How I Fell in Love with a Man Named August

How I Fell In Love with a Man Named August

The autumn breeze drifts through the sleepy town,
lulling the town with its droopy breaths.
The children hang back, tired and dismissive
of the playground below.
Time had come for the winter's keep,
time for the trees to sleep.
Among these streets, where the cars stood still,
and not even the chimes on the diner door made a sound,
was where the man named August was found.
August was bright, cheerful, and honest;
He spoke with grace and eloquence as
the words his mouth formed danced on the air of the land.
"Why does the town sleep? Is a curse at play here?"
The little boy below, cradling a book in his arms,
glanced up from his perch on the bench,
and asked the new man what he meant.
"I am not asleep, sir, not I,
and I fear the curse does not fool my eye."
August smiled and bowed his head,
for his searching at last had come to an end.
This little sleepy town was his, it was true,
and he, too, was not fooled by the curse.


Why, yes, this is a poem inspired by Once Upon A Time, and why yes, I do realize I am a tad obsessed. But I mean....his name's August. You're kind of obliged to love him. 

Comfortable

AN: The following is not suitable to read if you are at work, have small children around, are an immature audience, or if you know me personally in some capacity that could particularly embarrass me on the public field of life. If you are a random who does not fit into any of the above categories, or if I have sent this to you myself, read on and enjoy. Comment what you thought below. Names have been changed to protect the...er, innocent? bah!
"So are you kickin' me out now?" I smiled at the man across from me, laughing as we walked up his drive.
"That's up to you. I mean, I figured we'd just hang after the movie..." He turned to smile at me, flicking ashes away from his cigarette. I inhaled the smoke off of mine before flicking it off into the road behind my car.
"Well, alright then. Let's go." I grabbed hold of his hand, following him into the house. A quick hello to his mom, then we were off to his bedroom. I emptied my pockets onto his nightstand--phone, money, cigarettes, lighter--leaving him ample time to grab the only chair in the room at his desk. A small chuckle escaped as I sat down on his bed across from him, staring at the redheaded male in front of me.
"What?" He smiled, moving his hand to rest lightly against his head.
"Nothing, nothing at all." I smiled back at him before leaning back to lay on his bed. He fumbled with the computer for a moment, playing a show from Netflix before jumping onto the bed. I clumsily flipped around, laying on my stomach and propping my head up on my hands.
"Have you ever seen this show?" he asked, laying down beside me.
"No, is it good?"
"Eh, it's alright." Jaret smiled back at me, the grey in his eyes twinkling as he winked. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. Turning a bright shade of pink, I turned away to watch the figures move across the screen. I felt a soft pressure on my back, and weight shifted on the bed. Jaret climbed on top of me, kneading and rubbing my back while I laid there. I couldn't stop the slight moan that escaped my lips.
"You like that, hmm?" he chuckled.
"Oh hush. It feels good." I buried my face into the sheets, hoping he didn't see, or hear, how much I enjoyed his little massage.
"I bet you do." I felt his breath warm on my neck as he placed a light kiss near my throat. I turned my head to the side, my lips reaching up to touch his. I twisted my body beneath his, turning to wrap my arms around his neck as I pulled him down into a deep kiss. His tongue dashed across my lips as I smiled, granting him entrance. Our tongues danced around each other and regrettably, we parted, each gasping for breath.
"First date, don't make me walk out of here feeling like a slut," I laughed.
"Oh, I won't." He chuckled. I sat up and turned to curl up in his arms, trying to figure out what had already transpired on the computer screen.
The characters in front of us spoke of their athletic endeavors, one of which being a professional football star. For a moment, I wondered what in the world he put on.
"You know, I used to wrestle. Back in Alabama."
"Oh really?" I smiled coyly, "You know. I'm pretty good if I say so myself."
"At wrestling?" His eyebrows plucked up and he smiled at me.
"Yeah. I would like to think so." Jaret dropped my hand that he held between his and perched on the far corner of the bed.
"Well, let's go then."
I laughed, moving to crouch down towards the center of the bed. Jaret pounced towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I turned and ducked, just missing being completely tackled and captured. After a moment of squirming, I sat back up on the bed, free from his grasp. He turned and grabbed my wrists, pinning me down under him. I smiled up at him, pressing my lips against his. His grip loosened and I took the time to flip him. Straddling him, I pushed his hands down onto the bed, leaning down to kiss and nibble at his neck once more. A small groan emitted from his throat and I smiled at the small shudder that shimmied down his spine. My lips reclaimed his once more as his hands escaped mine to pull at the back of my shirt. His arm wrapped around mine as we sat up, entangled up in each other. Our kiss deepened and his hand moved to rest on top of my jeans between my legs. Another small moan escaped my lips. I allowed my hands to move up his shirt, tracing the faint muscles that lay just a few pieces of cloth away. His hands traced below my shirt, a small tease until I grabbed my own shirt and yanked it upward. His hand moved up and with a simple flick of his wrist, my bra fell loose. I hastily threw it off, allowing Jaret to push me down. His lips touched mine, moving to kiss at my neck. One hand rubbed over my chest, flicking my erect nipples and twisting them ever so slightly. My breath hitched as I felt his mouth move over my left breast, leaving his hand to wander below to fiddle with my belt. My right hand lightly raked his arm as I moved my left hand to jerk the belt buckle and jeans button away. I gasped as I felt his hand on the outside of my wet panties, teasing me with one finger tracing a faint line up and down. He moved to kiss me once more.
"You like that?" He asked, smiling as he watched me shakily nod, arching my back as he slowly moved the cloth aside with one hand. His mouth returned to the other breast, letting his tongue flick over the nipple, his teeth brushing against it. A moan escaped my lips, and he slowly rose back up, watching me with fiery eyes. My eyes closed and I felt his finger slide in, slowly, and slide out. A heard a small chuckle escape his lips as he moved his finger up and down, wiggling around just to see my reactions.
"Jaret.." I breathed. I felt his hands move to either side of my hips and the cool air surround me as he slowly pulled off my pants. He smiled up at me as he began to kiss just below where my pants line had previously been. One hand reached up to support my back, I felt his warm tongue slide inside of me, flicking the wet walls of my pussy. Another hand rose to play with my clit, keeping the same rhythm he had formed with his tongue. My back arched and I continued to moan, feeling the waves of satisfaction slowly start to build up. My hand wrapped around his arm, scratching at him. I heard myself moan his name over and over. Smiling, he kissed my inner thighs and moved off the bed, disrobing himself as he went. Quickly (and unfortunately) sliding on that damned piece of latex, Jaret climbed back on to straddle me. No longer caring where his mouth had previously been, I reached up and kissed him, moving my hand to stroke up and down his erection. My hands returned to his neck as he positioned himself above my wetness. I nibbled at his neck as he slowly began to enter me, moving back into the same rhythm his tongue had danced previously. The pace began to pick up, in and out, going deeper inside of me each time. I heard myself get louder, practically screaming in pleasure as Jaret thrust inside me. Soft kisses were placed along my neck as he wrapped his arms around my legs, pulling me closer to him. He stood up, pulling me with him to the side of the bed. Jaret stood, wrapping his hands around my legs to pull him up to his shoulders. I felt him go deeper inside of me, causing the greatest pleasures to crash over me repeatedly. His name escaped my lips more than once, entangled in moans and cries to a higher deity. His hands groped at my abdomen, tension building as he thrust deeper and deeper. He swelled inside of me, and finally collapsed on top of me, showering my upper body with kisses. I giggled, seeing him just as out of breath as I was.
"What?" He asked, smiling at me as he moved to clean up our mess.
"You're adorable, that's what." I watched as he disposed of the condom before laying back down next to me. His hand travelled up and down my back, calming me to a near sleep.
"Some first date, huh?" I laughed.
"Well, I didn't make you walk out of here feeling like a slut, now did I?" He smiled at me, a hint of mischief in his eyes.
"Not yet. Let's be cliche and go smoke a cigarette..."

