New Story

The Well

Monroe was alone. For once. No screaming siblings, no parental banter. Just silence and peace for once. You’d think she would be please, a moment’s reverie from the chaos that was her home life. But no, that was certainly not the case. Instead, an unintentional replay of every scene from Silence of the Lambs with Buffalo Bill in them played on a loop in her head. And that wasn’t such an off-base response.

After all, she did wake to find herself with a head wound, in the bottom of a well. Inside someone’s house. Or at least, inside somewhere. There were definitely interior things peering down at her. A stucco ceiling. The triangular beam of light from a standing lamp. And TV sounds. Ok, so it wasn’t totally silent, but considering her situation, everything was so numbed out and dulled down it might as well have been.

Her head ached. She didn’t seem to have any broken bones, but she was definitely banged up. Monroe started to wonder how she came to arrive in the well. As in, was she lowered down somehow? Or dropped? She couldn’t focused hard enough to get any clearer on the matter. And despite her head banging away at her skull in mind numbing pain, she was preoccupied. With fear.

How did this happen? She wasn’t the type to be talking to strangers, or interacting with shady people online. She hadn’t left her house in a couple days actually. Finals. Those horrible end of year tests that would make or break her. Turns out stupid tests weren’t the only things that could do that. She couldn’t even recall what she had been studying. She must have fallen asleep again at her desk. It was embarrassing how often some family member would find her passed out, face first in her school books, fingers still gripping a pen, sometimes still mid word. While she tried to recount her evening, a new wave of dread spilled over her.

Someone came and took her from her house. There was no other explanation. And while that was bothersome on the highest of levels, it wasn’t what drained the blood form her face. It was her family. Her annoying, loud, irritating, distracting, wonderful, sweet family. Had they all been home when it happened? Had anyone gotten in her kidnappers path? Suddenly, and without a choice, her mental loop of Buffalo Bill was replaced with horrible images of her parents, her sisters, her brothers. Injured, blood spattered. She knew this was based on nothing, and her brain was panicking and running away from her. But now she couldn’t stop.

Without meaning to, Monroe let out a small cry. She instantly knew it wasn’t small enough. Even thought she had her hands clamped over her mouth, and her cry for her family had passed, the damage had been done. Seconds later, the fuzziness that had blurred the unfamiliar world around her refocused. And she heard the sound on the television playing above her stop. She tried not to hyperventilate, tried to breathe evenly, still clamping her hands over her mouth. Then, even more terrifying, she hear foot fall. BIG foot fall. Big, heavy, possibly booted footfall. And it was surely coming toward this place she had been delivered to.

Monroe debated her options. Obviously there was no where to go. So, her choice in actions were few. But still, there was choice. Should she pretend to be asleep? Delay the inevitable encounter with whoever this kidnapper was? Or face it, like the adult she often told her parents she was? And if she chose to face them, should she show her fear? Or be bold, and act unfazed? She was suddenly overwhelmed by the options. The steps were close. They would be over head in only a moment. She tried to think fast, but it was as if her fear became a liquid inside her, and was slowly filling up her lungs and brain and other vital organs so that functionality became impossible. At the very last moment, when there was already a bit of shadow overtaking the edge of her new home, she chose to pretend to be asleep. She dropped against the wall, let her self collapse, which took little effort a this point, and prayed they would go away. She needed time. To plan. To think. To get a grip on life again, somehow, and formulate a thought process that would not leave her a skin suit in some crazy person’s closet.

She could feel the light become completely blocked out, as her kidnapper, whoever they were, stood above her fifteen feet up. Monroe told herself NOT to hold her breath, but she was worried she would start hyperventilating again. The figure, the shadow blocking out the light didn’t move. They made no sound, and just stood there. Did they know? Could they tell she was pretending? She wished something would happen. Anything. This suspense was worse than the possibilities in her head.

It was fortune her face was tilted down, because then Monroe began to cry. Not hard. Not heavy sobbing, or weeping, or crying out. Just silent tears. The liquid fear inside her had clearly filled all available space and was now overflowing down her scraped cheeks. And then, what she had been trying to accomplish for her whole conscious time finally happened. Her brain went on auto-pilot. No more racing thoughts, no more looping buffalo bill, no escalating fear, no nothing. It would be similar to the feeling one has while drowning, after the struggle stops. The calm, welcome or not. And Monroe drank it in gladly.

It was impossible at this time for her to have any inkling of what would happen next. For one, she didn’t know where she was, how she had gotten there, or who it was that had brought her there. For another, she was no longer assessing the situation, and was calmly crying into the dirt beneath her. For a third, the thing that did happen, was so opposite of any previous worry or guess that had she been focused, it might have completely caught her off guard. Right before her auto-piloting mind shut her off, and blacked her out, she heard her kidnapper speak. It was only two words, but enough to throw the whole situation off balance as she faded out.

“Help me.”

The Emily/Beth Situation (story starter)

My name in Emily. But I tell people, at least some of the time, that my name is Beth. I hope you are thinking, “Why would you tell people, at least some the time that your name is Beth, if your name is Emily?” because otherwise, I’ll have a harder time leading you toward the story I’ve got.

There is a very simple answer to that question I hope you asked. Because that some of the time, when I tell people my name is Beth, I think it is. In fact, I have no idea that there’s this other chunk of time where I’m NOT called Beth. I have at those times, no idea I was ever Emily.

Hilarious, right? Well, no. Mostly it just leads awkwardness. You know how when someone is married and they are cheating and carrying on in a secret relationship (try to follow me here) with someone else, there’s usually an inevitable meeting between the two people, and it’s awkward for all involved. This is kind of like that, only I’ve got no idea I’m two timing. And I’m not cheating on a man, I’m cheating on myself. It’s like I have two separate lives.

Now, don’t get me wrong, they very rarely overlap, and a surprisingly large amount of the time the people around me are aware (unlike myself) that I am both Beth and Emily. Or rather, Emily, and sometimes Beth. It’s always surprising when I find out. If you have ever discovered your parents have been keeping a giant secret like your being adopted, then maybe you can relate. I literally have no idea that I ever carry on as some other person, regardless if the discovery is made as myself (Emily) or my other self (Beth). It’s mostly just sad, and I feel embarrassed and want to run and hide. And then i wanna yell at my parents.

You see, I live at home with them, regardless of being past the age where most have moved out, started careers, etc. I haven’t spent all my time living this way. Just since the accident. Yep. I have a tragic story. It’s very “boo-hoo” and when I tell it it’s usually followed by looks of pity and “awww”s and I HATE that. So, here’s the abbreviated version.

I was hiking up in the Rockies with my best friend, Cara. We were on a double date with a couple of show-off-rock-climbing types and there was a rock slide. One of the guys didn’t walk away and is paralyzed. The other didn’t walk, roll, crawl, or survive at all. Cara was the only one not permanently injured. And while I am slightly envious of this, I’m glad one of us isn’t all screwed up. Also she totally blames herself, as she set up the double date in the first place. We all make our own choices, I tell her this often, but I don’t know if she will ever let it go.

Anyway, my injury left me in the hospital for a very long time. I was told by my doctor that while my breaks and bruises would heal, my brain injury would be permanent. And that it would be best to live at home, until a time when I was to move in with someone who could also commit to being there. All the time. See, I thought I had blackouts, where my brain would short out, and I would pass out and could possibly hurt myself, and just needed to be monitored. That alone was hard to take in.

Whats harder, is that it was a lie. I don’t black out. I just black out from being Emily, and become Beth. I have no idea when it started, or what trouble it has caused me in the past. This is because the other part of my injury is that I have this “defense mechanism” that allows me to permanently block out negative memories (including the accident and my Beth times). In other words, every time i am made aware that I do this thing, I block it out. I don’t think i’ll ever be aware of it longer than the day it happens.

So if you see me in public some day, and holler out “Emily” in my direction, and I don’t turn around or respond at all, you can bet money I’m not Emily just then. But I doubt that would happen. I spend most of my time at home. And, there’s the OTHER other thing. I only ever turn into Beth at night. It’s like Beth is a freaking vampire and only comes out after the sun has gone. I wish I were joking.

Well, that’s my story. Or at least, that’s where it starts. With me, living my life as Emily, or thinking that’s the case, and having the people around me give up setting me straight due to the fact I would block it out anyway. You’d think that would be the worst I could get to. But boy, you would be wrong.

