For Love Part Two

The full moon lighting my path; I found my way to the witches shop. I crept down the streets like a rat, driven by my wish.

Oh how marvelous to change my fate! No more worry for me! This was simple, I would merely give the letter to the witch and she would grant my wish. I couldn’t help myself, but with all my excitement I let out a yelp.

I stood still and listened for movement; for someone who could have heard my yelp. Nothing. Good. I continued down the street and reached the witch's store. I peered into the shop through its front window. There was a light flickering dimly in the back of the store. There was a sign on the window that read “closed”, but when I tried the door it was unlocked.  I opened the door and a faint jingle sounded above my head.

The shop was overcrowded with old lamps, jewelry, books and furniture; all covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Hello?” I called out into the shop. There was a rustling and then an old woman appeared behind a counter in the back of the shop.

“Hello,” she said, “you’ve come for a wish.” The old woman was gaunt and gnarled. Her purple, thickset hands lay limp and foolish on the counter; and her bulging, glass-marble eyes stared at me wittingly.

“Yes…” I answered. I was suddenly unsure of myself as I walked towards the counter at which the witch sat. I fumbled the note from Casey out of my pocket and set it on the wood counter. The old woman looked at the note and grunted.

“That’s all you have for my payment? A piece of yellowed paper with scribbles on it?” she scoffed “I need more.” Then the witch eyed me, I hated the feel of her gaze sweeping me.

“You are so bony. But.. handsome enough, and you might be strong, beneath all your gristle. You truly never KNOW.” the hag sneered.

“I will give you money. Or I could go back to my home and retrieve something more. Please, just grant my wish.” I pleaded. The witch snickered then replied “You think I want money? Or just another piece of rubbish? No. Normally I will take an arm or leg, But, on you, those things are practically worthless to me. Boy, I will grant your wish in return for your head.” I took a step backwards.

“You can’t be serious! You know, I don’t really think I need my wish.” I declared, then turned to go out the door. But gripping the handle to the shop door was a fat,slimy tentacle. I turned to look at the witch.

“Ha! Stupid child! You are not going anywhere!” more green tentacles squirmed from behind the counter and two of them came straight for me. I dodged the tentacles as they shot to me. The two tentacles, having missed their mark, slammed into an antique mirror behind me, cutting themselves on the flying shards of mirror. I picked up a rather sharp shard of glass from the mirror and pointed it to the witch and her squirming tentacles.

“Hmm. How cute! The boy is protecting himself, from me, with a broken mirror.” The witch cooed as more of her tentacles shot at me. I dodged as many of the tentacles as I could and stabbed a few. But it was all in vain. Soon several tentacles had wrapped themselves around me and my neck. The witch pulled me closer till our noses were but an inch from one another.

“Now what is your wish child.” The witch asked.

“To be free from you forever!” I cried. The tentacles grip around my neck tightened.

“Ha! That is not going to work. What was the wish that you walked in this door with?” the old woman jeered.

“I wanted you to change my fate.” I whimpered.

“Yes, that’s what you wanted. Let’s see what your silly fate is. I doubt that your fate is being eaten by a witch! It will be easy to change your fate!” The witch laughed and then was silent.

She glared at me. “You fate is already to be killed by a witch!” she raged. The witch screamed and then;

slowly

faded

away.

I rushed out of the witch’s shop and began to run away. Nowhere in particular. Just away. But when I came out of the shop I met Casey. She was standing there glaring at me.

“Why on earth did you go into that shop! With that witch! You could’ve been killed!”

“I… I was changing my fate… so that we could...umm… be with one another.” I murmured. Casey looked at me, puzzled, then her face softened into a smile and tears.

“Finally, I have my brave Daniel back.” Casey whispered. We wrapped our arms around each other, and kissed, for the first time in much too long.

Chapter Two of Under The Toran Tree

Florian lie in bed looking at the ceiling; blankly.  She’d been diagnosed as a “mystery”, “unknown”, “puzzling”, “hopeless”, and “strange”. The doctors had been extremely blunt and to Florian life seemed hopeless, hopeless indeed.

Brilliana stood in Florian’s doorway staring at Florian’s small figure, tucked in bed. Florian in turn stared at Brilliana. Brilliana was crying, Florian seemed vacant. Quite the pair they made now.

Florian turned her gaze to the ceiling and murmured, “Twelve good years I’ve had on earth. Twelve marvelous years we’ve had together. Sadly there won’t be more.”

“There will be more! How can you lose hope so easily?” Brilliana asked.

“If I give you, us, any hope we will be heart-broken when death strikes. Better not get our hopes up.” Florian replied.

Brilliana was outraged by her sister, outraged with the doctors, outraged with herself, whose hope was dwindling despite how much she wanted it to stay.

“I will always have hope! There is nothing you can do about that! Nothing can make me lose hope, not even death. Even if he was able to steal away your hope, he will never touch mine!” Brilliana sobbed.

