laurensstories

I Wont Sleep

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 04:43:09 GMT

I wont sleep
If you're going to be there
Sitting by me on the bench
In the dead of winter
Giving me cards in Japanese.

You wont be there
When I go to find you
Usual spots that were familiar
Which are now strange to me.

You'll always be there
Waiting for me
On the bench
In the bitter cold.

I'll always wake up alone.
Cold.
Empty.

How NOT To Hit Your Customers In The Face

Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:18:54 GMT

How NOT To Hit Your Customers In The Face

Smile at him as he verbally assaults you.
A man in his 50's.
His eyes narrow and beady, cutting into your face.
His lips pursed, chapped, wrinkled
Firing spit bullets at you.

The men's locker room sauna is broken.
The door, ripped from its hinges.
By the man who is yelling at you.
Children will die, cities will burn,
Unlike the flesh of the decaying God.

I keep my smile plastered on.
My fists balled up like small angry rocks.
Lightly pounding the counter by unseen eyes
Practing their beating.

My eyes stayed fixed on his.
My teeth grind against each other.
Carefully trying to not show my jaw moving.
I hide my fangs behind my smile,
Hiding the angry, red rage.

High School Love Story Chapter 9

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 03:22:08 GMT

Dennis came over shortly before dinner, when Ellen sent him upstairs to fetch Nicole. He walked in to see her sprawled out on her comforter, her mouth hanging open, snoring loudly. He cringed but walked over to her anyhow. He pushed her once, no reply. Pushed her again, she rolled over. He shook her gently, and she woke up. She blinked and swallowed, looking around confused.

“You snore loud.” He said raising his eyebrows.
“How long were you here?” She said yawning in the middle.
“I just came in. Dinners almost done, lets go.” The two walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. David and Ellen were already eating, but stopped so they could get settled. David and Ellen chattered while Dennis and Nicole ate in silence. His eyes were pensive, and he chewed his food more carefully. After an hour Ellen and David excused themselves to go watch T.V downstairs. Nicole and Dennis stayed upstairs, sipping on soda, looking at each other.
“What the hell is up with you?” Nicole said softly.
“We got a problem.” He said, his left knee bouncing up and down as he leaned back. She tiled her head. “The new teacher you got?”
“Yea, what about her?”
“That’s Jane. James’ ex.” He looked away from her to the metal sink. Her eyes sunk into her head, her lips went thin and pale.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I don’t know why she came back. Did James say anything to you?”
“I don’t think he knows.”
“How can he not know?”
“He didn’t act any differently when he took me home—“
“When did he take you home!?”
“Today he gave me a ride. I’dunno where you were,”
“I stayed after for something, but had I known I would have gone with you!”
“You still don’t trust him?” She stood up, knocking the black metal chair on the floor. It fell with a clang, silencing Dennis.
“No, I think he’s taking advantage of you.”
“He hasn’t so much as touched me—“
“That I know is a complete fucking lie.” His voice got softer, almost to a whisper, “I know you went home with him during homecoming.” Nicole’s face went red, her eyes widened. Her teeth clenched down, her hands turned into fists.
“Nothing. Happened.” She hissed.
“I’ll take your word, but I can’t trust him. You’re my best friend, my sister, my everything! I don’t want to see some scumbag 25 year old use you!” He held up his hands in protest and stormed out of her house and into the cold night air. Nicole ran after him without a coat, yelling as she came outside.
“You don’t know him like I do!” She cried.
“No, you’re right! I’ve only see him do this before!”
“She cheated on him with Meredith’s brother!”
“Who gives a shit?! She was a student, Nicole. And so are you.” He stopped on the sidewalk and looked back at her. His breath turned into thin whispy clouds as it raised into the air to die. Nicole held her arms around her body, trying to hide her visible shaking. Dennis came up to her, and threw his coat on her small body. He held it tightly together.
“I’m only looking out for you.” He said in a low voice. Nicole looked down at the dead grass. Her mouth was dry, her eyes stung from the air.
“I know…But I want you to trust my judgment.”
“I’ll trust you…but I can’t trust him.” She nodded and slipped out of his coat, running back inside her house. He watched her go in before turning back to his house, his breath rising and dying into the night sky. She ran upstairs and got her coat, keys, and wallet. She ran to her car and put it in reverse, speeding down the street to catch up with Dennis. She came to a screeching halt, and unlocked the doors. He looked at her for a moment, but climbed in regardless. Before he even closed the door she was flying down the street, taking turns too sharp, running stop signs. Dennis yelled at her a few times as he held on to the seat in fear of his life. They came to a sudden stop in front of a small rancher some blocks away. Nicole threw the car in park and took her keys out.
“Where are we?” He asked, sliding out of the car. Nicole said nothing, but took giant strides to the front door, banging loudly. James swung the door open and smiled at the two, while Dennis mumbled something under his breath.
“Hey guys, this is a little weird…” James started.
“Jane is teaching at the school.” Nicole said bluntly. James blinked a few times, laughed, then looked back into his house.
“What the shit did you just say?” He asked looking back at her.
“Jane Greene is my sub for film history.” She said, in the same flat voice. James looked at Dennis, who only nodded in agreement.
“You couldn’t have picked up the phone to tell me?”
“Well…I thought this was important.” Nicole said sheepishly.
“Hell an email would have sufficed. Whatever. Ok, so Jane is teaching there. She didn’t tell me she was—“
“You still talk to her?” Dennis interrupted.
“Yes, I do. It’s not that unusual for adults to still be friends with their ex’s.” Nicole and Dennis looked at each other, laughed awkwardly, and then walked back to her car. James said goodnight as he closed his door.
“Well…that went better then I thought.” Nicole said as she started the car. They laughed on the way home. Inside, Nicole went upstairs to shower. She came back down and found Dennis on the stairs waiting for her.
“Hey, I’m gonna spend the night. My parent’s were fighting again, and I don’t want to be around.” Nicole shrugged as they went into her basement. The two fell asleep watching cartoons.

High School Love Story Chapter 8

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 02:13:17 GMT

**No, I did not stop typing this up, I have a hard copy I update, I'm just lazy and don't post it. Sorry for the delay!**

The next day Dennis and Nicole were the first ones in the classroom since David had to be at work early. They went back to sleep on their desks since school didn’t start for another hour. When James walked in his laughed at the two, and walked over in front of them, only to drop a large textbook on the ground. The two nearly fell out of their seats, looking around paranoid.

“Good morning!” James said with a big, fake smile.
“There’s nothing good about it,” Nicole groaned.
“True, it is Monday…” He replied back.
“Doesn’t Meredith come back today?” Dennis said, rubbing the palms of his hands on his eyes as his legs stretched outward. James opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He went back to his desk and sat down.
“Fuck my life.” He finally said. Nicole cocked her eyebrows and Dennis just looked at him. “I don’t like her.”
“No one does,” Dennis said. They sat there looking hopeless, as students began to walk into the room in a zombie trance. The last one to arrive was Meredith, who nearly tripped as she skipped into the room. Amanda’s face lit up brighter then her fire engine red hair. The two girls exchanged giggles before settling in.

Nearly two months passed without Meredith bothering Nicole. It was nearly time for winter break and Nicole and her friends had gone without incident from Meredith. The day before winter break, Nicole’s film teacher took maternity leave. The substitute they received was devastatingly beautiful. When she walked into the room, everyone fell unusually silent. She had raven black hair, and crisp, spring green eyes. Her skin was as pale and as flawless as snow. Her body was tall and lean, but curvy where it counted. Her eyes were done with a simple black line that swept out, while her eyelashes, thick and dark, touched her arched eyebrows. Her lips were full and red, and parted openly enough to give her a perfect pout.
“My name is Ms. Greene. I’ll be your sub while Mrs. Crabapple is on leave. However, I shall not get started on any new assignments, since as of tomorrow all of you shall be on break.” Her voice reminded Nicole of water. The class watched a few cartoons while Ms. Green read a magazine. Something about her struck Nicole as odd, but she couldn’t place it.
At the end of the day Nicole went into James’s room, looking for him. He was in his closet getting his coat when Nicole came up from behind him, putting her hands over his eyes.
“I know its you Nikki. You’re too short to reach up this high!” He delicately held her hands to his mouth. She grunted playfully and pulled away.
“Well, it’s winter vacation. Got any plans?” She said flipping her hair behind her shoulders. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets, trying to keep his kisses warm.
“Grade papers, watch some movies, sleep…” He said as he locked his closet. “I have no real plans. Do you?”
“About the same as you!”
“You grade papers?”
“I could!”
“Well maybe you could grade some of this crap instead of me.” The two walked out of the room and into the main hallway. The wind was heavy that day, and Nicole was not looking forward to trying to walk home. She pulled her hat down low, and walked out with James.
“Isn’t your dad taking you home?”
“No, he has to stay late, and I want to go home.”
“I’ll take you home,” He said as he grabbed her elbow, leading her to a small hybrid car.
“No way. People will see us.”
“And who’s going to say anything with your dad as principal? Get in.” She shrugged and got in. The car was small and cramped, with buttons and knobs everywhere. The car started without a sound, and only made a slight humming sound when they drove out onto the main road. Students and a few teachers stared in the car, but judging by the looks on their faces, no one made the connection.
“When did you get this?” She said looking around the car.
“When you came over a while back, my mom was driving it around.”
”Oh? Whys that?”
“She crashed her car into a pole…” He said as he hissed through his teeth. Nicole looked out the window so James wouldn’t see her smile. No one was looking, as everyone was too busy hurrying home to savor vacation. They pulled up to her empty house, and Nicole got out. She ran up to the door with James behind her.
“I didn’t think you were going to follow me in.” She said surprised as she unzipped her coat. Before it was all the way down James has his hands inside the coat pulling her in. He kissed her deeply as he hands held tightly onto his arms.
“Been a while,” She began as he pulled away, “Thought you didn’t like me anymore…” He smiled and kissed her again, gently biting down on her lip. He pulled back and opened the door again, sliding out while looking back at her. Her eyes drooped, her mouth pouting.
“Stop by later, we have two weeks to finally catch up.” He closed the door and left Nicole in the hallway of her house befuddled. She looked at her bag on the floor, still crumpled from him. She took two steps in when her door reopened. She turned around, her face open and joyous, only to see her mother walk in, holding her black pea coat tightly around her.
“Hey hon! Glad ya got home safe. I drove by the school to see if you were there, but you had gone by then.” Her mom slid her coat off and hung it on the brass coat rack by the door. She quickly walked by her daughter into the kitchen, pulling stuff out of the stark white refrigerator for dinner.
“I’m thinking on making baked chicken tonight. Is that ok sweetie?” She hollered out to Nicole.
“Yea mom, that’s cool.” Nicole looked back down at the bag, but left it. She walked up her stairs and into her room, leaving the door open for her dog to roam around. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked at her wall. Pictures cluttered and overlapped each other, creating a memory jigsaw puzzle. Pictures of mostly her and Dennis, doing various things. He had been her only friend leading up to this year. At her old school she was a wall flower. No boys paid attention to her, no girls did either. Teachers noticed her since she excelled at all of her classes, save for math. She looked over at her desk. Applications for colleges piled up. She sighed and rested her head in her hands. She crawled into her bed and fell asleep.

Ode To Jughead Jones

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 21:53:11 GMT

Lets talk about
The way the ink stains
My fingertips a coal color
Or the way the ink smells
Invading my allergies
Causing me to sneeze.

My only childhood friend
An ageless 17 year old
Woman hater, food lover,
But a womanizer as well
My $1.25 spent monthly
So I can meet him again.

I'm passed the age
Thinking maybe he is real
But I still feel my stomach
And my eyes
And my heart
Swell with love,
Tears,
Hope.