Life After The Brick (story starter)

Lee was told when she left the facility that she was free to go. She was told that no one would bother her. She was promised that any life she would create on the outside would be hers, with no altering, monitoring, or interference from the those she was formerly involved with. She left them with a handshake and that promise in her ears, but she knew soon after that it was lie.

Or at least, she sure felt less than left alone.

Lee was a volunteer. She offered her body to science, in a way to pay homage to her recently deceased mother, and in hope to help find a cure for the cause of her mother’s death. She felt at the time, just freshly a legal voting adult, that it was the right thing to do. There was no one to stop her anyway. She had no other family beyond her mother, and after she passed, Lee felt alone and lost.

When the government contacted her, she all but jumped at the chance. She was told that her mother’s sick body had been promised in her will to the doctors who tried to save her. To possibly help them understand. Because when a heart is broken, but still beats in your chest, its hard to understand why. And even harder to understand why it stopped.

So the facility called “The Brick” where her mother’s doctor, and other doctors, and a team of scientists worked called to see if she was interested. It was a study, they said. It would be long term, and she would have to stay there at the facility. Because what ended her mother’s life, also ended Lee’s grandmother’s and her great grandmother’s. They were already studying cultures and partially animated pieces of Lee’s mother’s heart and body cells, but needed a living person who carried the supposedly passed down defective genes to compare, and study them against.

Lee knew her family couldn’t be the only people suffering from this, so she agreed, and moved into The Brick. That was eight years ago. At twenty six, and with only some hope of finding a cure, she was released. While Lee was torn by mixed emotions, she left with hope.

Hope for a new life, maybe starting out alone, but full of good things ahead. Hope that because of her inclusion in the study, by the time her heart failed her, there would be a cure. But mostly, hope that life on the outside would be less confusing.
Sure, living basically in a lab is confusing on it’s own, but Lee felt she was in deeper than she agreed. She was fairly certain of this after only a few weeks. By her release a week before her twenty sixth birthday, she was completely sure.

Lee was not alone in The Brick. Besides the scientists and doctors who ran tests and batteries and did the studies, there were other “participants”. Lee’s heart gene problem was one of several internal gene studies going on there, and those other people participating in the attempts to find cures, became her friends. Or, the closest thing she’d have in there.

When Lee moved in, her next door brick-mate was the only other “participant”. Her name was Emily, and she had an eye gene issue that also went backward through her family tree, causing blindness and illness. Despite being fully sighted at the start, by the day of Lee’s release, Emily was completely blind. Emily was only one year older than Lee.

The third and fourth participants came a year after that. A man of 20, Cloony, being included in a study on a brain gene. Lee decided quickly after meeting him that brains, as in being really smart, doesn’t come with a sweet disposition. And even though Cloony was a really jerk the whole time Lee knew him, he did lighten his intensity over time. Despite being less than warm and fuzzy, Lee did grow fond of him. Cloony was SO smart. He was in the process of solving an “unsolvable” math problem the day he died.

The day after Cloony arrived, Justin arrived. He was 18 when he entered The Brick, just like Lee had been, and both Lee and Emily were fond of him. He was very good looking, but was kind and sweet and modest. His study was on his hearing, and that of his family’s. Like Lee he was released, before he had been there two years, and like Emily’s decline, he left blind. Justin’s study was closed very suddenly, and no one got to say goodbye.

Last was Coral, a child orphaned by her family’s gene problem. Coral was the last limb on her family tree, alone due to a gene deficiency in her lungs. All of them as good as drowned, despite being no where near water. Her story was heartbreaking, and was pulled to each participants mind’s forefront each time the group was sent to the pool. Water horrified her, even though it was just the association with water, not any even actually with water, that frightened her. She was added at 16, only because there was no one to contest it. She volunteered hoping that someday she’d grow up and have kids without fear of continuing the sad tale as it had gone so far.

Lee thought of all of them, all the time. How could she not? She spent eight years in that place with them, and they meant a lot to her. She hoped that she would see Emily after she too was released, and that she would maybe run into Justin somewhere, despite having no idea where he went five years earlier. She knew she’d never see Cloony again, but carried a copy of the problem that he never solved with her, folded up on a small piece of paper. She didn’t know why she did it, but maybe it was a reminder that even those with huge ability can fail under the simplest looking set of numbers. Coral would probably be in The Brick for years before they’d end her study, but Lee thought of her every time she saw a pond, or a tub of water, or a swimming pool, and it broke her broken heart a little more every time.

But even though she had moved straight into a wonderful loft (paid for in full by money she racked up as payment over the years of the study), and was sure she would be hired easily at any ordinary job, she was uneasy.

There were just too many “random” things, too many “accidental” happenings, and too often she swore she saw them. Them, being those still contained at The Brick, Cloony who was dead, and Justin but definitely was a Justin who could see. Lee told her self she was just seeing things. She told herself that adjusting to a normal life without those people would be hard, and her mind would compensate. That’s all it was. That’s what she kept telling herself.

But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, she knew she wasn’t being left alone. She knew either something was wrong with her, or something that was happening in The Brick, was happening still. She hadn’t been cured, and had come to the conclusion that more happened in the studies than the participants were told. And she was determined to figure out what was happening. If only she knew what she would discover, maybe she would have tried harder to let it go…

New story idea! yay! More to come…

Scientist, Dr. Serena Farres, grew up in a world slowly being destroyed. It was being polluted, misused, disregarded, over-populated, and deforested.

While all those problems concerned a young Serena, the deforestation was the one she grew determined to solve. In fact she took it as her own personal mission. It was her cause. And as she finished high school, and then college, it became a consuming thing.

You would think saving the planet would be a great thing to be obsessed with. But this story will prove that to be both correct, and very, very wrong.

Dr. Serena Ferres developed a revolutionary way to quickly (or rather, more quickly than we had been able to until that point) reforest all the deforested areas of the globe. It was international news. After the Save Our Organic Needs Foundation (aka SOON) gave her permission to test on a small barren piece of land that had fast, unbelievably overwhelming success, news went global in seconds. In a world where technology spreads information in the blink of an eye, that was how long it took the world to know about Dr. Serena Farres.

Because of her scientific development’s both diverse applications to any biome on the planet, and it’s low cost it was applied everywhere. And because there had been no negative findings in SOON’s test area, no one hesitated. It seemed to be working like magic. Rainforests that had been chopped down, farm lands that had been over used, woods taken by forest fire, all showed almost immediate results.

The ground, regardless of the location, accepted the “natural” chemical compound and began growing any of the that area’s local plan species. The turn around was so fast, people started calling it a miracle. It would have been hard to believe if there wasn’t photographic, scientific statement, and locals raving about the change as proof. Other branches of science said that the shift was causing other unplanned changes too. Some cities that were near areas being reforested reported a decrease in pollution. The regrowth was literally combating the pollution. People in areas near woods that had been burnt in fire reported an upswing in repopulation of local animals as well. In farming communities it seemed that even human bodies were doing better, due to healthier crops. It was more than anyone could have hoped for.

Dr. Ferres was given awards, she was praised in every language and celebrated in every country using her compound. It was being referred to as the Ferres Miracle Compound, and people began to have hope we wouldn’t have to abandon the planet as soon as previously determined.

But after only a year of growth, happiness, and hope, things took a turn. Locals in various areas using the compound started reporting sick animals. Hunters said wild animals no longer had speed behind their flight, or escape. Some even told of sluggish, or completely still animals. Despite seeing the fear in the animals eyes, they did not move. Of course people’s first concern (well, besides the animal activist) was that the compound would then affect humans. It was a natural thought, and before the public even knew there was concern scientists were studying it. But no humans ever were reported as dying from the compound. The human death toll did not rise.

SOON was indeed concerned more than most, despite humans being unharmed. The reality was that organic things were being harmed. Although the positive change in plants were the focus of the compound’s effectiveness, the negative affect on animals was taking away from it. At least, in the environmental communities. The rest of the world, was kept for the most part, out of the loop. At first anyway.

But like the way things happen these days, technology spread the word. People would video animals doing odd things, or, more likely, nothing but laying there and breathing. Reports were filed, and people eventually got worked up enough to call for the discontinuation of Ferres’ compound. It stopped mattering if the trees and plants were growing like crazy, decades sooner than they would have normally. The health of the world’s various animals was too important to ignore. In the wake of her compound’s discontinuation, Dr. Serena Farres attempted to melt into the background, unnoticed.

She was successful in hiding in plain sight until the reports shifted. No longer were the reports just of very stationary, ill-looking animals that scientists saw no actual illness in. No more were the internet memes and videos and blogs focused on the stillness of these animals. No more, because they started to die.

