The Final Project

This is actually and exert from a story that I've been working on. 

The Cutting Edge

I crept down the stairs of a large dark corridor. Thankfully the rebellion hasn't found its way into the castle walls yet. I don’t know who was leading them but I do know they are to kill me and my family because of my Father’s actions. He had allowed the kingdom to be neglected ever since my mother died. She was everything to us, and when she died she took some of the only life out of the castle. My Father had lived just long enough to see me married to my wife Ashlia, when he died I became king. Some king, since I spend it prisoner inside the secret passages in my own home. We don’t have any food with us so I volunteer to go into the scour the kitchen. After some arguing, Ashlia and our two closest friends agreed. To some degree, besides I’m in the best condition. Cautiously creeping down the stairs. It would normally be so easy when I could normally ring a bell I have to sneak through my own home. I used to play in these secret tunnels as a child.

I stop at the bottom of the stairs, I bend half way sitting to feel the wall for a notch. This would be so much easier if I had a torch but I don’t. My fingers brush a smaller handle carved into the stone and I grab hold. Holding my ear to the door I pushed the stone door open. The room was silent and empty though I stood patiently not wanting to be too hasty. The fire in the hearth on the far side had long since gone out so the room was cold. I heard no footsteps or sign of life and quietly crept into the room shutting the door behind. I never realized how ingenious the hiding place was, the small door blended perfectly with the stone wall, and the handle looked like an imperfection in the carving. Hidden in the corner behind barrels for good measure. The kitchen was large with brown wooden cupboards, plain wood counters with herbs and cooking utensils hung from the ceiling. What surprises me most is how silent it is. No chatter, or the usual sounds of a meal being prepared. Assuming they hadn’t rearranged anything since I was a child all the food should be kept in the same place. With a sense of urgency I searched the shelves, skipping over the door where meat was kept. Not likely anything would be good after a week or more of sitting there unattended, even if it was salted. Rummaging through the shelves I found recipe books, stale biscuits, I found an old (sadly) empty bacon sack and put the biscuits inside. Opening another cupboard I found a whole loaf of bread, I quickly shoved it into the sack. I heard a heavy door slam and I looked over fearfully.

Someone had just come through the servants’ door at the top of the stairs leading to the kitchen and was thumping down the stairs. His steps echoed down around the kitchen. The room was quickly growing lighter every second, my mind racing to find an escape. No time to get back into the wall. Spinning around I yanked open the nearest barrel, not enough space for the sack so I left it besides it. Inside were apples, I threw a few into the sack before I laid the lid on my head unable to close it all the way so I laid it as flat as I could. I sat silent not daring to breathe. Shuffling steps crept past, then stopped, gritting my teeth as someone pulled off the lid, his drunken dirty smile was grotesque in the poor lighting of his fire. I cursed myself for worrying about the apples. “Well well, what have we here? The gallant Mavis! Thought you could hide from eh? Now you know what it’s like to have to steal for a living.” “It’s King Mavis actually and I’m not stealing.” “Then ‘ow come you’re bottled up in a barrel like a caged dog?” Ignoring him I changed the topic. “You don’t belong here.” “And neither do you,” he said, words slurred. He motion for me to get up and I tumbled out of the barrel. “There now, I ‘ave orders to kill you but I believe in honor so draw your sword.” I tried and grabbed air then I remembered I’d left my sword with Ashlia for protection, yes some protection. “No?” He smiled cruelly unsheathing his. “This should be easy then.”

