Subject 12 of Group 4107AG

  Screams of agony. Steel walls ten inches thick in every room. A burning sensation on your skin as if it will melt off the meat that covers your bones. Muscles aching until you can't bear to do any more than lie there and take your torture like a starving dog. This is what we have come to. This is our fate. Treated like animals for a science experiment. No one to miss us. No one to come looking. Nothing to go back to even if by some miracle we did manage to escape.
  We are only known as subject group 4107AG. We were raised in a lab. Not here though. We were raised by a scientist looking to create a new race of human and become famous for his accomplishment where everyone would be so excited they would ignore the horrifying things he'd done in the name of science and of progress. I never knew we were any different from anyone else my entire life. We all look relatively alike. Hair, nose, eyes, ears, chin and mouth. We don't look like monsters. Our creator said it was something in our DNA. Whatever that means.
  No one knows his name, or who he is for that matter. If I could just remember his name... It's on the tip of my tongue like an annoying song lyric that hides in the back of your mind behind stacks of file cabinets. Maybe if I could tell them his name, the torture would stop. Maybe they would give us a humane death. Something with dignity. Maybe if they had souls they would. I believe they surgically removed those with the same surgical steel tools they us on us every day, it must have been a necessity when coming into this line of work.
  We are being held by a secret government organization. After we were captured from the fugitive scientist just days ago, days that feel like years in this all too clean cell. Like a house with children that is spotless without a single toy on the floor, meant to be welcoming while just slightly eerie. They came in like a flash, with guns being waved around like a dancer's scarf. They gathered us up as if we were cattle, killing several of my inmates without so much as a twitch. Then they brought us to this god forsaken place. Not even the devil would be caught dead here. Every day they ask us for the name of the scientist that created us. None of us can answer because he wiped our memory of him before he left. He knew they were coming and he left us clinging to each other like scared rats. They have tried every method I didn't even know could possibly resurface your memory... Electric chairs, the feeling of drowning, cutting our skin down to the bone, injections of blue liquid, it's all become one molded nightmare that we cannot differentiate. Many of us have gone into shock, refusing to speak, except for the screams at night that keep the rest of us awake
  Morning however, brought a new aspect to the table.

  Instead of the normal torture chamber they usually take you to, instead you are sent outside, where no one has seen since you were brought here. Something about being closer than the others to remembering. You are taken outside where you meet your handler. A tall dark haired broad shouldered man with thick facial hair and soft eyes contrasting with the black clothing he wears. 