That Awkward Moment

when I haven't posted anything in eons and all I'm posting is a link to a funny article I need to print off at school next week....
and I cant think of any other way to preserve it than this corner of the internet. So
uh.
Yeah,

http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2012/01/03/25-things-writers-should-stop-doing/

Mistakes

It's time for another unburial
That lovely time to release
all my secrets.
The mistakes made are undeniable
unforgivable and unreasonable
In the moment, something may seem just right
Like finally,
finally!
Someone cares...
The kisses, the soft caresses
are just perfect...
Until it ends.
Until you realize the mistake made
Until you're crying
begging
pleading
for forgiveness.
Love has been compromised
and trust lost...
I'll do anything to fix what I've done.
Anything to take back that mistake,
lose friends
break alliances
Risk my future...
I just want you back
back to the way we were when there was love
trust
compassion.
Hope for us..

Elevator Rides

The shy girl entered the elevator and timidly pressed the number 3 light. She selfconsciously bent her head low and scrolled through her Facebook app on her phone, hoping if anyone at the top of the elevator happened to notice her they may believe she had a life. Something outside of academics and clubs. She began to hear the taunts in her head, those cursed words that had haunted her past. Her life had comprised of being bullied, abused, and worst of all, ignored. She reflected on these thoughts for a brief moment. Why was it that she always worked her hardest, stayed up beyond any imaginable hour for any girl her age--well, unless a party was involved. She was always left out, sitting at home studying for this exam or writing that paper. She made straight A's and was paid to go to college. Yet her parents refused to include her. Yet her friends remained to exist only in her head. Yet, she was alone.
The elevator climbed higher, metallic noises clanging outside of the compartment. The girl clung to her binder, trying to remember the various facts she must memorize for the exam in three hours. Roman Senate: legislation introduced by the magistrate, discussed by the Senate, and went for vote to the comitias or conciliums.... The elevator shook and rattled, the grinding increasing and the ascend upwards slowing. Three comitias, attended by all classes.... The pulling stopped, the elevator hung between two floors for a brief moment. The girl continued thinking, trying to remember the name of the three voting blocks in the Roman republic. A hissing noise filled her ears, and she ignored it, believing it to be a simple noise from a passing floor.
comitia curiata.
The elevator began to drop, hurling itself towards the bottom of the shaft.
comitia centuriata
This shy, invisible girl clung to her books, straining her brain to think of the third comitia.
I have to ace this test...