He lunged at me, I jumped back. He threw the torch into the fire place so he could have both hands free and kept advancing clearly in no hurry. But I am, mind racing I lunged for a kitchen knife stand on the counter. Grasping the weapon in a defensive stance I discovered it wasn’t really a knife at all. It was the sharpening rod. The burly man chuckled amused and he swung. I instinctively swung in defense, his blade collided sliding down my sharpener nicking my thumb. But I ignored the pain. I made a thrust out and the sharpener scraped the metal again. Leaping over the center counter to create distance, knocking over pans. The crash fell silent and the man lumbered around. Trying to look convincing even though every stroke was making his blade sharper and my death more imminent. The knives were just a few feet behind me, I could reach them but that would mean turning my back. A loud thump upstairs door opened and another voice called down. “George? What’s ‘ol that racket?” Seizing the moment of my attacker’s distraction, I lunged and clubbed him on the head and he fell unconscious. I should have known there would be others nearby. I dropped the sharpener I run the length to the passage door. “No!” Running back to the barrel to retrieve the bacon sack and ran back. Flinging open the door not worrying about subtly I closed the passage door just as the man entered the room, confused and outraged.

The "Essay"

Yep. Totally posted on time...

1. The biggest challenge for me in creative writing was typing the assignments, as I'm rarely on the computer.
2. What I learned about myself and my writing is that I need to sit down and write more, not just when I'm inspired. And I can write about literally anything. Doesn't matter as long as I write.
3. I've learned that my writing process is very weird. That it's like dipping into the universe and the character leans over my shoulder telling me what to say, though a lot of description is up to me.
4. I've observed that I can write more vaguely and it will still get the point across, how to cut out extra words.
5. I feel normal writing about my writing. Reading through my notebook I've found that I do that a lot more than I thought.
6. I love this class more since taking it and I hoping to take it again next semester. We'll see it I have room in my schedule...
7. My favorite part of the class was sharing what I'd written with the class. Least was trying to think of something when I couldn't.
8. I'm going to continue as a writer by actually writing outside the class using what I've learned.
9. I didn't have any one specific thing that helped me pick these pieces over the others. I just felt they were more developed, or I had success with them (2nd place on Dumb Blonde Story!) Or I feel I could run with it more.
10. My blog reflects me because I haven't restricted myself to any one form of writing and water color splatter shows that. Though I would make the color blue if I could. Hehe...
11. I'm going to keep writing a bunch. I'll post on here every once in a while. I always carry a notebook, so I'll use that. And I'm just gonna go for it. 

My 10 Best Works

Yes it's true. My time in Creative writing is come to an end. And as a result I am assigned to post my 10 best works written in the time. Either inside or out of class. Personally I don't think this is fair to have to choose my best works before I've even begun to be a writer. But if I must... I suppose these would be some of my favorites. Though not all are in order.