Not in droves, or in masses, but one here and there. It wasn’t a serious shift, but it was enough for people to come looking. and people wanted her to explain herself. of course, Serena Farres has no idea why the animals were dying. If she were to be honest with the press, and the public (which she eventually had to be) she would tell them that in her testing no animals died. But that was only because the testing hadn’t gone on as long as the reforestation had been happening. There had been no foresight to these events because they only tested for a short time. In reality, the land that SOON let her test on was still steadily growing its various plants. But all the animals in the area had been effected. It had been quarantined.

Something else had started happening in addition to the stillness and death, something neither Dr. Serena Farres or SOON could explain. The animals had started mutating. The quarantined area was under observation the whole time this was happening, from the first sighting of change. But when the animals started acting bizarre, taking on new personality and habits, and began escaping the area, it was time for action to be taken.

Daring To Begin

Gloria woke up, aware that she was in pain, but not aware of much else. Before she even opened her eyes, she was taking the different kinds of hurt she was feeling. Her head felt like it had be bashed in with a metal bat. Her arms, legs, and back all felt like she had been through a giant dyer full of sharp rocks. Her lungs ached, as though they were just finally getting the right amount of air again. She felt awful.

Despite the intense pain in her head, she opened her eyes. She had a feeling she wouldn’t recognize her surroundings, but it was probably a good idea to try. The only upside of her current situation, is that wherever she was wasn’t well lit so she wasn’t forced to look at any bright lights. It was… just dark.

In every direction she turned her head and saw nothing. There was a small amount of light so that she could see her own body, but nothing much beyond a foot away. Knowing the light had to have come from somewhere, she looked up. There.

Above her, so far away it seemed, was the light source. The brightly lit, star speckled night sky. She could even see part of the moon through the… it looked like a hole. A rough, broken edged hole. She must be underground. This revelation scared her at first, but after she got the nerve to feel around a bit realized at least she wasn’t in a well. No, this was a big space, whatever it was. And while the hole she could see the sky through seemed intentional, this place was natural.

The walls felt like packed dirt, or stone and rocks. She decided to stand up, and see if she could find hand holes and climb up, and out of this space. But as soon as she put pressure on her right leg, it buckled beneath her. She cried out in pain, and tried hard to muffle it. Of course, the sound was surely heard if anyone was near, but no one came. No sound at all.

No, that was wrong. After the pain subsided a little, Gloria began breathing evenly enough to listen closer. There WAS sound. But just of nature. Was it enough to indicate where she was?

She could hear a couple of things. The breeze, as it pulled over the surface of the hole. It sounded more wonderful than it should have, but it was so still and hot at the bottom where she was that it sounded heavenly. The ocean? Some kind of water for sure. That steady, somewhat eve, repetitive sound of waves breaking on something. Not big waves, but water on a shore. And crickets? Cicadas? Some kind of insect was signing in the night. What did those sounds indicate?

Gloria was trying very hard to be logical, and work this out, but the longer she was conscious, the more worried she got. About too many things.

Who put me here? How long have I been here? Is anyone coming back for me? Will I starve? Why is this happening? Again?

Of course, The last of the questions was the saddest. For while the other questions mattered, it was the last that broke her heart. This was not the first time Gloria had been nabbed and woken up in a scary place. There was little she could do about it. The firs time it happened, it was horrifying. She was sure the people who took her were going to kill her. But they didn’t. And when she finally made it home, she was paranoid for a very long time. Who wouldn’t be? She had good reason, as it did happen again. This time, this night, in this hole, in all this pain, was the third time.

At least Gloria had survived the first two times, she told herself. It should be reassuring. It should indicate that she would survive again. Right? Right.

Gloria knew this was a game now. She didn’t know who it was that was doing this. amazingly all three times she was taken she never saw them. But clearly there was some enjoyment for them. Otherwise why let make it home, just to do it again? Why let her live? If it wasn’t a game, it was a test. Those were the only two possibilities. In either scenario, she was either a game piece, or a test subject. And either way you look at it, she wasn’t in control. Which is bad.

But Gloria steeled herself, and attempted to get as much control as she could. OK. Well she didn’t know where she was, or how long she had been there. Or what all was broken/bruised/damaged on herself. So what did she know? She knew she was in a cave like natural space underground. She knew she was near water, and that it was night. She also knew that most likely, no one was coming to rescue her.

So, like she did the other two times (of course, those both took her a much larger amount of time to get to this point), she made a choice. Gloria WOULD survive. She WOULD escape. She WOULD make it home. But in addition to those ideas being planted in her mind as certainties, she added a new one. This WOULD be the last time this would ever happen.

She was going to have to figure out how, but she was for sure, going to stop this from happening. Gloria knew this was opening a whole new world of danger, but so what? What was a new danger compared to repeating the same terrifying nightmare over and over? She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but this person, these people, whoever it was, had to be stopped. This life was hers to live, not their to control. And with that thought, sitting aching on the ground in that unknown place, Gloria began to plan.

Hidden Falls

Shelly climbed. She climbed and she climbed and she climbed. The trick, she was told, was to not look down. Luckily she had great inspiration to look and move upward. Jack, a seasoned climber and the current (secret) object of Shelly’s affection.

They met in a shoe store. How many girls can say they met the man of their  dreams in a shoe store? Well, it wasn’t a regular shoe store, it was an outdoors sports and hiking store. So after wandering in with her friend Liz one day, Shelly made the best random choice of her life (by her standards) and went to look at hiking boots, and the accessories to match. Also fortunate for Shelly, was her own clumsiness.

As she backed away from the wall of boots to get a better look, she literally fell into Jack’s lap. Shelly turned bright red and almost fell to the floor trying to get up, but Jack just laughed. He was cool, calm and collected, but not a serious guy by any means. After collecting herself she realized that the stranger (Jack) was looking at her, and said hello. Thus began their first conversation, one that would ultimately lead to her current position.

That position was, on a rock/gravel face of about 45 degrees. Sure, it wasn’t a vertical climb, but that was thanks to Shelly. She may have exaggerated in her interest in hiking (there was none) but she did say she was inexperienced. Thus, the not-quite-as-hard-as-Jack-liked-‘em climb. After they flirted for several  minutes Jack ask if she wanted to join him sometime, and of course she said yes. And in a last second choice of brilliance, she bought a pair of hiking shoes.

Liz thought she was crazy. But Liz wasn’t mean, she was Shelly’s best friend. And she knew from spending even one day with her that Shelly was clumsy like Bambi the day he learned to walk. But instead of scolding her silly friend, she tried to educate her so that when she did attempt to hike, she wouldn’t end up falling to her death (Shelly did NOT like that visual).

But now, clinging to a large rock to catch her breath, she relived those initial moments of stupidity. Shelly kept thinking she should have never come. While she  looked adorable in her plaid layers and braided pigtails that morning, she was now a sweaty mess, shaking from the strain. Either Jack didn’t notice and was a typical man, or did notice and didn’t care. In either case, Shelly felt an immense amount of relief when Jack’s smiling face looked back at her and he told her they were almost  there. Wherever there was, Shelly didn’t know. Jack was so excited to show the mystery place they were headed toward and he wanted it to be a surprise.

A few minutes later they reached the top of hill they were climbing (well, Jack says hill, Shelly says cliff face) and Jack gave Shelly a second to breathe. After swallowing a probably way too large amount of water and wiping her forehead with her sleeve, she smiled and told Jack she was ready to move on. He was excited like a kid on Christmas. And after a few minutes of (thankfully) incline-less hiking through a small wood, Shelly got to see why.

It was amazing. A river had worn down a small canyon like area and left all these little waterfalls behind, as well as a pool of crystal clear water at the bottom. As they made there way around the edge Shelly saw someone had built a stone bridge from their side of the gorge-like area to the other, leaving the look of a strange mix of old and new, or city and wilderness, or something. It felt mystical and magical and a bunch of other great words. Jack was really enjoying her amazement.

After a few minutes he asked how she was doing, and if she wanted to go for a swim. Shelly didn’t have a swim suit, but Shelly did have sweat collecting in places that were less than pleasant. So she took off most of her layers and followed Jack to a ledge that could have been lower, but she was too excited for that cool water to care. After watching Jack give her an amazing grin and jumping into the water, Shelly followed without thinking.

It felt awesome. She had never seen water so clear and clean. When she lowered her face into the water she could see the ringed edge of the pool go down and down until it was too dark to see. They splashed around for a while, laughing and having a good time, swimming over to the falls and taking a drink like it was some kind of  massive outdoor drinking fountain.

