “Tommy is our newest find,” Slug continued. “You will find he does not speak much for what he is spectacular at is listening. He listens deep into your heart to where he can read what you are trying to portray, mind reading to an extent.             “Quite the opposite of what you are capable of. Your ability is fierce. Do not be discouraged by this, each one of these people came to me not knowing how to control themselves. The reason we are here is to offer you assistance,” Slug stopped, waiting for an answer.             Emma contemplated. Super heroes. There were superheroes in her bedroom. They were saying she was a super hero.             “What… what do you do?” She asked Slug rather timidly. She felt like she was violating a law by asking but she needed to know.             “I do not do anything,” He said in a slightly more monotone voice, still dark. “I have been in the shadows all of my life. I watch my surroundings and understand. That is all I do.”             “He is genius,” said Tommy even quieter, the first time he has said anything.             “And you basically are superheroes?” Emma said almost frightened. “What we do is harness our talents and use them to help humanity,” explained Slug. “This is a depraved world. Some people experience emotions just as we do and they have two options. One, if they are capable of thinking deep enough, they can use their emotion to an extent for good. Two, they refute and reject any sign of encouragement or help. They then cannot control their feelings and wreak havoc in crime to every soul around them. Not many people choose the first option, it is a difficult step. The people who do, however, have a responsibility to stop the people who have turned in the wrong direction. And that, is what I am asking you. Will you join us?”             The others stood stiffer, all staring at her, awaiting a response. Emma struggled in her mind. She felt her face fell hard. She was no Superman. How could she be capable of something so honorable and extraordinary when she had so many evil thoughts that could make anyone cry? She felt as depraved as the ones with evil motives around the city. She became so frustrated, tears made their way to the forefront of her eye.             Peyton let out a gasp after some minutes as Emma wiped a tear from her eye. “Whaa…?” She began and looked down. “Your hand,” Peyton said in awe just as Emma realized what everyone was staring at. Her hands were glowing with a layer of flame. Frustration.             She looked back up to see the three of them staring at slug. She saw him give a slight nod to Tommy and Tommy approached Emma slowly. He sat down so he was eye level with her, taking her hand in his, showing no fear. He lifted her hand, examined it then darted his eyes to hers. At first, she tried to look away. But the sunshine in them was so welcoming. She stared back.             “You are not a dark being,” he said extremely soft, almost a whisper. His eyes swirling softly, almost into a smile. “You are not hopeless. You are entirely capable of everything we are. See?” He slightly smiled, motioning at her hand, which extinguished instantly. He set it down gently, still in his. “Know that I understand everything you are feeling. You can trust me. And I know you are capable of controlling everything you have discovered.”             She never broke his gaze. His words sank in. She had never had anyone say that before, she had never had anyone care as much.             “And remember,” he said once more, probably finishing shifting through her mind, “you are not alone.”             “Yes,” was all she said. Emma did not question what the decision had entailed, she did not care. She felt as though she had finally found somewhere she belonged and there was no question to reject the offer.             Tommy’s mouth turned into a full smile. “Come,” he said. They stood up together and were surrounded by the two others smiling warmly. Peyton clamped her on the shoulder, portraying the largest smile. Phil swept her into a hug, she felt his heart beat faster, hers did the same. Tommy had never let go of her hand and, as soon as she was out of Phil’s arms, led her to Slug.             She could make out  indents of eyes, mouth and a protruding nose all of the features dark. She saw his mouth open, “Welcome, we have much to do.”             With a jab and a flash, Emma’s room emptied leaving no inhabitants.

Lies to Live & Die By (part 1)

“My name is Maddy,” so she says, “I watch kids for a living.” La la la lie
“I went to high school in Pennsylvania and college in Akron. I’ve traveled a lot lately but I am looking forward to staying put.
Maybe that wans’t a lie, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me some of your strengths.” His eyes steady, honest, truthful.

“I am a very diligent worker and when I put my mind into something I am completely focused,” more like completely obsessed, at least I knew that to be true. “I also care… and am very honest…” She let her voice trail on that one.

A few hours ago I was Jenny. I woke up Jessica. Now I’m Maddy. I hardly can keep track. People see the blond hair, blue eyes and think of an angel. How long have I been running? How long have I been lying?

Waking up: one thing I am not good at. The hotel room was nice and fresh, perfect. My house will someday be so fresh and clean like this room. It was also open. The window let in a wealthy breeze that immediately calmed my body. My face relaxed and my muscles lost their usual stiff stature. I felt home.

