Sharp Awakening

One month and 31 stories down, 334 to go :)

Terrier's eyes shifted a little to find the weight on his chest. Oh, that was right. Chloe was there, who had fallen asleep herself on top of him. He let his eyes droop shut again. Sleep was peaceful, truly a wonderful break from reality. Darkness swarmed his eyes. That was all. No visions. No feeling. He might've fallen asleep again, he wasn't sure. He wasn't conscious of his waking and sleeping anymore. They blurred together. The next time he opened a weary eye, Chloe was being lifted up and into the arm's of her mother, he supposed. He shut his eyes again. Sleeping was so much more appreciated now days...

He was jolted awake when the icy water came down upon him and he hastened to roll over onto his knees.

"What was that for?" he yelled, shaking the water out of his hair and blinking a few times.

"Nap time's over," came a voice somewhere above him.

"Go away," Terrier moaned, turning away and reaching for the quilt. The man above him moved much quicker forwards, stepping his boot on it. Terrier moaned, still half asleep as he dragged himself to his feet. He'd barely balanced himself when he was shoved hard against the bookshelf, causing it to wobble dangerously.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Terrier screamed, stepping away from the shelf and shaking the hair out of his eyes. Scott stood menancingly in front of him. Terrier sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Explain to me how you got this?"

He lunged for the boy's left arm and pulled it sharply upwards. Terrier yelped and jumped back, trying to wriggle his wrist free from the man's grip. It was killing. He was sure the blood would be streaming again. He released his hold abruptly and Terrier hastily hid his sore arm behind him.

"That's going to stop you going out in public again for a week!"

Terrier held his breath. At first, they'd been hesitant to let him out. Then when they started to, they'd have to keep a close eye on him incase he went astray, which often times he found himself doing. He'd get a pull on the choke collar for that later whenever they caught him. But he couldn't help himself. Even if he didn't want to, he couldn't stop the impulse from coming through. And that was bad - because one stray movement and he could get killed instantly. And there were just some people you didn't want to get murdered by. A shiver went up his spine as the water clung dripping to his skin.

"You've got a task to perform. It is an order directly from Cameron."

Terrier grabbed the phone Scott threw at him.

"He's calling in about thirty seconds."

Terrier coughed a little, before deciding it safe to look away. He stared at the phone for a moment, and tried not to jump when it rang. He wanted to get this over with quick. He answered and held the phone to his ear.

"Terrier?"

"Yeah," the boy replied nervously.

"How you been coping?"

"Fine," he replied shortly.

"Good. Because there's something I want you to do."

Terrier listened carefully, his heart sinking with every word that was spoken. When he was finished, and asked several times if he was still there, Terrier responded.

"I won't do it."

"Yeah, you will."

He knew he wouldn't be able to. He wasn't strong enough. And surrounded by the men with ten times his strength, he didn't see why he had to be the one. He point blank refused. Until he heard what Cameron had to say.

[604 words]

Bleeding Love

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his tongue hard to prevent himself from screaming out loud. His body trembled, his heart rate quickened, the blood trickled from his wrist. He hastily wiped the tears from his face. He was being weak. This pain was nothing. These cuts would be barely noticeable. He breathed in deeply, smelling the aroma of his blood. He calmly picked up the knife again. How easy it would be to slit his throat, to stab his chest. Death seemed so much easier than living. Who knew, perhaps he could be with his parents and sister again. His grandparents wouldn’t live much longer. He’d have everyone he cared about. Everyone except . . .

“Chloe,” he whispered under his breath. Her sweet voice filled his ears, calling for her Uncle T. He’d love to take her with him. She needed the protection. She wasn’t safe. Not here. Not when he was gone. He brought the knife to his wrist again, slicing lightly across his skin. It satisfied him. It was as if harming himself made it all better for the wrong he was doing. For the wrong he would have to do.

The girl’s voice wouldn’t leave his ears. It was there constantly, reminding him of the beauty that existed in the world. She was only a child, but she was so mature. So innocent. She was the younger sister he never knew. Her nickname of Uncle T gave him some relief to the name of Terrier. A dog, he was called by many. A pathetic one at that. He supposed it was true. He’d lost count of the months he’d been here. It felt like a hundred. And if he had a name that wasn’t Terrier, he couldn’t remember what it was. Just one night and he had lost all sense of who he really was. He was a dog.

He didn’t hear the door swing open. He hadn’t been expecting it. He was sure it had been locked. It was only when he felt the presence of someone staring at him did he look up, eyes adjusting around the dark room. He froze when he saw Chloe standing speechlessly in front of him. He stared speechlessly back, through a wad of overgrown hair that covered his eyes. He was aware of the tears that had remained settled on his cheeks, aware of the bloody knife in his hands, aware of his wrist bleeding out onto his torn jeans and splattering the wooden floor. He was also aware of her . . . it wasn’t horror. Disappointment maybe. He knew she was mature.
She pried the knife from his fingertips. He allowed her to take it. He watched as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue, wiping the blood off the knife and chucking the tissue in the bin beneath his desk.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed. He did as he was told, letting the darkness sweep over him. Visions of torture filled his mind, and again he found himself knowing exactly what the Briggs brothers had been through. He felt a little hand slide into his, and pull him to his feet. He opened his eyes. It was still dark. He had drawn the curtains shut a week ago.

“I’ve hidden it,” she informed him, “So you can’t find it again.”

Terrier nodded grimly, still not saying a word. He was ashamed of himself. He was allowing a ten year old – his best friend – to see him like this. He was just taking away parts of her innocence one by one.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Terrier. You can trust me.”

The boy shook his head, pulling his hand out of her hold as he grabbed a wet rag from the desk and began wiping his hands. Wiping the blood away from his bleeding wrist. He went to pick up the bandage he had left there, but found it gone. He looked around. Chloe had it in her hands. Volunteering her unasked help, she began to wind the worn material around his wrist. He stared at her quietly as she did so, tears uncontrollable. As soon as she was done, he dropped to the floor, leaning his head back against the mattress, and whispered.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Uncle T, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“I won’t do it again,” he promised. He meant it. If that’s what she wanted, he would grant it.

“You still have my shark necklace?” he whispered, not daring to look at her.

“Yeah,” she reached a hand to the string strung around her neck, “I wear it everyday.”

“It’s supposed to give protection,” Terrier whispered. He could feel his weakness coming on. He was tired. He wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep these days. He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was difficult. They wouldn’t stop drooping. He continued to whisper instead.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“That depends what it is,” she replied, lying down and draping an arm across his chest.