You look him up and down sizing this new threat deciding if you can out run him. He simply looks down at you without showing a trace of emotion in his steel green eyes.
  The guards leave you with this 'handler', walking back inside the cold cement building. You take a look around at this outside world. So new, and unfamiliar. So free compared to the lab walls you knew before this torture. The wind blows past your neck and you flinch from the unexpected experience, surprised that it does not hurt. The ground is not hard and cold, it is soft, and green. There are no walls, only a long unending fence. Past it you can see nothingness. Open dry land. It looks so welcoming, if you could only reach it. You could run for miles and not find another wall that could confine you any longer.
  The handler crosses his arms still staring down at you, this gives you the opportunity to take note of his heavy biceps. Do not let him get a hold of you. Keep at least an arm's length apart. You slowly take a step back. The handler breaks his closed off stance to jump into an prepared fighting motion, letting his arms fall to his side, bringing his dominant right foot one step in your direction and his eyes watching your every movement waiting for a cue to take you down to the ground. His muscles twitching from tension.
  You simply grin at him. "Relax." You say as you take another step, turning away from him. How close can you get to the fence before he drags you back? With each new guard, there are new boundaries. Those boundaries need to be found, poked, tested, so that you can find a better understanding of how each individual will react. Some guards will pounce on you for looking  at them directly. Others will turn a blind eye if you steal an apple from one of the other guards that they don't like. This process of finding boundaries is crucial in being held captive. Without this understanding, you will either find yourself constantly jumping at your own shadow, or if you are the rebellious type, in solitary confinement your entire captivity. Their mistake was only assigning one man to hold you. One human being has weaknesses, and without another person to balance out those weaknesses, it just may be your escape. Your creator may have subjected you to this fate, but he gave you a gift that could get you out. Maybe that was his plan all along...
  Skipping ahead six months, you've now learned a lot of boundaries. You know exactly what blat of grass is too far, and your handler knows you won't step over it. You pretend to be content with your fate. Whether that act is for your captives or yourself, you cannot tell.
  "The days are getting shorter" Your handler half mumbles.
  You look up at the sun getting closer to the horizon, like a child's eyes slowly fading as they fall into a deep sleep. You know also that your days are being cut short. You find yourself losing time, waking up with scars that you don't remember. Your head always pounds and aches. It won't be much longer now. Everything will go dark. The whispers in your head say it starts out as a sweet smell, lilac scent even, right before you fall asleep. And all the pain goes away, the scars and tortured memories fade all at once. You feel ready to rest, to rest for a very long time. Unaware of the troubles this world has brought-
  You are suddenly awakened into reality, your eyes clear instantly. What was that sound? It is unfamiliar. A closing door? You hear a voice, a sweet, young voice that speaks with a cheerful bounce with every word. It is the most beautiful music you have ever heard. For once a voice that is not cold and maniacal.
  Your handler gets suspicious, and tells you to wait here. But as he fades out of sight you can't help but want to follow the voice. Blindly you stumble across the grass towards the sound. You can almost hear the words but you can't quite make them out, you get closer until they become clearer. "-porting on your facility, they say it's quite an operation and the people would like to see what it is you are working on."
  "We're not open for tours." The cold voice of one of the scientists say harshly.
  "Well can you at least tell me about your work here?" She pleaded innocently tilting her head with a smile.
  "No. Go home, we're not a science museum." He said as a final warning. He turned his head to your handler, "Please escort this young lady back to her vehicle." He said waving his hand.
  "I will be perfectly fine on my own, thank you sirs." She broke in, her smile turning more sarcastic now, before she turned on her heel and strode away with her skirt flowing in the chill breeze.
  The two men suspiciously watch her for a moment before walking back in, mumbling to each other about what to do to avoid further incident. In the same moment that the door closes behind them, the woman looks over her shoulder at you through the fence. Her eyes widen and you stare confused as your eyes squint and you shift from one side to the other trying to understand this interaction.
  Her pace quickens slightly and you feel she must be so horrified by your appearance that she cannot stand to look at you more than a few seconds. Then your curiosity spikes as you watch her open the trunk of her tan car fumbling through cases looking for something fifteen yards away. She eventually pulls out a long handled tool with sharp edges that seem to be for cutting stout things, branches maybe. She then comes hastily towards you, and you begin to understand what she is trying to do, except this will do no more than end your lives even sooner than fate had planned. She comes up to the fence, looking over her shoulder, before she uses her long handled tool to cut through the fence. You begin to panic, you are ready to die but she doesn't have to, if she did not follow through with this decision.
  It all happens so fast you can barely blink, you are pushed into the trunk of the car before it is shut closed and you are again in darkness. Only hearing the sound of sirens as the engine starts and your body jumps from the sudden motion of the vehicle.
  You are out of the cell, but this is only the beginning of your escape.