Florian looked back to Brilliana, there was a tear sliding down her cheek, “I’ve tried, I’ve tried.” she murmured.

Brilliana ran from the room. Tears poured from her eyes, tears ran down her face, tears spread over her dress, tears filled her steps, tears, tears; and more tears.

She ran to her room and threw herself atop her bed. She cried until her pillow was soaked and then she rolled over and looked at the pale blue wallpaper around her. It matched her mood perfectly; worn, flat, sad, and seemingly lonely.

Weeks passed and Florian’s condition didn’t worsen but didn’t improve either. She was pale and skinny. She never left her room. Doctors would come and then they would go. They knew so little about Florian’s illness that they prevented everyone from touching her. If you entered the room you’d be required to wear a mask over your nose and mouth.

The house, along with its occupants, was under the magical spell of depression.

“Florian! How well you look!” Brilliana would say when she entered her sister’s room, trying to be as cheerful as possible. Florian would attempt to smile but suffer a sudden spasm of pain.                                     

“I’m going to read to you today! Guess what book I’m reading to you.” Florian would guess a book, and Brilliana would read and just when they would get to the exciting parts a doctor would shoo Brilliana away, saying, “It’s time for your sister to get some rest!”

        One morning, August 25 to be exact, Brilliana woke to her mother, Oriana, hugging and kissing her, sobbing into her shoulder. “Mother! She’s going to live! Isn’t she?” asked Brilliana, her hope grew to the size of an elephant.

“No, Brilliana, she’s going to die.”

For Love Part One

People say I am fast. But it is only because I run everywhere. People say I will miss wonderful chances if I run through life so quickly. But that is exactly why I am running.

I am not scared, but apprehensive about what life has in store for me. So I run by it; hopefully it isn’t quick enough to catch me.

People aren’t dumb, though. As they have easily discovered my cowardice.

“I bet his own shadow scares him…” they whisper as I sprint by.

After she told me everything I started looking for crossroads deciding my fate. I began doing everything the old me wouldn’t have done. Which consists of two things: run away from life and… nothing. So yes, that is how I spend my time: running through life and doing nothing.

My old friends look at me questioningly and sadly as I run past them. A few of my friends that know the reason behind my sprint look at me with eyes that say “I want you to run, I care for you. But I miss you…”

One day as I passed the old blue house on Sycamore st. I saw Casey, my old lover, sitting on the house’s porch; crying. I slowed my pace, maybe I would console her… no that would be too dangerous. I quickened my pace again.

It was then that Casey stood and yelled “You coward! You’ve completely given up your life only because some danged gypsy told you your future. You left everyone you ever loved, everyone who loved and needed you, so you could save yourself from some fantasy! Dang it, you coward! Then you run by me everyday, reminding me how much I love you. I still love you Daniel!”

Her words had hit me like a brick. Casey was right, she always had been.

I kept running but now I was running to find a way to change my fate instead of running away from it. A way to make things right again, so I could be with Casey without worrying.

I returned to my home and unlocked the pad-lock to the front door and walked inside. I didn’t lock the door behind me.

I began pacing my old house: racking my brain for a way to change what the ‘danged gypsy’ had said. Finally, I remembered the old thrift shop on the edge of town. The place was rumored to be owned by a witch who granted wishes. But for payment the witch would want an item from the wishers past lifestyle that they deeply loved. Also the witch would only grant wishes after the sun set. I had always believed in magic; so this was the perfect plan.

Late that night I ran out of my house to the witch’s shop. The witch’s payment was in my pocket; an old love letter from Casey.

Chapter One of Under The Toran Tree

It was July twenty-first, and it was hot. It was the kind of hot that made your sweat drip from the tip of your nose, the kind that made the coolest of creeks boil beneath the rays of the beaming sun. All the townspeople of Waldenstol City stayed indoors and slept away the hot day, dreaming of soft, glistening snow.

The country folk of Waldenstol sat in their cellars to stay cool and they conversed with the goods that had been packed away, and worried for their crops and livestock.

But the women of the Browne family, in Oriana’s, sister and mother, massive bedroom, were only concerned about which of their lovely imported Chinese fans they would use that day. And this is how their conversation went:

“Oh Oriana, that sapphire fan just looks lovely! It really brings out your eyes!” said Betony.

“Thank you, Betony. But don’t you think the red fan would look better with my dress?” asked Oriana.

“Your eyes are much more important, not to mention prettier, than your dress.” she replied.

--

Etc. Etc.  The conversation went on. Betony was a strong, happy, young lady with short, curly, brown hair. Oriana was tall, blond, and fair with sparkling, blue eyes and a very calm attitude. The two were sisters, very different, but all the same they loved each other dearly.

Oriana had two beautiful daughters the eldest, Brilliana who was three, and the youngest, Florian whom was one.

Brilliana was looking out the window down into the garden. The flowers were blooming despite the heat, but Brilliana really couldn't remember a time when the flowers weren't blooming. They always were, even in the winter. But this didn't seem odd, it was only how it had always been.