A line I stole from Yusef Komunyakaa

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 00:59:22 GMT

In slabs of bad pork
Mustard drips down onto
The slender fingers
Poking in and out
Trying to contain
Meat inside.

I won't look at her
The messiest eater
I have ever
Accidentally
Watched from a distance.

The Harbor

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 13:09:41 GMT

Triangles and rectangles cut
Into the blue skyline above them
Reaching up for power and status
While their reflections on the water
Tell them to stop.

A boat sits carelessly in front of the madness
Gently bouncing up and down in a slow dance
To tame the water so she can allow
Power to climb higher into the sky.

Broken Love

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 02:15:34 GMT

The grey drizzle on the green grass
Which cushions the soles of my rough cracked feet
Moisturizing with the morning dew and
Stinging me where blood has sealed a crack

The clouds break
Cold dries up on my arms
As I wait patiently for you to throw her
Our of your bed
And kiss her goodbye in the doorway
So I can finally see
The damage you did clear in front of me.

Pink Flamingo's

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 02:13:45 GMT

The long slender neck

With the wide tan bottom

Filled to the brim with a poisonous ocean

Dancing wildly in people’s hands.

Balancing delicately on black leather

A strong hand keeping her straight

And not laying in the pink flamingo decorations

The DJ’s music swells louder

Staring down into her

The liquid has decreased by two fold

The glass is empty

The bottle is placed on the table.

Sounds of Summer

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:29:25 GMT

The bright buzzing noise fading out into the sunset
Of the blood orange sky with purple highlights
With the wet grass beneath my naked palms,
While the birds go to sleep.

The air is crisp and cool,
And summer is dying into the merciless beauty of fall.

An open letter to the dumb ass receptionist at Frankel Acura

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 17:37:25 GMT

Dear dumb receptionist at Franekl Acura,

So today my dad dropped his MDX off for the manager at the place. He accidentally left his checkbook in the car. My dad called you, and you refused to put the call through! Then you hung up on him. He called back, and for whatever stupid reason, you're clearly small brain thought it was a good ideal to tell him he was not important and a no body.

I guess you're right, possible college drop out who clearly can't do her job. My dad is a no body. He's only been buying Acura's--an expensive luxury car line in case you're dumb ass didn't notice--from this place for the past 15 years. Also, I know you tried to cover your ass up by telling your boss my dad dropped the 'f' bomb on you.

No, you idiot, he didn't.

So not only can you not do your job, you're also a liar! Let me guess, your boyfriend dumped your pathetic cheap ass so you decided to take it out on my dad. Maybe your cat died, bitch I don't know nor give a shit. All I know is that is not how you talk to customers, especially ones who drop $40-80k on a vehicle. This doesn't just extend to my dad either. I work in retail too, and I know how hard it can be to be nice to customers, but you? You're just a dumb bitch. I wish my dad did drop the 'f' bomb on you.

I also hope you lose your job, since you can't handle the one you have now.

Hoping your car gets keyed-
Me.

Zombie

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 03:09:36 GMT

I originally posted this a few weeks ago, but I went back and changed a few things and added some things.

Dahlia flipped the switch off in her office as Peaceful Pines Funeral Home. The room engulfed itself in black, almost matching her suit. The only thing that stood out in the room was Dahlia’s pale blonde hair and electric blue eyes. She looked in one last time at the casket at the front of the main chapel. Her red mouth pouted down, her eyes lost their sparkle. The casket should have been brought in tomorrow morning, but the delivery men insisted they deliver tonight for tomorrow’s 9am funeral. Inside was a boy she didn’t know, but her heart sank when she met the family, or rather, his very single and now very lonely mother.

The boy, or rather young man, was a day shy of turning 21 when a drunk driver slammed into his car. She took a step inside the chapel. The red carpet on the floor complimented the black pews nicely. The walls were a dull white, with a large crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room. The casket was on top of a platform, with a pulpit off to the side. She placed her pale hands together and lifted them to her chest, and prayed to anyone that would listen for the boy and his family. Her green eyes gazed up once more, and she turned her back and began to walk out.

She was about to pass the threshold into the lobby when she heard a low moan coming from behind her. Her eyes narrowed as she looked side to side. When she heard nothing else, she took one step closer to the front door, when she heard something banging. It was soft, but it was noticeable. She turned on her black stiletto heels to look behind her. She blinked a few times, making sure her contacts weren’t fuzzy. The top of the casket began to move, first almost unnoticeable, and then, a pale fist burst through the mahogany top, stretching out as if it were just waking up. Dahlia’s mouth opened, trying to scream. Her mouth went dry as her eyes went as wide as her mouth. Another hand broke through, then throwing the lid off. Her ankles felt like cement, her legs turned to mud. The boy sat up from his casket, his black hair spiked up, his cheek bones sharp against his snow white tan. He slowly turned his head to Dahlia, opening his eyes. The lids peeled off of each other, leaving trails of goo running down his face, she let out an ear piercing scream. The boys mouth contorted as he pushed his hands against his ears. His eyes remained open, the dead grey trying to plead with Dahlia to stop screaming. She began to turn to run when one foot caught under another, sending her toppling into a black pew, hitting her head. She lay there unmoving, her eyes closed. The boy lowered his hands to the side of the casket, hoisting himself out. He walked gracefully to her and bent down, placing a cool hand to her cheek, slapping it lightly. His lips were sealed shut with some kind of medical sealant, which he picked at with his other hand. Dahlia’s eyes fluttered open, as her head moved side to side. Her eyes met with his. He quickly placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, causing her to throw her left leg into his stomach before scrambling to her feet and running outside, screaming. The boy ran after her, catching her wrist as her other hand held a death grip on her black Mercedes convertible.

The boy’s mouth pried open, his jaw stretching out with strands of goo and saliva stretching and breaking apart. A cloud of dust escaped from his throat, as he tried to speak. Dahlia’s face was stained with mascara tears as she sobbed out for help from God. The boys grip remained firm on her wrist, but his face was serene.
“Stop screaming,” He asked her in a soft voice. She hissed in air a few times, steadying her back against her car. She blinked away some more tears. “Please, it’s hurting my ears when you scream like that.” His voice was still calm, almost song like.
“You…You’re going to eat me…” Dahlia gasped. The boy looked at her with a puzzled expression, and then laughed a little. His smile took her by surprise. It calmed her to a considerable degree.
“No, I don’t really enjoy eating other humans.” He said in a stronger voice. Dahlia gulped hard, her head and chest felt light. Her death grip on her car was to now keep her up. ‘Don’t faint..’ she told herself. If she did pass out, she knew he would eat her, that she was convinced of.
“You’re a zombie. Zombie’s eat people. Brains, actually.” Her voice was quivering.
“Yes, and no. Actually, I really want a hamburger…” His voice trailed off as his head looked around for a place to eat.
“I’m going to die tonight,” She said in a scared voice. The boy laughed again and shook his head. He let go of her wrist and began to walk towards to street in front of them.
“No, Death isn’t coming for you for a long while, Lady.” He called from behind as he began to make his way south on the road.
“Wait!” She cried. He stopped and looked back at her. “What…I can’t…Your funeral is tomorrow!!” She shrieked as she pointed back into the building.
“Ok, I’ll be back in time for it. I’m hungry though!” He started to walk again while singing to himself. Dahlia looked on at him in disbelief, and then back at the funeral home. Everything came crashing down at once, and she hit the pavement with a slump. The boy looked back at the noise, and quickly ran back to her. He cradled her head in his hands as he tried to wake her again. Her car keys were a few inches from her hand, so he picked them up, pushing down on the ‘unlock’ button. The car lit up, the driver’s door opening automatically. He hoisted himself and her in, putting her gently in the passenger’s seat. He gingerly placed her seatbelt around her, and then closed his door. The key fit perfectly into the ignition, causing the car to roar to life. Her GPS system lit up, giving him directions to her house.
“How easy…” He mumbled. He threw the car into reverse, and wasn’t finished backing out when he threw it into ‘D’, slamming the gas on the floor, letting out a joyous cry as the car roared its way onto the street. The GPS could hardly keep up with how fast he was going, winding in and out of traffic. He got to her house in less then five minutes. He eased in to the driveway of her rancher style home and got out. He went and unlocked her front door, peering in. A white cat looked up at him with green eyes, and then ran into a dark hallway. He went back over to pick up Dahlia out of the car, carefully carrying her into her house, and onto one of her stark white leather sofa’s. He locked her front door and felt around the wall for a light switch. His fingers pressed down on a button, which lit up the whole house. He closed his eyes and hissed in. Dahlia lay motionless on her couch. He blinked a few times and stood in her large hallway. A spiral staircase stood in the middle of the hall in front of him, leading up to the second floor. The house was startling white, almost like heaven. He took a few steps in, his footsteps echoing in her house.
“Woah…” He whispered. His eyes roamed around as his body went over to Dahlia, taking a seat next to her. His gentle impact on the sofa gently woke her. Her eyes opened with ease, right onto him. She opened her mouth slightly, but decided she was tired of screaming. He glanced down at her, and smiled weakly.
“I don’t get it.” She said flatly. The boy awkwardly laughed and scratched his ear, looking ahead at her eggshell white walls with a large plasma television hanging on it.
“I don’t either. I never knew funeral directors made so much money!” He said as her hand gestured out. She shook her head and looked down. “…It’s a long story, but I am not your normal Hollywood zombie.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m dead.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible.”
“This is.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that seem hypocritical?” He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the ivory grand piano in the corner of the room.
“That’s different,” She barked as her slender fingers dug into her couch.
“But you believe in something you can’t prove exists.” His grey eyes were narrow. Dahlia looked away, but stole quick glances at him. Her eyes danced to her cell phone, which read 11pm. The boy walked over and looked down as well, smirking. “You should get to bed.”
“No!” She protested, folding her arms across her chest.
“Living people are usually getting ready for bed at this time.”
“So you want me to go to bed so you can eat me? I don’t think so.” She shook her head and leaned back on her sofa.
“Listen lady, for the last time, I am not going to eat you. You do not look delicious to me at all. No living human being looks good. Ever. If you were a cow, maybe I would reconsider.” He sat down next to her, placing a cold hand on her shoulder.
“This is a prank, isn’t it?” Her mouth curled up in the corner. “This must be Frank getting back at me for not taking his 9am shifts.” Her hand snatched the phone from the table. Her fingers rapidly dialed Frank’s number. She pressed it against her head, and started barking out words at what sounded like a sleeping Frank. Her words stopped mid-sentence when Frank started screaming back, before hanging up. She put her phone down and looked back into the boys eyes.
“What are you, Frank’s nephew?”
“No.”
“Whatever, you know what, we’ll figure this out tomorrow. At least tell me your name.”
“James, you?” he held up a pale hand towards her.
“Dahlia.” She took her hand and shook it firmly. His eyes narrowed at her grip, but he remained silent. She stood up and made her way to the staircase. She stopped in the middle and looked down.
“I’ll be right back, you can turn the T.V on or something.” She ran the rest of the way up. James looked around the room, but didn’t move. He sat back and looked at his hand. Something was strange about Dahlia, but he couldn’t think of what it was just yet.

She threw the bedroom door open, scaring her cat who ran out of the room with a grunt. The large bay window in her room allowed the full moon to look inside. Her plush, cloud white bed sat in the middle of her room against a wall, with a black sofa sitting in front. On the other wall was a 60 inch plasma TV. The wall across from the window was a giant closet, which Dahlia opened and walked into. Pulling on the chain light switch, her closet lit up with various shades of black with hints of red in it. She threw off her suit jacket and slipped out of the matching black skirt, and stood in her closet wearing a black bra and matching panties. She grabbed a plain black dress and slipped it on over her head. She made her way back out into the marble floor hallway, her heels causing the only noise in the house. She walked back downstairs where James looked up as she came off of the last stair.

