I walked slowly along the sidewalk. the city lights dim from their height from above
The rain drizzled on, soaking my back through my hooded sweatshirt
A screech broke the damp air, a black Mercedes as rolled to a stop beside me
I turn
three strangers jump from the car and aim silver shinning guns
"Get In!"
I freeze
no one else around
feet to heavy to run
throat to dry to scream for help
Suddenly, I am no longer alone.large muscular arms wrap around my body, warmth enters my insides.
I glance back
he is a year or two older than me, dark blue eyes, brown longish hair
he wore only red shorts
"What are you doing?" I yelled in surprise, not only because he appeared out of nowhere, but because it was defiantly thirty degrees and he wore only shorts
no shoes
no shirt
no hat
just shorts
"What are you doing?" I asked again
"My job. Protecting you." he boomed
Just as one of the strangers fired his gun, the boy with red shorts spun me behind him, my feet never touched the ground.
Bang!
I wake
It was only a Friday night dream.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Meet Me Halfway Part 2
This part I made up, since only the ending of the story was the dream. Enjoy!
part 3 will be out on December 21!
I would find my mom. Then we could be together like daughter and mother should be.
That Friday , I asked my dad if I would go to work with him at the police station. He didn't mind, since i went every weekend to see the action of the police.
After sitting at the front desk in the report room for over an hour, the phone rang. my dad, who was at a computer next to me, picked it up, nodded, said goodbye, then placed it down quickly. he rushed words as he pulled his coat on and grabbed his keys to the patrol car.
There was a group of teenagers partying in a house they broke into, and more cops were needed to arrest as many teens before they ran off.
My father ordered me to stay in the office till he returned, which was prefect for me. Once he left, I sat for another few minutes to make sure he was gone for good. After awhile, I sprang up from my chair and walked quickly to the door leading into the back hallway to make sure no one else was around.
Once I was certain that everyone else wasn't near, I jumped to the computer that holds licenses and locations of town members. Search through the names, my tired eyes stumbled across my family's name. Pressing on the background button, I read the date of which my mother moved away an where she lives now.
part 3 will be out on December 21!
I would find my mom. Then we could be together like daughter and mother should be.
That Friday , I asked my dad if I would go to work with him at the police station. He didn't mind, since i went every weekend to see the action of the police.
After sitting at the front desk in the report room for over an hour, the phone rang. my dad, who was at a computer next to me, picked it up, nodded, said goodbye, then placed it down quickly. he rushed words as he pulled his coat on and grabbed his keys to the patrol car.
There was a group of teenagers partying in a house they broke into, and more cops were needed to arrest as many teens before they ran off.
My father ordered me to stay in the office till he returned, which was prefect for me. Once he left, I sat for another few minutes to make sure he was gone for good. After awhile, I sprang up from my chair and walked quickly to the door leading into the back hallway to make sure no one else was around.
Once I was certain that everyone else wasn't near, I jumped to the computer that holds licenses and locations of town members. Search through the names, my tired eyes stumbled across my family's name. Pressing on the background button, I read the date of which my mother moved away an where she lives now.
Finally I found the address. It was in a popular part of New York City, around Times Square only a hour and a half away by bus. Writing down the address on an index card, I shoved it into my pocket once I heard footsteps down the hall.
It was officer Dobbs, a close friend of my father's who was considered a uncle to me. As he crossed the room to gather reports, he asked me how I was doing in school. After a short conversation, Dobbs left saying, "Have a good weekend."
In reply I smiled, even though he was already out the door, saying,
"Oh, I sure will."
Red Wood Kings
I was ten years old. They were decades. They stand higher then I could reach, wider then I could stretch.
My skin was soft and pale, yet their russet bark seemed so majestic. They have seen the world of the 8th century while I have only seen daily life.
They peek above each other to glimpse the sky. I stand on my tippy toes to see past the taller kids during a movie.
They are kings of the trees, more ancient then the oak, more proud then the the pines. I am a small arrival in the world of thousands people. When I go, only few will know.
But the Red Wood Kings will not go. Not yet. They will be here to watch my children play among the roots, watch my grandchildren vist every summer, and so on.
They are the Red Woods of California.
My skin was soft and pale, yet their russet bark seemed so majestic. They have seen the world of the 8th century while I have only seen daily life.
They peek above each other to glimpse the sky. I stand on my tippy toes to see past the taller kids during a movie.
They are kings of the trees, more ancient then the oak, more proud then the the pines. I am a small arrival in the world of thousands people. When I go, only few will know.
But the Red Wood Kings will not go. Not yet. They will be here to watch my children play among the roots, watch my grandchildren vist every summer, and so on.
They are the Red Woods of California.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Meet Me Halfway part 1
this is part 1 of this short story. It is based on a dream I had, so i hope you enjoy!
I am sitting in class, lazily waiting for the next project that comes every marking period. The teacher speaks, a blur of words pass through my ear, coming out the other end.
Suddenly, a sentence catches my attention.
"You will be writing a three page paper on what you want most."
I straighten up in my seat, my face boiling like a tea pot. He says something more, something about it being realistic, not like you want a certain video game. the other freshmen laugh about his joke. However, I remain silent. Thoughts came flashing by my eyes.
This is something new. this is what I've been waiting for. fifteen years I have wanted one thing so horribly. It wasn't a new cellphone or bike.
It was the unknowing empty feeling of a mother.
She left when I was two, maybe three, I don't recall. I hardly remember. I don't know her voice, can't recognize her if she walked right by me, even a foot away.
I've seen pictures, hidden in my father's room. I'd stare for hours at them when he isn't home, catching something new about her every time.
The latest picture that was thirteen years old) was my favorite. Her hair was cut to her shoulders, a deep brown that matched her always perfect skin. the same gray-blue eyes with silvery lining around the pupils. My eyes.
We were alike in few ways. When she was my age, she was taller by three or four inches. She had round cheekbones, her pupils were large and exciting while mine were tiny, unseen in shadows. Though our hair was around the same shade of brown, hers was darker with more shine. Yet, in one picture, when she laughed her expression matched mine.
I had a plan. I would know what it was like. There was no excuse like other kids who lost their mom to death. Mine was still out there.
I had a plan.
I am sitting in class, lazily waiting for the next project that comes every marking period. The teacher speaks, a blur of words pass through my ear, coming out the other end.
Suddenly, a sentence catches my attention.
"You will be writing a three page paper on what you want most."
I straighten up in my seat, my face boiling like a tea pot. He says something more, something about it being realistic, not like you want a certain video game. the other freshmen laugh about his joke. However, I remain silent. Thoughts came flashing by my eyes.
This is something new. this is what I've been waiting for. fifteen years I have wanted one thing so horribly. It wasn't a new cellphone or bike.
It was the unknowing empty feeling of a mother.
She left when I was two, maybe three, I don't recall. I hardly remember. I don't know her voice, can't recognize her if she walked right by me, even a foot away.
I've seen pictures, hidden in my father's room. I'd stare for hours at them when he isn't home, catching something new about her every time.
The latest picture that was thirteen years old) was my favorite. Her hair was cut to her shoulders, a deep brown that matched her always perfect skin. the same gray-blue eyes with silvery lining around the pupils. My eyes.
We were alike in few ways. When she was my age, she was taller by three or four inches. She had round cheekbones, her pupils were large and exciting while mine were tiny, unseen in shadows. Though our hair was around the same shade of brown, hers was darker with more shine. Yet, in one picture, when she laughed her expression matched mine.
I had a plan. I would know what it was like. There was no excuse like other kids who lost their mom to death. Mine was still out there.
I had a plan.
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