The Siren

You are aboard a small boat on the calm blue lake after a long week of working, with the afternoon sun shining among white clouds. Your free living, risk taker best friend guides the wheel with a wide grin as the wind blows through their hair.
The boat comes to a steady stop. "What did I tell you?" They ask stepping to the edge of the boat arms outstretched, gesturing to the lake and the partly shaded sun high in the sky. "Beautiful as the Bahamas! Miles from traffic and busy people running around like chickens with their heads cut off."
You simply smile and nod in agreement.
Your partner gives you a sideways glance. "You've gotta get your mind off the week... water looks perfect, doesn't it?"
"Yeah... I guess." You reply looking into the water, noting the seaweed flowing in the subtle waves. "I thought we were going to fish?"
Your partner takes a step towards you, "Yeah, but we don't need the poles."
Before you can reply you feel their shoulder slam into you, losing your balance you flip over the edge of the boat, your partner letting out a subtle laugh. Knowing you're about to hit the water, you take a breath, before the cold embrace of the lake hits your chest. You sink a few feet below the water. All goes quiet, the water is the perfect temperature. You feel the seaweed against your feet. It's quite peaceful for a moment. You turn your head however, and you are confronted by the pale face of a girl in the water, seemingly lifeless with a blank stare, floating amidst the water around you. Long strands of hair waving among the seaweed.
After the initial shock, and realizing she must have drowned herself as a way of suicide. You look closer for a moment, knowing you'll need to go up for air very soon. The eyes black as onyx, seem to come back to life. Must be your eyes playing tricks on you… you could swear you saw one of her fingertips twitch… is it possible she's still alive? But as you panic, horror strikes you, as her lips curl into a terrifying smile, revealing two rows of sharp teeth each filed to a point… this thing is not human.
You push through the water as swiftly as possible, feeling the weight of every gallon of water sitting above you, and the weeds below your feet claw at your ankles as you struggle to get to the surface of the lake. Just when you feel you can't go without a breath any longer, your head pierces through the surface of the water and you throw your head back to take a breath. Your partner is still on the boat laughing. You scramble to the boat, pulling your body over the side and flopping down in the boat, still gasping for air.
“Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad!” they say preparing to jump into the water.
“Don't!” You yell as firmly as possible with a slight quiver in your voice. “There's a shark in the water!”
They stop, and look at you quizzically. “There are no sharks in the lake. You probably saw a trout.” they reply continuing to prepare to jump in the lake.
You pull yourself up on weak muscles, still dripping wet, to grab their shoulder to keep them from going in the water. “I'm not kidding! There's something in there! And it's big. We need to go back!”
Your partner, is now growing tired of the game. “There's nothing in the lake except fish and a couple beer bottles.”
Just as the words leave his mouth, the boat is hit in the side by a heavy force, enough to rock the boat and make both of you stumble trying to keep your balance. Your partner is now beginning to worry, and perhaps believe your story. “What was that?”
The boat rocks again and this time you catch a glimpse of the horrifying grin of the girl with shark like teeth, before she dives back in the water.
Your partner becomes more urgent. “What was that?!”
Without answering you run to the head of the boat, but you are thrown to the flooring from another hit taken by the monster trying to take down your boat. You get back up and grab the wheel, start the motor and hit full speed straight ahead, no sense of direction except away from the creature. You look back to make sure your partner is still in the boat, who is still looking back, then to you in terror. Then you notice the water behind you beginning to part, and not from the boat. The creature is chasing you, and not far behind.