1. A Dumb Blonde Story
   Okay, first of all call me Brett. Not Brunette. Yes my parents named me Brunette. Unfortunately for me, they named me that when I was premature. Before I was born my Mom asked “me” if I liked the name. Apparently I kicked. She took that as a sign that I “loved” it. Boy was she wrong. At least I have brown hair. I suppose I should be grateful for that. I probably would if it weren't for one thing.
   Josh.
   School was about to start and I had just started to open my locker when boisterous laughter caught my attention.  I turned my head in time to see Josh and his girlfriend Ashley walk around the corner. The last thing I need was an encounter with Josh. The crowd wasn’t thick enough to disappear so with I picked the best option I had. I shoved my head into my now open locker. I have to admit it wasn't my best idea because: A) It smelled like old textbooks and used gym clothes.  And B) I could still hear Josh.
   “Hey, Barney! Nice Hair!”
    Quick flashback here. A few years ago, I had recently moved to a new elementary school. My new teacher was nice as most second grade teachers are. All except for her first question. “Hi! Welcome to our class! My name is Ms. Star. What’s your name?” Now I was little and said very out rightly, “Brunette.” I smiled proudly. Ms. Star’s smile faltered for a second and slowly said, “Like the hair color?” “Yeah! My mommy likes it a lot! Especially because I have brown hair! But you can call me Burney for short. My Daddy likes that better.” I smiled again. I could tell Ms. Star didn't know what to think. Across the room there was a loud explosion of boisterous laughter from Josh. “Your name is Barney?! Wow!” So that’s why I started going by Brett.
   Resuming the story. Not his best insult and its gotten pretty old since then. But it was enough to make me want to retaliate. I ripped my head out to yell something about how stupid he is. But Josh and Ashley couldn’t hear me because they were laughing so loudly. They disappeared into a nearby classroom. My scowl slowly changed to a smirk when I remember how I had interfered with Josh’s notes. Now I was going on a date with the most popular blonde in the school!
   ~
   It was almost 7:30 and Blondey was walking just ahead of me. I would tell you her actual name but I don’t know what it is. Wait! Before you freak out and go all, “How can you go on a date with someone and not even know their name!?” let me just say that no one knows. Everyone at school just calls her Blondey because that’s what she wants everyone to call her.
   I quickly caught up to Blondey. “I think you’re going to like this.” “I think so too. You must have put a lot of effort into getting these tickets.” I had. It took me three weeks of yard work to raise the money. But in the end I finally got us tickets to see a Bermuda Dinner Theater production. The Show takes place on a small boat that sails a few miles off the coast of Florida. I’ve heard from the neighbors that the shows are really good. Plus I thought it would be a good way to impress Blondey.
   The sky was gray and overcast. At least the show would be inside if it started to rain. The night was warm and humid which isn’t unusual for Southern Florida. There were a lot more waves than usual though. I expected for the B.D.T. to bounce more but as we stepped off the board walk it was surprisingly stable. Despite this Blondey still grabbed her stomach. That worried me. Had I invited a girl that gets sea sick on a boat ride? I turned to her. “You gonna’ be okay?” At first she didn’t respond then she nodded. I was still kind of skeptical but we continued and entered the main deck.
   The dining hall was, well, bigger on the inside. A large glass chandelier hung above our heads with gray streaked tile beneath our feet. I felt a little out of place in my jeans and sneakers. The show was great and it turned out to be a murder mystery. I’ve never been a big mystery fan myself but this show kept me at the edge of my seat. The grilled lemon chicken was excellent. The portions were a little small for the prices that they ask, but what can you do. Blondey improved, though she hardly ate anything, we were able to make conversation. She was peppy and laughed at most of the jokes that were made throughout the evening. Though her reactions were always a little delayed. The conversation was a little awkward in the beginning. I hadn't even thought to make it a double date. Maybe next time.
   As we were finishing our meal there was a sound of thunder and a loud bang that rocked the boat. The lights in the room went out and the four exit doors opened. The rooms occupants including us made our way to the exit. The lighting wasn’t much better outside. A dense white fog had set in and it was drizzling now. A line of thick black smoke caught my eye. A deep male voice came over the intercom. “Is it working? Thank goodness. Everyone listen up. The engine was struck by lightning. We should be able to get it up and running in about-”, he never finish his sentence because a long blade of lightening slice the stern of the ship. Then a man shouted, “Quick everyone! Get into the nearest life boat!” I didn’t need to be told twice. I grabbed the hand of a now green Blondey and ran to an empty life boat. Before I knew it we were in the water watching the flaming Bermuda sink into the depths of the sea.
   ~
   The only light I have to row by is the lighting that flashes angrily overhead. The waves were rough and bounced the boat tremendously. I tried hard not to look at Blondey as she vomits over the side of the life boat. Every wave we hit she would lunge for the side. Actually she never really left the side.