They had just decided to climb out and dry off when they heard it. A noise. But not a nature sound. Not water, or an animal. People.

One sounded very scared, and a couple that sounded like the reason for the fear. Not having enough time to get out of the water, Jack and Shelly swam under an overhang worn out of the rock and clung to the side as far in as they could. Shelly was freaking out, shaking like a leaf and while Jack showed some concern, he just pulled Shelly close and held his fingers to his lips. There was nothing to do, but wait and see who these people were, and what they were doing at this hidden paradise.

Shelly was finally starting to breathe evenly again when she noticed. They had left all their gear in a pile on the ledge they jumped from. It would only be seconds before the strangers who belonged to the voices came into view, and saw someone was there.

Grey Area: Chapter 4

“You did what?” Carrie wasn’t shouting, but her voice was definitely at least two octaves higher than normal.

Grey decided, in best friend fashion, to tell Carrie everything that had happened. Honestly, she couldn’t have kept it from her if she wanted to. Grey told her about her “genius” idea to share her pizza, the encounter, the fact that Alexander Wadsworth was clearly a made up name, his strange excessive enjoyment of the pizza, the awkwardness, and a detailed description of his home. Carrie was in that weird state between being appalled, impressed, and amazed all at once.

“Wow. Wowie wow. I can’t believe you did that Grey. He could have totally murdered you and chopped you up and made a stew out of you! Or worse!” Carrie was a little melodramatic sometimes.

“What’s worse than that? You are so weird. You were just telling me last night that he was just an eccentric guy and was nothing to worry about. Now you think he’s dangerous?” Grey was mostly kidding, it was always hard not to mess with Carrie when she got this way. Carrie was after all, meant to be on stage or in front of a camera. SO dramatic.
“Ok. You’re right. Well, you’ve certainly got us a start! When should we try and go back together? You know I totally need to meet him. I mean, I have lived below him for ages.” Grey watched Carries brain spin and her eyes got bigger. “Wait. was he cute? You said he couldn’t be that old right?”

Grey decided to derail that train of thought. The last thing they needed was Carrie getting all flirty before they really knew anything about this guy. So Grey laid down the law. As Grey was the first person to A. start investigating, B. create a friendliness with this guy and C. clearly was the mastermind between the two of them, she called the shots. Carrie wasn’t thrilled about this, but she was always so busy with her job, and it was true that Grey was more authoritative in general, so she conceded.

Grey announced the next step was waiting, and that didn’t please Carrie at all. But she supported this choice by the fact that this guy, this “Alexander Wadsworth” was super skittish, nervous, and hesitant to even give his real name, and that settled it.

But while they waited, something weird was going on. While Carrie swore she had never noticed her upstairs neighbor ever having anything delivered EVER, that suddenly changed. Grey and Carrie became aware that almost daily (or as best guessed by in their time at home) “Alex” -as they referred to him- started ordering pizza. The first few times it was just a single pizza from any random pizza delivery place. But by the time two weeks had passed, they could tell by his trash output that “Alex” had gotten more than 24 pizzas delivered from almost every single pizza place in the area. Definitely a strange turn, but there was technically nothing that bad about it. Nothing to really be scared about. Just more reason to be super curious.

One evening, after Carrie had finally gotten home from a long day, both girls lay around exhausted and discussing this.

“What if we took him some other food?” Carrie was pondering, lying on her back dropping chips into her mouth. Both girls were so tired they resigned to eating only food they had that required no cooking that night. Grey leaned against Carrie’s bed where she was lounging, scooping potato salad into her mouth by the spoonful.
“You mean, do you think he would become obsessed with something else if we took, I don’t know, hot wings up there?” They were joking around, but also very curious. Who in their right mind orders that many pizzas? In a row? Even people who really like pizza don’t usually do that. “I keep wondering. Is this happening because i literally introduced pizza to him for the first time? Or had he maybe only had it a long time ago? Or maybe he had only had crappy pizza? Or maybe…” Grey stopped herself.

On more than one occasion she got a random creepy vibe that the pizza obsession their  mystery neighbor was having was more about her than the pizza. But she always brushed it off. He hadn’t seemed creepy, just weird… and she really didn’t wanna be scared of him. SO, she refused to validate that concern.

“Or maybe, he’s hiding a pizza parlor under all the tarps and he’s just ordering pizza to create the ultimate pie! Now THAT would be awesome.” Carrie clearly never caught Grey’s creeped out vibe, thankfully, and Grey followed her friend’s lead and laughed. That WOULD be the best possible answer, she supposed.

But they both knew, the only way to really find out what the heck this guy was doing up there, why he was making those loud THUD noises they couldn’t explain, and what all the pizza was about, was to talk to him about it. Unfortunately he didn’t seem much for the talking type. Grey was sure her attempt at befriending him was a good call. Unless they could get him to explain themselves, their only other option was to keep making wild guesses.

A few more days passed, and the girls start to plot their next move. Waiting, seemed to be a completed step, and it was time for action. They just wanted to play it right. But  on the night that would have been perfect for plotting, Carrie was asked to stay late. As Carrie seemed to be working more and more (gotta follow that destiny, she kept saying, over and over, looking more and more tired…) Grey was not surprised, but bummed out. Of course, her pouting didn’t last long.

In fact, She had just come to terms with her night alone, when there was a knock at her door. Through the door window she saw it was him, the upstairs neighbor, in what Grey knew was the only time he had ever knocked on their door. Taken off guard, but excited to see what this was about, she put on her friendliest smile, and answered the door.

“Hey, neighbor.”

“Hello, Grey. I was… I just…” Though he was again dressed nicely and seemed relatively put together, the guy just seemed so put off by his own efforts. “I mean to say, I found this amazing pizza place, and they have the most incredible things. I was wondering, if maybe, I could repay your kindness with some food of my own? I mean, I didn’t make it, but… I mean to share it with you…”

The whole time, Grey grins, unable to believe her luck. She decides to just help him out.

“I’d love that! Let’s go eat! I’m super hungry.” Grey watched as relief covered his face. She stepped into her shoes that were sitting by the door, grabbed her keys off their hook, snagged her phone from the table, and followed this mysterious, awkward guy back to his house to eat more pizza.

Grey Area: Chapter 3

A minute, at least, passed while Grey waited. She was certain the upstairs neighbor was home. And eventually the door opened. Kind of.

Through a tiny crack of open space between the door and the frame a timid, but adult male voices spoke.

“Who is there?” And nothing else.

“Hi. My name is Grey Parker, and I just moved in downstairs. Yesterday actually. And I brought a pizza home from my first day at my new job at Tribianni’s Pizzeria and I wanted to share it with someone. My roommate won’t be home for a while yet, and I thought maybe you’d like to come eat with me?” Grey used her most friendly voice, and smiled big even though the man clearly can’t see her through the ridiculously small amount he opened the door.

“No thank you.” No hesitation, no nothing. But he was polite, sort of.

“Are you sure? I can’t eat it all myself. I’ll bring it up here, if you’d rather. It’d be nice to get to know someone else here in town.”

Silence. And even though Grey was raised not to enter stranger’s houses, she was sure this add-on to her offer will help. And it did. After a lengthy silence, the man said ok, and shut the door.

Grey went back down, and grabbed the pizza. As she was about to leave she thought better and wrote a note to explain to Carrie where she had gone…. just in case. Then she left for real, pizza in hand. When she knocked again, the man opened the door all the way, and she was taken aback.

He looked totally normal. Spiffy even. The “eccentric neighbor” is a man older than her but far younger than her father. He was clean shaven, had combed hair and was wearing a dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and suit pants and vest. He was not eccentric but physical standards, but as Grey thought this, he does some sort of awkward evaluation of her, like SHE is the questionable one. Grey decided to re-introduce herself, now that they were face to face.

“Hi,” she said, extending her free hand, “I’m Grey Parker.”

“Hello, I’m…” It was clear he is trying to make something up, or he forgot, the hesitation was too great, “I’m Alexander Wadsworth. Please come in.”

He may have be polite, but he was so off putting that Grey smiled and told herself to follow her instincts if it gets too weird. IE- just leave. But she was determined to give it a good effort and get some investigative work in.

As “Alexander Wadsworth” lead her through the house to the kitchen, she surveyed the place. While the man seems relatively normal, his place did not. There were only a few basic pieces of furniture, nothing of excess at all, but the place wasn’t empty.