"In a horrible elevator accident at a local university, Amelia Ventura was killed when an elevator crashed to the bottom of the three-story library building. In other news, the Colts will play...."

Even in death, Amelia became a sideshow, something no one recognized....

Open for Criticism

Some compare this pain to a sharpened spearhead lodged into their chest. Others, a bullet to the head. Those who experience the worst of it call it dying. They have the easy road.
He stared, constantly. I couldn't burn the ends or mend them. I couldn't do anything but endure his dirty stares, his snide comments. Remember that, some how, some way, it was my fault. It was by my hand that he had left, my actions that continually drove him away.
It had been perfect, the two years prior. We hadn't fought that often, we hadn"t had trouble. It was this damn sickness I couldn't shake, the reality of it all. I couldn't stop the perpetual word vomit of the moment, the sudden spill of accusations and names. The neverending outflow that continued to disturb my relationship with him. It wasn't just the average teen romance, or the average breakup either. This was that cliched "One", the Forevers, the Star after the Fireworks. He wasn't ordinary, or even extraordinary. But he was mine, and that was all that had mattered.
Until it ended.
When it ended, the pain collapsed in waves, racking my body with the constant cries for mercy. The spear was shoved deeper, the knife grew longer. There was no way to stop it from growing.
It wasn't the mere fact that he had left, or even that he was off having fun. I wanted him to happy, I truly, legitimately did. The problem was that I wasn't happy, I was in pain. And not by any action he performed. It was a bad situation come across at a bad time. If I had been in his situation, I would have done the same thing.
"Maybe when you get better," he insisted.
"Maybe when you're yourself again," he'd tell me.
He did nothing wrong other than be there. It was my fault that he was gone, my words that drove him away. It was my own fault. That drove the pain deeper, the guilt further. That was the hole in my chest, the breath escaping my lungs.
The fact that I did it.
I had no one to blame for my misery, no one to blame for him leading me on. I had no one else but myself.






This was supposed to reflect thoughts on what the modern tragic hero is. Tell me if you think it fits the prompt, if it's good, sappy, whatever. If it sucks, tell me. If you can advise on how to improve, please do. Thanks

Dear KHS Counselors

To Whom It May Concern:
Upon receiving my senior schedule, I discovered a few errors. These mistakes include a wrong level placement, a class I physically am not able to take, and, after further review of the general education requirements of my chosen college, a new need in the foreign language department. Using the schedule guide that was so kindly enclosed with my preliminary schedule, I have developed a new schedule that better suits my academic needs.
The main problem, and the one that begins to shift my schedule around tremendously, is my first period of the fall semester 2010 where US Government and Economics is placed at the College Prep level. This level causes a disturbance with my academic future as the originally requested Advanced Placement level course offers a better preparation in my chosen career path, a boost in my GPA, and, possibly, college credit itself. This is why I wish to move my US Government and Economics class to occupy the first block in the spring semester to gain AP level. Consequently, I would have to drop my current Latin III class, which is better in the long run, and later explained. Because of the move of my first class of the fall semester, the position remains vacant. After a brief consult with the aforementioned schedule guide, I moved my pre-calculus class from the fourth block of the same semester to occupy the first block. The vacancy formed in the final period leads to the next major problem with my senior schedule.
After looking at the general education requirements for the University of Tennessee, I found that a course in an intermediate foreign language is required. Although there is an intermediate Latin course, the language I have previously taken, I've come to the conclusion that in the career of a historian and teacher, Spanish would better benefit my future. Therefore, after yet another look at the schedule guide, I propose to fill the empty spot in my fourth block of the fall semester with Spanish I; I would also like to drop my Shakespeare class, as I can take Intro to Shakespeare at UT, to take Spanish II during the fourth block of my spring semester. With both courses of Spanish completed, and hopefully mastered, by graduation in the spring, I will be able to take a departmental placement exam at UT to move into the intermediate Spanish class and complete a general education requirement without needing an additional course.
The final problem with my schedule exists in the second block of the spring semester where Out of School Experience currently sits. In order to take this opportunity I would need a car and a place to intern/volunteer at, which I have neither. While I could petition to be an office assistant at that time, I feel that it would be to my benefit to replace OSE with Business Principles in the second block of the spring semester. With this new course, I could be better prepared in a business setting during my college years.
While I understand these changes are extensive and may not all be fulfilled, I request that they are to the best of your ability. Each and every course is placed to where it will best suit my needs for a successful future. Enclosed is a diagram of each move and brief explanation of each move. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Kayla Chesney.

A New Era.