“That doesn’t look like a nightgown.” He said with a grin. She rolled her eyes and kicked off her black heels. Her height dwindled to a mere 5 foot. She stood at the edge of the living room looking at James with curious eyes.
“You are a zombie.”
“No, no I’m not.”
“Then it’s impossible for you to be alive.”
“Not really. Vampires exist. Werewolves too.”
“But both were turned into those things while alive.”
“But by all accounts they shouldn’t exist, if what you believe in doesn’t like them.”
“My religious beliefs—“
“Contradict you, Little Miss Vampire.” He stood up as he spoke the last word, coming closer to her. Dahlia’s whole body turned a deep shade of red. “I figured it out after carrying you into the house.” He chuckled and took a step closer. Dahlia craned her neck up to look at him. Tall, well built, with pale grey eyes, dark brown hair, and pale skin with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He was beautiful. Dahlia gulped and took a step back. He brushed by her and turned right, walking into her kitchen.

Dahlia followed behind as he opened her large silver refrigerator. He smirked at the various blood bags and bottles of red wine. He took a bottle out from its place and pulled the cork out with ease. He took a tip and sighed a joy of relief.
“You’re not 21, are you?” Dahlia said as her eyes narrowed. James gave her a cross look and continued to drink. “Your funeral is at 9am tomorrow!”
“Don’t worry about it. My mom has that figured out.” Dahlia’s mouth hung open. “I’ve been dead for around 10 years. My mom and I move from city to city trying to start a new, but whenever she gets a tip that someone’s figured us out, I die…again.” He shrugged as he sat down on a white chair and sat the empty bottle on top of the white table.
“How…did you die?” Dahlia crept over to the table and steadied herself on the palms of her hands.
“The day before I turned 21 I was coming home from work when a drunk driver slammed into my car. A large chunk of glass from the window next to me flew into my head. I was dead on impact.” He lifted up some of his hair to show Dahlia a large pink scar. “He lived, I died on impact. Three days later I woke up in my bed, my head throbbing, while the rest of my body was numb. My mom was sitting next to me. When she saw I was awake, she smiled.”
“Did she…Did she make you a zombie?”
“I’m not a goddamn zombie. I’m just the living dead.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“It is not. In the 10 years I’d been dead I have never once tasted human flesh, nor do I plan too.”
“How did she do it?”
“My mom was an embalmer. In fact, she was the one who embalmed my body. What she says, is her boyfriend at the time—a real asshole who worked for the government—created some experimental serum that could bring the dead back. He brought it to my distraught mother and allowed her to use it on me. I’ll assume it worked.”
“Doesn’t it wear off?”
“It’s been 10 years and I’m still kicking!” He laughed at his joke. Dahlia grinned and then looked down.
“Your mothers going to be worried.” She said at her eyes focused on a lint ball on the black floor.
“I told you, she has it handled. But this means I’ll be moving away from this town…”
“Where would you go?”
“Probably Alaska…But I really like it here. No one got to know me, so no one noticed I died. Hell, I didn’t even have a job.” James looked away from her eyes. Dahlia began to speak, but only fragments of words came out.

the sun bleeds through

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 04:04:55 GMT

the grey drizzle on the green grass
which cushions the soles of my rough cracked feet
moisturizing with the morning dew
stinging me where blood has sealed a crack

the clouds break
the cold dries up on my arms
as the sun bleeds through
pouring hot on me.

It's Better This Way

Thu, 14 May 2009 14:40:50 GMT

I can remember the look in his eyes when they first made contact with my own. They lingered for a few seconds, a small smirk graced his round face. He was tall and lanky, and a thin gold bank graced his long, lanky ring finger. Sweat graced his brow. The room we were all seated in was small and brown, with all 5 of the windows opened to allow the hot August air to waft in and out. We all sat in our wooden chairs with clothing sticking unsympathetically to ourselves, with darker stains showing proud where sweat had collected.

"Fuck," I said under my breath. The boy next to me didn't hear me. The lanky man leaned on the podium at the front and introduced himself. We were to call him Mr. Widowsphere, and he was going to help up become better literature critics. No one said anything, but his eyes touched mine again. This was nearly 5 years ago. I was young, naive, and I couldn't think critically about literature. He didn't change my critical thinking habits.

An email sent to my work address with his name on it. We had kept in touch over the years, awkwardly going from formal names to first names, finally settling on nicknames we gave each other. The email was startling. We hadn't spoken in nearly 3 months and here he was knocking on my in box asking me when I was free for lunch. My eyes glued themselves to every word, my concentration finally broken by Brenda, the heavy set woman who wore too much bronzer on her paper white face. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Her hair was dyed white blond with her dark roots showing more then just an inch of themselves on her scalp. We could always smell her before she arrived. Perfume like an old age home, her clothing smelled like mold, her breath reeked of stale coffee, cigarettes, and just a hint of a mint she had after. She leaned over my shoulder, her fat bulbous breasts laid onto my left shoulder, pouring out onto the front. Her loud pink mouth snapped and popped the gum she was chewing. Her breath was heavy since her fat little legs couldn't carry her very far without her losing her breath.

"Oooh, Alex hmm? Who is he?" She hissed. I clicked the 'x' button. "That's not fair! I want to know what my employee's are doing on my time other than working!" I looked at my moniter. "Come on, tell me all about Alex!" A week ago a publisher had contacted me about publishing my novel that I spent 2 years on. The contract was for more than I had been making all 3 years combined at this doctors office. My first check would arrive this week. "You know I once dated an Alex. He was so handsome, but he made me feel a little dumb." She said more casually, her breasts now digging themselves into me. I pushed the rolling chair back into Brenda, rolling over her fat feet. She let out a yelp and fell back, causing the wall behind her to shake.

The girl next to me, a dew faced high school girl, looked at me with large dark eyes, her mouth open trying to say something. My desk was bare. I had no photographs of my dog or my friends up, I didn't keep any food at my desk. All I had was the computer that was here before me. I picked up my large bag, looked at Brenda who was howling in pain on the floor, and I walked out. I took fast strides and avoided eye contact with everyone there. The place smelled like x-ray machines and death. It was swallowing me. I threw open the glass doors and tripped down two of the stairs, catching myself on the railing. My heart beat against my chest, my pulses throbbed and screamed into my brain.

I reached into my pocket for the pink Blackberry. I quickly dialed the numbers he had given me. I pressed the phone to my ear with the large bar through the cartilage, and waited without breathing at the ringing started.

"Hello?" He answered,
"Alex? It's Marla."

High School Love Story Chapter 7

Fri, 08 May 2009 03:14:44 GMT

The next morning James slowly opened his eyes. He blinked once, then twice, and closed his eyes again. When he opened them again, he noticed Nicole’s long hair spilling down her back in long, lazy curls. He could see the faint outline of her midnight black eyelashes peeking out from her hair. He sat up and edged his way over to her. She turned her face to him when she felt the bed shift, her blue eyes lighting up.

The pale pink of her lips curved up into a faint smile. She parted her lips to say something, but before she could make a sound, James covered her mouth with his. His lips were warm and soft and tasted lightly of blueberries. He let go of her lips and lowered his face from hers. Her face was a bright, tomato red. She licked her lips with the very tip of her tongue to capture the taste he left behind. Her hands, placed calmly at her sides, raised up to hold his face in her tiny palms. She lifted it up to face her, his eyes locking with hers. She bit her lower lip, trying to find answers in his face. Instead she sat up and kissed him. Harder this time, her hands never leaving his face. James grabbed her wrists lightly and forced them back on the bed. They never once let go of each others lips. Sucking, biting, licking. He gently pushed her back onto the bed, her hands reaching up and wrapping around his neck.
His large hands found their way to her hips. He grabbed them tightly, trying to remember every curve they produced on her small frame. Her legs wrapped around his, as he pressed his body firmly against hers. He raised his hips just a little bit, and came slamming down into Nicole’s left hip. She let out a cry of agony before throwing James off of her.
“Owwww!” She cried as she grabbed her hip. Stunned, James checked too see what would cause her pain. When his hands grazed his pants to find how hard he really was, he buried his face into his blankets and laughed.
“It’s not funny!” She said rolling over and slapping his back. He turned his face towards her with a wide grin. She rubbed her hip and whined. He felt where he had landed on her. He delicately lifted the shirt and ran his fingertips across her skin. Her breath caught quickly in her mouth, her body felt like it was on fire.
“I’m still a virgin,” She said biting her lower lip. His eyebrows raised at her.
“Then I won’t do anything to my delicate little flower.” He pulled her body close, her back to his chest. He gently pressed himself on her as he kissed her neck. Her hands stroked his large arms, as she sighed and giggled.

Nicole drove her truck back to her house, her head swimming in the air. She pulled into the driveway, still swimming. When she walked in the house her father quickly greeted her before running out the door.
“Dad, it’s Sunday. Where ya going in such a rush?” She called after him.
“Mom’s car won’t start and she’s at work. I’m going over to get her!” He got into his sedan and sped off. As he was driving away, she heard him yell ‘Happy Birthday!’ from the car. She sat in the doorway of her house, her pug keeping her company. She sat there for a while, unmoved even when a silver hatchback parked outside of her house. Kevin got out of the drivers side, with Dennis falling out of the passengers.
“Happy birthday!” Kevin called as he walked up to the house. Nicole was still in James’s clothing, her hair and face still messy from the little bit of hairspray and makeup she still had on. She smiled up and squinted her eyes from the sun.
“Thanks Kev!”
“You look abnormally happy this morning.” Dennis said as he sat down in front of her.
“Did you have a good night, at least? I know we left abruptly.” Kevin said laying on the cool white wooden planks of her deck.
“Yea, Dennis and I dropped James off, and I went back to his house to play X-Box.” Nicole said without blinking an eye.
“I kicked her ass in Halo.”
“I told you those controllers are too big for my hands!”
”I thought you and James would have spent some time?” Kevin said propping himself on his elbows.
“Nah, he’s a good guy, but you know…” She said tilting her head to the side. Dennis scoffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Nicole stood up and excused herself as she went into her bathroom. The boys stayed on her porch in silence, allowing the world to talk instead. Cars drove by, neighbors walked down the streets chatting, and a few dogs came up to play with General Tso. Nicole came back down, her hair still damp. Her skin glistened in the cool, fall air, her cheeks a blushing pink from the shower.
“So let’s go do something, birthday girl!” Dennis stood up and walked down the stairs with Kevin behind. Nicole shooed her dog back into the house, and locked the door. She flittered down the stairs to Kevin’s car, sliding into the cool tan leather with ease. They trio drove in silence with the radio playing. They pulled into a parking space at the mall and got out, again in perfect silence. Nicole led them through the small narrow corridor into the main part of the mall. They looked out of place amidst the malls new wing, which housed high end designers and restaurants that none of them could afford. She led them into the old part of the mall, where high school seniors could afford to shop.
“I’m honestly not a fan of the mall,” Nicole said glancing back at Kevin.
“I gotta get you a birthday gift though, seems like the right thing to do.” He said looking away.
“You don’t have too.”
“Nah, pick a store, I got you.” He held the small of her back, covered by a tight black sweatshirt. Dennis walked up on her other side and put his arm over her shoulders.
“You look like a prissy pimp Nik.” He said, popping his gym loudly in her ear. Her head winced slightly. The three walked arm in arm into the only music store they ever know of. The college aged guy behind the counter looked at the three, but remained silent. She made her way over to the rock section, while Kevin and Dennis went to look at the posters on the wall.