    I wished that life boats had sails because of how strong the wind was. I wished again that Blondey didn’t have such a weak stomach so that she could take a turn rowing. By now my back was stiff and my muscles were sore from fighting the waves. Well I was wishing for a lot of things when I saw the most beautiful thing I had seen in a long time.
   Land.
   I began to row towards it. We were almost there when the life boat reared back and was lifted up on a huge wave! I started to panic when the world blurred and we were thrown from the boat and onto the beach. When I finally came to my senses and finished choking on the salt water, I looked around to find Blondey. She was unconscious several yards away from me. I looked further down the beach to see the shards of splintered wood that used to be the life boat being washed away by the tide. No time to worry about that now. Right now I have to get us to safety.
   I stood and hefted Blondey and half carried half dragged her off the beach. My sore limbs disapproved that Blondey was so heavy. It seemed like hours before I found a cave that would serve as our hurricane shelter. I was almost to the cave when a large leaf blew into my face. I accidently dropped Blondey onto the thankfully soft ground. I grabbed the leaf and held it out in front of me. It was about as long as I was tall. Then a thought hit me as hard as this leaf had a few moments ago. My arms dropped. Still clutching the leaf I looked out into the gaping ocean before me. Florida didn’t have plant life like this. Now here I was trapped on an unknown island somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle in the middle of a hurricane, all alone with a dumb blonde. All I could do now was go hide in the cave.
   ~
   I had decided to sleep on the leaf last night. I was jolted awake by the cold stone cave floor. I rolled back onto the leaf and slowly opened my eyes. It took me a minute to remember where I was. I rolled onto my back and was startled to see an old lady bent over me. I screamed and tried to sit up but hit my head on a rock that that had been protruding out of the cave wall. I gasped in pain and cupped my hands over my face as I lied back down again. That rock wasn’t there before, was it? “I take my humor where I can get it.” I was hoping that the high scratchy voice I had just heard was a just a figment of my imagination. So I risked opening my eyes only to see that the creepy lady was still staring at me. She gave me a wide crooked smile. Man was she ugly! Her gray hair was tangled beyond belief, her face was old and wrinkled, and her teeth (or at least the ones she had) were yellow and decaying. Well, at least the island wasn’t deserted. I opened my mouth to say something but the lady interrupted me. “No. I’m the only one here.” What? Now I was confused. I tried to say something else but was interrupted again. In a high scratchy voice she said, “My name is Jimmy. It’s a long story and no I won’t tell it to you. I’ve lived here all my life. I’m a master of witchcraft, that’s how you hit your head. I can read minds. I’m only telling you this because you’re obviously really slow right now.” It’s true I was. She was spitting out answers to questions as I thought of them. With her talking a million miles a minute it was hard to take it all in. Old Jimmy continued, “Your girlfriend is out looking for sea shells on the shore. Yes your name is Brett short for Brunette. I already told you that I can read minds. Now enough chit chat. You see that loom ever there?” She pointed a knobby finger to the far end of the cave. “I was able to see your future arrival, so I started weaving a magic carpet for you and Blondey so you could go home. As you can see it’s not done so don’t try to pull so stupid stunt. It should be done in a week. I’d suggest that you go find some provisions. You’re welcome. Good-bye.” In a puff of smoke Jimmy vanished and reappeared at the loom where she set to work on the carpet.
   This part would bore you so I’ll just fast forward this part. I found Blondey where Jimmy said she would be. Creepy but cool. But still creepy. Oh right. Sorry, um, fast forwarding. I eventually found a fresh water stream, built two huts in a lean-to fashion out of the leaves and branches I found. I also found a few fruit trees. I made a fishing pole to catch fish in the stream. Etc. Yeah, I was able to do a lot in about two weeks. All Jimmy seemed interested in was using her magic to re-vegetate the island.
   I went to ask Jimmy about the carpet. I walked into the cave but didn't see Jimmy. “RAH!” She shouted scaring me half to death from behind. “Get your humor where you can get it.” She smiled. Gross. “The carpet’s done. But you can’t ride it because I haven’t tested it yet. No there are no other ways off the island. Blondey already tried swimming off, too bad she got tired about half way there and swam back.” That I hadn't known. She was half way there and swam back! Jimmy cut off my thoughts of frustration. “I guess you could always try the Stairs of Laughter. No one has ever made it to the top before though.” I was curious. “You only get one try. If you get to the top you can have any wish you want. Their called the Stairs of Laughter because every stair tells you a joke as you step on it. The catch is that you have to get to the top of all one hundred stairs without laughing.” Seriously?! All I had to do was climb a flight of stairs and I could go home?! It was too good to be true. I had to try.
   I ran out to get Blondey. I explained the rules to her several times as we entered the cave. Jimmy led us down a long tunnel to a large room. The stairs were a long stone spiral staircase. I crossed the room to the first step. My feet were glued to each step while the joke was told. The first few were simple knock-knock jokes. Then on about step forty seven or so I couldn’t keep it in. I burst out laughing. The step I was standing on started to shake. I stopped laughing, and then the step tilted to the left and dumped me off. I fell nearly ten feet. As you can probably imagine, it was painful.