Snapping back to the final interview, I organized my thoughts again, remembering my story. I’ve been through a couple for this particular job. The man in front of me still scribbling in his notebook. He looked up, hearing my sudden intake of breath.

“Thank you so much for considering me,” my smile took affect as his lips turned up and cheeks flushed.

“Well Miss Wilson, you seem very responsible. I think you have every reason to get this job,” he tried to sound professional again.

I said my thank yous and stood up to leave the bank. I rustled some things around in my purse, peeking through my hair at the security systems and hallways. They would never know. Two men at the desk watched me, whispering as i walked out.

My plan was simple: get the job, earn some trust, and after some time, get his box.

My heels left their hollow ecko in the lobby as I let my breath go. This job was temporary, due to two conditions: first, after the outcome of this extravaganza-whatever it may be-i will have to get far from here. And two; i cannot stay in one place for more than a month.

Ohio was always my home. The weather would never stay the same for more than one day and everything always changed, it was perfect. City folk would never consider anything big in Ohio, though they are always wrong.

New York city was too different for me. I never had a problem with big cities but New York was just too big, someone was always watching. I like privacy.

Suddenly my phone rang.


“Did you get the job?” his voice breathed quietly.

“Most Likely,” I could hear him smile. “So I’ll meet you at the place.”

The phone went dead. It took about a second for two cabs to pull right in front of me. I chose the less grimy one.

I handed the driver a business card, he looked at me suspiciously but my smile softened his face. He read the card and started driving.

“So miss, you look a little flustered. Big city too much?” His Brooklyn accent was something you heard in the movies, then again, my life wasn’t much different.

“Oh no, haha. Trust me, i can handle it. But, interviews are always stressful,” I said almost too friendly. I guess I was a little flustered today. He went on to talk about how many jobs he has had, about how he doesn’t like being in one place… It doesn’t help with getting girlfriends either.

“Tell me about it,” I said almost inaudibly, we were almost there.

“What’s your name anyways?” I cringed at his improper english… Well, we all have our days.

“It’s Melissa,” I smiled in response, preparing to get out. I took a wad of cash and handed it to him. “Thank you very much…”

The air was filled with the smell of frying fish outside the open restaurant. The heated breeze carried the smell of the Atlantic filling my head. New York was only enjoyable in June.

I entered the small, but chic, square of a building, wedged between two moderately big business buildings. The market was filled with professional looking people on various laptops, black berries, or peering into a hug volume. The softness of the chatter disguised the harsh arguments under each breath, i felt as though i stuck out. I looked down at my business clothes, just to be sure.

I searched the room, surveying every face. Did he come? And there he was–of course. His shirt was a blue button down, the sleeves shoved up past his elbows with the first buttons unbuttoned. He looked so relaxed in the back compared to the rest of the people. I walked up to him, trying to make my face less anxiou.

“Hello Lacy, your looking as spectacular as always,” he said without looking up. No wonder I always change my name, Lacy was so… feminine.

tomorrow: best day ever

I have this thing where i mark the 4, 12, and 13 of every month with a big BEST DAY EVER! the 4 is the THIRD BEST DAY EVER! the 12 is the SECOND BEST DAY EVER!! and the 13 is the THE BEST DAY EVER!!! These, as you may have guessed, are my favorite numbers. I really liked even numbers as a kid. 4 was the number on my first basketball jersey, big ben’s number, and of course, its the perfect number for everything. 12 has always been my favorite number (until now.) It is my dad’s favorite number, the number of donuts i can eat (probably,) and i dont know why else… but it was my favorite for a long time. Then i came accross the number 13! I never thought of 13 being anyone’s favorite number… but i really am not superstitious at all. 13 is awkward, NOT even, and multiply it by two and it equals 26… a number i hate. But for whatever reason (with added props from it being delonte’s) i chose to have it be my favorite number. So it came to it being the best day ever of every month….

but this best day ever happens to be on a home church thursday! Not any home church, it is THE HOME CHURCH! Well, it will be the best day ever… why? glad you asked ’cause i am dying to tell….

1. home church: we have already gone over this point. i love hc! its super fun!!

2. there is this terror special on the history channel later that night that i have been waiting since monday to see. the commercials look soo interesting!! I am a fan of history and Adi definitely got me into watching the history channel.

3. Journalism: I have been trying for 2 weeks to write an NBA story and it didnt come-writer’s block-until now! i am for some reason excited to continue writing it. I would be doing so at present buuuuttttt, i didnt feel like carrying anything home.