The trio sat in the food court. Nicole had a booth side to herself and the bags of clothing and other junk Kevin and Dennis bought her. On the table diving them was a large pizza with an order of Old Bay fries. Three large soda cups and crumpled, grease stained napkins decorated the table. The mall was busy and noisy with registers as the background music. They sat and talked about school life, about homecoming, and most importantly, about Meredith coming back to school tomorrow. Her father had extended it to two weeks after she threw another fit in his office. Nicole leaned back into the seat and scowled.
“I could almost tolerate school without her there.” She mumbled.
“Start fighting back.” Dennis shrugged.
“The school year isn’t even halfway over with. I wish it were may…” She longingly looked into his eyes.
“Doesn’t she work in this mall?” Kevin said, blowing his nose into a napkin.
“Yea, at some dress shop.” She said.
“Think she’s at work?” Dennis said, his mouth turning up.
“Why?” Nicole said, her mouth turning down.
“We could go fuck with her for a bit. She has to be nice to us, we’re customers.”
“I’d rather eat a bullet.” Nicole shook her head and stood up, grabbing her bags. Dennis threw the trash in the trashcan, and the three walked to the exit. The drive home was silent, save for the music Kevin was playing. Loud music with bass that shook the car. When they got to Nicole’s, Kevin helped her with her bags before hugging her goodbye. Dennis unlocked her door and the two went in, as Kevin drove off.
“Where’s ma and pop?”
“Dad said mom’s car wouldn’t start. He left hours ago though, you’d think they’d be back…”
“Whatever, maybe they went food shopping.” He said as he dropped himself on the living room sofa. In front of him was a glass coffee table with magazines and bills scattered on it. In front of that was a large plasma television with a DVD player below it. Framed photographs adorned the walls of Nicole, and Dennis, as they grew up. Nicole walked over to one and touched it with her fingers. The photo was her at her 5th birthday, giving a big, almost toothless grin, with Dennis next to her sporting a full mouth of small, square teeth. She glanced over her shoulder, but Dennis was asleep on the sofa, a trail of spit pooling onto the sofa next to his head. Her face twisted in disgust, as she walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the off white counter, looking out into her backyard. The pool was covered over in a thin, green tarp. The patio furniture was put away, yet the grass around the pool was still green.
“Happy birthday, Nicole.” She said to herself. The sky was blood orange, with thin pale clouds crossing the sky. She walked outside to her porch and sat on the swing, overlooking her street. No sign of her parents, and they hadn’t called all day. She turned the bench into a bed, and closed her eyes. She could still feel James’s hands on her body, and she could still taste his mouth. She bit her lower lip, trying not to smile. She hadn’t heard her dad’s sedan pull up in the driveway, nor did she head him walk up the stairs. She did feel his hand gently shaking her shoulder.
“Good morning birthday girl! Or should I say, afternoon?” He said with a chuckle. She sat up and nodded at her dad.
“Mom will be home soon. She demanded I help her get some work done.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“I was stapling papers together.”
“Patient papers?”
“No, I wish.” He walked into the house, and tossed his keys on the small table next to the door. He tossed his coat on Dennis without realizing it, but Dennis merely turned over. Nicole shut the door behind her and went up to her room. Her dog was waiting for her on the other side of her door, and when she opened it, he ran down the stairs and out into the backyard. She fell back onto her bed and continued her lucid sleep, murmuring James’ name every so often.

Summer

Mon, 27 Apr 2009 15:11:02 GMT

The end of April should never feel this hot. Did the world forget that a mere two weeks ago it was in the lower 40's, and now it's reaching 91? I lay in my grass with my eyes closed, absorbing the sneak peak of heat I'll feel all the time in a mere month. The smell of fresh cut grass, the sounds of birds chirping high in my tree's, and the calm lazy wind takes me back to a calmer time when summer was the most sacred of all school vacations.

I'm older now. The two girls who lived next door to me were murdered by their own mother after their father ate his last meal of pain killers and vodka. The mother shoot herself in the head after she took in the site of her two daughters mangled bodies laying in a pool of their blood on top of the lime green plush rug they loathed in their bedroom. This was two summers ago. The house has yet to be sold. The pool in they built when I was a baby in their backyard has become a breeding ground for mosquito's, and a final resting place for small animals that get too close.

When the bodies were found a week after they were killed, my parent's took a sudden vacation three states away at the beach. It was a beautiful beach, far more glamorous than the one that's only 3 hours away from me. I go back every summer now with my sister and my boyfriend, trying to re-capture my lost innocence, but always instead finding the skeletons still buried in my closet.

A Zombie Affair

Sat, 11 Apr 2009 04:21:19 GMT

Alassandra flipped the switch off in her office as Peaceful Pines Funeral Home. The room engulfed itself in black, almost matching Alassandra, except for her pale blonde hair which still stood out even at night. She looked in one last time at the casket at the front of the main chapel. Her red mouth pouted down, her green eyes lost their sparkle. The casket should have been brought in tomorrow morning, but the delivery men insisted they deliver tonight for tomorrow’s 9am funeral. Inside was a boy she didn’t know, but her heart sank when she met the family. The boy, or rather young man, was a day shy of turning 21 when a drunk driver slammed into his car. She took a step inside the chapel. The red carpet on the floor matched the black pews nicely. The walls were a dull white, with a large crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room. The casket was on top of a platform, with a pulpit off to the side. She placed her pale hands together and lifted them to her chest, and prayed to anyone that would listen for the boy and his family. Her green eyes gazed up once more, and she turned her back and began to walk out.

She was about to pass the threshold into the lobby when she heard a low moan coming from behind her. Her eyes narrowed as she looked side to side. When she heard nothing else, she took one step closer to the front door, when she heard something banging. It was soft, but it was noticeable. She turned on her black stiletto heels to look behind her. She blinked a few times, making sure her contacts weren’t fuzzy. The top of the casket began to move, first almost unnoticeable, and then, a pale fist burst through the mahogany top, stretching out as if it were just waking up. Alassandra’s mouth opened, trying to scream. Her mouth went dry as her eyes went as wide as her mouth. Another hand broke through, then throwing the lid off. Her ankles felt like cement, her legs turned to mud. The boy sat up from his casket, his black hair spiked up, his cheek bones sharp against his snow white tan. He slowly turned his head to Alassandra, opening his eyes. When the lids peeled off of each other, leaving trails of goo running down his face, she let out an ear piercing scream. The boys mouth contorted as he pushed his hands against his ears. His eyes remained open, the dead grey trying to plead with Alassandra to stop screaming. She began to turn to run when one foot caught under another, sending her toppling into a black pew, hitting her head. She lay there unmoving, her eyes closed. The boy lowered his hands to the side of the casket, hoisting himself out. He walked gracefully to her and bent down, placing a cool hand to her cheek, slapping it lightly. His lips were sealed shut with some kind of medical sealant, which he picked at with his other hand. Alassandra’s eyes fluttered open, as her head moved side to side. Her eyes met with his. He quickly placed a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, causing her to throw her left leg into his stomach before scrambling to her feet and running outside, screaming. The boy ran after her, catching her wrist as her other hand held a death grip on her black Mercedes convertible.

The boys mouth pried open, his jaw stretching out with strands of goo and saliva stretching and breaking apart. A cloud of dust escaped from his throat, as he tried to speak. Alassandra’s face was stained with mascara tears as she sobbed out for help from God. The boys grip remained firm on her wrist, but his face was serene.
“Stop screaming,” He asked her in a soft voice. She hissed in air a few times, steadying her back against her car. She blinked away some more tears. “Please, it’s hurting my ears when you scream like that.” His voice was still calm, almost song like.
“You…You’re going to eat me…” Alassandra gasped. The boy looked at her with a puzzled expression, and then laughed a little. His smile took her by surprise. It calmed her to a considerable degree.
“No, I don’t really enjoy eating other humans.” He said in a stronger voice. Alassandra gulped hard, her head and chest felt light. Her death grip on her car was to now keep her up. ‘Don’t faint..’ she told herself. If she did pass out, she knew he would eat her, that she was convinced of.
“You’re a zombie. Zombie’s eat people. Brains, actually.” Her voice was quivering.
“Yes, and no. Actually, I really want a hamburger…” His voice trailed off as his head looked around for a place to eat.
“I’m going to die tonight,” She said in a scared voice. The boy laughed again and shook his head. He let go of her wrist and began to walk towards to street in front of them.
“No, Death isn’t coming for you for a long while, Alassandra.” He called from behind as he began to make his way south on the road.
“Wait!” She cried. He stopped and looked back at her. “What…I can’t…Your funeral is tomorrow!!” She shrieked as she pointed back into the building.
“Ok, I’ll be back in time for it. I’m hungry though!” He started to walk again while singing to himself. Alassandra looked on at him in disbelief, and then back at the funeral home. Everything came crashing down at once, and she hit the pavement with a slump. The boy looked back at the noise, and quickly ran back to her. He cradled her head in his hands as he tried to wake her again. Her car keys were a few inches from her hand, so he picked them up, pushing down on the ‘unlock’ button. The car lit up, the driver’s door opening automatically. He hoisted himself and her in, putting her gently in the passenger’s seat. He gingerly placed her seatbelt around her, and then closed his door. The key fit perfectly into the ignition, causing the car to roar to life. Her GPS system lit up, giving him directions to her house.
“How easy…” He mumbled. He threw the car into reverse, and wasn’t finished backing out when he threw it into ‘D’, slamming the gas on the floor, letting out a joyous cry as the car roared its way onto the street. The GPS could hardly keep up with house fast he was going, winding in and out of traffic. He got to her house in less then five minutes. He eased in to the driveway of her rancher style home and got out. He went and unlocked her front door, peering in. A white cat looked up at him with green eyes, and then ran into a dark hallway. He went back over to pick up Alassandra out of the car, carefully carrying her into her house, and onto one of her stark white leather sofa’s. He locked her front door and felt around the wall for a light switch. His fingers pressed down on a button, which lit up the whole house. He closed his eyes and hissed in. Alassandra lay motionless on her couch. He blinked a few times and stood in her large hallway. A spiral staircase stood in the middle of the hall in front of him, leading up to the second floor. The house was startling white, almost like heaven. He took a few steps in, his footsteps echoing in her house.
“Woah…” He whispered. His eyes roamed around as his body went over to Alassandra, taking a seat next to her. His gentle impact on the sofa gently woke her. Her eyes opened with ease, right onto him. She opened her mouth slightly, but decided she was tired of screaming. He glanced down at her, and smiled weakly.
“I don’t get it.” She said flatly. The boy awkwardly laughed and scratched his ear, looking ahead at her eggshell white walls with a large plasma television hanging on it.
“I don’t either. I never knew funeral directors made so much money!” He said as her hand gestured out. She shook her head and looked down. “…It’s a long story, but I am not your normal Hollywood zombie.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m dead.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible.”
“This is.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that seem hypocritical?” He stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the ivory grand piano in the corner of the room.
“That’s different,” She barked as her slender fingers dug into her couch.
“But you believe in something you can’t prove exists.” His grey eyes were narrow. Alassandra looked away, but stole quick glances at him. Her eyes danced to her cell phone, which read 11pm. The boy walked over and looked down as well, smirking. “You should get to bed.”
“No!” She protested, folding her arms across her chest.
“Living people are usually getting ready for bed at this time.”
“So you want me to go to bed so you can eat me? I don’t think so.” She shook her head and leaned back on her sofa.
“Listen lady, for the last time, I am not going to eat you. You do not look delicious to me at all. No living human being looks good. Ever. If you were a cow, maybe I would reconsider.” He sat down next to her, placing a cold hand on her shoulder.
“This is a prank, isn’t it?” Her mouth curled up in the corner. “This must be Frank getting back at me for not taking his 9am shifts.” Her hand snatched the phone from the table. Her fingers rapidly dialed Frank’s number. She pressed it against her head, and started barking out words at what sounded like a sleeping Frank. Her words stopped mid-sentence when Frank started screaming back, before hanging up. She put her phone down and looked back into the boys eyes.
“What are you, Frank’s nephew?”
“No. I don’t even know this guy,”
“Whatever, you know what, we’ll figure this out tomorrow. At least tell me your name.”
“James, you?” he held up a pale hand towards her.
“Alassandra, Alice for short.” She took her hand and shook it firmly. His eyes narrowed at her grip, but he remained silent. She stood up and made her way to the staircase. She stopped in the middle and looked down.
“I’ll be right back, you can turn the T.V on or something.” She ran the rest of the way up. James looked around the room, but didn’t move. He sat back and looked at his hand. Something was strange about Alice, but he couldn’t think of what it was just yet.