She looked around her room, feeling that dull ache rise inside her. She couldn't breathe properly. Thoughts flashed in her mind. The beautiful time when they had laughed, laid together, hands laced as they fell asleep side by side. Then the yelling came, thundering in her mind, the happiness she had once known fled from her mind. She should have seen it coming. The flowers wilted, turning that ancient yellow on old tomes kept in the libraries. Artificial ones, bought at a cheap price on a date she had begged for, sat next to them in a vain attempt to liven the dead. The picture hung to the side, a reminder of the love he once held. The books cast aside, askew on the shelf. They had never been opened, nor did she think they ever would. Her chest swelled as she turned away, pulling the bedsheets up to her chin.

***

Life goes on. That's what he said as he turned away. Life goes on. Keep the shots coming. That's what he said as he played with his son. Keep 'em coming. That's what he said as he insisted he didn't love her, didn't care for her. Life goes on. Keep the shots coming. Buried in activities and work, this was what was best. Senior year, one of the biggest of their lives, was coming and this was what was best. It's for the best...

***

Sure, it wasn't long, but..she was curious. A girl can't contain her curiosity forever, can she? She just wondered, after so long of talking, did he feel the same?

***

He acted like he didn't care. But...just maybe he did.

Adventures in DreamWorld: The Game part 1

There's this school. Just down the road from University of Tennessee; this is my college. It's jsut as big as the former. The football field is huge; the zoo is right behind it. My college was built upon Chilhowee Park, as I figure out, since the fair was deemed unsafe for all who particiapte in it. Now, the Jacob building is the library, there are lecture halls built where vendors sold their footlong corndogs and saratoga chips. This is my college, home of the red and white. There's a football game, crowds cheer and the announcer screams over the intercom; we're beating our inner city rival--the Volunteers. Or at least, so we think.There's an explosion-huge-right by my ear. Everything goes black as the amused cheers turn to frightened screams.
"Where's little Susie!"
"Mom! No!"
Screams, everywhere. Everything's black. I can't open my eyes. I can't move anything.
Black.
Nothingness.
Suddenly, I hear animal noises. Bat screeches and panther growls. I slowly open my eyes as I realize I'm alive. I survived the bombing. And I'm in animal hell. I realize I'm in a trailer laying down on a trashed couch. I rise up and see a lady standing by a stove, stirring noodles as she smokes her cigarette.
"Hey there, suga, you got quite a knock on the head."
"Yeah...I guess I did," I reply, rubbing my head. "Where am I?"
"I'm one of the zookeepers. I brought you here, to my home. It's only a trailer, and alot of the sick animals live with me, but it's something." She continued stirring her noodles, adding a dash of salt. I looked around to see an array of animals. A panther was playing with a raccoon in the floor oddly enough and a bat hung precariously from the ceiling. There was a parrot perched atop a camel's head, and an otter waved to me from the kitchen sink.
This was crazy, ludacris...this can't just be.I can't..this can't be real.
I stood, putting a hand out to balance myself so I wouldn't fall. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through my arm, piercing the skin as I yelped a plea for help. The zookeeper rushed over, grabbing a syringe that had been laying on the table.
"Don't worry, honey, little Dracula here didn't mean to bite ya."
Oh please God, don't let her be serious. Vampires can't be real too....
She took my arm and wedged her finger between my arm and the bat's mouth and slowly pulled up. I cringed as I saw the venom-coated fangs being pried out of my arm. There were two slits, pouring blood, left from where the bat's teeth had been. The lady blew smoke into my face as she injected a gel into the slits. A burning sensation swept my arm as I realized it was an anti-venom to save me.
Lord, help me, I had to have anti-venom or I would turn into a vampire.....
"There ya go, suga. I'll go lock up Dracula, he doesn't seem to like you."
The lady grabbed the bat and took him to a back room.
I had to get out of here. I had to. I looked around and saw the front door, my only chance of escape. I took the opportunity while she was putting up the vampire in disguise to escape. I ran out the door, watching as two of the animals bounded after me. Something else bit me, the same spot where the vampire thing had. It dug into my skin, biting to the bones.
She wants these animals to kill me!
I screamed once more and swung my arm wildly in a vain attempt to get the animal off of me. Everything's gone crazy, nothing is right. I'm confused, everything's vague.Cigarette lady is back, taking "Mr. Purrs" off my arm. There is nothing I can do, I can't do a single thing to escape this world. I can't escape. Nothing makes sense and I can't escape.


And I know...this is only the beginning....