   “My turn!” Blondey yelled. She ran past me, still lying on the floor in pain, and began her ascent. I couldn't believe it. Once I was able to stand, I discovered that she had past about fifty stairs! Man she was good. The jokes told grew longer, so did our wait at the bottom. Finally she came to the ninety-ninth stair. It occurred to me then that I had never talked to her about what to wish for. I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem. I glanced over a Jimmy. She seemed bored. Why? Blondey was about to do something that no one had ever done before! Just then I heard giggles. Then snorts of laughter. (I have to admit, she had a cute laugh. Anyway.) My heart dropped. No. This could not be happening. I looked up in time to see Blondey fall. I ran out to catch her. Thankfully I did. The force of her fall knocked me to the ground. I looked up at Jimmy cackling down at us. And do you know what she said?! “Take your humor where you can get it.” Now I was mad. I was done playing this lady’s games. I tried to stand but Blondey was still on top of me. She continued cackling a she disappeared in a puff of smoke. Her cackle still echoing off the walls and ringing in my ears.
   When we were untangle I sat there and stared for a minute. Blondey noticed. “What?”, she asked. “What?! You were almost there! Why did you laugh?!” Her face broke out into a smile. “I just figured out the first joke.” She proceeded to tell me the joke that had ruined everything. Something about a chicken crossing the road. But I was already in the tunnel. I could hear her footstep echoing behind me as she tried to catch up.
   I snatched the magic carpet off the wall and left the cave, Blondey still chasing after me. I could hear her calling, “Brett! I’m sorry! It was just so funny!” I didn’t care anymore. I had a new plan. This carpet thing had better be legit.
   It was. It took several hours but I was able to figure out how to fly it. I hadn’t seen Jimmy since that morning. I thought that was a little suspicious but I didn’t have time to worry about that. I had to get off this island now before I became a crazy person like her.
   Dusk came. I had packed some food and some water in Blondey’s purse. We sat on the purple and gold rug ready to go. I was clutching Blondey’s thirty pound sea shell collection in a sack she had made out of leaves. She was holding her purse. I tried to make it go but the rug wouldn’t even lift off the ground! It wasn’t easy but I was able to convince her to leave her shells, purse (filled with the food I wanted), her jewelry, and our shoes. I tried again to make it fly and the carpet took flight. This was the happiest I had been in a long time.
   ~
   “No. NO!” The carpet was losing altitude and fast. I tried to go fasted but that only increase the speed of our loss in altitude. If the rug got much lower it would hit the water and become too heavy to fly and we’d drown. I could hear Jimmy’s cackle echoing in my ears. “Take  your humor where you can get it.” I had to think of something. When I did, I didn’t like the idea but it was the only option I had.”
   “Blondey, it was nice knowin’ ya’. We can’t both make it back to Florida so I’m going to drop off because…” I desperately tried to think of a reason. “Because I’m a brunette.” Not my greatest excuse. Actually it’s my worst. I continued. “I love you, and I want you to keep on living. For me.” That would probably be my best.
   “Oh Brett! That’s so sweet!” Blondey wiped tears out of her eyes and started to clap. Now I’m not one for speeches, but seriously! If you let go of the carpet you fly off. And that is exactly what happened. She fell off the back of the carpet. Without hesitating I turned the carpet around and dove for her. I reached to grab her hand. Then we plunged into the ocean. It was colder that I would expect and much too salty for my taste. The carpet was sinking and dragging me down with it. Before I could decide what to do something grabbed my arm and hoisted me out of the water. I coughed and sputtered. I looked up to see three people in life guard jackets. A girl of the right spoke first. “Hey aren't you the kids that disappeared in the Bermuda sinking three days ago?” Really? Only three days? I was still choking on salt water. When I stopped I looked around. It was a small speed boat the three life guards were talking excitedly like they had just done something heroic. I guess they had. They had saved our lives. Or at least mine. I sighed.
   I squeezed my hands. I looked at my left. I smiled. I was still holding the magic carpet. It was now sopping wet but it would dry.
   I looked at my right. I had saved her after all. Blondey looked at me. I had never realized how blue her eyes were. We smiled at each other. We had made it off alive. As we sat there dripping salt water I realized something. I had confessed my love for her. And do you know what? I think she loves me too. We leaned in closer. The kiss wasn't really long enough for me to describe it to you in detail because it was cut short. Blondey’s sea sickness took over as she lunged for the side of the boat. What a way to end a perfect moment. I gave a small sigh.
   The life guards hadn't noticed any of this. Then one turned to… Well me since Blondey was busy. “Say we better get you guys back to the beach! A lot of people will be anxious to see you!” I’ll bet they are. He started up the boat. The second guy came up, “Where have you guys been? How are you still alive?” He nudged the carpet with his foot. “Where did you get that?”
   I gave him a genuine grin. “It’s a very long story.”