Open letter to my stupid neighbor

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 04:29:23 GMT

Dear Lady Who Lives Two Houses Down From Me,

On Saturday, my boyfriend Pat took my dog Spencer out to play. They were playing together on my front lawn. Spencer was happily jumping and wrestling with Pat, and Spencer wasn't even barking! So, why in the hell would you make it a point to walk over, stand in front of my lawn, and proceed to tell my boyfriend,

"You need to keep him on a shorter leash!"

Please explain that one to me. They were both on my front lawn, not being noisy. I was watching them from my window. I went outside when you stopped in front of my house even, and you quickly ran away. So...You're also a coward too. I don't get it. I don't get you. Your dog gets out from your yard and always lands in my front lawn on a very frequent basis, but I never complain. Dogs are awesome. Your attitude however, is not awesome. I don't tell you to remove your busted ass pickup truck, you know why? CAUSE IT'S NONE OF MY DAMN BUSINESS.

So, I would like to kindly ask for you to mind your own fucking business, and to stay away from my house, my lawn, my dog, and everything else that is my property.

No love,

me.

Dear Verizon Wireless

Sat, 28 Mar 2009 11:05:46 GMT

Two of Baltimore's finest has paid a visit to my home tonight and early this morning. The first time being at 1am, the second time being at 6:33am. Apparently during last night's storm our phone line got jacked and is now all statiky! So we call Verizon around 1:30, and the lady says she can get a technician to us...APRIL 11TH. Verizon does not feel that a phone that is making false calls to 911 is an actual problem. "Oh it's cool just let the cops waste their time while someone is getting mugged a block over" type of deal. We hang up, nothing else to do.

So, 6:33am. I'm dreaming of the Watchmen when all of the sudden I hear a banging on my back door. I panic. Only people that know us use that door, so I'm thinking it's you know...SOMEONE I KNOW. And then I peer into the hallway, and there's someone shining a flashlight.

Fuck my life.

It's the police.

So I ran back and woke my dad up. By this time the cop had come to the front door. We let him in and explained the situation. He checked the phone for us, and said he would let the dispatcher know. He said this happens a lot, sometimes up to 20 times PER DAY per household, and Verizon usually doesn't do anything about it.

So, Verizon, you pieces of shit you, maybe you don't think of the phones crank calling 911 a real problem, but you see, I DO. The cops aren't coming to YOUR house, while YOU'RE asleep, at all hours of the night. NO! SO WHY DO YOU CARE, RIGHT?!? Well, you stupid little fuckers, I'll tell you why you SHOULD give a fuck. Believe it or not, Baltimore is still a crime ridden, drug infested whore of a town (AND I LOVE HER DEARLY) so needless to say, the cops in the town have better things to do then respond to my phone being stupid. I know you can't come in until April 11th because, hey, we all have problems! Apparently you're too busy fixing John Doe's loud ring tone to bother with my phone dialing 911. Hey, no, I understand. Crank calling the police when they could instead be saving a life should totally take a back seat!

Well, Verizon, I hope to God that you never find yourself in a situation where you need help from any police anywhere, and no one can respond because, oh, all the phones hooked up via Verizon are making crank calls to the cops so no one can respond to your legit call. That would truly be terrible, and it could have been avoided, IF YOU FIXED THE DAMN PHONES.

No love in the world,

me.

P.S>>

Verizon Wireless doesn't care about humanity.

Also, the cops were more then friendly and understanding, so I applaud the BCPD for a job well done.

Walter Redone Pt 1

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 01:41:40 GMT

Lina leaned on the white counter of her work, her arms folded in supporting her lithe frame. Her short brown hair hung limp around her pale face, with its big brown eyes and pale lips turned down into a frown. Across from her, an opened Playboy magazine sat defiantly on the shelf with the children Easter books. She stares at it intently, thinking about the kind of person that would do such a lewd thing. She shrugged her shoulders and limply walked over and picked it up. She held it open for a few seconds, taking in the naked bronze women with 30 pounds of makeup. She quickly closed it and looked around to see if anyone else was watching her, but her mall was never busy on a Tuesday morning. She walked it behind the counter, tore the cover off, and threw the rest of the magazine in the trash.

The other girl working with her, a girl with short pink hair and eyeliner that fell into a spiders webs at the corners, came out from the back with a stack of new Baltimore magazines. She tossed one to Lina who thumbed through the magazine. She stopped at a story with a picture of a small Asian woman wearing a red coat. She stood against the Inner Harbor at night, which was lit up beautifully, casting a watery mirrored image into the Chesapeake. Lina's eyes flicked to a text blurb. 'My husband was mugged outside our Patterson Park home and died while in a coma three days later.' Lina blinked and exhaled. The girl with the pink hair bobbled up and down behind her as she walked to the back.

"Hold on," she said, holding the story up. The girl looked at her with wide blue eyes. "Did you look through this month's issue?" She nodded 'no', her pink hair swishing back and forth. "This lady," she said, tapping the picture of her causing the paper to crease "suddenly want's to change Baltimore City's crime problem because her husband was mugged and killed. You know, if this had happened to someone else, do you know what she would do? She would turn off her television, complain about how dangerous Baltimore is, and she would go to sleep not thinking twice about it! But because her husband just happened to get mugged, now she thinks its her job to try and save Baltimore. Give me a goddamn break." She slammed the magazine on the counter and leaned against the other one, her back to the store. The girl with pink hair shrugged, and then went to finish her job in the back room. Lina strummed her fingers loud on the counter. Her eyes darted to the computer's tiny clock on the screen, and a grin crossed her face. She walked in the back, grabbed her brown leather bag, and left.

"See ya tomorrow," the girl cried from the back. Lina walked into the art deco mall with its tall white pillars and royal marble floors. Almost every store however was boarded up, never to be open again with a lovely retail store. She walked out into the humid Baltimore summer. Her orange dress stuck to her pale skin, so pale that you could see her thick blue veins from miles away. Her pink flip flops were lose on her bony feet, since her big toe was separated from her other toes by an inch. She walked with her arms swaying back and forth to her gray Mercedes Benz E 350 that her father had given her as a birthday gift. The engine roared as she started the car, the black leather seats burned her skin.

When she pulled into the driveway of her 1950's rancher house in the suburbs, she was greeted by her boyfriend Will sitting on her front manicured lawn with her large white Samoyed, Spencer. Spencer got up and ran over to Lina, who cooed and spoke in baby talk to her dog, who jumped up to kiss her. Will didn't get up, but beckoned for her to come sit down in the shade under her large, old pine tree's.

"No, it's way too hot. I wanna go swimming." She pulled off her orange dress to reveal a plain blue swimsuit. Will shrugged and followed her into her backyard, where she jumped into her fathers in ground amoeba shaped pool.

Private Hell-Fourth Grade

Wed, 25 Mar 2009 03:37:43 GMT

This entry took me 2 hours to complete without interruption. I'm sorry for the length!

Going into fourth grade filled me with dread. Over the summer my grandmother had given me a stuffed bunny that I took to school with me. It seems silly that at nearly 9 years old I was still taking stuffed toys with me to school, but it gave me some kind of comfort.

The first teacher I met that year was pregnant with her third child. This fascinated me to no end. She was the second pregnant lady I had ever known (the first being my sisters biological mother) so I was always curious about her, but she wasn't my teacher. My regular teacher was a very sweet older lady with blond hair. She actually introduced me to computers and was very positive, and friendly. I still however had everyone else in the school. In the middle of the large classroom (we were divided into two groups, with a fold out wall) was a chinchilla cage. I became amazed by these adorable animals, and tried desperately to get one for years following. However, I own dogs, and my dog growing up did not like small animals.

French, a language all of us had to take starting in first grade, had gotten really hard for me. The second week of September the three French teachers demanded that my mother come in to speak with them. She reluctantly came, and I sat outside of the meeting reading a comic. When she came out she grabbed me by the arm and stormed off. I wasn't sure if I had done something wrong, so I went into panic mode. I climbed into her Land Cruise reluctantly, and when we were on Lake Ave, she told me what they had said.

"You're failing French." She said with what sounded like a laugh,
"Oh..." Was all I could think to say. I hated French, so I didn't care.
"They told me you'll be placed instead in the writing workshop they have for those of you who aren't succeeding in French." This news delighted me. I had starting writing my own stories to comic book characters I adored, especially Archie. "They also said you were mentally handicapped, and possibly unable to ever learn a forgien language, because you were "too stupid" to learn French." I stared at the window, happy to get out of French. My mother ranted on about how incompetent the teachers were at that school.

The next day I went into the writing room while everyone else stayed for French. I was surprised at what I saw. It was a small room, but it faced the woods behind the school, which in the fall and spring provided for beautiful scenery. Colored pictures lined the walls, and a small green chalk board hung on the wall next to the window. I was even more surprised to see the three girls who usually orchestrated people making fun of me in there. I was convinced they must have been smarter then me (after all, they were smart enough to pick on me first), but seeing them on this level took off their edge. Then I met the teacher, Mrs. K. She was a tall, lean woman with short gray hair. She had a soft voice which reminded me of blooming flowers. Even though those three rotten ladies were in my class, I felt safe so long as she was around. The writing workshop proved to be the best move the school ever did. Writing because my strong point, and this was the only class I cared for, in fact I even did the homework for this class, something I had stopped doing altogether in other classes. Mrs. K listened to me and let me stay inside with her during recess most days just writing for the first time there I felt safe.

In late October they announced that we would be going to Gettysburg for an overnight stay. Staring down at the paper, I thought of a million excuses to get out of it. However, they required that all students go no matter what. This thought terrified me. I was going to be alone, over the weekend, away from my safe warm house, with my entire fourth grade class that hated me, as well as a few select teachers that did too. My dad called my teacher and tried to get me out, but they insisted that I go. She promised she would personally take care of me, which took off some of my tension. I asked Mrs. K later on if she was going, but she just sadly shook her head 'no'. The day before we were leaving, we were told to fill out what we wanted to eat for dinner. The options were bare. A hamburger and fries, a hot dog and fries, or a salad. I overheard a girl at another table say "Lauren should pick the salad since she's so fat," (even though it was my back brace causing the bulk), however, I still chose the sala option. The morning we were leaving, a rainy Monday, I brought one small bag with my pajamas. My parent's handed my teacher my medication, kissed me goodbye, and we watched each other as we both became smaller and smaller as the van I was in drove off. The girl next to me got motion sickness easily, so I was spared having to make awkward conversation with her. Instead I read comics the whole way up. When we got there, I stayed close to my teacher. As we were walking through the battlegrounds at night a few of the period players dressed as soldiers fired their guns. I was a few feet from there they were firing, and even though I knew they weren't shooting real bullets, I a tiny piece of me wished they were so I could end my miserable existence then and there. Another girl in the class, who was still on a first grade reading level, but wasn't criticized because both of her parent's were doctors and donated thousands to the school, started crying and had to be taken away. I shrugged and kept silent, watching everything. We went to dinner late, and sure enough, I got my salad. It had a few green leaves, some tomatoes, and an onion. I also got water. I ate a tomato and the onion, drank the water, and threw the rest away.