All space that wasn’t filled with a small couch or a single chair here and there, were filled. But with what, Grey has no idea. Large shapes she couldn’t identify, odd angles poking out in strange directions under neath numerous tarps and cloths fill all vacant space. Her neighbor clearly didn’t want her to see whatever the things are that were covered, and decided the best course of action was to not ask about them. Instead she decided to be as friendly as she could manage, and offer information about herself without getting into too much detail. And mostly, avoid asking him anything and hope he offers info on his own.

When they reached the kitchen, Grey saw it was just as bare as the rest of his house, except appliances. While he did have a fridge and stove, there was no microwave, no toaster, no blender, none of that. Her host offered her a seat at his table and two chairs that make up his entire kitchen furniture set, and offered her a glass of water and a plate. Smiling and nodding, she sat and watched.

When he opened his cabinet to get glasses, it was evident that he has only a few dishes. Maybe two of each everyday item, if that. Besides those few items, the cabinets seem to be full of storable food. Lots of cans and other types of food stuffs that don’t go bad easily. It was a little weird, so when he returned, and sat, they just sort of look at each other.

Grey realized that all conversation will be driven by her, and so she opened the pizza box and tried to get one going. While she talked in between bites about herself, giving a mini bio of what she considers “stranger safe” information, more oddness emerged. Alexander seems to be really enjoying the pizza. And so was Grey (it was a very good pizza pie) but definitely not as much as he was. It was almost as though he had never had pizza before, or maybe it had just been so long he had forgotten how much he liked it. When Grey got to the part of her self-explanation where she mentioned the pizzeria, she asked if he liked the pizza. Almost to avoid conversation, he shoved the last couple bites of the slice into his mouth all at once, nodded and makes a sort of “mmm-hhhmm” sound.

“Please, have as much as you like. My roommate Carrie doesn’t like cold pizza and I can probably only eat two slices.” She smiled, took her second piece, and gestured for him to take more. Grey was quickly running out of things to say. She was hesitant to say any more about herself, so she went against her better judgement and asked him a question.

“How long have you lived here, Alexander?”

“Two years. No, five years. I keep losing track.” And without anymore elaboration, he went back to enjoying the pizza. While she slowly ate her second piece, she watched him eat a couple more and pondered this small nugget of information.
How does one lose track of years? Two and five make a pretty big gap in time. And even if it WAS only two years, you’d think he’d have more furniture by now, or at least would have hung something on the wall. It looked like he could have very recently moved in himself, but she knows he has been there at least long enough for him to totally creep out Carrie’s old roommate Melanie. Maybe the rest of his furniture is under the cloths.

But Grey was worried about making things more awkward, and was sure he covered everything for a reason, and she WAS trying to befriend this guy and find out more. So she avoided the topic. But small talk was clearly not his strong suit, or at least, he didn’t like to make it, and as Grey doesn’t want to seem nosy, they sat in silence while Alexander finished off a few more pieces. When most of the pizza was gone, he sat back and for the first time, smiled.

But when Grey smiled back he became aware of his own expression suddenly and the grin melted away. Grey decided this was a sign it’s time to go. So she looked down at her watch and pretended to find the time to be interesting.

“Well, I should get going. Still more unpacking to do. Keep the last piece though,” she said still smiling. She wanted very much to make a good impression. Regardless of whatever was to come of her investigating, he was her neighbor and she wanted to stand well with him.

“Thank you.” And that was it. At least he’s polite, Grey kept thinking.

“No problem! We should do this again sometime. Besides Carrie and the people at the pizzeria I don’t really know anyone here, and it’d be nice.” Grey was hoping to create another opportunity to come back into his apartment, and maybe bring Carrie to get a second opinion. “I’ll stop by next time I bring a pizza home, ok?”
“Um, alright. Yes, that would be…. nice.”

And without anything left to do, she left. A million queries ran through her mind as she walked back down to her own house. It was amazing how many things you can wonder about with so very little information. Without anything else to do but wait for Carrie to get home, she decided she would indeed unpack to pass the time. Of course she had only been at the task for a few minutes when she heard the soon to be all-too-familiar THUD from the floor above.

Grey Area: Chapter 2

When Grey awoke the next morning to another unsettling, not quite identical, but clearly coming from above THUD, her deeply instilled concerned parent came to the surface. Having been forced to grow up rather quickly and be mature, adult-like, and thoughtful earlier than most, she had plenty of practice in this area. She wasn’t technically a parent, but she did help raise her siblings, and felt a similar need to care for all those around her.

Unfortunately her first full day in her new city home started with heading over to her new (hopefully temporary until she could find something better) employer to fill out W-2s and get a uniform and learn the ropes. Apparently this sort of pizzeria required a full week of training before she could get to the real work. Which was fine with Grey. She had never made pizza in her life. She was handy in the kitchen, and was also a fast learner, but despite those facts wanted to make sure she could excel at her first non-family job.

Luckily her neighbor’s noise woke her a full half hour before her alarm, so she had time to drag herself to the kitchen and have coffee. She found upon her arrival a surprisingly chipper Carrie, humming and preparing two cups of coffee, and smiling.

“Hey roomie!” Carrie clearly felt no need to be quiet in the morning, which wasn’t any different than living with four siblings, but Grey was glad to have someone’s energy to feed off of. It became clear to her that she would have to cut their late night talks shorter if she was going to be functional.

“Hey.” Grey grumbled, but only because it was the only sort of sound she was capable of at that point. She smiled weakly, and reached for her mug of joe. Carrie Had to report pretty early to the news station, and was already in a smart skirt suit and had her golden hair twisted up in a clip. Compared to Grey still in her pajamas with her hair flying in twenty directions, it was impressive.

But Carrie just short of slammed her coffee and hurried to leave, leaving Grey to her thoughts. Her grey eyes (the source for her less than ordinary name) raised to the ceiling, even though staring at its flat, bland surface gave her no more information. She wondered several things in succession. Who was this weird “eccentric” man who lived above her? Should she be concerned? Carrie didn’t see to be. Should she just walk up to his door and introduce her self? Maybe that was the easy, neighborly way to do a little investigating. What WERE those noises? And why would someone’s amount of garbage be alarming?

About that time Grey heard her alarm go off, and that meant time to hop in the shower. She wanted extra time to find the pizza place, in case she had trouble. So she did just that. Grey was a pro at quick showers, as having teenage brothers who steal most of the hot water teaches you that skill. She put on drab khaki pants, a plain shirt, comfortable shoes, fixed her long black hair back in a ponytail, and headed out the door.

Finding the pizzeria was a breeze, and it turned out the pizza business was easier than she thought. Her employer, Mr. Tribbiani, was impressed by her ethic and fast learning, and let her leave earlier than she anticipated. So feeling accomplished and smelling wonderfully like the pizza she was bringing home with her, she walked the eight blocks home.

Carrie wouldn’t be home for another four hours, and on her walk Grey pondered how to fill the time. So she got into the house, put the pizza in the kitchen, and took a well deserved second shower to get that work smell of her skin. She didn’t continue to wonder how to fill the time for much longer though, because as she was picking some sweats to put on, another THUD brought her back to morning’s questions.

She knew right away what she would do. Grey dried her hair, and made herself look as friendly, disarming, and non-suspicious as she could. Then she took a deep breath, and headed back outside. It was a nice afternoon, so she took a walk around their duplex house, both checking it out for the first time really, and looking for clues.

It was a nice place, Grey concluded. And not one fishy thing about it. It had a nice, maintained front and back yard. A fence bordering the back of the property and was in a decent neighborhood for being on the edge of a big city. Across the street was a relatively tall apartment building, and beyond that the buildings just got taller and taller, very quickly.

Looking up at her neighbor’s windows she saw very little. There were nice, full window curtains on every one, all drawn closed. It was only suspicious because she was so curious and without any real info but the rantings of an ex-roommate. So Grey steeled herself, gathered her courage, and climbed the steps on the side of the house to upstairs front door.

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” she convinced herself, “just say hello, introduce yourself, and see what he’s like. No big deal.” Grey took one last big, deep breath, and knocked.

Grey Area: Chapter 1

When Grey moved to the city, it was only because she was needed. But she stayed because she felt compelled to. Grey’s long time best friend Carrie moved to away from their small home town first, right after high school.  She had “destiny” in her, she always said. Carrie and Grey did everything together growing up, so when Carrie followed her dreams to a major TV network to “make it big” as a news caster Grey wanted to follow.