4. i’m gunna wear my new shoes tomorrow. i get excited by these things.

5. the reason WHY it will be the BEST DAY EVER!!!: COURTNEY IS COMING TO HOME CHURCH!!!!! HOW KICK ASS IS THAT!?! I can’t wait! i was so fearful of inviting her AGAIN but when i finally did, she said she wanted to! the Lord has answered my prayers!!! SO if everyone could pray that nothing will get in the way of her coming, that would be the best thing ever!


Now you know why it will be the best day ever: its the 13 and courtney is coming to hc!
woo hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

A short story (based on OTHER peoples experiences, some of my own and some i just made up)

Awkward silence. You know what they say, every awkward silence a gay baby is born. I thought i’d fill the space.
“So i’ll be seeing you?”
“Uh yeah. You’re not mad, are you?” he said to the ground. For a big boy he looked kind of helpless.
“Oh no, i understand… Bye,” I turned to walk away swearing at everything i saw.
Walking home is always the worst part. Every break-up I have ever gone through, i have to walk home, but its the worst part. Walking through the woods and on the dark streets seeing your destination but the strain in your throat and the tears choking you stops you from going in. It may be horrible for me but its better than the awkward silence during the car ride home. Sitting next to the bitch that just tore your heart out isn’t very awesome at all.
Sucking it up as i saw headlights coming from around the corner, a speeding car screeched to a hault in front of me. Lil Wayne blaring as the window rolled down, two big brown eyes stared up at me. With a smile on his face and a swift flick of his hand, the door was open for me to take my place next to D.
Silence except for D singing, i was able to calm down. He always knew when i was angry and let me have my space, for his own good of course. If he didn’t, i would probably rip his head off.
Sensing my stability he said in a loud sanguine voice, “What’s up with you Blonde Booty?”
Heehee, he’s so cute of course he knew how to make me smile. And how was that even funny? It was just him, his whole personality was just a ball of sunshine.
“Not much D baby.”
“Thats a lie.”
“I know.”
“Mitch ended it.”
“Another one bites the dust.”
“Well, are you okay?”
“Yeah…” lie, “his loss.” Lie again.
Mitch was the love of my life, the fifth one anyway. We were the best of friends, for abot a wee, then we started going out to the clubs togther and stay out late down town. One thing led to another and then he broke up with me. My whole life died before my eyes like a salt covered slug shrinking in the sun-light, that slug being what i relied on, my heart beat, just my life. You see, he was the only friend i had for awhile. gave up everyone else-everything else- for him. I look back on myself and realize how stupid i was. I dunno but after all that, D was here for me now, and i dont know how i cant screw this one up.

Dropping me off, i waved and waited for him to leave before i went in. Sitting alone in the dark spring can gt pretty lonely but its better than facing the family. D knew this. He knew all about me not being able to talk to my family. He tried to confront me on this once, i slapped him and ran away. And ruthfully, m not sure why i hate thm so much. All they do is… well i dont know. I havent seen them in a week or two.

Seeing as though he wasnt leaving, i rolled my eyes and walked to he door. With a flicker of headlights for encouragment, i turned the door knob. I didnt have to finish te job as a little mexican women opened the door yelling things in he language with a big smile on her face.

“Hi mama,” i said with a smile.

“Oh muchacha, who are you, and what have you done with my rubia?” means blonde, rubia means blonde. Thats one word i know and growing up blonde wasnt only a hair color, it was my whole personality. MY personality. How i was blonde and spoiled, thats what it meant.

It smelled like cat and a faint wiff of bird poop at the opening of the small hallway. I followed Gloria through the house as she called out recent family news to me.

“Senor!” after a pause, stepmama tuned to me with a smile, “Mira la television.” I nodded.

“Well, go se him!”

“Oh, los ciento.”

Walking up the stairs, the memories made me all warm inside. Seeing Gloria, Paul, Stevie and me all happy again made me ust remember our good times.

Paying no attention, anyone can just walk into Paul’s room and find themselves cryiing twenty minutes later.

“Hi Papa.”

The gray head stood up and hugged me. “Juana,” using my baby name just stabbed me through the heart.


Took me twenty seconds.

After settling down for the second time tonight, he asked me about how ive been doing, of course. oasdfhasbduiaduahduiasdgsksdhaiusdaiuhauishdiuhsiudhisugdcbhxzui8zyd

to be continued, most likely not. though i am liking the D character but i have to work on the girl’s personality before i go on. i was just going off of whatever came to my mind. more solid plot. okay bye.