(My ultimate favorite. I wrote this a couple of years ago. Of course it still has a very long way to go and I intend this to be a novel but it is something I wrote for the same teacher. I count that. Naturally it stands at number one.


2.  My second favorite is actually already posted. Panda Express Poetry
      You'll find it in the last post. 

3. 

Black out poetry. I turned a dorky article about in the school newspaper about their obsession with Disney's Frozen and blacked it out into a break up! 

4.   

 For Lack

That’s often how I end a sentence.

“For lack of a better word.”

I had what to say in my head,

That one fleeting moment

Now it’s gone

I promise I had it, I knew it not three seconds before.

But words are fleeting in speech

If I could write it down for you

I’d tell you all about it

Like this

The sun reflecting off dull gray bark with false buds

How last nights was ripped from my grasp

by cruel incessant screams from my alarm clock

How inspiration rains down from a cobalt sky

Streaked with stars

But there’s no time for that.

Not in speech. Time is of the essence.

When I write, I have all the time in the world

I can write a phrase and it’s been ten years

Not so in speech

Try as I may, I can’t with this away

The awkward stares

And they stare until I or they wave me away

It makes no sense

For lack of a better word.

5. 

I entered this piece in the school reflections contest and received an honorable mention for it.

A Better World

All the earth as a whole

Longs for a piece of the world

Pardon, wants “World Peace.”

want it badly enough

To hold contests, to see

Just how far we can go

Now here’s all I would know

To help the whole

Everyone together

must do it alone,

Alright…

For nothing so drastic

Or all the dramatic

Nor a good set of plastic

Can fix that something,

Inside you.

Whatever it is

 To help everyone,

Every one

Must change,

It has to be made.

We've all much to mend

To change all our faults,

Seek help from others

We all have some strength,

Yet so much is weak

Together we each one can mend

To often forgive

Go and let live

Love, all deeper still

Laugh more openly, fearless

Bring faith and have hope

Inspire us to lift all

That again, we may all learn,

Only you can make the world a place.

6.

Patience
The ghost of Patience is pacing the bedroom floor boards
Patience ghost in my bedroom, has been here for hours
Even she doesn't know what she's waiting for.
But she was told by her mother, as it says in her name
"Patience."