When we got into the hotel, the four other girls rooming with me screamed at the teacher, demanding I sleep on the sofa by myself. She looked at me bewildered, but I was overjoyed. I had no desire to share a bed with 4 other girls I hated, and would have slept on a sofa at home anyhow. The only spare blanket they had though, was a thin bed sheet. I shrugged and took it anyhow. A half hour before bedtime, all the girls ran into the hallway for a pillow fight. The last girl to leave called back "Stay here retard. We don't want you out here!" and slammed the door. I looked at the door fighting back tears, wishing I knew what to say. I brushed my teeth, took my medication, and looked out the window. Were my parent's looking at the same full moon I was? There was no TV, so I couldn't watch wrestling, something I did every Monday night with my dad. I sat on the sofa, alone in the dark room. The only light on was the dim pale yellow from the bathroom. I curled my knees to my chest and cried for a while. As the noise in the hall began to die down I wrapped the sheet around me and pretended to be asleep. No one took any notice of me. The teacher ignored me as she went into bed. The room was an ice box. I spent the whole night tossing and turning, shivering. Around 4am I gave up and sat by the window and cried again. Dad told me not to brink my Blankie, a big yellow, chewed in one spot baby blanket that I slept with every night. My over sized white shirt with Tenchi Muyo on it was drenched in one spot where tears gathered on my lap. My arms held my small body, my nails dug into my forearms. My front teeth bit down hard on my inner lip so I wouldn't let out a loud sob or a cry for dad.

Looking around the room, it was bleak. The teacher had a bed with a few large blankets ontop of her. The four girls had the door to their room locked, but it didn't bother me. I silently went into the bathroom and tried to find something sharp. I found a nail file, but when I began to saw it against my wrist, nothing happened. Disappointed, I threw it in the trash. Everything seemed lost to me. No friends, at least not here. At Hebrew School a boy named Josh was my best friend, and a few kids from the gym my dad went too would also play with me. I thought of Josh and how he would at least stick up for me. We would talk about comics and how I wanted him to be my boyfriend. Above all else, he listened to me whenever I told him about what a horrible day I had at school. Eventually the moon started to bow down to the sun, so I wrapped myself back up into my blankets and tried to hide my red, puffy face. The teacher and other students didn't wake up until 8am, and by then my face had returned to its pale complexion. I ran into the bathroom first and changed. I tightened my brace since I kept it lose in my sleep, and quickly brushed my teeth. I threw my shirt and pants into my backpack and walked out of the room and into the hallway with a few other girls. The teacher followed shortly after and commented on how silent I was as I slept. We all left and walked around outside, the weather still dreary. I stayed close to the group, but by then hunger had taken over and I started to feel sick, but I didn't want to show it.

I wandered off into the gift shop and picked up a few things for my parents and myself. I also bought a quill pen for Mrs. K. I stashed the items away into my backpack and waited outside by the vans. I didn't notice what anyone was saying as we got back into the three large vans. My head became friends with the glass window the whole way home as I stared out over the highway leading back into Baltimore. Familiar sights lifted my spirits, and they were even more lifted when I saw my dad's Mercedes station wagon waiting for me at the school. I flew out of the van first and got into the car before he could get out to give me a hug. Before he could say hello, I blurted out,

"Dad I'm going to die if I don't get food in me. I didn't eat dinner last night and we had no breakfast this morning." He looked at me startled, but drove off with me anyhow. I found out later I was actually supposed to go back to school that day, but I honestly felt like I was going to die if I didn't get any food inside of me. We drove up to the buffet we only ate at with the whole family, but this was a special occasion. It was the first time I had ever slept away from home without my parent's, and I could see why my dad forbade me from going to any sleepovers when I was younger. I stopped getting birthday invites in second grade. He helped me dish out food onto my plate, but all I was interested in was the mini fried shrimp and mashed potatoes. I ate three plates full and had two bowls of ice cream before my dad had to carry me back to the car, where I fell asleep on the way home.

The next day he dropped me off, and the first thing I did was look for Mrs. K. She was actually a fifth grade teacher, but did the writing workshop on the side. I ran up to her with the quill in my hand. A warm smile graced her face, which grew even wider as I gave her the gift. Feeling pleased with myself I marched back to the fourth grade room. A teacher grabbed me by the arm and pulled me in, yelling at me for not participating at all yesterday, and for leaving early. I nearly tripped on myself as I pressed against the wall. As she screamed, all the girls in the class stood to watch, and laugh. I shook my head and walked to my cubby. She was still yelling at me as I threw my backpack inside, and continued to yell as I sat at my seat. I ignored her. I snapped a pencil in half and huffed. Instead of self loathing, I started to feel anger, but I still felt bad for breaking my pencil, and even apologized to both pieces.

We took a test that day about the field trip. Every answer I put down was "I didn't eat. You gave me a sheet to sleep in, and I froze the whole night. It sucked." My mother got a phone call later that day, but she hung up on them, laughing. I also felt, for the first time, good about what I had done. A month later we started doing group projects in math. I dreaded math, and I dreaded having to do it with other girls. I was ashamed at how stupid I was, and even though I knew they knew, I still wanted to hide it. The girl I was partnered with was a new girl. She had short black hair, a round face, and was chubby. She was nice to me at first, but after I started getting every answer wrong, she excused herself to say something to her friends. I glanced over, curious, only to hear,

"I can't believe they paired me up with the retarded girl." I looked away, my face burning. I dropped my pencil and walked up behind her.

"Did you just call me a retard?" The two other girls hid their mouth behind their hands.
"Uh..No! I..no!"
"...I'm not deaf, retard." I began to walk away when the math teacher, who told my mom I was mentally disabled, grabbed my arm and pulled. I yelled "ow" and for her to let go as she dragged me into the hallway. She started screaming at me for calling that "poor defenseless girl" a retard. My mouth hung open at her. I stammered on my words, and finally found them.

"You called me retarded two years ago!" I screamed. The other classes, 2-5th, stopped what they were doing and peered into the hallway. The woman grabbed me by the ear and pulled me into the office as I screamed and cried and flailed my arms. We walked up the outside corridor, where she threw me onto a chair facing the gym. She threatened with calling my mom, and I smiled. I watched as the third graders ran around the indoor track. A few teachers passed by me and whispered to each other, pointing at me. A few moments later the teacher came out with the cordless phone, saying my mother demanded to know what happened. I told her how it started, how Pheodra called me a retard first, and then how the teacher grabbed me arm and then my ear and pulled me along the corridor. The teachers face went red as her mouth mimicked mine moments before. I heard the angry click of my mothers phone, and a grin came across my face. I sat in the chair letting my legs dangle.

Moments later I saw my mom, short, round, and pounding the ground beneath her with her small angry feet, throw the glass door to the outside world open. She didn't see me. Her small blue eyes were bulging out of her head. The teacher stood to say something, her old slender frams and crop salt and pepper hair framed her long face.

"DID YOU TOUCH MY CHILD?!" My mom bellowed. I could have sworn my class heard her. My mom was using her so angry you better pray to any God that will listen that dad's home voice. The teacher told her she had taken me to the office. My mom screamed her question again. The gym class had stopped and was gawking at my mother. When she didn't reply, she looked at me. Her hands caressed my hair, and cheeks. My lower lip began to tremble and large tears started to fall. My mom didn't say anything else to me, but yelled words I had never heard before at the teacher, who shrank back as other teachers stood by, in awe. Mrs. K was there too, unsure of what to say. I shook my head no to her, I didn't want my mom yelling at her. She nodded a sympathetic nod and walked away. After my mom was done screaming, she marched back down to the room, with my trotting to keep up with her angry long strides. She asked me in a calm voice to get my stuff, we were leaving. When I came back, Mrs. K had come back in. I smiled and waved, and grabbed my moms hand.

"Mom, this is Mrs. K, my writing teacher!" My mom shook her hand and nodded.
"Lauren is a very bright student! I hope I have her next year in fifth grade!" She smiled at my mom, who said thank you, in the same calm voice she had with me, and we left. I turned and wave back at her, a genuine smile across my face. I spent the rest of the day, and week in the fourth grade classroom at my moms school. The fourth grade teacher, a lady like my mother named Mrs. W, let me do whatever I wished, so I chose to participate in her class. The girls sitting with me were very unlike me. I knew my mom taught in a predominately black school, and I knew there were two black girls in my class. But these girls were different. They were warmer, funnier, and spoke differently then the two girls from my class did. We all played together, ate together, and did classwork together. On Friday I told them I had to go back to my school on Monday, and a few of them cried with me.

Monday, it was if a tumbleweed had blown through my classroom. No one was there. I peeked into the fifth grade room, where Mrs. K spotted me. She came up and ushered me in.

"What are you doing here?"
"...It's Monday. We have school." Her entire class was giving me blank stares.
"But...shouldn't you be...with your class...?"
"That's where I was...and no one was there, so..."
"Oh my...Lauren, everyone's on a field trip to University of Maryland College Park to watch a women's basketball game." My head felt light, my ankles turned into oatmeal. She sat me down in the small library we had. The librarian nodded at her and I.
"That's right...I didn't see you the rest of the week. They must have passed out the permission slips while you were away." She nodded, certain of herself. I shrugged and told her I'd be fine here. The librarian said she could use a reader for the first graders today, so I spent the day reading to first graders.

The next day Baltimore was hit with a terrible blizzard. My sister and I stood at the front door of our house and started quarreling back and forth. Even at 3 years old Ashley was stronger then me. She pushed me into the brick siding of my house. My head hit the wall with a loud crack, and I sat there dazed. A sick look crossed Ashley's small face as she ran back to the car. I started calling for mom, not feeling right. I reached my hand up to my hair. It felt warm and sticky. When I pulled it down to my face, my cries became more urgent. I finally got to my feet and wobbled down the driveway. I kept yelling for her, but she just waved her hand at me as she talked to a lady at the end of the driveway. I got between her and the lady and held my hand up.

"MY HEAD IS BLEEDING." I yelled as blood dripped coldly down my neck. My moms face when pale. The lady behind me quipped "Yea, sure is!" I turned to her and scowled, and my mom picked me up and ran me into the house. She called our doctors office as she pressed wet towels on my head. My sister came to the window from outside and pressed her face against the window. My mom yelled at her to get inside, and when she did she kept her back against the door. Finally, my mom picked me up and carried me to the car. We drove to the doctors office, where my dad and Bubbie were waiting. I suppose she was there to keep Ashley entertained, but since I was the one with the cracked open skull, I only felt it right that I should hog her attention. And I did. I came home 4 hours later with 20 stitches in my head and a belly full of fried shrimp and mashed potatoes.

The next day I stayed home with Bubbie and my dog Teddy Bear. When my mom got home she called my school and informed them I would not be able to wear turtlenecks with the school uniform, as I was unable to pull anything over my head. The head mistress of the lower school protested, informing my mother I would bring shame to the school. My mom informed them she was going to bring a lawsuit to the school, so for a month and a half I wore button up long sleeved shirts to school. When the weather began to change from cold to warm, I spent more time outside near the science building. I sat there most days by myself watching nature come into full bloom. My writing was impressing Mrs. K, I stopped doing all of my homework, and I successfully failed every test I took in school, except for music, art, and writing.