“Tell your tutoring teacher,” Terrier’s left hand found the girl’s right, “to . . .”

He was almost out of it. He forced his concentration on getting out the message, “To be strong. To have faith.”

“Why?” Chloe whispered. He could hear the croak in her voice from her own tears.

“He needs to keep safe.” Terrier mumbled, before allowing the sleep to finally wash over him. The last thing he was aware of was the little girl crying into his chest.

[930 words]

The Want For Lonliness

Argh this is my closest deadline yet...

Terrier walked briskly ahead, practically running for the bathroom, away from the girl who was calling for him. He nearly ran into the door upon approach, and hastened inside before closing and locking the door behind him. He could still hear the voice on the other side of the door. It would never go away.

"Uncle T!" it called, over and over.

"Go away!" he yelled back. He regretted it, but she couldn't see him like this. He knew it was unwise to become close with her, but he couldn't help it. She was the one thing that made him happy. Yet still, there were times he just couldn't face her. There were times he'd rather be depressed. And this was one of them. He rested his forehead against the wood as she tried to bang it down. He calmly shut his eyes and tried to clear his mind. It didn't work. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at the floor, fresh blood dripping onto the bathroom tiles. He drew a shaky breath, before wiping his hand upon the side of his cheek. The blood stained the palm of his hand, his fingers.

"Uncle T!" Chloe moaned on the other side of the door, "Why won't you come out and see me?"

Terrier punched the door hard, hurting his knuckles, but it felt good. What didn't feel good was ignoring his little friend, but he had to. "Just go away," he whispered back, "Leave me alone."

"But -"

"GO!" Terrier screamed, dropping to the ground and leaning his back up against the door. There was silence on the other side, and he knew he'd scared her off. He was already kicking himself for it. He buried his face into his knees and let the tears roll out one by one. It hurt so much more every time he thought it was getting better. What would happen come this time in a week? For all he knew, he could be seperated from Chloe. Forever.

[342 words]

Missing

I sat staring at my empty exercise book in class, lightly tapping a pen for something to do. It was third period English, and the teacher was droaning on about what we were learning. I couldn't tell you what we'd been learning in the last two weeks. I was too distracted. Jaime was sitting beside me, and he softly wedged the pen out of my hands.

"He hasn't come home yet, has he Nick?"

I snatched the pen back, and resumed the tapping with my other hand. By 'he' he was talking about my father. A week and a half ago he went out one night and didn't come home. We'd filed the missing persons report instantly, but he was just that: missing.

"I'm sure he's fine," Jamie whispered, taking down a quick note on his book to make it look like he was paying attention. I'd long stopped with that. The teachers were aware of my family situation. They'd expected me to stay at home, but how else could I distract myself from the thought? They were probably right. It wasn't helping me being here, but I knew I wouldn't be of any help at home, either. I'd chosen to remain at school. While I tried to be my normal self, I couldn't get away from that nagging feeling.

"He would've contacted us by now," I whispered back, confiding in my friend as I continued to stare dismally at the lined paper, "There's this guy that hangs around. I think he has something to do with it."

"Nick," the teacher had to repeat my name several times before I realised she was talking to me. "You need to go to the office with your bag."

"This can't be good," I muttered, grabbing my book and pen and shoving them roughly into my bag.

"Mate," Jaime grabbed my arm as I got up to leave, "Talk to me later, okay?"

I nodded briefly, before walking briskly from the room. Once out in the open air, I began to tremble. Going to the office could only be bad news. I never got into trouble; so I had a feeling this would be someone else's troubles. I was right.

My Mum was in the office when I entered, tears streaming down her face. My eyes began to water instantly, having been just below the surface all week.

"Mum?" I whispered, blinking a couple of times as the tears began rolling.

She shook her head, before looking up into my eyes, Dad's eyes. "They found him an hour ago."

"Well, he's okay, right?" I questioned, my voice high, "They found him; he's okay. He's strong. He'll make it."

She shook her head sadly again, "They found him dead."

I froze. The noise in my ears became temporarily silent. It was then I truly broke apart. It was then my life changed forever. I ran from the room, ignoring a teacher that tried to speak to me as I past, and I continued running until I found the car. I hid behind it, crashing to the bitumen and wailing like a child. And his voice was in my head, the night before he left. I love you. It was like he had known something was going to happen. He hadn't deserved it. He hadn't deserved it at all. I would gladly trade his place. What would I do without him? What would Damien do? And still I heard his voice again. You have each other. I tried to control my tears, my breathing. But at that moment, I couldn't. I'd lost control, and I had no desire to get it back.

[607 words]

Burning Promise

It's so sad =(

The three year old clung tight to his father's neck as he ran out of the house, carrying the boy with him. The boy watched over his father's shoulder, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to see through the smoke. His father threw open the front door and they were instantly outside, in the cool night air. He froze in horror when he noticed the flames bursting through their living room window.

"Daddy?" In just one word his voice rose into into a high pitched one of fright.

"It's okay," his father set him down on his feet beside the mail box, "It's okay."

The boy suddenly clung to his father's leg, letting out a wail, "What's happening?"

His father knelt down to his height, staring into his frightened eyes. "There's just a fire. Help is already on it's way, it's fine. Look - I bought Ted!"

The man pulled out his favourite teddy bear from inside his jacket coat, that he'd thrown quickly over his pyjamas. The boy grabbed for the bear, no matter how much it smelt of smoke. The father's eyes welled, as he pulled the boy closed and kissed him upon the forehead.

"I love you," he whispered, before turning to stare back at the burning house. His heart was thumping quickly. He tore his eyes away to look back at his son, "I'll be right back, okay? I need to go get Mummy and Madison."

"Daddy, no!" the boy cried.

"I'll be right back," he insisted the child, "I promise. Stay here. Do not move."

The boy's legs gave way and he crumpled to the ground, wailing as his father ran back towards the house. He watched for what seemed forever as the flames engulfed their home; and he waited. He waited a long time, listening to the cackle of flames and breathing in the smell of smoke until the fire trucks arrived. Men in protection wear were instantly running across his front lawn as he sat, crying for his parents. One of them approached him, again kneeling to his height.

"Hey kid, you're alright. Can you tell me where your Mummy and Daddy are?"

"Inside," the boy moaned, "He went back to get Mummy and Madison."

"Madison's your sister?"