You make sure the boat is going as fast as possible, then turn to your partner. “Grab the flare gun and shoot it!”
They break from the trance and grab the flare gun from a box in storage on the boat. You look ahead to continue steering. You hear the sound of the flare gun fire, and turn to see it hit the girl in the head as she came up to dive back down. There's a slight yelp, before she dives down below the surface and the water becomes still except for the current behind the boat.
You and your partner exchange glances before looking ahead again. Neither of you say a word for the rest of the journey home. You make it back to the docks without further mishap. When they ask why you were back so early, you simply say that you forgot your phone, as you pat your pocket feeling the indentation of your phone safely tucked away.
And not another word was said of the shark like creature in the lake. No one would believe you anyway. Nevertheless, you nor your partner will ever look at a body of water the same.

The Blind Execution

Our story begins with a sly fox, who has finally meet his match. Death has finally caught up with him.
He awaits his own execution within the dark underground enclosure, unknown to anyone besides a handful of people believing they have better judgement on proper punishment than the law itself. They have taken punishment into their own hands, while harshly judging those who have stolen a piece of bread. The guilty receive no trial, no opportunity to defend themselves, only a sentence ruled by this group of people who decide who receives punishment. And they were not past sacrificing the innocent in the case of a minor misjudgment.
Before he is taken to the final cell, a group of vigilantes attempt to fake his death, saving him from this cruel fate. They explain to him how they have rigged the noose, so that it will not drop, as they slip lubricant in his pocket for when he is put in the straight jacket. They believe he has been unfairly judged, and that he deserves to have a real trial, above ground.
But as the Sly Fox waits with the executioner, death becomes a welcoming end. The executioner, with his cold dark mask, hiding his emotions. His voice giving off a slight sound of remorse, for what he is about to do the young man, with so much life ahead. He realizes that it is indeed wrong, but he was given a job and he will surely not lose sleep over it. He is simply another criminal that should be dealt with, as countless others have been over the past two years. This executioner had an air of demonic personality about him, as if he did not possess human emotions. Only the reactions. Someone who kills common thieves and prostitutes with rapists and the like every day for two years, has a tendency to lose their humanity over time, until it simply becomes an act. Those waiting to be executed could not even find words for the horror of waiting in the cold cell, watching the executioner stand and wait for what felt like hours pass within the time span of only a meager few minutes. He would sometimes speak through the mask, with a deep voice that should have been calming and relaxing, but instead only sent a chill down your spine, wondering if you would see him reveal his face from behind the mask, once you entered the gates of hell.
The Sly Fox waits in agony, knowing that the noose will fail, but he will never find his way out through this rat maze of ramps and bridges that go nowhere in the underground dungeon. They will soon catch him, and kill him despite his efforts to escape. He realizes that it would be a better death done by his own hand. As the executioner looks the other way for a split second, the Sly Fox takes a thin knife in his hand, and slits his own throat. Falling into a limp mass of body while being drained of blood through the cut in his neck. Only the executioner, and the granite stone within the earth around them there in the cell to witness the unfair demise, of a common thief.