She cries in my sleep for it is my rest and not hers
There are some advantages. Who would have thought an
endless wardrobe? Apparently somewhere someone is forgiving, 
though she tends to prefer a tattered dress to the starch 
iron pressed robes she wore through life

In her absentmindedness, her dress never catches on the loose ends of my floor
"Must be nice not to worry." She looks up just realizing I'm here.
One look and I knew she thought she'd lived a long time,
she still lives in death. Her elegant tatters flow. She looks worried,
horrified even.

I've finally gathered from her, she's waiting for love. He may be alive somewhere.
"He's here." Her voice floats. The only one I can think-
is the son just downstairs, in my room for let, that's staying for school.
He never found love, at least, not just yet. 
She weeps for his life and her long years for him. The lovely, long loving

Patience

7.  

 Ode to True Sight

In an ode to true sight, who can say what you truly see? The world depends upon everyone conforming to see the same way. Either one way or the other. It's true you eyes give you sight, to know what you're looking at. Though I've discovered I could never choose my eyes over any other part of me. My legs take me places but so do my hands. They write and guide pages of unseen worlds. It's as if I can hear and and smell and feel all that they do. All the senses lead to something new. And ultimately, true sight involves every sense. 

8.

The Neighbor
The neighbor has a girlfriend again. I can tell because I can hear his stereo through the paper thin walls of the apartment. Sadly I know he's making out. I can't tell you how many times I've walked in on that. Right, he used to be my room mate, until I kicked him out. Then he inquired about another apartment. The one next door. I swear he lives to torture me. I'd never admit this out loud but aside from all the clingy perfume intoxicated girlfriends, he's actually a pretty cool dude. And my brother. Ahem.

9.

Jovius
I peek over the tall stemmed flowers, being a dwarf I could do that, with my height and all. Glancing over I can see her. Ebony hair, pale skin and eyes the color of summer trees. Not taking my eyes off her I unsheathe my dagger with the intent to cut some colored tulips but my distraction backfires and I slice my thumb. I can't help it, I inhale sharply. She stands looking around. "Who's there?" Not a hint of fear, only bold confidence. I bend to hide but she's already seen me. I Sit down my back to the flowers and hide the cut stems. I sheathe the dagger hastily without cleaning it off and suck the blood off from my stinging thumb. No use in trying to escape, she's an excellent huntress. She creep up silently with the element of surprise on her side. I'll definitely die if I run. She comes around the corner sooner than I expect  and makes me jump. Even holding the dagger that's meant to kill me she's beautiful. Her gown is long and flowing, a deep violet to symbolize her royalty. Tall slender, deceptively frail looking, I know she wouldn't hesitate to use the dagger. "Jovius." she breathes and hastily put her dagger away. A long polished silver, unlike mine that's dull and rusting. "What are you doing?" "Oh um. I just came to uh help the gardener." "Since when do you garden?" She had me there. "I- thought I'd take it up but changed my mind when I cut myself with the spade." Great. Not exactly true but now she knows I'm a Klutz. "Aw did you really let me see." She kneels by my side and grasps my hand inspecting the wound. "Wow you got yourself good. Come inside the castle we'll get this cleaned up." She rises and elegantly turns to the gardens gate. I get up dusting myself off I follow muttering, "Yeah she likes me, more as a helpless puppy than anything else." "What was that?" "Nothing!"


10.

Fog
It floats in the air like air in water from a tap, heavy and thick. Beautiful. Thankfully not too thick or I'd never be able to drive at normal speeds. In some places it gathers in pockets with the opaque dark clouds. So where I would normally see a vast open valley with mountains on the other side, I see an ominous grey wall. I love it just the same. Though it does inspire fear. It's indifferent towards my love and terror. Maybe a little sad that everyone who drove by either noted it casually or ignored it all together.