Grey already had a job, technically, working at her family’s paper shop. So there she stayed, in the family business for the first few years after graduation. She wasn’t happy, but she loved her family so on she stayed. It was really hard for her to even think about pulling away from her family. Grey felt a sort of unfair obligation. Despite her father always supporting her writing, and never forcing her to stay, Grey felt the need to do so.

Of course, a lot of people would feel the same. Grey had three younger brothers, and a younger sister, who were all in school. She loved them very much, but after her mother died when her baby sister was only two, Grey had to step it up. So from her freshman year of high school forward, it was life as the co-manager of the paper shop. Yep. Paper. Grey assumes it was her parent’s love paper products (stationary, notebooks, notepads, envelopes, etc) that inspired her to write, and to read, and to fall in love with words. But always, the first things for Grey were her siblings, her father, and the shop.

So when Carrie started calling Grey, in a panic, Grey started thinking about how much Carrie mattered too. Carrie had found a sweet gig to fall into, a job and a home waiting for her. But after a few short months at her current home, the roommate she was sharing a half a duplex with was planning her escape. Carrie wasn’t financially able to live alone, and was terrified she’d end up having to move back.

Grey wanted her to stay, and fulfill her “destiny”, and thought the best way to do that was to join her. She was torn up inside. How does one step away from supporting her family to support her bestie? There was no easy answer. But as Carrie’s “destiny” seemed to want her in the city, it seemed to want Grey there too. With one short month to plan the move, her oldest younger brother Ross, stepped up. This kid, one year older than Grey was when she started working, suddenly wanted to work. He did drop a few hints he had heard her phone calls with Carrie, and always being grateful for all Grey had sacrificed to support him and his siblings, wanted to repay her. Just another reason she loved her family so much.

This both elated and broke Grey’s heart. But it was on. With another offspring to pick up the slack, her father gave her permission to empty her bank account and move in with Carrie on one condition. Find a job. Despite this being easier said than done, Grey spent all her non-working time sending out her resume and calling employers. In the nick of time, a job opened up at a pizzeria, guaranteeing Grey income and a little help in the food department. It wasn’t a dream writing job, but employment it surely was.

So she packed her stuff, hugged her family until her arms were weak, said goodbye and left. Grey only met the roommate she was replacing once, and it was the day of her arrival. It was rather unsettling, but since she was excited for the big step forward in life, especially since it included Carrie, she brushed it off. Even weird rantings of paranoia by leaving ex-roommates can be shrugged off when you get to start a new life with your bestie.

So here we are at the beginning, where this tale really starts. Grey and Carrie sit together on Grey’s unmade bed (where are those sheets?) pondering where to start with the boxes and household items. Carrie has said an oddly small amount about the actual reason for her old roommates evacuation, and as they settle in to get Grey settled in, Grey remembers her predecessor’s weird comments.

“What exactly was Melanie talking about before she left?” Grey didn’t need to be subtle, this was her life long bestie.

“Hmm??” Evasive. Grey knew instantly that Carrie was attempting to play stupid and avoid whatever it was Grey was leading their conversation towards. “What do you mean?” That playing-innocent smile. Grey knew it well.

“Your old roommate, Melanie. You know, that girl who used to live here with you?” Grey pushed forward, ignoring Carrie’s eyes that refused to meet hers. “What was she talking about Carrie? She said ‘I can’t believe you want to like this! Not knowing whats going on, the noises, the trash!’ what did she mean? Did you get loud, confusing and messy since you moved here?”

Carrie clearly was hoping to avoid this topic, but also knew it was not going to be avoided if Grey wanted to know.

“It’s nothing really.” Finally meeting Grey’s eyes. After a second of deep, best friend eye contact, Carried folded. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but it really is nothing. It’s just weird paranoia Melanie has about the neighbor. She got so weird about it towards the end.”

Well, that was a door you just don’t crack open. Grey folded her arms and raised her eyebrows as to say, AND?? so Carrie would elaborate.

“It’s all in her head, Grey. Melanie swears he’s up to weird stuff. We don’t know him, or anything about him really, so she’s made it up in her head. He does make some strange, loud noises, but he’s above us! What do you expect? And I guess he has an odd amount of trash… OK, a LOT of trash, but still. So what? I’m telling you, Grey. Melanie was just paranoid. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just an eccentric guy. End of story.”

Grey considered this, and recalled the panic in which Melanie had left. There really wasn’t relief, even thought she was leaving for good. Grey had a sinking feeling. A sticky, troubling, annoying gum-on-the-bottom-of-your-shoe kind of feeling she couldn’t shake. Even though they spent the evening excitedly unpacking her things and enjoying being together again, the feeling stayed. And when it was time to sleep in her new room for the first time, she lay there awake, still trying to shake it.

It wasn’t until Grey heard her first THUD from the floor above her as she was just starting to fade that she knew something for certain. Carrie’s “end of story” was really just the beginning.

Elle In The Woods (a fairytale starter)

Elle lived a fairy tale life. I don’t mean it was perfect, I mean it was like a fairy tale. Like Sleeping Beauty. Well, sort of anyway.

Elle lived in a cottage in the woods. She didn’t know her real birth parents, and was raised by her sweet uncle until he died. That was a few years ago, but  Elle was able to be happy alone. No one in the small village she visited for food and supplies knew he had passed, so she never felt a lack of  safety.

She would travel to town, pick up baking supplies, fruit or veggies that she wasn’t producing on her little garden, and things like fabric, needles, thread, or even books to read.

It was a happy existence. She was never in want. She loved the menial tasks of sweeping the porch,  tending the garden, cleaning the house, baking and sewing, and reading “how to” books to learn new skills.

Elle was sitting by the window reading on a fall day. She had just finished sweeping crisp leaves off the porch and had a apple pie in the oven that smelled like heaven. The book she was pouring over was a how to make your own bird houses. Elle was pretty handy with a hammer and nails as well as everything else, and was plotting colors and shapes as she read. She was a completely self taught girl, at least since her uncle passed and could no longer home school her. She loved to learn. It was harder to  grasp more difficult theories and math and the like without a teacher  to consult, but she did fairly well anyway.

The math required to build the birdhouse she pictured was well within her grasp. It was more than just a rectangle with a vaulted roof and a round hole in the front. It would look exactly like the outside of her home, the little cottage in  the woods. She even knew where she would post it, with heavy wire or rope from the beautiful maple tree in the lawn. When the timer  buzzed and Elle closed the book to take care of the pie, she was too excited to notice the man in the yard.

Man, or boy rather. He must  have been about Elle’s age, almost an adult (but not quite). His name was Campbell, and he visited Elle’s yard often. This of course was not to Elle’s knowledge. Campbell had a fondness for Elle, that had been  growing since the first time he saw her, years before. Living an  isolated life, Elle never noticed that the boys in the village noticed her. But how could they not? Campbell pondered this, watching her sing and dance in her kitchen while she retrieved the pie and made to  start her dinner.

She was beautiful. She was tall, with amazing red hair, boundlessly curly and bright. Her skin was very pale, with a  lovely smattering of freckles on her nose. Her green eyes sparkled  with the joy and excitement that was always clear in them, and in her smile. Sure her clothes were simple, she could sew but was no trained  tailor, but it didn’t matter. She could have worn a potato sack and still been gorgeous.

Today was a tea length full skirt that swayed as she danced around, and a blouse with buttons, tucked in and sleeves rolled to the elbows. It was all brown, which on any other would look drab, but on Elle made her look like a flower coming out of the rich, dark soil.

Campbell wasn’t close enough to hear what she was singing, but it didn’t matter. Watching her enjoy herself, safe and happy was enough. You see, Campbell was the only person from the village who had worked it out. He knew something had happened to the old man she lived with, and that she was alone. Luckily for Elle, despite her being totally unaware, Campbell had become a sort of sentry. Every day (if  he could help it) he would go to her house, to check on her.

He hoped always for the same things. That she was safe, that she would notice him and be very grateful and fall in love with him, and that she would never notice him- for how would it look if she did? It was a sort of sad existence that Campbell lived but never mourned. No one asked him to watch out for her, and she might not even be happy about it if she found out, but Campbell felt he was doing the right thing. When she settled at her table to eat a while later, he stole away, hoping for her safety while he was gone. Campbell wanted to be her prince charming  so badly, but understood the situation properly.

Elle did not know him, outside of being a merchant in the village. Occasionally they spoke, about tools and supplies (his family sold hardware, tools, lumber and the like) and she would smile at him warmly, make a purchase, and leave without ever knowing he loved her, or even his name. Campbell left happily, but had no idea how much happier he would be on the following day. How could he know that the girl of his dreams would need a handy man, and he would accidentally be right there to be handy?