I'm Not Insane

Where am I?
I was going fast, winding through long white corridors. They're taking me away. They're locking me up.
White walls, padded, just for safety.
I slowly turned my head left and right. I saw the doctor walking beside me, limping on his cane.
He was telling people to run tests, analyzing my symptoms.
Symptoms? Where am I? Who is he?
I looked down, seeing the device in my hand. It was blinking at me, asking me if I was okay. I typed back I was okay, watching as it sent my words.
Tell him, tell him they're locking you up. He'll come save you. He can fight them off.
We raced down the hallways, passing the women in white.
No, they'll see. They'll know. They'll lock you up.
Where am I?
The man with the cane, he looked to me, answered my unvoiced question.
You're pregnant. You fell. Now it's my job to figure out why.
I nodded very smally, turning away from him and looking at the blinking light in my lap.
I saw the bump, the little foot kicking out and I remembered.
I was pregnant. I was in the hospital, the blinking in my lap was from my phone, the words from the baby's father.
They whisked me into an elevator, and all was lost again.
The Dojo Master.
He was here, he was at the parking lot entrance. He could save me.
Why was he here though? Shouldn't he be teaching kids karate?
No, he's a hallucination. Don't say anything, they'll lock you up.
The man with the cane popped a handful of pills into his mouth. I recognized the man, but couldn't place where he was from. The elevator doors opened, and down more long hallways we go. I can hear ladies screaming, a baby or two crying.
What are they doing to these people?
They told me to sit in the green chair, wait for the nurse.
They are. They are admitting you.
I stared down at the tag on my wrist, scared.
I haven't spoken in so long, when the lady asks me what happened, I can't tell her.
I don't know what really happened.
It was hot.
I was hot.
I hear a woman tell the nurse I fell, and she caught me. My heart rate was high, worried about the baby.
He kicked me, then, bringing me back into the world.
I touched my stomach, as they made me change. Flimsy gown, hard bed. A tv with no sound.
The phone blinked again, he said he can't come.
I roll over, a tear in my eye.
You're pregnant. You're in a hospital.
I can hear the baby's heartbeat.
He's okay, the baby's okay. You will be okay.
I'm tired, I want to sleep. But afraid of the man with the cane coming back, afraid the long scary corridors will become my reality again. I watch the tv without any sound, scared, but suppressing it, it wasn't real.
I'm not insane.

Caty's Creek: Chapter Three: Memories from Long Ago

Okay, for those who haven't made it to FictionPress or heard about my story, Caty's Creek, you might want to head on over there and read the first two chapters before you read this. This is chapter three of the story, as so obviously stated in this post's title. So, let me continue on with the story..





Caty's Creek


Chapter Three: Memories from Long Ago


Elyse's POV





I sat there wondering how it all could have happened. Was it really ten years ago? A full decade? It seemed like only yesterday I sat at her memorial service, sandwhiched between Mom and Dad, the horrible flashbacks going through my mind. We had the ceremony at the base of the creek; the treacherous waters that claimed my sister was the loudest guest. It was stormy, a perfect cliche for a memorial service of a little girl's death, a horrible tragic death that there was nothing anyone could have done.


But me.


I always thought that if we hadn't gone out to the creek, hadn't scaled the mountain behind our house, hadn't played in the creek...she'd be here. She'd be fifteen now, chatting wildly with me about the hottest boy in school, or how she wanted to go to the winter formal later on this year. She wouldn't have been claimed by the creek if I had sucked up my pride and let her beat me in CandyLand. It was her favorite game, and we would have played for hours. She would continually beat me, and before long, we'd have dinner, watching out the kitchen window at the pouring rain. Later that night, instead of being at the bottom of every fall, being embeded into the banks of the creek, she'd be in my bed, with her little teddy bear and blanket, listening to me tell her what the thunder was. It wasn't just loud noise, I'd tell her, it was God, playing bowling with little Jesus. She'd learn that night the rain was just God's gardener's watering the Earth, God's little garden. The lightning was just the flash of a camera as people took pictures of Jesus. I'd tell her not be scared at all about the thunderstorm, and she'd fall asleep in my bed. We'd wake up and eat pancakes, we'd bake cakes on our birthdays. We'd continue our childhood. I'd still have a little sister, I wouldn't be an only child.



Everyone acted different from then on. Caty's birthday wasn't a joyous occasion each year, as it should have been. It was mournful, sad, a time of grieving. My friends acted different, they'd start complaining about their younger brother or sister, say they wished they were an only child, and then they'd just stop. They'd exchange nervous glances, and mutter apologizies. Nothing was ever the same without Caty. It was like she was the Sun that lit up my world, she was everything important to me then. I hated that I had drug her out to the mountain with me, "It's a beautiful day," I had said. "Let's go play in the creek, Caty. It's your creek, remember?"



The creek was always Caty's. Always had been, always will be. I remember watching the preacher tell how Caty was a happy child, gleeful. She brought joy to everyone around her. And it was true. But now, in those days after her death, everytime her name was mentioned, my mom would flee the room. That's where Momma was during the funeral, she was in the house, watching from the window. She couldn't bear it. She just couldn't. I don't blame her. Not even to this day.



The rain picked up and I had to adbandon my spot by the tree. I returned to the house and picked up my cell phone. I turned to the cabinet and rummaged through as the phone rang, calling Joel back. I found my treasure, a packet of cake mix and icing, as he picked up. "Come back. I'm making cake."