"Yes," the boy cried, hugging tight to Ted.

"And how old is she?"

"Seven months," the boy wailed as the stranger put his arm around him, and they both stared at the burning house, waiting for a miracle that wouldn't come.

[420 words]

Tied Tears

Terrier paced around the shed, agitated. He'd run his hands through his hair every so often, and clench his teeth together. He hated waiting. It was unbearable. He stopped his pacing just inside of the roller door, and leaned his head against the steel. Why was he here? Why was he obeying to these stupid commands? He had a chance to escape, why didn't he? He jumped at the sound of an approaching car. They were back. His chance had come and gone. He tried hard not to look at empty chair in the middle of the room, binds ready and waiting. He buried his face in his hands one last time, before the back door was thrown open and he was forced to pay attention.

It was Richard. He was holding the door open for the other two who came hurriedly in, forcing along a man in his early thirties between them. Gabriel. Terrier looked away as they brought him in. He heard Richard close the door behind them, and the scared, uneven breathing of the hostage as they pushed him onto the seat. Terrier turned.

"No one noticed you?"

"It's our job to go unnoticed," one of the men sneered. Terrier gave a brief nod, eyes shifting. How he'd hoped for them to make some kind of wrong move. How he'd hoped for yes.

"You going to do the honours?" Richard questioned.

"He has no choice," Scott growled, throwing the ropes towards him. Terrier just managed to catch them.

"Please," their hostage was begging, "please. I'll do anything."

"Shut up!" Scott snapped at their latest victim.

Terrier tried to hide his face, his heart pounding. He didn't want to do it, of course he didn't. Gabriel was a hostage, just like he was.

"Get on with it, Terrier!" the third man yelled, grabbing out his gun. He'd never quite caught on to his name, and technically, he didn't care. He stumbled forwards towards them, pulling away one of the ropes from the pile and letting the others drop to his feet.

"Please," Gabriel begged again, "I've done nothing wrong."

"I'm sorry," Terrier whispered quietly to him, beginning to wrap the rope around the man's body and the back of the chair.

"Tighter!" the man with the gun hassled.

Terrier's tears were sliding down his cheeks. This wasn't right. He couldn't do it. It was so wrong. He was shoved to the ground by Scott, and felt the rope ripped from his hands.

"You call that tight? You want him to escape?"

Terrier looked up, into Gabriel's scared face, and that of confusement down at him. He closed his eyes tight. He couldn't look into the face of another captor. And so he turned to Scott's hands, pulling hard on the rope as he knotted them tight acround their hostage.

"You're pathetic, you know that Dog? I don't know how Cameron expects you to pull off your task."

Terrier's silent tears mirrored that of Gabriel's as he sat crumpled on the floor.

[503 words]

Chew Chew

Have you ever wondered why stationery and other items are so fun to chew? I mean, you know how many chewed pencils, pens and pen lids build up by the time your through school? And even after school, the habit of chewing is just impossible to break. I mean, even if there's no pen around, there always seems to be something to chew, doesn't there? Or am I alone in saying that? I mean, you can't hide it. Everyone chews. And don't be smart and say food or gum either. Fingernails can be a favourite. I can be right up honest with you right now and say I've got a ruler in front of me with bite marks all over it, and a paperclip that's been in my mouth. And I've witnessed a friend completely chew through one of those wristbands that are around everywhere. The same one also had one of those mini light things that clip on fully in her mouth. I mean, it's quite disgusting when you think of all those mouth germs that are going around everywhere. It's like.. COOTIES!!! Just the other day I joined a Facebook Group for those who spend more time chewing on the lollipop stick rather than the lollipop. And that had a lot of fans. So, we all love to chew, yes? Anyone would think we descended from vampires! None of us knows how we got into this, and there'll always be something that's left around the house with teeth marks on it... no matter how many times we try to break the habit. :)

[264 words]

She

You are so funny and kind and amazing and perfect and I love


She stopped writing. She couldn't finish that sentence. She couldn't let him know something he already knew. She sighed, reading over her letter once more. She hated love. She hated the lonliness that dwelled. She hadn't the pain, and yet... she could never say she'd been heartbroken. She knew the heartbreak would come only when the time came to give her heart away. She knew that while she still had some subtle control over it's desires, it wouldn't break. She knew it had tiny pin pricks, nothing more. She smiled at the thought of how stupid it all sounded, but could never get his picture out of her head. She breathed in the silence that whispered around her room, the music playing softly in the background. She kept tears held back. And she tore the letter in two.

[151 words]

Thirteen Thousand

"Dear Jaime,

Let me make this very clear: we have someone you want. His name is Gabriel. We trust you'll have a big reunion. At this reunion, you will discuss this letter. You all have thirty days to come up with $13,000. Do not contact police. Do not contact Nick. Do not contact Damien. We will make contact in a week's time to discuss payment options. I do not wish you luck."

Jaime finished reading the letter aloud and looked up to face the group gathered around in his garage. He sighed, before looking around at his old high school mates - some he hadn't seen for years. "We all received the same letter addressed to us. It's now down to twenty-five days."

"Someone knew about our support group for Nick," one of the men stated to the group, "And they knew if ever he was released we'd be reforming."

"No," someone else disagreed, "Someone knew about the kids that went to school with Nick, and took a wild guess and someone who would've been close friends with him. The group was confidential, no one else knew about it. They've pulled the rest of the information out of Gabriel."

"When was the last time anyone had contact with Gabriel?" Jaime asked.

"It's been years," Matt muttered, "We all pretty much lost contact when our group fell apart."

"Someone must've spoken to him recently," Jaime tried to convince himself. No one spoke up.

"By the sounds of it, it's a pretty new attack," spoke up another, "We've all seen the news reports. Nick's step-father's been behind all these murders. Set him up for his mother's death. What's to bet he had some of Nick's old school records? Passed them onto someone else now he's locked away?"

"He knew at least some of us would want to get in contact with Nick after all those years, when he mysteriously left school one day and never came back."

"And he wants to prevent us from doing so," Matt acknowledged, "Why?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Jaime sighed, "We need $13,000. How are we going to get it?"