Now we come to modern times, five hundred years later.
A blind man is brought to a hospital for a what is to be believed as a mental illness. He wholeheartedly believes himself to be a descendant of an unheard of, never recorded man that had fallen victim to being wrongly executed in a secret underground prison. This was absurd, to the doctors. He most surely has lost his mind. There was no 'Sly Fox' in any history known to them. A simple search proved that. But the blind man was sure. He did not know until this time, when he relieved a stone of granite from the mountains of Washington. He said he saw his ancestor's own execution, which of course must be impossible. He believed that the stone showed him the echo of the memory, long since recorded within the stone and kept safe until being washed up from the deep grounds, picked up on a hike, and given to the blind man as a momento from the trip taken by his cousin.

The blind man found himself being woken by the heavy vibrations the stone gave off one late night, the stone seemed to be calling him. He could feel it in his hands in his dreams. The coarse texture indenting the palm of his hand. He was awoken, and guided to the stone sitting on the shelf in his living room. The vibrations became stronger as he grew closer. Reaching out his hand felt like a moment that would never end. Taking the stone in his hand, he holds it for a moment as the vibration drumming in his head faded. It was soon replaced by holographic images within his consciousness. He could see a man, of small build with a cunning smile as he walked down the street. The smile soon disappears under a black bag as he is forcefully drug into an ally by three men dressed in black robes. He is taken to the forest, and lowered by a rope through a trap door leading deep into a dark pit within the ground, where the walls are made of solid earth and granite stone. Others are there within the underground prison, screaming for mercy. Those who say they did nothing wrong. The man is allowed to see again, where he has been brought to. Horror strikes his face, this is his end. There is no way he can talk his way out of this now. He is brought to the execution room. The executioner stands there, wearing a black mask with the eyes scratched out with white paint. Still unable to hide the sense of his cold expressionless face. While his gruff dirt and blood stained hand holds an axe that hangs to his side, dripping with the blood of his last victim. And that is where the vision ends. The blind man drops the stone as he falls to the floor and pushes himself away until he feels his back against the wall. His breaths are heavy and quick, and they soon turn to sobbing. When he attempts to tell others of what he saw in his vision, he was taken to this hospital for help. However nothing could help him to understand this paranormal instance that he had experienced. He was unable to see for twenty years and here he is given sight by a stone, of the most horrible circumstance he could imagine.
In the present time, the blind man finds a way to escape the hospital, during a crisis as another patient is suffering from a seizure. The blind man hears the commotion and footsteps running past his room. Realizing that this may be his only chance to escape the hospital and find answers to his strange mental visions, he walks out of the room, turns away from the commotion and follows the sounds that he had heard coming in, in reverse, bringing him back to the front door of the hospital. Upon feeling the summer air catch his cheek, the man turns away from the busy sounds of the city, to the serene sounds of the forest and smells of the pine trees.

Five of the doctors run after him. The main doctor in charge pulls out a pistol and points it at the blind man entering the forest.