AN: as said above, this is a continuation from the story Caty's Creek posted on fictionpress. More of the story will be seen there and maybe the occasional update on here.
xo
Kayy

Hollow Memories

I watched her as she slipped under. The dark, cold waters engulfed her tiny frail body, and I sat there. I was stunned. I couldn't do anything but look. My little sister, little Caty, taken by the stream. I sat there, scared. I knew there was nothing I could do. She was gone, the stream was moving too fast, the currents ripping and tearing their way down the mountain. I tried not to think about the masses of jagged rocks at the end of the numerous waterfalls. The falls weren't far from here, and I didn't want to see her mangled body fall over the edge. I couldn't do anything. They weren't large falls, but they were big enough..

I sat there, I was ten for Christ's sake, what was I supposed to do? I would see her each time I neared a fall if I ran, and I couldn't bear it. I was shockingly calm enough right now, even if her cries echoed throughout my brain, gaining more and more volume as the small tears fell down from my eyelashes. I looked over to the treacherous stream. The water was crashing against the rocks. A leaf struggled against the current. Just as Caty had. The water seemed serene though, and for whatever reason it calmed me. I slowly dipped my hand into the water, and rescued the tiny little leaf, setting it down carefully as if it were a living being.

I could have saved her. Something in my mind told me I could have. But at the same time, I couldn't have. If I had pulled her out of the water, grasped her tiny little hand, the waters would have taken me in her place. I loved my little sister, but I loved my life more. I didn't, at that time, possess the unconditional, cliche love that I hold now for my Joel. I held a different love. A sisterly love that was somewhat evil. I loved my little sister at times, yet other times, quiet frankly, I hated her. I know my mind back then was warped, so completely warped I don't know how I survived. I just know I did.

I know I sat there, my legs crossed as I drew aimlessly in muddy banks. I know that in my mind I could still hear little Caty's screams, her last cries. I know that what I thought about in those hours I sat there on the forest floor, I can never repeat. Never to any psychologist, whomever I may go to. Never to my Joel. Never to anyone who happens to stumble across this journal, kept under my bed, in that locked safe. I can't even allow myself to think about what was thought in those darkening hours, as the rain poured unmercilessly down into the forests.
Eventually I laid down and fell asleep, my hair sorawled out in the mud. In my slumber, I heard my parents' shrieks as they found Caty's mangled body at the end of the Falls. I heard my mother's cry as she noticed I wasn't home, and I wasn't in the stream with Caty. I heard my father's rifle, calling together the neighbors, and scaring off any bears that may be in the forest. The police cars came from town, and helicopters flew over me. Uncle Roy's yells could be heard for miles, calling my name over and over. And I just laid there, unable to move, in a twilight zone of my own creating-knowing yet not knowing what was going on. I heard the dogs bark as they ran out ahead of the others, on my scent. My dog Sammy had come up and licked my face, waking me from the daze I had settled into. That's when I saw my Joel for the first time. He had come to look for me. He sat me up, and called for the others. My Daddy came picked me up, carrying me down the mountain.

Everyone asked me what had happened. Joel has begged me for years to tell him what I was doing laying in the mud. Why hadn't I come down for help? Momma died soon after Caty's funeral. She couldn't handle her youngest daughter's death and her other daughter's constant vow of silence. I refused to talk for about a year after Caty's death. Eventually I spoke, in small broken sentences. Everyone tells me that time was the most difficult time for my dad, losing his wife and daughter, and then teaching the only person he had to live for anymore learn how to talk again.

I went to every shrink we could, and each time they said I was traumatized by the experience. I don't know if they were right or wrong. I just know that I don't like shrinks. I don't like what they say about me behind my back. I'm terrified of water. Of the liquid hands coming after me next. Sometimes, I wish it were me that had fallen down those waterfalls, that had inhaled the water, been impaled by the jagged rocks.

All I know, is that I don't know anymore. My life has been turned upside down over and over again. And that my soul's wasting away in this hollow shell of a body.

~Elyse




AN: So, I sat here staring at a blank screen and just started typing. The journal entry you just read flowed out. I guess you could say it's based off my story Caty's Creek that I wrote about a month or two back. Everything is completely fictious and for entertainment purposes only. Tell me what you think.

To Be Only Yours...I Pray....

There's a song that's inside of my soul

It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again

I'm awake in the infinite cold

But You sing to me over and over and over again

So I lay my head back down

And I lift my handsand pray to be only Yours

I pray to be only Yours

I know now you're my only hope

~Only Hope~ Mandy Moore

The semi-famous words of Mandy Moore, sung in the definitely-famous 2002 movie A Walk to Remember. The movie is a classic love story of teenage love turning out to be the love of their lives. The song above was sung during a play which starred the stars of the movie, Shane West and Mandy Moore. The song was intentionally to describe the play's characters' relationship, but turned out to be the most memorable love song--well, at least in my opinion. The basic storyline is badboy Landon Carter, played by Shane West, meets and immediately falls in love with the good-girl Jamie Sullivan, played by Mandy Moore. I can't describe really how much I love this movie, because to me, it portrays the realities of true love. Yes, I know it's just a movie but...they captured it perfectly.

Boy Meets Girl.

Boy Falls In Love with Girl.

Girl Can't Resist Boy No Matter How Hard She Tries.

Boy and Girl Get Married.