[354 words]

To Fly

I climbed the last few steps up the mountain, panting slightly in relief. I'd reached the top. I collapsed to the ground, my legs aching with exhaustion. I just laid there for a good ten minutes, soaking in the fresh air. When I decided to lift my head, I could see the clouds. Great tufts of white. I suddenly sprung to my feet, spinning around to look at the three hundred and sixty degree views in my sight. The wilderness was so vast, stretching out for miles. I let out a smile to myself, for I was alone. Alone and free. There was music playing softly in my ear as the wind whistled it's tune. I twirled around the mountain top, before stopping to spread my arms out wide like an eagle or hawk. The wind pushed slightly as I closed my eyes in calm. It was so peaceful up here, it was almost like flying. And I began to sing, because there was no one stopping me, and no one to hear me but the wind.

[177 words]

La De Da

I'm a happy bunny small and fluffy; I have floppy ears and legs for jumping. I live in a meadow that's overgrown with grass, I love to chew on it as it lasts. When you ask what I'm doing here I'll say being happy because I just fell upon the author's story imagining. And I will be here playing all day long as long as political confusement surrounds the writer. And when they've all lost hope and Obligation is no longer, it will be my duty to take over. And Damien will have to live with pet bunny rabbits, and why should he not be joyful when his life is currently full of CAMERON. Thank you from Lil Bunny =)

[120 words]

To Quit

Choices were things we had to make by ourselves, often influenced by others when they shouldn't be. And I had a big decision ahead of me. Not that there was really much benefit for me in the matter, but I had to put the rights of others first. That other person being my little brother. I still thought of our father every day. How he held it together, I had no idea. But I had it keep my own control on my life now, to help Mum. To help Damien. We weren't safe, and I had a bad feeling that Damien would grow up in a harsh lifestyle if my new step-father was to stick around. I at least had to try and change that.

It was two nights ago. I'd overheard him telling Mum that Damien would not be attending school. He was five. Ready to start Grade 1. I was fourteen, almost half way through my high school education. I panicked to know what might or might not happen if my brother didn't attend a school. Didn't get a learning. Didn't live a life outside of this now dangerous home. I heaved a sigh, feeling with my fingers a fairly new scar beneath my top. I had to do this. I walked slowly to the basement door, before hammering upon it. This could get ugly, but I wasn't doing it for myself.

The door swung open and I tried to hide my slight jump in fright. I stared up at my step-father. I hated him.

"What do you want?" he growled.

I stood up a little taller to bring some kind of confidence to my trembling legs. "I quit."

"What did you say?" he whispered, watching me very closely.

"I quit," I repeated, a little stronger, "You can take away as much as you want from me, but you cannot take away the same things from my brother."

"I don't believe you're in a position to tell me what I can and can't do."

"He's five," I emphasized, growing stronger by the second, "Let him go to school. Let him learn. Let him live a normal life."

I wasn't suprised when he grabbed me by the front of my shirt and began pulling me into the basement, down the steps. The door swung shut behind me and that's when my nerves started plummeting again. He threw me forwards and I fell to the floor, scraping my knees on the concrete. I quickly jumped to my feet again, turning to scream my message at him.

"You've got no heart! You couldn't care less about children... or your wives... or anyone!"

I saw his fist coming for me, but I swung out of the way, "I am giving up my education. You hear me?"

"I hear you!"

This time his fist did hit me and it had me falling to the floor again. I scrambled out of the way. "I give you my life! Hurt me as much as you want! Just let Damien have what you are taking from me. Let him go to school! Let him live!"

I knew I was going over the top, I knew I was getting too close to his nerves. It was then I shut my mouth, waiting for his response. He didn't respond. Not verbally anyway. He pulled me to my feet, before shoving me against the nearest brick wall. I stood close by it, wondering if I'd done the right thing in angering him so much. He ran for me again, but this time I didn't move out of his way. He gripped my shoulder tight, steering me towards the back of the room. I didn't dare breathe a word. Just shut my eyes and held tight to some kind of false hope I knew was there.

Don't ask why I shut my eyes when my life was at stake, but I was on the ground again in seconds. His little puppet. I looked up from my fall, to come eye level with a large dog crate. I knew then I'd gone too far. He opened the door and I scrambled inside to avoid him pushing and shoving me again. He swung the door shut instantly, pulling out a padlock and securing it to the spring for extra strength. I sighed as I watched him leave the room, switching off the light and throwing me into complete darkness. And I cried.

[740 words]

Certain Innocence

"Open on seventy-eight!"

"I guess this is it," Tyler muttered grimly, getting up from the bunk to stand behind Nick. He stood behind the bars for what he hoped would be the last time, as they slid open with a bang.

"Let's go Nick. You're out of here."

Nick nodded, before turning to examine the cell he had lived in for the last sixteen years of his life. He would not miss it. The amount of inmates that had come into this cell and shared it with him, he would not miss. Except perhaps Tyler. He looked around at his cellmate.

"I'll miss you," Tyler sighed with a shrug. He seemed young and nervous. Just as he had been all those years ago.

"No you won't," Nick assured him kindly, "You have Tom."

"Yeah but whose to bet my next cellie won't be some good guy trying to do good things in prison?"

"Briggs! Hurry it up."

"Must be nice to drop the Henderson name," Tyler smiled.

Nick ignored this, hurrying along in a whisper, "You shouldn't trust anyone in prison. Not even me. You never know when someone will turn on you. Or lie to you. I'm an honest man whose been stating my innocence for sixteen years. But I liked to keep it quiet. Because there are untrusted men in who saying the exact same thing. You don't trust no one."

"What about Tom?"

"You tell him the exact same thing, my brother."

Nick took a step forwards and gave Tyler a quick hug, who returned it, slapping him a few times, "Yeah, you go out there and live your life. Say hi to Damien."

"I will," Nick smiled. He grabbed his small box of things and took one last sweeping glance around the cell.

"Get out of here," Tyler grinned. Nick returned it, stepping out of the cell and watching the gates close behind him. He smiled at Tyler a last time, before following the guard away. As expected, all the prisoners were yelling at their gates, not for the first time trying to touch him or grab him. As he passed Tom's cell, he embraced his hand in a tight grip, ignoring Russell as he sat glaring at him from the bunk.

"Nick," the guard muttered, pulling him away.

Nick lowered his eyes, remembering to keep walking forwards and away from this jail for life. When they get out of the cell block, he was returned with his belongings, and he smiled absently at the clothes he had worn on the day of his arrest. A pair of ripped jeans, a shabby old t-shirt. He couldn't wait to buy new ones. And when he walked out those doors into the open air, that was bliss. Smelling the air was like he'd never smelt it before. Walking away from those guards meant just one other thing - walking past those reporters and locals who were screaming at him. Some in delight, others in anger. He didn't care. Both Ryan and Brian were there waiting near the gates, ready to escort him away. And as he took one last glance at the prison behind him, he felt a twinge of guilt. Leaving behind the one man he feared most in his life; teamed one with the one man everyone else feared in that prison, with a whole lot of gangsters and a whole lot of good about to put to the test. But he was ready to move on from that. He was certain. He was innocent.