“You're not going to shoot the very patient you're trying to save are you?” One of the other doctors asks. The doctor holding the pistol lowers it back to his side, letting the barrel point to the ground.
A few minutes into the prickly pine tree forest, filled with the smell reminiscent of Christmas, along with the sounds of crunching as he walks through the forest cautiously, while becoming more urgent as he can feel himself growing closer to whatever it is he hopes to find, the blind man did indeed find this secret dungeon filled with death. He becomes too distracted with his adrenaline pumping as the vibrations that he felt with the granite grew stronger once again, and does not realize he has stepped off the trail, and unto a hidden trap door. The five hundred year old wooden door within the earth covered by leaves and pine needles gives way under his feet. He can only feel the solid ground give way, and reaches out for anything to grasp, feeling that this most surely is the end. By some stroke of luck, or so he believes it to be at this moment, he feels a root, coated in dry earth, as he grasps it tight and his body swings against the entrance of the deep pit. He listens for the trap door to hit the ground, one.. two.. The boards crack as they make contact with the ground below, as he hangs from the root of a tree protruding from the rim of where the door once hid the pit.The doctors are unable to hear his cry for help through the muffling of the trees.

His grip begins to fail, as his hands become damp with sweat, moistening the dirt on the root. His hands slip, as he once again feels his body within the air, until his back hits a hard wooden surface, he slips off, and hits another, unable to grip anything before it gives way and he falls to another hard surface, the fourth time, he hits ground. Cold, earthy ground. Bruised from every inch of his body, but alive. And here our story comes back to where we first began.

Here he has come to the dungeon where so many were slaughtered without trial, without any way of escape within the rat maze of ramps, stair cases, and hallways that lead into other rooms with no exit, other hallways that go nowhere, sometimes even leading straight into a wall. It was built with the intention of driving those who tried to escape insane, making them feel trapped and helpless to find a way out, no matter how many combinations of routes they attempted to take to return to the upper world. The blind man cannot see this rat maze, even if he could physically see, the dungeon was dark as a clouded night. However he could hear the faint cries of pain. They were faint, but distinct none the less. He called out to them, with no answer. Only the continuation of the echoing cries bouncing off the walls. He stumbled through the cave like prison, following the sounds of the cries. He realized it seemed to belong to more than one person. As he walked towards the sound became louder, and louder, as more voices joined the screaming. It became more urgent. Sometimes... He could hear the sound of an axe hitting a chopping block, and one of the shrill screams would stop. After a moment it would be filled with another. The screams grew in volume and numbers as he continued to walk. He called out again and again but none of the voices responded. It seemed they were on a constant loop. It was like a nightmare becoming more vivid as he stepped further into the dream. It bore into his head until it began to ache and he too began to scream in agony, among the other voices. It wouldn't stop, there was so much pain and suffering within the screams of fifty, maybe a hundred people, all in one unison, begging for death. The blind man also began to seek death, for it was a better fate than hearing all this horror, that these people were enduring. These people that he did not know existed, or if they were a figment of his own insanity. The pain in his head grew stronger, every sound grew louder, he could hear the sound of a thick substance dripping to the ground. He covered his ears but it only slightly muffled the sounds. He screamed louder to stop this torture! But it only grew. The emotion in the room flooded his senses. He stumbled into a small room, the screaming louder still. He fell to his knees, and his hand landed on a wooden handle.. He felt the handle and followed it to the end, realizing it was an axe. The blade had grown dull and rusted over time. But it was clear this was the weapon used to kill those people that suffered here. Where the memories of their deaths were recorded within the walls of this room, within the granite stone placed all around. The pain grew too heavy to bear, the blind man could find only one way of escape from this nightmare. He took the axe in his hand, brought it to his neck, and slit his own throat. After a few seconds of gasping for air, his body goes limp. And the screaming stops.

You see, only those who have a bloodline connection to one of those who took part in this underground slaughter can hear the screaming when inside the cave. Those with sight could also see the fragments of memories, projected by the granite that holds memories of the extreme emotional distress that the victims endured before their death. These were not ghosts, or souls of humans, but memories of the stones.

The doctors eventually found the now opened entrance to the dungeon. One of them stayed behind, while the others hurried back to get help. They returned with rope, and made the decision to go down into the pit before help came, knowing that the blind man was most likely down there, and if alive at all, in need of medical attention. Three of the doctors shimmied down the rope, and turned on the flash lights they had brought down with them. They could see the rat maze of ramps and stair cases and hallways that lead nowhere. They did not hear the screams, nor see the memories of those who had died here. They dare not go further into the maze to look for the man for fear of never finding their way back.