The thing that I love best about this movie is one simple fact. Jamie is the preacher's daughter and wants the whole fluffy white wedding dress thing. Landon was the trouble-maker badguy, who has quite frankly broken that rule a couple of times. But he gives it all up for Jamie. They fall in love, and he respects her in everyway. He doesn't want anything from her except to make her happy. It doesn't matter how; he just wants her happy. He never pushes her for anything, but fights for her love, because he loves her just as much if not more. Even through hard times, Landon stays with her, and even says at the end of the movie that Jamie saved his life. I think what's so amazing is that they are irrevoccably in love. And another thing that's so astonishing is that people write it off as fictional--that could never happen.

And that's where people are wrong. I believe that it happens everyday. It's not just ficitonal, there is that strong love, that..innocent love. I know it is, because I believe I've found it myself. It's just the patience thing that people don't get, so they just settle. Now, I'm not saying to wait around so long that you die gray and alone, though nothing's wrong with that if you so choose. What I'm saying is you can't expect the first couple of guys that happen to come into your life to be absolutely amazing and perfect for you in everyway. If you do happen to find that person so soon, like I did, consider yourself extremely lucky.

For you others, rent A Walk to Remember, have a good cry, set a decent standard and be patient. It'll all work out.

xo

Kayy

I love you James

Happy Valentines

Okay, so before I get too far ahead of myself, I wish to apologize for the previous post. It was kind of uncalled for. Me and that certain somebody that it was kind of about have talked things over and we is good to go. I do wish to apologize though for it.Now, on to today's post.

It's Valentine's Day yet again, a day to stuff your face with chocolates and cuddle with a teddy bear that significant other got you. Valentine's Daym, whether or not it was it's intial purpose, has become "couples' day" where you get presents from your boyfriend/girlfriend/husnad/wife. But as my day as gone on, I guess it's more than that. It could kind of be called "loved ones appreciation day" as I got presents from my grandparents, my aunt, and my parents as well as from my boyfriend. Though I must admit his white roses are the best, end of story. But my puppydog my dad got me, and the bear my aunt got me, and the chocolates and cupcakes from my grandparents are all pretty cool too. My point is, through the years, it's become more than just "couples day" and more like "loved ones appreciation day." Many people say that Valentine's Day was invented by the industries, and it was. But not just for boyfriends/girlfriends, husbands/wives. It was made for them, and family, and friends. I mean who doesn't love finding Dora the Explorer Valentine's Day cards stuffed in your locker? Or a new stuffed animal from your parents, even if you are fifteen and regard it as kiddie-things. Either way, Valentine's Day has it's own special meaning, to each person in their own way.
I think that's about it, all there really is to say ont he subject.

Happy Valentine's Day
~Kayy

Hypocrite: The Ones in the World I Love to Hate

So tonight, my loves, we have a little rant to go through. It's baked in my mind all day. I know I have some ethics posts I need to get around to, not to mention the countless poetry and short story ideas to throw at you guys but I really would like to use this time for my endless, pointless rant because I know the person it's aimed at will only get all mad over it and throw my recent irresponsiblity back in my face. But I don't care at this point. Let her.

You want to know what I really really can't stand? By the title you've probably already guessed it but I'll be Captain Obvious for a short while and just throw it out there: hypocrites. I hate it. I mean really, you'll rant on me and tell me how "retarded" I am for my choice of a boyfriend, who thank you very much I have known since seventh grade, and then the first sleezball who happens to say a few nice things to you and is socially acceptable for you to date, you automatically want to make out with him nonstop. And I'm sorry to say this but really, you'll be sick of him in two weeks and find some flimsy excuse to dump him.
But don't worry, you're not the only flawed one. He sits in class all day talking about how he's going to use you to get what he wants out of this whole thing. Maybe I'm being too judgemental of him, but who really knows? After allt his guy has been here for what, a week? Less?
Yet already you trust him over a supposed best friend you've known from the start.

And it really wouldn't bother me as muchif you weren't such a hypocrite. I mean really. I get together with my boyfriend and all I hear from you is how "he's not good for you" "you can do better" and all this other stuff that really you don't have any place to say. In the past year that I have been with my boyfriend you always say you only "tolerate" him yet you don't actually put forth an effort to be nice to him and get to know him. It's really judgemental of you, and I guess considering I called your new hookup of the week a sleezball, that makes me a bit of a hypocrite but what can I say, in the past week the guy's been to our school he's proven that to just about everyone. The point is, You have constantly "warned me of the horrors" that my relationship has and is going to bring. Yet the second I try to warn you that this new guy of yours is broadcasting to all the class of how he's getting some from you, you tell me you can take care of yourself and you don't need me to warn you about things I don't know about.
Hmm. So let us think about it. When you did the same to me: I knew the guy for two years, I said the same thing, and he wasn't bragging or wanting to get anything from me. And yet you've known the guy less than a week and he's telling everyone he can.

I still want to give the guy a chance, because yes he's been here a week, so I'll try to not be as judgemental, I just want you to realize that..that sometimes before you say something, try to be in their shoes. I mean seriously this is a reversal of a year ago. It really is.