[589 words]

Full Of Emotion

It's amazing how many emotions and feelings you can go through in a day. From the stupidness and embarrasment, to the quiet and reserved, to the nervous and squirmish. To the dizziness and annoyed, to the happy and focused. From there everything can drop to worry and sadness, hopelessness. Which can speed right back up to joy and laughter, and the best feelings in the world. Then you rewind slowly into the reminiscing thoughtful stage, and the comforting stage of someone else's problems. Then you listen to the noises around you, and slow down for the night, ready to get back to the business of brainstorming: losing yourself in another world again, to experience someone else's emotions. Someone who lives in pain and heartache. Someone who is scared and afraid, yet angry and crying on the inside. Someone who is weak and helpless, who can barely let out a smile some days. Someone who is hurt. And you remind yourself that you need to change that soul's life around into the randomness that your life brings - the range of other emotions that need to be spread around equally. Because you're the writer, and you're the only one who can do so.

[202 words]

One Night

:( Very disappointed I had this full story written and just lost it. This is the sad tale of the first night Cameron was introduced to the Briggs family...


"Soph, is that you home?" Joe called from the kitchen, "You should've called. I would've come to pick you up."

Joseph paused when there was no response, "Soph?" He put down the tea towel he was using to dry the dishes and walked around the corner to find his wife leaning against the wall beside the front door, her eyes closed and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern, striding over to her. Sophie took the last few steps to meet him in the middle. He threw his arms around her in a cuddle, and let her cry into his shoulder for a moment. "What happened?"

"I had someone give me a lift," Sophie admitted, pulling away and slinging her handbag on the floor. She curled up on the couch, and her husband followed her. He placed his arm around her shoulders and she leaned sideways against him.

"Who?" Joe asked softly, rubbing his hand comfortingly up and down her arm.

"I don't know."

"Did they gave a name?"

"Cameron."

"Did you find him attractive?" her husband asked her honesty for a moment.

"No," Sophie replied instantly, "No it was nothing like that. He ... he wouldn't stop hassling me to give me a lift, so I accepted."

"It's okay, you're here now. He's gone."

"I know," she whispered, "and it was fine, I got here. But he knows where we live. What if he comes back?"

"We'll call the police," Joseph assured her, "But you're okay. You're safe."

"Are you?" she asked, pulling away and staring into his eyes.

"Of course I am," Joe replied without a second thought, "Don't you worry about me."

Sophie changed the subject. "Are the boys asleep?"

"Sound-o." Joe smiled.

Sophie blinked away her tears, leaning forwards to breath into his ear, "I was so scared."

Joe hugged her tight into his chest, "You're okay," he repeated to her, and to himself, "You're okay."

[324 words]

Protection

I'm sorry, but I just love this pair at the moment =P They're so sweet.

Terrier headed for the basement the instant he saw the car pull up and the little girl step out. He locked himself inside, not wanting to see the little girl this time. She was too happy. She didn't realise what her future might become. What his had become. He slouched forwards and down the steps, looking around the dim room for something to distract him from the voice he knew he'd hear any minute...

"Uncle T!" the girl called down the hall. He sighed, but didn't reply, instead focusing on the wall in front of him. Old, bloody markings stained the brick, of someone's previous torture here. His heart went out to them, whoever they were. They'd written their calls for help in their own blood. He could only hope that their wishes had been granted.

"Uncle T!" the voice was constant outside. The room was almost soundproof, so it was a wonder he could still hear it.

"Are you in there?" He heard the handle being rattled, "Uncle T! Please come out. I have something to show you."

A shiver went up his spine. That girl didn't belong here. He didn't even belong here.

"Uncle T!"

He retraced his steps back up the stairs, pausing at the door handle. It wasn't right, and yet... he had to be there for that girl. He couldn't leave her alone. He hestitated, hand on the knob. He was going to regret getting close to her later, he knew it. He swung the door open.

"Uncle T," Chloe whispered again, taken aback, "you're crying."

"No I'm not," he insisted, shutting the door quickly behind him and quickly brushing away the tears with his sleeve.

"What's wrong?" she asked sadly, grabbing his hand, "You can talk to me."

"Just some things," Terrier shook it off, keeping hold of her hand and leading her away from the basement's door. Her hold calmed him. He quickly changed the subject, "What did you have to show me?"

"I went to the beach and I collected some seashells!"

She stopped him, and put a hand in her pocket to pull out a handful of shells. His eyes began watering again as he tried to give her his full attention.

"I like this one, 'cause it's curly. And this one here, because of it's nice brown colour. Do you want one?"

Terrier knelt down to her, brushing away his tears again and looking at the shells in her hand. "Would you like to pick one for me?"

"I think you'll like this one," she replied, picking up a pale horn-shaped one which spiraled to a point. She shoved the rest in her pocket as she showed him the one she picked.

"I do like that one," Terrier smiled, taking it from her and clasping it tight in his hand, "Thanks."

He pulled her into a tight hug. She was just like a younger sister he'd never had. And he was the brother protecting her from the evil in the world she was yet to witness. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that. Hopefully he'd be able to save her from that; but he couldn't make any promises and he let another tear fall into her hair.

[536 words]

Choking

The instant he heard the door shut, Terrier's feet buckled and he trembled to the ground, pulling off the choke collar that was around his neck and throwing it to the cement. He rubbed a hand around his sore neck where the collar had just been, practically choking him as the lead had been pulled. He couldn't stop a tear from sliding down his cheek as he tried to stop the flashbacks playing before his eyes. The taunts, the laughter. That first night. His grandparents. He squeezed his eyes tight closed, demanding himself not to think of them and his life before. He was sick of being treated like a dog. He was human, just as the men were who controlled him and forced him to do the things he didn't want to do. But he lacked what they had: strength.

[141 words]

Warmth To The Dark

Terrier grasped the corners of the desk tight, haunched over it and trying to pull himself together as he tried to ignore the knocking on the door. It wasn't locked, why didn't he just enter? He did every other time. The tapping was only frustrating him more and stormed up the steps and pulled the door open. To his suprise, for the second time that week, he was staring at a ten year old girl. He shut the door quickly behind him.

