Live happily ever after?
It sounded like such a good plan.
Unfortunately, our family story had a sequel. Turns out bad guys can come back for revenge. And in some sad stories, they kill the hero.
(more) Now it's only me and Lucy. She's had short-term memory since she was 6, and each morning when I drop her off at school, she asks "Where's momma?" And each day I tell her she's on a trip, and she'll be back tomorrow.
I think she likes her new school. Each morning is the first day of school to her. I tell her that this is a special school, for girls like her. She does well, and knows the answer instinctually rather than from memory.
Her friends tease her, call her Lucy Goosey. She calls them ADHD Retards. They call her a Motherless Orphan. She fights them. Rinse. Repeat the next day.
I'm told her condition is purely psychological. When I was told a word might trigger her memory, I read her the dictionary. I was told that that's not how it works.
Maybe one day she'll be listening to the radio and she'll remember the struggle. The hospital. Her mother holding her. Telling her she'll miss her, to get good grades, to not get in fights, to be happy, goodbye. How we thought we had cured mommy, when it struck again.
Maybe it's for the best after all. Better she remembers her mother when she had her long black hair that would cover the pillow when she slept. When she was happier and there to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
One day Lucy won the spelling bee, and something changed.
Sometimes, a new hero emerges from the ashes, and I think we're ready for the next book. (less)
Savannah, Georgia may be the place where summer nights were invented, there they are perfect.
He met Melanie at a coffee shop his senior year. She ordered a biscotti and a low-fat latte. He wouldn't admit it, but he bumped into her on purpose; he was very ba(more)d at initiating conversations. The sacrifice of his favorite shirt to a coffee stain was worth the way she smiled at him.
Three years later she was giving him that same smile as they strolled through the streets of downtown Savannah. She had this very cute way of always noticing when he was nervous. His ring finger on his left hand always started twitching.
They entered another square with a park in the center. He stopped and looked around.
"Something wrong?" she asked.
"No, I'm just waiting. . . " his voice trailed off.
"Waiting for?" she asked slightly confused.
Suddenly a tree on the far end of the park flickered with light. Over a dozen lanterns beamed in its branches. Then another tree, and another and another until the entire park was glowing.
Her glance met his. If she didn't know before, she did now.
"For this," he said, his face now incapable of hiding his smile. He got down on his knee and said. "Melanie, will you marry me?" He was never one for speeches.
"Yes, yes of course," were the only words she could muster.
He picked her up and swung her around in circles. Then he put her down and kissed her.
"That's what I had in mind. Think it will work?" he asked.
"Sounds like a plan. I take it you're asking me to flip the light switch?"
It's the fifth time he's tried to turn over, but crumpled sheets won't give way, the hard folds digging into his sides no matter how he twists and turns. Though the window is closed and the heat turned high, it's too cold. There is nowhere fo(more)r him to burrow safe and warm; no arms to squeeze him tight. No heartbeat to lull him into drowsiness.
So he sits up and wanders in the kitchen to sip expresso. It scalds his tongue but does nothing to uproot the fatigue that's wormed its way deep into his veins, heavy against the monotone of his heart.
With Lovino, there's only dead tired and mostly tired, nothing less. Caffeine might jumpstart him a little, but he always sinks back into an exhausted stupor sooner or later.
He barely finishes the cup, setting it down with trembling hands. His stomach gurgles in protest as eyes fall shut. They open again.
With a gust of cold air, his door mutters--the floor responding with a murmur of its own. Lovino does not look up. Sight and sound had melded into a thick wall that was quickly crumbling.
A hand falls onto his shoulder.
"Oi--I'm in the area so--"
Gilbert, Lovino realizes. He blinks and grunts. His body sways with a fresh wave of exhaustion.
"You...okay?" His grin falls when the Italian slowly sinks into his chest, eyes falling shut a final time. With a quiet exclamation, Gil wraps his arms around him before he slides from his chair.