The doctor who had pulled his gun out before, however, did have a bloodline connection to the memories of this place. He hears a dripping sound behind him. He turns around to see the tall broad figure of a man with a dark mask with eyes scratched out in white paint, holding an axe covered in blood, much like the blood stains on his clothing, and hands, splatters across his chest, his knees covered in red blotches from kneeling in blood. The doctor and the executioner make eye contact through the slits in his mask. Cold dead eyes, matching that of the doctor's. They stand in awe for a moment, seeing a familiar soul within each other. The doctor barely smiles. He understood the duty of the executioner. For he also had blood on his hands, that no one else knew of. Innocent lives that had been unfortunately overdosed and died within his care. Of course it could not be helped, there was nothing he could do... at least, that's was his story.

And here our story ends. Right where it first began. Revealing that every generation has evil that feels they deserve to play God in our universe. That they indeed possess better judgement of the proper fate of the human race. All we can hope for is that we spot it in those around us before it is too late, and that they, are not us.

The Red Bandanna

"Don't you like him?" A young girl's shrill voice breaks through the white noise of our character's mind. With a quick snap of her eyes as her neck stays completely still, she looks at the blonde haired blue eyed girl with sharp jaw lines and long fluttery eye lashes that lead your eyes to her soft bouncy curls that fall in front of her shoulder as she walks, her hips swaying with her movement. Her arms wrap around her chest to hold the denim jacket tightly against her pink blouse peeking out from her collar. Denim skinny jeans reach down her long legs to the suede tan heeled boots on her feet. It's a wonder how how she keeps such a pace without tripping over them to fall to the cement pavement below.
Our character lets out a soft laugh between her red stained lips as her eyes fall back to the path and her chin falls just an inch closer to her collar bone. The bangs of her pixie short black hair falling just into her vision. A breeze catches her black leather jacket opening the front to reveal her closely fitted red scoop neck tank top as well as her tanned skin. Her dark jeans are tucked neatly in her laced combat boots.
"Well? Do you?" Gale, the blonde girl asks again, more agitated.
"He's a nice guy." Sara replies softly as she shrugs her shoulders.
"A nice guy? You two talk all the time-" Gale is cut off by the sound of a tweeting bird, as Sara flinches and puts her hand on her phone in her back pocket.
"Aha! I bet that's him now." Gale says with a smug grin on her pretty pink lips.
Sara half smiles in the direction of her overly enthusiastic friend whom she has known for no less than ten years, as she pulls her phone gently from her pocket like she would a robin fallen from it's nest. For a moment her heart skips a beat as she slides her phone open to see who the message is from. As her heart sinks she stretches the smile out for a moment longer so as not to alarm her friend.
"It's him, isn't it?" Gale asks gleefully.
Sara looks up from her ominous message from an unknown number to look back to her friend, giving her a sly wink of the eye. "I've gotta go." She says leaning in to grasp Gale around the waist. This always made Gale nervous because Sara always seemed to embrace her goodbye like it might be the last time, though she had learned to push it aside as it had never been the last time, therefore seemed irrational to consider.
Releasing, Gale from her grasp, Sara bolts across the street without looking to see if there were cars coming, dodging a cyclist as he yells at her but she is long gone into the alley already.
Sara ducks into the darkness of the alley, looking back for a moment to see, Gale walking the rest of the way home, alone. Pushing her life out of her mind, she enters her alternate reality. That which no one could know. Her dark secret kept hidden from all those she cared about, and those hidden from this life she is now entering. It's been a long time now. Amazing what you can accomplish within the darkness in five years. Ducking and dodging people and dogs and even passing planes, Sara shuffles her way across town, knowing you can never to be to careful making sure no one follows you. The sun is getting low in the sky, leaving less time to get to her destination. Those she is meeting will not appreciate her tardiness. And that could be the death of her, if she is not strong enough to prove herself to them.
The town becomes less welcoming as she goes deeper into the east side. Graffiti coats the walls around her. Beer cans lay empty and crushed on the sides, some with bullet holes. A bloody hand print stretches across one of the walls, followed by a stain of what once was a pool of blood stretched across the ground. Sara was there the night the body remained. It had made getting to her destination more treacherous to not be caught by cops. They were searching for the killer, and witnesses, but Sara had no time for such things.
She comes to a stop in front of a long since abandoned hotel. The windows were broken, graffit
i covered the walls, caution tape was blowing in the breeze in front of her. Sara reached for the paneling against the cement of the building, lifting it up to reveal a hole that had been smashed in to get inside the building.
Reaching one foot through the opening, ducking her head, she pulls herself inside. It is dark inside, lit only by dim lanterns hanging on the walls. More discreet this way. She is able to make out the hallway she knew so well, leading left or right. Turning to check the passage and be sure the panel is securely tucked back so as no passerby's would think to look inside, she can see no light coming through the cracks. Now assured all is taken care of, she reaches into her leather jacket pocket, pulling out a red bandanna. She flicks her wrist to hear the snap of the fabric, before grasping both ends to reach around her neck and tie it securely. Once this is done, she takes one deep breath, straightens her shoulders and walks down the right side of the hallway. Her footsteps echo through the empty halls. No windows, only lanterns light the way in front of her feet. One sharp left turn, leads to several doorways on either side of the hall way. Third opening on the left. This leads to a larger open room, with more doorways. Walking a short ways in, there is a large opening on the right. Sara walks in, this room is more lit than the hallways. Between fifteen and twenty men turn to her in expectancy. Her eyes now stone cold, sweep the room. Taking note of the tattooed, muscle built men of all races. Their steely gazes staring back at her, some of them averting their eyes as she reaches them.
The silence grows heavier as her eyes stop and her tongue brushes the corner of her still red stained lips and she shakes her head sternly but slowly. "Someone want to tell me what the bloody 'ell 'appened last night?"
This was her dark secret, that which no one could know. She was the leader of a gang, one of the top three most feared gangs in the streets of St. Louis. To keep this title she could not slip up even for a moment, not show one bead of sweat, never let weakness penetrate her facial expression. Just one wrong move would destroy her. She had fought her way to this rank for many years and gone too far to ever get out now. Her only way out was death. And it would be gladly granted by many who reside here, even her own men, who would die for her, or kill her if they had the chance.