"Hi Terrier!" Chloe exclaimed happily, "What are you up to down there?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly, "Boring adult stuff. Your Mum here again?"

"Yeah," she replied, "She's with Uncle Cameron."

Terrier hid a cringe at the fact she was calling the man an uncle, and instead changed the subject quickly, "How'd you like to see my room?"

"Yeah!"she was enthusiastic. She had an energy about her that made even him smile through his recent depression. He led the way down the hall to another room that came off it, his room. It wasn't much, but he slept there. An old wooden bed and dresser, dark curtains to block out the sunlight. He was even lucky enough to have a small stack of books. He watched the little girl walk forwards and draw open the curtains. She turned to him.

"You need sunlight in here so you can see," she commented, "it'll add some warmth to the dark."

Terrier smiled at her absently, without replying. She was so beautiful, and innocent. She shouldn't be in this house. It would only rid her of those qualities.

"You know Terrier, I don't think that name suits you. Do you think I could call you Uncle T?"

The teen blinked and stared at her. Yet while she was here, she was bringing beauty back into his world he seemed to have lost. He had to return that sanity. "Yeah, Uncle T's good."

"Oh Uncle T, we're going to be great friends!"

The boy let a grim smile slip. He didn't want to feed her with false hope, but there was something about her that made him glow inside. It made him want to do what he'd longed to stop: live.

"I tell you what," Terrior replied, discarding his thoughts, "I've got something for you."

He turned to the dresser, and pulled open the top drawer. His eyes fell to the shark tooth necklace that sat curled on top of a pair of socks. He lifted it up and eyed the tooth carefully. He'd worn it the night he'd met Cameron... and never again... he turned back to Chloe.

"I want you to have it."

He watched for a moment as the girl's eyes lit up. That was the start of their friendship together. They just didn't know the toll it would have.

[470 words]

Draw

He drew furiously with the pencil in his hand, leading the lead back and forth to form dark lines on the image he was drawing. To his annoyance, the pencil snapped, forming a dent in the paper. He moaned aloud. He hadn't drawn anything decent for months. People told him otherwise, but he knew he could do better. So why weren't his attempts working? He took a deep breath, taking up the pencil again and sharpening it. He continued on more slowly this time, letting the pencil lead the way. He would shade later, because that was always the most difficult. No, this was just an outline. Inside out... he wouldn't rush it, because that's what he did with all the rest. There was no rush this time. This time he would make it perfect...

[135 words]

Still Waiting

For Sammy... sorry matey :(

She jumped up at the sound of the postie, racing out to check the letterbox once the guy had driven off. She held her breath as she grabbed the pile of envelopes and turned back towards the house, flipping through them slowly, in the hopes of catching that ever-familar handwriting. Bills, bills, mother, brother... She sighed again, walking defeated back to the house. It had been a year since her penpal of six years had written. Why? She'd sent her Christmas present off on time and everything. She'd recieved it and said a thank you for it. So why was her present so late in the mail again, as it had been the year before, when she had promised it wouldn't happen again. Of course, promises like that are hard to keep. But Christmas was well over, and still, nothing had come. She felt sad without it. No parcel from her lil sis. Surely, it couldn't be much longer... they used to be so close, yet now... things were slowing. Letters became less and less. And she was so busy herself, quilting and sewing. She'd just hoped that maybe that one suprise would refreshen her a bit. She guessed she'd have to wait a little longer.

[206 words]

Different Angle

11 January 2010

There are saying that writers do not steal so much as a two word phrase from another. There are also sayings that writers will recycle words from others, as any good environmentalist would do. So when this comes to ideas, and plots, how does this change? How can we turn someone else's ingenious ideas into our own? Make them unique and different from theres, so no one can associate the two. You've just come up with the most amazing idea, but it's already partly been used. There's always a way to view it from a different angle, it just takes a while to find.

[104 words]

Dream = Reality

10 January 2010

Dreams are wholly dependant on each individual as to what makes them fantasize and what makes them do. Anyone can dream about what the future may bring, but it takes someone special to say "I have a dream" and work damn hard to make that dream a reality. There are those out there who can and will do it as soon as they put the faith in themselves to persevere. The patience to try and try again, and the secret ingredient to succeed. When you get a chance to live out that dream, you musn't let anyone stand in your way. You only get to live this life once and you will never know which opportunity will be your last. Even if it means letting go of that special someone for a while, even if it means taking a risk; if it makes you happy, and you believe you can turn it into something good... go for it. Don't question it. Don't sit around wondering what if... just go for it. You know you'll regret it if you don't.

[179 words]

Provoke

9 January 2010

When one's anger radiates it does little good to provoke them. It always ends in disagreements and misunderstandings. The world is full of a lot of hatred. A lot of feelings that would be better off discarded, but we live with them, for the sake of it and for the hope of a better tomorrow. A better day. The occasional cat fight can be accepted, but when the blood turns cold, when the violence runs high, maybe then is the time to say too much. An angry person only angers those around them. A happy person shares their love with the world.

[102 words]

A Night's Stay

Sorry guys :) I'm back with updates!


8 January 2010

She sat on the bed upstairs, listening to the shower run, and the crickets sing. She took in the surroundings of where she'd be sleeping for the next few nights - looking at a desk, a few board games stacked on top: Scrabble. There was something about staying at other people's places. Even a mansion like this: you can't wait to get back to your own bed. And even if the cats are more friendly than your own, even if the place is gorgeous, even if you can not have to worry about locking up at night, there's no place like home. She tried to ignore the fly buzzing around the room. Still, on the other hand, she couldn't wait to check the place out in daylight... and jump into the pool.

[132 words]

Break Up

Hope you like this one :) Going away for the next three days, so I might not update the blog, but I will certainly be writing every day and will post when I get back!


Richard walked frustratedly back and forth, awaiting on the arrival of Jen. He didn't want to have to do this, but he didn't have any other choice. He loved that woman so much, and when you loved someone, you had to let them go. He couldn't allow her in his life anymore. It was for her own good. She would understand; one day.

He heard the front door open and close, and he held his breath, waiting.

"Good afternoon, Richie."

A soft pair of hands wrapped around his chest, and he pulled away quickly to face her.

"What's wrong?" she asked quickly, taking his hand instead.

"We're through."

"I'm sorry?"

"We're through," Richard repeated angrily, pulling away from her hold, "I don't want to be with you anymore."