Post-Apocaliptic Pageant Queen

Dixie. They called me Miss Dixie, The National Beauty Queen All-Around Winner. Eight years in a row. Because that’s who I was.

Yea, I’m a beauty queen. I did pageants for ten years, from age four, to fourteen. But that’s when things went to hell, and I went from pageant walking and wearing tiaras, to running and wearing camo.

The war began suddenly, and no one was prepared. My family sure wasn’t. I miss them. They’ve been gone almost two years now. I’ve been living in underground hostels and camping in abandoned buildings still available to those of us who survived and haven’t been made into military soldiers. The world is very opposite, but I’m doing surprisingly well.

When the first bomb was dropped on Washington, DC, my family and I were in Atlanta at a pageant. I was entering Miss Southern Belle for the tenth time, already picturing myself with that trophy, sash and tiara. Now I just picture finding food and shelter.

What a world. What a mess. But even though my family hasn’t survived, I’m not alone. Strangely, my one friend used to be my competition. After the lock down, and bombs that followed that first one on our nation’s capital, Pearl and I decided to team up. Her family didn’t make it either. It was so bizarre. all of us contestants were back stage, in the facilities prep area. The building was old, and made of supplies similar to a bomb shelter. So when the Atlanta State Offices were bombed just a block away, the fallout killed most of the families in attendance. But me, and Pearl and the other girls lived. Some were hurt, some badly, but we lived.

Beautiful girls in beautiful dressed, with all our fake nails, and eyelashes, and hair pieces and makeup in place one minute, then complete chaos the next. Pearl and I did the only sensible thing. We found out if our families were alive, and when we found that the weren’t, we grieved for a moment, and then ran.

Some people probably thought us cowards and deserters, but we saw it as surviving and that’s what our families would have wanted. I haven’t worn a dress, makeup or fancy anything since that day. I wear camos, or whatever other clothes I can find that fit well, help me stay mobile, and hide me. This is the new life, it’s not glitzy, but there’s definitely competition.

Pearl and I don’t look anything like our old selves. To be honest, we were both spoiled, and therefore never looked shabby. Fine clothes, expensive makeup and hair, all the time. We were winners. Well, we were pageant winners. She was always my most fierce competitor, and I think that competitiveness has bonded us somehow. Only instead of fighting each other, we are fighting to stay alive.

It’s pretty horrific, this place that used to be America. America the beautiful… not anymore. The land is destroyed by bombs and warfare, and the people are few and mostly damaged, scarred and some grotesquely disfigured. Have you ever seen someone who was far enough away from a bomb explosion to survive, but close enough to have radiation fallout ruin them? If you haven’t, count yourselves lucky. Honestly, if I was one of those people, I wouldn’t want to live. Most of them don’t live very long, but that time they last must be awful.

The military is no longer voluntary. If you are able, and captured by US forces, you become one of them. I understand it. The world has turned against itself, on each other. Every man/country for himself. The Americans who lived are either wanting to protect it, or are being forced to protect it.

But what else is there to do? There isn’t some place that I’m aware of where the fighting isn’t happening. Pearl and I just keep moving. A few nights in one place can be too long. Soldiers sweep areas randomly looking for new recruits. But we want to live on our terms, and the only fighting we want to do is to stay alive and in control.

We aren’t alone in this attitude, and the others who feel similarly are our friends. Well, we work together while we are together, but as I said, no one stays in one place too long. Idle, means capture. We have seen groups of people, individuals who wanted to band together. Small clusters of rebels who seems to do alright despite their numbers making it harder to hide. I think they are trying to build armies of their own. But with more than one group like this, all pushing to do similar (but not always the same and definitely not unified) things, who knows if it will ever amount to anything. In my opinion, the only person I need right now is Pearl. And so far, we are doing alright.

Pie and Polish

Rachel settled down onto the bench she settled onto every day. There wasn’t anything Rachel was aware of that made the bench special besides the fact that it was in her favorite park, underneath her favorite tree.

When Rachel was younger the tree was younger, but not by much so it was prefect for climbing. Which is exactly what Rachel did every time her mother or father would bring her to the park to wear off some of her then boundless energy. The day I am writing about was chilly, so Rachel had on a heavy sweater and coat, as well as a colorful scarf and matching hat. Normally, in the city where she lived now as an adult she stood out, always more colorful than the drab grey world around her. But  today, in her park, beneath the massive tree, she blended right in. 

You see it is fall, and tree and the normally green grass carpet beneath her are covered in color. Red and yellow and orange leaves cover everything. It looked amazing. And it sounded lovely too. The birds are all a twitter and her steps crunched the fallen leaves. It was a perfect day for sitting on the bench, but of course, to Rachel, everyday is perfect for that.

She took a few deep breaths. Inhaling the sweet sent of fall and closing her eyes to truly zoom in on the sounds of it. She was sure she had a silly grin on her face, but it didn’t matter.  You see Rachel is one of the lucky people who is able to depart from the world of caring what others thought. If she was happy, that was all  that mattered. Because of this exercise in her senses (one she enjoyed in any season) she was hyper aware, and realized that someone was approaching. But as she was enjoying her little game  she allowed the person to come.

It would not be the first time that someone came to join her on the bench. She did not own it after all. In  fact it wouldn’t surprise her at all if it was a friendly person and they wanted to join in the fun. Elderly people are especially good at it.  Children and adults are ok, but have a harder time slowing down long enough to do it, or lack the restraint to sit long enough to get a good feel for anything. Therefore Rachel was happy to continue her smelling and hearing when she heard whoever had sat down was taking big  breaths as well.

“It smells lovely, doesn’t it?” She said to whoever it was. 

A quiet “mmmm-hhmmm” was sent back. The game was enhanced for Rachel, as a light breeze played on her skin, the sense of touch was added.
“I  love the smell of fall.” Rachel said to her companion, “The leaves, the  air, all of it. The only thing that smells better than fall is spring.”

There was no response. She knew someone was next to her despite their  silence, because their coattail or sleeve or something had settled against her hand. Despite her love of the senses Rachel was yearning  to look, just a peek, at who was sitting there to her right. It ruins the game, but she was curious. So with only her right eye, without turning her head at all, she opened her eye a smidge.

Much to her surprise, it was neither child or elderly person. It was man. Someone she would  guess to be about her age, and handsome to boot. He was tall, much  taller than her, with jet black hair and a lean face and torso. He was sitting with his eyes closed as she had been, in a full length coat and  scarf, a look she found very dapper. Fancy even.

Always wary that sometimes you can sense when a person is looking at you, she closed her eye again and tried to pull herself back into her senses. Her sense of smell was first to register the stranger. He smelled wonderful. A cross between baking spices and furniture polish. The wind must have  shifted for it became intoxicating.

“You smell lovely, if you don’t mind me saying. Did you just finish baking a pie or polishing wood?”

She realized this sounded a little weird, but didn’t open her eyes until the stranger started laughing. It turned out he had blue eyes, and an enchanting smile. She followed his line of site to the ground in front of him, where at his feet was a wooden basket. It looked to be freshly polished, and Rachel was sure there was a pie inside. She considered asking for a verbal response, but instead closed her eyes and took a deep, long breath in to try and record the scents. Only when she was certain she did, did she open her eyes again. Only this time, instead of being surprised by the presence of a handsome stranger, she was surprised that he was gone.

Gone. Completely gone, except for the  basket which was sitting on the bench in his place. After a short  moment where disappointment rolled over, Rachel’s senses regain control. She noticed upon closer inspection of the basket that a note was taped on the front. The note had one word on its outside, written  in a sort of wonderful scrawly, quick, but full of intent kind of script. 

The one word, if it was possible for a single word on the top of a basket left by a handsome stranger to surprise a person, did surprise Rachel. The word, was her name.

Incomplete Dream (I keep hoping to dream the rest of it)

Who am I?

What am I doing here?

What just  happened?

That’s what I couldn’t help but think. It was the ONLY think I could think. Everything else, was gone. Luckily I wasn’t asking myself questions like “what’s that smell” or “why do I hear… nothing”  because it would have been a tip off, and a tip off that would send me into a panic.