One day while waiting for my mom to pick me up after school, I took a seat on a bench. I saw her Land Cruiser roll by me to the first bay. I sighed and began to walk to her, when my second grade teacher grabbed my arm and pulled me up. I felt a snap, and then I saw my arm go limp. Before I could let out a cry my mom was out of the car and pushed the teacher off of me. As I watched her stumble to the ground, I screamed as my left arm went limp to my side. My mom pressed her hand against my arm, and a quick hard popping sound later, my arm was back in its socket. She patted my hand, and then turned to the teacher. A parade of cars sat behind my moms car, but no one cared. All eyes were on my mom as she bellowed and hollered and scream and pushed the teacher around. We both got in the car and drove off, my mom on the phone with my dad. The next day the head mistress asked me to show her how the teacher pulled my arm. I was horrified of hurting her, but she insisted I did. I gently pulled here when I was, then explained how my arm did pop out. The teacher got a slap on the wrist and was told to never touch a student again, but kept her job.

A month went by. Random girls would bully me here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary. The first week in May was grandparent's week for us. I was allowed to invite two grandparents. My Pop Pop had died years before, so I invited my biological grandmother, and my Bubbie. Bubbie came to school with me. We saw on a bent near where the cars lined up at the end of the day. I chattered excitedly, glad to have some immunity from the other girls. A few minutes into recess, I saw my dad's car pull up, and out stepped my grandmother Rose. I started to run to her, tripped, and landed on my face. My lip banged into my teeth. I heard Bubbie cry out for me, but I didn't notice the searing pain in my face of the blood pooling in my mouth. I got back up and ran into her arms, yelling excitedly. When I looked up her face twisted.

"Lauren...I think you need to go to the nurse." She said with a chuckle. By that time Bubbie had caught up with me. We all walked to the nurses office where I cleaned all of the blood out of my mouth and kept an ice pack to me large swollen upper lip, but I still managed to talk to both of them endlessly. The next day was the Father-Daughter-Picnic at 3pm. My dad had work, so he told me he wouldn't make it. However, my class still required that we be there, regardless, so I sat on the playground watching the other daughters play with their dads. We all then went up to the gym field for games with the dads. I sat out far away from everyone. I felt angry at my dad for ditching me, but whatever. Before the egg race began, I saw dad come on the field, looking around confused. I raced passed the other girls and flew into his arms. Of course, I had an asthma attack because of it, but I was glad to go home. School ended two weeks after, and I was glad of it. Before I left Mrs. K called me into her room, beaming.

"Guess what?"
"What?"
"I'm going to be your teacher next year!!" She said excitedly. I jumped up excitedly. I gave her a hug, and then ran out to meet my mom at the car. That summer my scoliosis had turned into a 60 degree curve. The brace wasn't working, but they wanted to keep me in it. I was hopeful for fifth grade year. However, I was still wrong about what I had expected from that year, which proved to be my worst one there.

*Authors note: In the previous grade, I mentioned that a girls father had died. She was exempted from the father-daughter thing. However, one of the bullies in the class still had the audacity to go up and ask her if her father would be showing up to the picnic.

Private Hell-Third Grade

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 21:01:14 GMT

That summer I was diagnosed with scoliosis. It was mild, as my spine was only at a 40 degree curve, however since it ran in my family I was fitted into a back brace. For those of you who don't know, it's almost like wearing a very hard plastic corset everyday. I couldn't bend over, nor sit "Indian" style. I was constantly sweaty, itchy and uncomfortable, but if I wanted a straight spine, I would have to endure it. I could only take it off for an hour every day. My mom called one other parent that she knew from my school to talk about it. I suppose the mother was understanding, but her daughter was as rotten as a maggot filled corpse.

When school started no one knew how to re-act. None of them had seen anything like a back brace before, so to an 8 year old mind it is a little daunting. The school nurse at my school, a tall lady with short dark hair, was honestly the most understanding, but then again she was a school nurse. She suggested I tell the class about my "disability" so they could understand. Girls would know on my brace, fascinated by it. Even I was still curious about it, but by the time school started I hated it. It restricted my breathing, and I couldn't itch in certain places, and with eczema that's really hard.

The third grade room faced the playground and lower school administration building, so I spent most days trying to not think about the brace, and instead spent my days like most kids, staring out the giant glass windows onto the monkey bars. The administration building, which also housed our auditorium that doubled as a gymnasium, was a gray stone building with a low roof that connected to an awning, which was next to a street where the parent's dropped us off and picked us up. The jungle gym, which I wouldn't be able to climb on with ease, was neon orange with pebbles below it. Across from that, next to the first grade building and computer lab, was a three swing swing set. In front of the computer lab was a black top with a basketball net. Behind the black top on a small hill was the science building, a beautiful wooden building with a glass roof, and next to that was the main blue and gray jungle gym. Behind the first grade building was the school's gym field, where we would sometimes watch the high schoolers play field hocky or lacrosse, a sport that private school was well known for.

Around October the nurse suggested again that I talk about scoliosis and what it was. A few girls thought it was contagious and stayed away from me. I obtained two x-rays from my doctor. One with my brace on, and one without my brace. I was nervous, but I figured, well, I'm talking about myself, and I like myself plenty, how bad could it be? I sat on a chair in front of my entire third grade class, third grade teachers, and a few stragglers who decided to show up. I sat there, my legs dangling off of the seat, and held up my first x-ray to the light. A collective gasp escaped from everyone's lips, followed by a few snickers from students, and teachers. I began my story about scoliosis, what it was, and most importantly, that no one would catch it from me as it is a genetic disorder. Two girl near the front whispered audibly to each other about how it was "freakish". A few teachers hid their smiles behind pale knobby hands. A few girls asked pretty standard questions, did it hurt, would it ever fix itself, normal things a child of 8 would ask when they don't understand something. Of course, one girl stood up, and started asking a string of questions.

"Can you swim in it?"
"No,"
"Are you going to die?"
"No."
"Are you sure I can't catch that from you? I don't want that disease!" A teacher scolded her loudly and I just shook my head, but by that point I had lost them, and there I was sitting in front of a group of 20 girls as they all laughed at me. From then on people avoided me on the playground. I spent most of my time on the swings, pretending I could fly. One girl there continued to be my "friend", but chased away anyone else that tried to be my friend. Sometimes I would hang out with her behind the first grade building, next to the fence that stood at the edge of the gym field. I never remembered anything she said, but it was usually what I should or shouldn't do. In gym we had started our dancing unit, such as ballroom, square, and one other that escapes me. This girl was to be my partner for this unit, and every other gym unit, until I left. I become dependent on her, as she was the only one who didn't care that I had some weird disease.

Around the middle of the year I gave up on math. I still had to take it, but I barely passed the class with any kind of good grades. I also gave up on my homework. Teachers wouldn't call on me, and no one wanted to do group projects with me, leaving me to my own devices. I still did school work and tests, but I was never an exemplary student. Most teachers thought I was too stupid to learn anything. They would express their disdain to my mother, who would tell them where they were going wrong with teaching me. I stayed inside during recess during the winter. As a child I wad severe asthma and was in and out of the hospital for it. I spent most winter recesses in the last bathroom stall on the left crying, or reading books in the elementary library, which was in the middle of the 2-5th grade building. Whenever we had art of music, we had to walk up a hill to what I'm pretty sure was an old slaves house (the school had moved to an old estate in Baltimore after it had been founded in 1885) which was built on and divided into three rooms. The art room, the music room, and the rehearsal room. Art and music were my best subjects, and all of my teachers liked me. However, I still sat off by myself completing what I needed to do, and often times starting other projects sooner. These were the only two subjects I ever looked forward too, while math and gym were my most dreaded.

When spring finally came with its warmer weather, we began to run 3 miles every day outside on the big field. The nurse, and my mother, had told the gym teachers countless times about my severe asthma, pigeon toed feet, and very obvious back brace, that I was very unable to run at all, and that I should either walk or do something else. Naturally, I was told to run and then walk. I would make it, while running, around 6 feet or so, before my lungs seized up and I was forced to walk around 3 miles. I was always the last one finished. Whenever I was far away from the group of sitting girls I would often cry a little out of humiliation. What should have been a 5-10 minute drill usually lasted 15-30 minutes while I dragged behind. Whenever I did finish, I would then carry myself up another mile, up hill, to the nurses building, so I could use my asthma medication to stop my attacks. This was a frequent problem everyday for 3 years, and no one thought to stop it. I would protest, I would sit down or cry, but I was still told to do it or I would be thrown out of the school, while the girls who had finished up would sit around and laugh at me or mock me as I walked on by. Some days I didn't mind, I would think about video games or comic books. But most days it was a walk of shame, calling out the fact that I was not a normal little girl like the rest of them.

A week after we started the running unit, I was invited to play a game of 'Mother May I?' on the playground. I was skeptical of them, and declined at first. I had been sitting on my favorite swing pretending that this is what it was like to run and feel the cool air blow my long brown hair back. Of course they insisted, and I caved. I was the first to go. As I clumsily ran up, a girl with short blond hair and buck teeth knocked into me. I hit my head against the ledge made of rocks, and again on the schools blacktop. I was found 20 minutes later, on a busy playground with other grades and teachers around, by two middle schoolers who came down to visit their old teacher. Two people who didn't belong in the setting. One girl picked me up and took me into the administration building, I woke up in her arms with tears falling down my face. She was talking to me, telling me she didn't know why people were just stepping over me. The other girl ran to get the head mistress of the lower school. I kept drifting in and out of focus, unsure of what she was saying. The two middle schoolers decided to instead take me to the nurse. In a way I wish I could remember their names, since they were possibly the only two girls there with half a brain.

I stayed in a bed in the dark for hours. The nurse kept coming in to wake me. I asked where my mom or dad was, and she said she couldn't get a hold of them. I told her my dad always answered the phone when someone called since he worked in sales. She didn't say anything and instead walked away. A few minutes before school let out, the head mistress came in and sat down next to me. I sat up, my head pounding.

"Don't tell your parent's this happened, or we will throw you out." I gawked at her for a few moments. They had not called either of my parents. She walked me back down to get my backpack in silence. A few girls looked at me strange, no one would approach me. I was still in a fog, and when my mom got me, a girl yelled "Feel better!" I told my mom what happened when we got home. Furiously, she started screaming at me, wanting to know why I didn't get the phone to call her, or why I didn't tell her when we were at school. I just stared at her. Everything hurt and was fuzzy and all I wanted to do was sleep. She called my father (who did indeed answer) and he left work early. They took me down to the school and cornered the head mistress, who fumbled an apology. I wasn't thrown out of the school, and needless to say I'm still alive.

For a month no one but the lunch ladies paid attention to me. I still took my medication at the nurses office, but I had to get it myself, which didn't bother me since I didn't trust her in the first place. At the end of the silent month, the school had its yearly gym day, or as I fondly called it 'Day I tried to fake an asthma attack to get out of school.' My father was wise to my tricks though, and even though he hated the school, I still needed an education. The school was at least 5 miles long, but it was someone's estate, and it did have a lot of hills, but to an 8 year old with a breathing, walking, and back problem, it was at least the size of Disneyworld. And, every year, I was told to walk it. However, since it was school wide, no one had to wait for me. Gym day took up the whole day with various activities, so I could walk around the campus (which is a beautiful campus) and find something else to do. I still hated it since I did wind up with an asthma attack from all the hills, but no one was sitting and waiting for me to be done. If I had wandered off alone into the woods (which I did whenever we had these gym days) no one would have noticed.