He watched the woman stare disbelievingly at him, eyes welling up with tears.

"I'm sorry, Jen," Richard insisted, because this his was, "We can't be together."

"Why?" she whispered, trying to wipe away the tears streaming down her face.

"Listen," Richard sighed, grabbing her shoulders and looking into those beautiful, shining eyes, "There are some bad people in this world. And I am one of those people and I don't want you to have anything to do with it."

"That's a lie," she whispered, "You are not a bad man, Richard."

He disagreed, "Yeah, I am."

"Ever since you met this Chad guy-"

"Yeah, he's bad too, okay? We're both bad. And you don't need us in your life."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you are going to take your things, and you are going to leave this place, and me, and Chad, and never return."

"No," she whimpered, "NO!"

Richard grabbed the box he'd packed of her things and carried it to her car, the woman protesting at his heels.

"We're perfect together, Richard!"

"You deserve better," Richard mumbled, "Trust me."

He turned one last time to her.

"Richard..." she whispered.

"It's for your own good. One day you'll thank me."

And with that he turned and walked back to the house, shutting the door behind him.

[347 words]

Fair Share

Hmm... I hope it's still showing Russell's loyalty to Cameron. Yet at the same time, giving him an edge, showing his annoyance at being the second hand man...




"Okay, I'm stumped. You go into the city to to buy a gun, you come back with a kid. What's going on, Cameron?" Russell questioned, folding his arms across his chest.


"For a starters, it wasn't the city. It was the outskirts of the city. Second thing? He's not a kid. He's almost eighteen for pete's sake! If it was me, that'd be an insult."


"Come on Cameron, you wouldn't even take the eight year old when you had the chance! What makes this guy any different? You get the ransom money? At least the first one wouldn't have understood. This guy's old enough to fight for himself! You won't be able to handle him."


"I think I know who I can handle. I handled Damien 'til he was sixteen."


"Yeah, he was the son you didn't tell me about until two weeks ago."


"Relax mate, I've got it covered."


"I had it covered..." Russell muttered, "'til you went and got him."


"Would you just trust me? He won't be any trouble for you. You won't need to worry about him. He's my soul responsibility."


"Yeah, you got that right."


"You should be grateful, Russell." Cameron smiled, taking a gun out of his jacket, "You've earnt your fair share."


Cameron slapped the gun into Russel's hands.


"Yeah, well you better hope I get that money soon. Because you've seemed to be obsessed with this Damien guy ever since you ran into him."


"Do you remember what I told you, Russell? When this first started all those years ago?"


"You told me a lot of things."


"I told you the day would come, where I wouldn't be able to resist murder. I would have to kill the guy that ruined me, before I met you. That was Damien. And that day is close."


"And how is this new guy going to help?"


"You'll see, my friend. All in good time. Are we cool?"


"Yeah," Russel sighed, shoving the gun into his pockets, "We're cool."

[333 words]

Poppit

Damien makes his decision to leave...


Damien huried along the footpath, taking a nervous glance back behind him every few seconds. It was the first day back at school, but he knew he would not arrive there today, and probably never again. He hurried faster, towards the animal shelter where he'd worked the last few weeks. If the owners accepted, which he had a feeling they would, he would not return home, either. This almost excited him. To get away from that place forever would be an utter miracle. No doubt there'd be a search party, but he wouldn't be found, if he could help it. He would disappear from that house forever.

He almost ran to the front block when it was within sight. , closing the door behind him once he was safely inside and leaning heavily against it. Yes, he definitely didn't want to return home today. And he knew a certain someone who would not be happy with him; but when had they ever been happy with him? He was never good enough. He was going to change that, someday.

He looked around the room. It was quiet. There were no visitors, so that was a bonus. Then he noticed the manager step through the back door.

"Damien, your shift is not 'til this afternoon."

"I know," Damien admitted, slinging himself forwards, "Can I start earlier?"

"Haven't you got school, kid?"

"No," Damien lied. The manager looked up at him disbelievingly.

"Yes," Damien sighed, "but I'm not going. And no one's going to make me. I quit."

The manager studied him for a moment, before turning back to the desk and grabbing a clipboard, "Suit yourself. You can start cleaning the cat cages."

Damien nodded in acceptance, before hurrying off, dumping his school bag and coat off in the back room as he sprinted to the cat house. The meows met his ears as he entered, skipping over to his favourite; an old one that had been found locked in a room for several days without fresh food or water. He smiled as he took her out of the cage and gave her a cuddle, before asking her,

"What am I going to do, Poppit? How am I meant to ask that guy for board?"

He sighed. He barely got enough money from this shabby old place as it was. But he'd need it one day. Right now, he needed a place to stay. And this was his only option.

[407 words]

Night Brainstorming

There's got to be an easier way to form the themes to write about each day... this one's just lame.

I lay awake in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. Sometimes I really hated being a writer. When you write, there are no ideas present. When you try to sleep, the ideas won't stop. And no matter how tired you are or may be, you lie wide awake, watching a silent movie play in your head, because the silence and the darkness is enough to make your imagination run wild. It is the best time to brainstorm, and you do not want to disrupt that process. You want it to last as long as possible. The only bad thing about that is when you get the not so great plot ideas. The ones that make no sense. The ones that are too far fetched - too cruel or too unlifelike, too stupid or too pointless - that stay with you the longest, repeating itself to you night after night, despite how many times you tell your unconscious that it is just not acceptable to write.

[166 words]

Someone New

I couldn't resist a back story to Innocence, involving a glimpse at characters you'll see in the sequel, Obligation.

The boy - because that's all he was, barely eighteen - fiddled the key in the lock. You always needed to jiggle it a bit. It was a bad design, really. As he heard the lock click, he saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. He closed his eyes in frustration as he turned around.

"I'm just doing what you—"

He stopped midsentence when he opened his eyes to see a little girl standing before him. Nine, maybe ten.

"Hi," she smiled brightly.

'Um, hi..." the teen hesitated, closing the door again behind him, "What are you doing here?"

The girl shrugged, "I'm here with my Mum."

"Oh, that's funny," the teen frowned, "Cameron didn't mention anything about visitors."

"What's you're name?" the girl asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Uhh," it was the boy's turn to shrug, "Terrier."

He led the way back down the hall, the young girl at his feet, "I've never heard anyone called that before. Isn't it the name of a dog?"

"Yeah, whatever." the teen looked around. The kitchen was empty and he couldn't hear anyone else in the house. The others must be outside.