It's horrible to say, but I honestly hope he breaks your heart.
Maybe you'll take your so-called friends more seriously.

xo
Kayy

But Honey Realize...

Life's not perfect

and doesn't go the way we plan.

There's bumps and turns,

things we don't anticipate,

but honey realize..

that that's just life

You can't plan every detail,

as I know I want to,

things change

and people make their own decisions

but honey realize..

that this decision is mine alone.

I know what you want,

and I know what I want,

But honey realize,

it's all out of order

Your life is yours alone,

You make your decisions,

their yours to make

but honey realize

this is my life.

I make my decisions.

But honey realize,

I'm not your slave.

But honey realize,

That I'm not your plaything

But honey realize,

I still love you

AN: contrary to popular belief, this is not based on anyone or anything. It was simply a poem I thought I migth share and preserve on here for future use in one of my stories. I'm sorry if anyone thought it was about my beloved boyfriend, it's not. Sorry for ya. but anyway, yeah, theres my disclaimer, it's not based on anyone.

I Really Hope You Weren't Looking for Rainbows and Ponies

You remember that friend you had in middle school? The one you could rely on, trust with everything, and still tell everything you can to this day? Remember that friend who you thought would be there forever, because after all you did say best friends forever..
Do you remember that friend?
I remember mine.
That one year, when she had left, I thought I'd die, I had no friends with her gone. I completely missed out on that part of school, whether in elementary or middle, or whenever you were supposed to learn it. I missed out on learning how to make friends.
Enemies, sure, but we had made those enemies together.
And with her at a new school, I was left all alone.

It took me a whole semester to find a friend, but then, to me they were just pawns in a game.
To be honest, I didn't have friends and didn't want them.
That one friend, the one friend I found that semester turned out to get me in trouble, and though I'm "friends" with her today, she's just a pawn.

That first friend, my only true middle school friend, I longed for her to be back. It's not like some creepy stalkerish-lesbian-love. I just wanted my friend back.
I'd get home, and call her first. Ask how her day was. All that jazz.
Even in highschool, that first semester, I continued making lists to tell her about my day. So in a way it was like she was there. Like I still had my good middle school friend.
So I wasn't alone.

But, no matter what I did, she gained other friends. Which is good for her, shes a social butterfly now.
And I'm that awkward middle school friend.
Our personalities got more diverse, and soon there was nothing but those memories to keep us together.
Eventually, we grew apart.

I still consider her my best friend.
I keep all of our pictures, to help remind me how much she was there for me, and how much I was there for her.
But it's all memories now..
She didn't keep any of her pictures.
I'm wiped clean from her MySpace.
Out of her life.

We still talk occasionally..but we're not as close.
It sucks.

I lost a very good friend.


xo
Kayy

"There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution."

The Picture of Dorian Gray

Oscar Wilde

Reasons for Change (please read)

So I had two blogs, this one and kayywrites.blogspot.com.
No one went to the other one so in order to get all my work mainstream, or as mainstream as possible, I moved all those posts here.

So Below are about five writing pieces.


Enjoy them all

xo
Kayy

Love

I said goodnight, and hung up the phone.
He didn't know, how could he know?
Know how much it hurt everytime I had to say good bye, even if just for a little while.
He didn't know how much it hurt me every time he walked out the door, or he left the room for all of a minute.
It was selfish of me to want him around so much, to be just in his presence.
It was what I craved, what I needed.
Of course, we couldn't be together twenty-four/seven, like I desired.
He had to leave, it wasn't like he voluntarily did it to me.
Phone calls and texting weren't the same, but at least I had some contact with him.
But nothing is as good as being with him, just to have him in the same room as me.
Everything melted away then, everything was perfect. There was no fear or wrongdoing when he was there. I could fly with him there.
It was...perfect.
Simply perfect bliss.
Of course, bliss only lasts so long before it too dissolves, when he leaves or hangs up the phone.
I love him so much, the world will never understand just how much.
And that, my friend, is one of the joys in life. To be in love, and to love someone so much that it hurts.
But it's the good hurt, the hurt that when you were a little girl yourself you dreamed of having.
And now that you possess such..love, such hurt that it feels so good you want more.
And no, this isn't a sexual kind of love, it's the intimate love of..just pure love.
Nothing is as...sweet and innocent as this love.
The love of your life that you want to keep forever.
This is the love that you want to marry, the love you want to die with, the love you want to be buried next to, preferably still holding his hand.

This is the love of a lifetime.


Please don't lose your love.


And please don't make me lose mine.


AN: The author has just committed the crime of a lifetime. Instead of covering her feelings for that one person in her life, for once she let the best words she could to describe it flow onto the screen. For once, there was no feeling-burial. Just...love.


I love you James.

Run Away Little Child

Run Away Little Child

You know they don’t want you

You know they don’t care

People may say

And people may act

But we all know a lie

Run away little child

It’s your destiny

Run little child, and your teddy too

It’s okay, I’ll care for you

AN: We'll run this on a "don't ask, don't tell".....
xo
Kayy