I was afraid to open my eyes. I know it’s silly, all would be revealed if I’d just do that one thing, but I couldn’t. I was too scared. So I pulled in my arms and legs and just laid where I was in the fetal position. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but I was too frightened to to care. Time must have passed, because I felt colder. The temperature changed. That meant I was outside. Of course. That explained a lot of things. The smell. It wasn’t bad, in fact it was pleasant. It was a combination of honeysuckle and freshly cut grass.  And I realized I was laying on the ground. That made sense too, my  shoulder seemed to be pressing down onto a rock or something. The pain had been building for a while, but I didn’t want to move even to fix it.

So, ok. I’m on the ground, outside. It’s still late summer/early fall,  so it’s not going to snow, and the temperature change was pretty  gradual so I wasn’t worried about it getting too cold. In other words, I had convinced myself that no matter where this outside on the  ground was, I was still somewhat safe and therefore could stay  huddled up in a ball as long as I liked. But it was getting cooler, and my shoulder I realized, was going numb.

I tried to listen, listen really  hard. There had to be some sound that went with my surroundings…. nothing. Wait. The light tinkle of water moving over stones. A fountain? A creek? That didn’t really help. In fact the only thing that  sound did was make me thirsty. So of course, I gave in. Ever so  gradually, I opened one eye. It was dusk, but the receding light was enough to see.

There was so much to see! The ground I lay on was  grassy, and sometimes mostly dirt with rocks. It went for a long  distance in front of me, but it did end. There was a massive stone fence there in the distance, with something like moss or creeping vines climbing it. It was kind of pretty.  I wondered how big the fenced in area was, and if I was inside of it or outside. I opened my other eye,  and slowly rolled onto my back and sat up. I must have been laying  there a long time, the grass and dirt beneath me were hard pressed into the ground. I tried to brush the dirt off my sleeve, and turned my head to look around.

I was inside the fence. A distance away above where I could see before was a second wall, surely meeting the first in a corner. I couldn’t be sure, because the entire area had beautiful, massive trees. I’d never seen anything like them, they seemed to be sad. Their long, thin, vine like branches bent over until they almost  touched the ground. Beautiful, but sad. Then, I saw what I was looking  for. Behind me, surrounded by a neat, groomed path, with pretty flowers planted in organized shapes, and trellises with bright green ivy, was the fountain. Of course I know fountains are not for drinking, they are for gazing, and listening to, to be soothing and decorative. But at that point in time, with all my other questions starting to creep  back into my head, along with a slew of new ones, I became insanely thirsty. I didn’t try to rationalize my next move, because truly nothing else mattered. Whether it was my long stay curled up on the  ground, the sound of the water playing, or a combination of the two, I was drawn to the fountain.

Slowly, I righted myself and began to walk  towards it. I tried to remind myself to keep an eye out for people or dangerous animals or whatever possible things that could be out  there, but it was like my eyes locked onto the water and nothing else mattered. By the time I reached the fountain, I had gathered that there was no one around. I was in fact alone. I also saw, as I approached the fountain, that it was beautiful. I thought that it was just stone, but it was made out of a black stone, like obsidian. It was too worn to shine, but was clearly well maintained. The water was crystal clear, and the basin was free of debris.

Seeing this, and forgetting manners and upbringing, I leaned over the side, and began scooping handfuls of the most wonderful, tasty water I had ever tasted into my mouth. It was delicious. Cold, crisp, clean, and I must have been really parched, because right when I got a little too excited and almost fell in, I heard something that brought me upright.  Drying my face on my sleeve and attempting to compose myself, I  surveyed the space. A combination of worry over my physical appearance and worry I was trespassing (despite not choosing to be  wherever I was) filled me.

Life In Pyce (possible chapter 1)

It was really cold that day. Like  really truly bitter cold. But it felt good. It was a welcome change to the ridiculous heat that lasted far past summers end. Fall stayed in  that weird summer-like state then one weekend there was finally a  snap, and here we are. I couldn’t have been happier.

My car hasn’t had air conditioning since before I was born, and you just cant have any kind of hair-do beyond a ponytail with the windows down. And you  HAVE to have the windows down. Well, up until that weekend I mentioned. I even kept my drivers side window down after the snap,  dressed for fall, breathing in that cool, crisp air. I’m not a winter person. I don’t like any kind of extreme weather. I like moderate, mostly. I don’t like bitter cold normally, but like I said, I was still making up for a long over-due cool off.

My bones seem to carry whatever the long-term temperature is in them, so it takes longer to warm up on a  snowy day, and longer to cool off when its sweltering. So this day I’m  telling you about, was heavenly. I can just cruise sometimes, just  drive around, meandering the streets of my suburban town, enjoying  my own company more than I ever really enjoyed anyone else here. I  had only lived in Pyce for a year but it felt  like forever.

I had made a few decent friends, but it was pretty surface. All the girls like make up, fashion magazines, high heels and mini-skirts. I wear a little makeup sometimes, but im pretty much always fresh faced, and I never read fashion magazines. When  I’m with my friends, the girls, I’ll hold one in my hands, and flip the pages pretending to find something interesting, but it’s a lie. The guys i hang out with are much cooler, easier to be around because I’m a higher percentage of “me” than I am with the girls. But, I get the feeling  I’m an anomaly to them and i catch them having those annoying guys-leering-and-saying-inappropriate-things type moments when its my  turn to play video games, or I’m getting off a phone call.

But it’s alright, I don’t expect much from anyone here. I’m not living in Pyce by choice, and when I can figure out where to go, I’m leaving. This isn’t a bad place, I don’t think. It’s just not… home. And I cant go back to what used to be home… it’s not home now either. I learned that one the hard  way. A few months of me moping around after we moved convinced my parents to fly me home for a long weekend to get a chance to hang  out with my old friends. Friends I thought I missed. Well, I did miss  them, until I got there. It was like invasion of the body snatchers. They  LOOKED like my old friends, but they weren’t people I knew anymore.  After only a couple months absence. It was heartbreaking.

But it did make it easier to make one decision- I was going to go somewhere, but going  back was something I would never do. I think I tried a little harder after that visit. The “oomph” to move forward helped solidify the few  friends I had made, and that made life a little easier. But they’re… different. I don’t have that feeling I had with my old friends (before I  moved, I mean) where I can just dish about anything, comment on anyone or any event, and even if they disagreed they were accepting of me. These people, they all grew up together and they are very set in their ways. The patterns they have are just the patterns everyone has here it seems. Their parents and their parents parents… weird social  circles, the girls are all girly (except for me and maybe two other girls I’ve met), the guys are a fifty fifty split between jocky/academic and  artsy/academic. I’m serious when I say all the guys want good grades (not to say they are all really smart. That’s two different things). The  girls could walk around in their underwear, and the guys in town wouldn’t notice if their homework isn’t done. It’s pretty weird. The girls are totally ok being dumb as bricks, but some do managed decent grades (I think it’s accidental). I’m this weird anomaly, of course, as I’m not drop dead gorgeous like the other  girls but maybe I would be if I wore the clothes and makeup they do. And I am SMART. Like, I think I make some of the boys angry because I excel ahead of them and make them look less… bookish?

It’s like this world that pulled out of the 1950s but also out of the sci-fi comic  books too. I sometimes noticed people doing weird things. Like when I go into a store and the people don’t hear me come in. Sometimes I see them just standing around together, not talking or anything. Or they are all talking and they stop suddenly when they notice my presence. I have been given free merchandise before, as in the people in there  wanted me out so bad they let me walk out without paying. Even after I offer to just leave the cash on the counter. It’s kind of creepy, and that’s just the beginning.

I’ve noticed other little things, but I always end up thinking they are just in my head. I’ve noticed that even though people do like different genres of music, you could easily find everything you hear them listening to on the top 40 lists. NO joke, its like all music they know about is found there. When I listen to weird stuff from back in the day, or indie and garage band stuff, people never seem to have heard of it.

And sometimes when i reminisce, or laugh at something that reminds me of something from my childhood, no one else ever gets the reference. I’m sure people are different in different places, some things are universal. Yet sometimes I feel like none of the people who are old enough to be around when I was growing up actually were. When I mention childhood toys, or TV shows that are long cancelled, or people who were flash-in-the-pan celebrities from long ago, no one has ever heard of them. I tend to think they are just so caught up in the now, in pop culture, and all that they didn’t retain that stuff…. and sometimes I think other things and have to shake them off.

So on this, when the weather felt soo good, everything just got weird. Of course, I’ve gotten kind of used to Pyce’s weirdness, on the general level, but this was something else. It wasn’t until i slowed at the major intersection near the mall that noticed anything, as cruising with the windows down on a day like that can consume a girl. But when I did, there was nothing that could distract me.