"You haven't asked my name."

The boy turned around slowly to look at her. She was kind of cute, her long brown hair fell just past her shoulders, she wore pretty little jeans with flowers up one leg, and a yellow frilled top. He smiled down at her. It had been a long time since he smiled. There was still innocence in this world.

"What is your name?" he asked her.

"Chloe," the girl announced.

"That is a very nice name," Terrier admitted.

"My mum's name is Sandra," she informed him happily, "she said she had to see Uncle Cameron about something important."

"Uncle Cameron?" Terrier questioned.

"Well he's not really my uncle. We just call him that. He's been a family friend for years."

"Family friend..." Terrier muttered, trying to hide his disgust. At that moment the sliding door opened, and in stepped Cameron and another woman, whom he guessed was the girl's mother, Sandra. They looked kind of alike, if you studied them for more than a quick glance. She addressed him.

"Ah Terrier, I've heard a lot about you. I see you've meant Chloe."

The boy didn't respond, instead turning to look at Cameron who stood glaring at him from behind her.

"Nice necklace," she commented as an afterthought, "come on Chloe. It's time to go."

Terrier lifted a hand to feel for the chain around his neck. It was a dog collar he was made to wear, rather uncomfortable at times. He hated it. To recieve such a sarcastic compliment only made him hate it more.

"I'll talk to you later, Terrier." the girl grinned with a wave, before skipping to the door. Her mother followed, and Terrier stood waiting by the bench for Cameron to return after waving them off.

"Who are they?" he asked.

"That is none of your business."

"Who are they?" he repeated again.

"They are here to help you!" Cameron growled, "Because you and I both know that you are not strong enough for the job alone."

The teenager held his breath, glaring the man in the face, until he turned away, his little happiness for the day gone. He retraced his steps back up the hall to the door. This time he was accompanied inside.

[573 words]

Terror

This one's kind of weird and creepy. Sorry bout that. It was almost entirely based on a dream I had the other night, cept the dialogue. Although the last line at the end certainly was. In the dream, I was trying to say something that started with 'var' or 'ver', but I don't know what it was. Funnily enough, I didn't seem to be scared in the dream, nor when I woke up. So it wasn't the kind of nightmare you'd expect...

We all sat, holding onto our lives as the train stood motionless on the tracks. This was a full carriage, full of innocents, full of hostages, and just two men stood walking backwards and forwards. I sank lower in my seat, fidgeting with the ties upon my hands. Whoever these men were, they had come prepared. There was not one of us passengers left that didn't have our wrists tied by rope or cuffs. None of us dared to breathe a word as they guarded their posts. We could see the police outside, no doubt trying to devise plans to get us out of there alive. My hair fell across my face, as I went by unnoticed, as did many of us quiet ones. I did however, have a knack for detail, and the man sitting a few rows in front passing along a screw behind him did not go unnoticed by me. If they were all cutting their restriants free, they had to be careful. If our captors caught sight of it . . .

Too late. The one with the rifle swung around his chest turned just as a woman up front was accepting the passing screw. He hit her across the face, and she screamed, tears streaming down her face. He bent slightly to pick up the fallen screw. He held it up to us all, spinning it swiftly in his fingers.

"Whose bright idea was this?"

I stared around the carriage, full of men and woman, middle aged, elderly, even a young mum. We all held our breaths.

"Don't make me repeat the question."

A young kid at the very front of the carriage stood, his wrists free of his cuffs.

"You?"

"Aye."

The guy lifted his rifle. I saw a pair of hands grab it and pull it upwards and before I knew it, everyone around me was scrambling for the doors. Some, like me, still tied up. Others from the front free of movement. I was shoved forwards amongst the hostages bursting for the door and I saw the second captor pull out a knife and strike the nearest person within reach, just when we heard the first gunshot go off. Everyone ducked, beginning to edge back to their seats. I stood swaying in the aisle. I ambled forward to the nearest handle grip, but my fingers slipped and I fell to the floor, my face beside someone's shoe as I realised that I was the one who'd been shot. The bullet stung my back as I fought to keep consciousness.

"Now you understand what happens."

I felt him slam his foot onto my back, boot across my shoulder blades. Stay alive, I thought, stay alive. I heard the train doors open and felt a welcome fresh breeze play with my hair as my breathing slowed, my eyes drooped. I became aware that I couldn't move my body, and yet, I was alive and hearing.

"Your first body!" I heard a voice somewhere above me yell, and I was dragged forwards. I felt the floor beneath me disappear as I fell, about a metre, to the ground. The doors slammed shut again. The police stood hestiant, watching my unmoving body, before someone came forwards to check for my breathing.

"She's dead." the person announced grimly. No, no I wasn't. I could still feel the pain. I tried to open my eyes, but it just wouldn't work. So I tried to use my voice instead.

"Var . . . ver . . . ver . . ."

I knew then I was going to be okay. I just hoped the rest of the hostages would be, too.

[612 words]

Peaceful Bliss

Happy New Year, everybody! Welcome to 2010, my blog, and my first story of the year...


The girl's bare feet stepped down onto the porch as she snuck out behind the house. She pulled her blanket close around her, making the most of its warmth. Her long blonde hair fell in a canopy around her face as she raced through the long grass and out to the gazebo. Panting slightly in the night air, she let out a laugh as she wrapped one arm around the white post, and spun herself round to face the house. It looked beautiful, almost ancient in the dark, standing there still amongst the acreage. The surrounding trees cast shadows upon its roof, and nearby she could hear the brook trickling water over the stones.

She used to be afraid of the dark. The stillness had scared her, as had the slightest noise. That was until someone close to her heart had told her otherwise. The darkness was nothing but the unturned page of a book. The quiet, the stillness, wasn't meant to be scary or overwhelming. It was peaceful. Truly peaceful. Nothing could compare to such a thing. The silence let you breathe in the atmosphere, soak it in, absorb in your own thoughts without the disturbance of others. That's what she loved about the night.

She turned, and started circling around the gazebo her grandfather had made, whispering lyrics into the night, "Dore kurai mada kono michi wa tsuzuku darou ka? Hateshinaku hiroi sekai, ima sugu ni tsukamitore. (Just how long will I continue to follow this path? An endlessly wide world, right this minute I'll take hold of it.)"

She sighed, taking one last glimpse at the stars. They seemed to smile down at her. If only she could be with that person now. And she ran back through the grass; home.

[272 words]