"O-okay, then," Gilbert says, hooking his arm beneath Lovino's knees and hefting him up. "I think...it's time for you to go to bed. Sound like a plan?"(less)
"Motherfucking hell, it's three in the goddamn morning..."
With a grimace, Lovino swatted blindly at his phone until the light vanished. One thing that everyone should know is that you /don't/ wake this Italian up. Not in (more)the morning, even when he's supposed to have been up two hours ago, not during his siesta, and /definitely/ not at three in the morning. What kind of person is even awake right now? With a grumble, the offending phone was shoved under a pillow, to be ignored, as he tried to go back to sleep. He'd bitch at the person for waking him up in the morning, when he wasn't so fuckin--
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
"You have two new messages."
"Son of a bitch!" Now fully removed from the calls of sleep, fatigue clawing at his bones and trying to call him back, Lovino grumpily pushed himself into a sitting position. He stuffed his hand into his pillow to try feeling the small piece of plastic circuitry.
Bzzt. Bzz-- With a growl, he finally dragged the phone to his face. "I fucking heard you the first time, goddamn thing," He swore, eyes squinted as his retinas ached. With a clumsy swipe of the screen with three fingers, the phone unlocked.
"...fucking hell, Gilbert?!" Potato Blight shone from the phone in white letters. "I'm going to kill yo--" The swearing cut off a moment as green eyes took in the first message. "Meet me here, Lovino," it said, beneath it a short address. It was too early for Lovino to recall where the address was off the top of his head.
A quick swipe had the second message: "Handcuffs. Sound like a plan?"
Lovino was up and out of bed like lightning, ungodly time forgotten.(less)
You open your eye, the sun is creeping over the horizon. Still exhausted from the night before you roll over and wish for another twenty minutes of respite. You know it won't come, it never does. Once your up your up, no use fighting yourself over it. You lay there watching the e(more)lephants on the wall march one by one round in a circle lazily letting your mind drift to blissful nothingness. She walks in carrying a nice hot cup of tea, wearing nothing at all. A smile drifts across your face, it instantly appears any time you even think of her. "What do you want to do today?" she asks. "Lets get out of the city and go find a new campground. This place has been depressing as of late." "FUCK YEAH!" She responds "We can climb a hill and see who can count the most stars." You just laugh and say "sounds like a plan." She jumps on top of you and gives you a nice big kiss as you roll around the bed a few times. Gently resting, eyes locked together. You are home, theres nothing better. :)(less)
You can feel your lips curling into a smile just as surely as you can see his curling into a smirk. It almost feels like poison, the way that tiny burst of stupid sunshine makes you feel sparks and butterflies and whatnot. It feels like a loss of control.(more) But it sounds like a plan.(less)
As the world around seemed to continue its monotonous cycle, I begun the dialog with myself that I so often resorted to on the cold, rainy days spent inside my room. For what reason would I possibly leave this comfort? I hardly wanted to walk to the kitchen let(more) alone join the chaotic suicide of the mundane routines that organised humans into a society of work, hardship and false joys.
It's not that I was ever negative by nature, I enjoy exploration and freedom but I can't subscribe to something that ultimately concerns itself with alcohol induced 'entertainment' and reality tv shows. We're far too smart and powerful of a creature to submit to that. So the internal conversation continued once again...
'Instead of partaking in what you so strongly dislike, you sit inside reading, studying, drawing and distracting yourself from the fact you're alone'
'Well I like the idea of consciously suffering in silence rather than mindlessly suffering in a rigid routine'
'Some of them seem quite content about there daily walkings, you're probably just beng cynical'
'So what if I am, if I can't relate to them on any topic how could we possibly add any value to each others lives'
'You don't know that and it's not something you'll ever know through observations or reading.'
'Still I refuse to join it' I reply to my more social self.
'Ultimately where do you see this leading then?'
'An escape I guess'
'Well it down your laptop, stop writing to an empty audience and leave, run, escape, explore!'
'It sounds like a plan.....'(less)
Why did she have to be so damn hot? you think as you pull on the chainmail, and pick up the damnable mace she had given you.