"Girls what do you think?" asked aunt Betony, she had found a purple fan.

"Wovy!" Florian babbled. (She had meant lovely. The few words she knew were Mu, for mother, Du, for dad, Benny, for Betony, Billy, for Brilliana, and a bit more baby gibberish.)

"I like it. Mummy can I go outside?" Brilliana asked.

"No darling, it's too hot outside." said Oriana.

"But the flowers say it's very pretty out." Brilliana argued.

"Silly......." But Oriana didn't get to finish quarreling with Brilliana because Betony had already interrupted.

"Did they tell you that Brilliana? You know that our flowers aren't very honest, don't you?" asked Betony. She stooped low so that she could look Brilliana in the eyes.

"They did tell me and they are honest."

"I bet they did tell you that. But, Brilliana, did you know that our flowers are enchanted? Oh, yes, they are.

"How are they enchanted, Aunt Betty?"

"Oh, I believe that one of your great, great, great, great uncles planted a magical flower in the garden. And that flower kept all of our flowers alive, even when it was snowing. So sometimes when the flowers say it is nice outside, usually they are not being honest because to them it is always nice." said Aunt Betony.

"Really?" asked Brilliana.

"Really." replied Betony.

Aunt Betony, or Betty as Brilliana called her, told marvelous stories, and she was always telling them, too. Brilliana loved the stories and on the days that weren't so terribly hot she would act them out. She had a gift for acting and singing.

As Florian grew she, too, loved the stories and played along with Brilliana. Florian inherited Aunt Betony's knack for telling stories and the sisters would put on plays. Brilliana thought her sister was wondrous and loved bringing her stories to life with her own words.

“Vladimir held his sword high above his head and struck down mightily. The ogre lie there motionless; dead.” Brilliana finished reading the long story Florian had written.

“Florian, that was lovely!” she exclaimed after a slight pause, “I don’t know where you get the ideas!”

“If I told you where I got them you’d never believe me.” said Florian with a silly grin on her face. “If something ever happens to me you’ll have to find out though.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a grand story to explain it to me.” said Brilliana sitting down next to Florian on Florian’s big fluffy bed.

“It would be grand enough. There would be so many characters in it! Vladimir and his son Motega, Jennyver the Pegasus!” said Florian.

“Ophelia, the helping nymph, Juniper the forest troll! All your finest characters!” said Brilliana.

Apart from their plays the girls played in the garden, helped with housework (what the maids didn’t already do for them), and their studies. In the garden, Florian would show Brilliana flowers that she said were fairy houses and how to catch beetles and butterflies.

In school Brilliana would show Florian how to properly divide 64 by eight and how to spell the word "because".

        They were a great team. They even had matching necklaces, made to look like flowers, the petals and leaves were made of silver, and in the center of the flowers there were small opals.

It was said they could never be separated. But sometimes people are separated against their own will.

The Girl and Her Corner

She looked on from her corner at the popular, gossiping girls,

“Why don’t they include me?” She asks,

“Why not ask me to join?

I sing well,

& dance with grand form;

I get A’s,

& am interesting to talk to;

I am fit,

& am on the winning teams;

I have style,

& wear adorable clothes.

“Do they find me a bore?

Stuck-up & mean?

I wish I knew why they don’t join me.”

Now I’ll ask, silly girl:

Have they ever heard you sing?

Have they ever seen you dance?

Have you shown them your As?

Have they ever talked to you?

Do they know you?

& I bet if they did,

They wouldn’t need to know all that, too.

Then the girl walked from her corner,

Shiny anew,

with a glad & sparkling attitude.

The Computer Hacker

Like most civilizations our city has the same fear; and also like most civilization we are very reliable on technology.

Everyone has their own computer, television, phone, tablet, etc. But ever since the year 3001 our computers have met their match; the computer hacker.

He is said to wear a flannel shirt and jeans, which is very rustic compared to our current fashion; silver jumpsuits, which are fire and water proof.

It has also been heard that he has a large, brown beard; odd next to the colorful hair of the present. And he is very feared. Feared by all that are known.

But I never thought my fear would come true.

I still remember that night perfectly: it was cool and breezy. It was the first night of summer vacation and both of my best friends had come to camp in my backyard.

We had been sitting in our tent watching scary movies on my laptop when we heard a rustle of leaves and then a twig snap. Young and adventurous as we were, we decided to investigate, and, as I look back, that’s probably exactly what he wanted us to do.

We went out and I took my laptop and used its bright screen as a flashlight in the dark, crisp night. We searched my yard giggling and whispering about the boogieman and thieves.

I was the one who saw him first, standing eerily in the corner. He rushed and reached me before I could blink, and snatched my laptop. I took two steps back and the man threw my laptop on the ground. Then he pulled a hatchet from his leather tool belt and hacked my computer into millions of small pieces: the computer hacker.