At the end of the year, a girl in my class stopped showing up. Two days before school let out, she told us her father had died. He had a heart attack while mowing the lawn. He was a heart surgeon, and he was in his early 40's. That was my last vivid memory of third grade before school let out. I loved summer. I spent most of my days floating in the pool in my backyard, or at Discovery Zone. My scoliosis had gotten worse, going from a 40 to a 55 degree curve, and because I did grow a little, I was fitted into a new brace. I thought third grade year would be the climax of the horribleness I had been through, but I was wrong, and fourth grade year was going to be even worse then the last year.

Private Hell-First and Second Grade

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 04:36:17 GMT

When I was ready to go to first grade, my mother insisted that I go to private school. My dad was against the idea, but ultimately my mom won the argument. I was accepted into two private schools, but I was given the choice of where to go.

First grade was uneventful. I remember the first day of school when I farted in the classroom, and no one would sit next to me the rest of the day. I had a fairly pleasant first grade year. We raised baby chicks during the spring. I can still recall the softness of their downy feathers.

Second grade was off to a good start. One of the fifth grade teachers died of cancer that year. I can still see the redness of my teachers nose as she cried as she told us. Power Rangers come out that year, and I became obsessed with it. I was also heavily into comics, but I never let anyone know that. We started doing more difficult math that year too, and I couldn't keep up. My reading skills were above everyone else, and I was pretty good at history and science. Math would become my Achilles heel throughout my life. The teacher, not sure of what to do about my lack of skills, locked me in a small room and would time me to see how long it took me to complete a test on multiplication. The first test took me nearly 45 minutes, which shocked her. All the other girls finished in under 20, or so she claimed. She felt it was time to call my mother and see what could be done.

My mother, a teacher who taught down the street at a public city school, came in with me after school one day. The teacher put on her fake smile, and sat us down in her dusty chaulk filled room. She handed my mom the few tests I had taken, all with F's, all with time stamps on them. My mom looked at my shocked, and I looked up not sure of how to react. I felt sick inside, and I felt as if I was burning up. The teacher then told my mom the words that would spark the fire for the next 3 years I was there,

"I think your daughter may be mentally handicapped. I would have her tested."

My mom dropped the papers and gawked at the lady. Tears stung and stabbed at my eyes. My mom picked up the mess of papers, and laughed at the lady. My mom, proving to me that strongest woman in the world that day replied in a simple manner,

"I'm a special education teacher. My daughter has no IEP codes. You're clearly mistaken." My mom got up as the teacher protested, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out into her forest green Land Cruiser. She was furious, not with me, but with the teacher. Although it was clear I was failing math, she dismissed it with telling me I was getting a tutor. The next day the teacher ignored me, which was fine with me. I met my tutor later that day. She was a teacher at my mom's school, and she was wonderful. I also had my first taste in what a public school was like, and I was in love with what I felt.

The rest of the year went on uneventfully. My father still complained about the cost of my schooling, and the teacher still timed my tests. I though for sure it wouldn't be this hard after this, until I was made aware that every other girl in my grade could do both math and English without a problem, leaving me to feel like a worthless idiot. I really had no idea about what would happen to me after this. I thought the worst was over, but in June of 1992 I was diagnosed with scoliosis, and I needed to wear a backbrace.

Lady Of The Night

Thu, 19 Mar 2009 03:43:53 GMT

She walked briskly down York Street to the pub where her friends were. Her green hoodie was tight around her chest, her hood was up covering her red hair. Giant bug eyed sunglasses covered her pale blue eyes and midnight black mascara. Her skin tight jeans and dirty black Doc Martens gave her a sense of danger, as if she would beat you up if you gave her a wrong eye. The sun was still out. It was lowering itself behind the abandoned movie theater with its art deco statues that reached into heaven. Her eyes were cast to the ground. Uneven pavement and pebbles littered the Baltimore side walk.

She felt the inquisitive brown eyes. Glancing up, her breath caught in her throat. Years ago, those same eyes accompanied with hard words told her to never speak to him again. Her glasses came down her petite nose, uncovering her eyes. They met, and time came to a snails pace. He looked exactly the same, as if he never aged past 43. She looked older, then she was 16, now she aged to 23. They walked by each other, eyes locked together. She turned her head and let out a loud laugh. He kept walking, not bothering to ask if it was her. The once buried feeling of loss took a stab at her heart, which she quickly chased away with a shot of warm, piercing liquid Jameson.

Stocking Syndrome

Wed, 11 Mar 2009 03:02:39 GMT

Lina stared out over the boring white counter, past the uniformed bookshelves, at the wall at the other end of the store. Looking back with pride and audacity was a porno magazine someone had left on a display of children's Easter books. She sighed as she held her head in her hands, her brown eyes looked down on the giant magnetic security tag. Her index finger tapped mindlessly along. She didn't notice the tall man swiftly enter the store with salt and pepper hair, the fresh Florida tan, or the bloodshot brown eyes. She didn't notice him walk up to her, his suit fresh and crisp, with his eggshell white shirt tucked in. He drummed his hands on the counter, her spine jolted her body up as her customer service smile graced her face.

"Oh, hi Mr. Mason!" Her smile turned into a genuine one, her eyes warming at him. "How was Florida? Did you finish the books you bought last time?" Her hands were placed folded on top of each other.

"You can call me Don. Florida was alright, the books were the best part." He said as he waved his hands.

"I thought you went with a young lady..."

"I dumped her here. She bored me. Anyhow, what time do you get off?" He leaned against the counter and peered at her. Her heart jumped a little as her eyebrows raised.

"Well...Soon, I suppose...2pm?" She leaned back and looked at the clock on the computer. 1:50pm on a Monday.

"Go get your bag." He said stiffly as he shoved his hands in his pockets, turning his torso left and right. Lina's brows furrowed on her face, her mouth open a little. "Now, please." She went into the back, where her manager was unloading boxes of late shipment. She grabbed her large black purse and went back out, her manager in tow. She was about to walk back behind the counter, when Don grabbed her on her left arm with his left hand, withdrawing a Walther P99 in his right. Lina's voice caught in her throat, her heart slammed against her ribcage, her feet stumbled on each other. He mouthed 'shut up' as he aimed it at her manager.

The portly woman in her 60's let out a cry as she fell to her knees, her hands on her head. Don kept the gun aimed at her head as he pulled Lina out of the store. Her mouth let out a few scared cries, her eyes left like someone was pushing them out of her head. Her head was spinning, her slender legs tried to keep up with Don as he pulled her along like a rag doll. Mall walkers let out a scream as the oafish mall security ran after Don, wheezing and panting. He fired once, the bullet smashed through the nail shops large window and into a customers arm. Lina tried to break free, but Don's grasp only tightened.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said through gritted teeth. "Give me your car keys."

"No!" Lina sobbed. She thought of her dad at home with her dog, and how she wouldn't see them again. if only she had said 'I love you' as she left. Don yelled at her again, and Lina reluctantly reached in her bag, her slender hands fumbling for her keys. She felt the large key in her hand, and slowly pulled it out. He snatched it from her with his gun hand.

"Ooh! A Mercedes, eh? Which one?" Lina's pale arm wobbled as she pointed to the gray E 350 4Matic with black leather seats. He pressed firmly on the unlock button, and threw Lina into the back of her car on top of her puffy black coat. Her sobs were uncontrollable. He placed the pistole back in his holder hanging under his arm. He turned the car on, the ending roared with anger, as if it knew it wasn't Lina driving. He threw the automatic into drive, pulled the break to release, and sped out of the parking space. The tires screamed and screeched on the uneven parking lot pavement, cars slammed on their brakes to let the regal gray car make illegal turns and run red lights onto I-695. The car jerked left and right, slamming on its brakes, and accelerating at radical times. She steadied herself on the seat, but didn't bother with a seatbelt since she was laying flat on the backseat.

The On Star came on with a woman's voice. "Ms. Hollis? Is everything alright?" Don didn't reply, and Lina was too scared to speak. "Ms. Hollis? This is Amanda with Mercedes Benz On Star. Is everything alright?" She placed urgency on alright. No answer. "We're tracking your car via your GPS. The police are on the way." The voice was stern and cool now. Lina's heart lifted a little. Don yelled at the voice, and started hitting buttons and screens on her control panel with the back of his gun. Lina couldn't bear to watch her baby be abused like that. She stayed on her coat and hiccuped a few times.

The seats were warm in the summer sun, making her skin stick. Snot ran into her mouth mixed with unstoppable tears. She didn't come out from under her coat, not even when Don gently came to a stop, parking the car. She prayed her would leave her in the safety of her coat, as she prayed hard to a God she mostly ignored. She wanted to see her dad again, and sit in the kitchen with him, eating cereal and watching Jerry Springer. She wanted to sit in their shared office, playing on her computer while he sat mere inches away on his. He would occasionally stop to answer his cell phone, or to tell her about something he found on eBay. She longed to get into a stupid argument, and they had many. At least then she knew she was safe at home, even during the bad parts.

Don opened a back door, and lifted Lina out. The sun made her eyes feel sour as she closed the red, puffy lids over her red eyes. He kicked the door shut and sat her on the car roof. She cried quieter now, but her arms were wrapped tightly around her small frame in her orange dress. The wind was warm and blew her brown hair around. She heard sirens in the distance. She also heard a familiar engine sound. A K series Honda engine. She heard her chug and park, and she heard the familiar hinge of the door open.

"Dad..." She whispered under her breath. She looked around. The sky was blue all over, no clouds in the sky. The sirens came closer. The sounded as if they were below her. Don came over and placed his hands on the hood, steadying himself. He left his Walther on the hood as he ran over to the ledge of the garage and yelled down at the police. She heard her fathers voice calling her name. She wanted to cry out, but a lump in her throat stopped her. She looked down at the spray painted black gun. It glistened in the sun. Her pale fingers traced its cool metal body. She lifted it a little, its weight was too much for one hand. She grasped the body firmly and walked over to Don, her hands behind her back. She peered down, they were on the Target parking garage in Pikesville. Dozens of Baltimore County cop cars were swarmed underneath. Above her, the police chopper (or the ghetto bird as her boyfriend called it) circled over head. Don was crying and yelling about something down below. She caught the words "body" and "Chesapeak". There was a loud buzz in her ears, her body felt like it was made of Jello. He turned desperately to Lina. He took a big step to her and gently placed his hands on her arms.

"You're the only real woman left in this world, Lina. The kindest, prettiest girl.." He bent down and kissed her pale pink lips. She held the Walter in her hands, as she slowly moved her forearm up. She slid her tongue into his mouth to distract him. He moaned inside of her mouth. His hands moved to her back, where they lowered to her small, round bottom. She placed the barrel firmly on his chest. Just as he broke from her mouth to yell, she squeezed the trigger towards her body.

The body flew back, blood coming out from both ends, splatting on Lina's pale body. He fell back, his mouth open, his eyes bugging. His hands clawed at the ground as his feet kicked. Lina gently put the gun down and stepped back. Her white flip flops tangled under her feet, and she fell back on her ass. She crawled away some more, until she was backed up against a wall of the garage. Her knees came into her chest, and she wrapped her arms around them. Two police cars raced up to the top, dodging her car, and surrounding Don. The stairway door opened, and three more cops came up, one running over to Lina. Her breath was short, her eyesight was fuzzy. An ambulance cried its way over to the other cop cars. The officer said something, but it didn't register in Lima's head. He gently lifted her up and walked her down the stairs. Her body felt like it would crumble into nothing with every step she took. She shook and shivered and chattered her teeth. Eventually the cop carried her the rest of the way down, laying her down on a white stretcher. She couldn't hear the words anyone spoke. Her hands were still grasped tightly on her arms, shaking. She did feel the familiar warm, wrinkled hand gently pry her finger open, as he slid his older, rougher hand around them. She turned her head to his direction, and sobbed. His other hand wiped her hair from her face as he bent down to kiss her on the forehead, his black mustache scratching her forehead.