If she was less hot, it would make life so much easier, but sadly, she is not. And, she knows that yo(more)u find her so very hot, and so she uses it to her advantage. Such as getting you to wear chainmail, and wield a freaking mace. But, you are, and you will always do what she so desperately wants you to do.
She is standing outside of your house, wearing the very sexy, but surprisingly tough, leather and steel outfit she had used to make you do it. And, she got to wield a sword, but you guessed that was allowed, since she was the one starting this.
"You're positive this will be enough?" you ask, gesturing at your own outfit.
She sighs, looks at you with a meaningful glance, saying, "Yes, I am positive. I have checked twice. Now, are we going to go, or not?" She then pouts, her bottom lip looking so delicious.
You make annoyed noises, and then say, "Okay. Let's get to the car."
She leans over, kisses you on the lips, and says, "I love my girlfriend."
You follow her to the car, which she revs up, and takes the two of you to the abandoned field outside of town. And, there, as she said it was, was a huge scaled beast which was commonly referred to as a dragon. It sensed your presence, and breathed a flume of fire into the air.
You looked at her again, take her hand, and said, "If we are going to do this, let's do it together, love."
You two get out, and go to fight the blasted dragon.(less)
Harriet lightly tapped against my bedroom door and popped her head around.
"You packed girl? Shane's loading the bus." I glanced up at her, her megawatt grin brought a smile to my lips.
"Sure, just managed to squeeze everything in!" I chuckle, setting my rucksack on my(more) shoulder, grabbing the handle of my suitcase in my free hand.
We literally bounced up to Shane and our other flatmate Luke, who were growing increasingly frustrated loading their own suitcases into the back of our mini van.
"This is why I never got on with Tetris!" Luke scoffs, attempting to fit his suitcase in another direction.
Shane and myself exchanged a smirk as Harriet went to assist our young flatmate.
The four of us have been best friends since high school and decided to move into an apartment together after university.. The best decision I ever made. It was approaching Harriet's 24th birthday, and we had planned a week long road trip.
Together we had managed to close the van doors, and we were soon heading out of our cosy little town; Shane driving, Luke calling shotgun for the front passenger and us girls in the middle row.
"Paris first, right kids?" I joked, earning an eye-roll from my friends. Shane and I were the eldest by mere months, but we were always the parental figures of the group. Much to Luke and Harriet's despair.
"Yeah, sounds like a plan baby angel face!" Shane winked in the rearview mirror, my response instinctively to flip him the bird.
Unlike previous holidays with each other, we hadn't made a definite plan for this trip - opting instead to see which the wind blows us. And this to me, sounds like the best possible plan.(less)
I keep telling myself to sit and write. To take time that will benefit my future self. 'I should live in the now,' a voice would argue in my head. I'd then begin procrastinating again, waking up in potato crumbs, with my hand in my pants.
(more) What the fuck am I doing? Go fucking write, you asshole.
Totally confused, you look to the boy on your left. If you could you would outline his profile in a big thick line again the multicolored sky. This goddamn boy, you think. What would have possessed him to decide to call you out this time of the evening. Of(more) all people, this goddamn boy did.
"So what's the plan?" You say, leaning with you back against the porch fence.
"Plan?" He scrunches up his face. "I guess there isn't one. I'm just bored."
"Okay... and that's why you called me out?"
"Yeah. I was just in my car and thought 'hell, why not?' so here I am."
"And here I am."
There is a pause before he opens his mouth again. "Let's go somewhere."
"I dunno, but I've always wondered where the road that goes behind Giant leads."
"Doesn't that just go to the quarry?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. We should go see."
It's your turn to shrug. "Sure, but then what?"
Then he smiles. One of those mischievous smiles that your older brother gave you when he would sneak out of the house. "No clue."
You lean into the house and grab some shoes then follow him to his car and hop in. As he pulls away from your house you can't help but think, Sometimes no plan is the best plan.(less)