Only Temporary

You pull yourself through the cold water tugging at your calves with it's ice like finger tips. The sharp rocks cutting at your bare feet with every step. The man walking alongside you suddenly begins growing closer to your side. You edge away slowly as the rushing current is trying to pull your feet out from under you. He closes the gap between you and him before you reach the bank. His arms reach out and you feel him closing in around you. Panic floods your mind, in defense you bring your right arm up against his chest as you try to take a quick step away in hopes of evading his grasp, to no avail. With one swift motion like that of the river under your feet he scoops your body out from under you into his arms. The body of water parts between your feet and that which remained clinging to your soaked blue jeans falls with a loud splash back into the river below you. "Just for a bit." His deep voice says calming your nerves before you try to struggle. The term gives you a sense of safety. This will not last forever. As if you are not really trapped, it's just for a bit. This will only last for a short time...

Love Is...

Mal, The Cupid Betta

You could say that love is instant, love is known the moment you lay eyes on that person or object or emotion. And you would be right. Love is instant. Love is also slow. Love takes time. Love doesn't always show itself right away, sometimes love hides in the shadows and you wouldn't realize it was ever there... until one day it peeks out from around the corner and you catch a glimpse of it. It might give you a scare at first. You might jump back with your heart beating in your chest, trying to tell you this was a surprise and it could be dangerous and you should run away and and... whoa, you really do love them. This was unexpected. In all the time that you've known them, you never thought it would come to this... Here it is like a slap in the face. Saying "Come on! What are you waiting for? The potential has been here all along! Why did it take you so long to figure this out?"
Well, you see, there's this thing called incompatibility... "What's that?" It can be chemistry, religion, life goals, relationships, age... Sometimes you can fall in love with someone that you can never be with.
Now how did you manage to get yourself in this mess? Especially those of us who are very good at keeping up walls against these forbidden situations. It's better for all of us if those walls stay up exactly where they are. No, you will not cross that line.. that is a wall. And it will not be crossed. I am not arguing over this. The wall stays. Wait.. where did that hole come from? Why is the secret door open?? Curse human biology. Curse it all. Now you're here, on my side of the wall. And the secret door is once again shut tight, but you are on the wrong side of it. What do we do with this?
While this emotional battle is happening in your own mind, on the outside you find yourself excessively giggling at stupid jokes and daydreaming as you stare off in the distance and listening to sickeningly happy love songs. Now you're just embarrassing yourself with the country love playlist. And now your ex/coworker saw you swaying your hips in the back room you were working in that morning. You've done it now. You've gotten yourself into this mess and now you can't get yourself out. In your own defense perhaps the other side didn't do anything to prevent this occurrence. But now you both find yourselves staring at each other in complete awe struck confusion and bewilderment.
On the inside... You are just a figment. Just like these walls and that secret passageway are figments of my imagination. I can think you right out of my mind and you'll only be a real person with no power over my emotions, and then these walls will go back to the way they were and we can all be happy. And for a moment you think that works, your walls are in tact, there is no loving feelings, all is good and safe and exactly how it is supposed to be. But it's not that way at all when you drift off into your fantasies and see them as this knight who's going to sweep you off your feet and keep you safe from all that is evil in the outside world.
It doesn't just go away. You can't force it to disappear. It would makes things so much simpler if that were the case. None of this growing pent up frustration. No more heartache.
And this is why we have walls. People around you may give you a hard time and tell you that you would be so much better off if you would just let your walls down... But they have no right to say that when they don't know what lies behind them. All the emotions that we are hiding behind them.
Love is painful. Love hurts. Love can destroy you from the inside out. Do not let it control you. Do not let it take away the things that you care about. Find the kind of love that embraces you and everything you stand by, walls and all. Without obstacles, without secrets, without frustration.
Find love that is there to nurture you. And act in kind.

The Crumbling Earth

It is the year three thousand. Much of technology has changed, while the people have stayed the same. The human race has been through plagues, wars, cities have been wiped out, countries have nearly starved to death, and yet, somehow the race survives. By some miracle they are still here. They have a will to keep going in the absolute worst conditions, keep warm in bitter cold, keep hydrated in dangerous levels of heat, fight off predators, build technologies beyond their ancestor's imagination. All to survive the elements. To keep their existence known in this world rather than be forgotten by the life that inhabits this earth with us. But the earth was not so resilient.

You awake in small dark cot. The rocking of the bed you lie on leads you to believe you are aboard a ship on the sea. Staggering as you lift yourself up, you see a door through blurry vision. Every step feels like dragging a stone around your ankle as you reach for the handle. The door swings open and you are greeted by bright sunlight and shouts of men and women dressed in dark brown and black clothing as they rush past your vision. Shock grips your heart. You have no memory of who you are or how you came to be here. Should you turn back and barricade yourself in this room until you feel land hit the walls? Where will you end up? Or do you fight your way to the side of this ship and commit a suicidal mission to escape into most likely shark infested waters that could be miles from civilization? Or perhaps start a mutiny and take control of this ship? Gripping your fists tightly to settle the shaking in your hands you march out of the room to find the captain of this ship and demand to know what you are doing here.
You are nearly knocked to the ground by other bodies bumping and pushing and rushing past you. You push forward to the opening across the hall from the door you came from, towards the bright light.
The trail of light brings you to a glass room, where stands a grey haired man in red. You approach him but before you can start a debate on the injustice of this possible kidnapping the view in your peripheral vision catches your eye. There is no land. No water. No.. nothing. Only the sight of distant stars and chunks of rock floating past the ship you stand within. You watch in horror just as another chunk of rock slowly passes you, and you see a swing set still embedded in the earth. Earth... These chunks were once earth. Now nothing more than floating space dibree.
Instinctively you run out of the room away from the captain, looking left to right, you see a flight of stairs. The stones that were once dragging along on your ankles have now vanished as you run barefoot up the stairs. Reaching the opening of the top, you crawl out on to black pavement. For a moment you believe that what you saw was just a projection, for this ship looks a lot like earth. But the idea is crushed when you see the distant galaxies in the distance reaching from underneath the edge of this small piece of earth. You now realize you are floating on a mechanical piece of what once was earth. This was a small town once, now a ship in space, holding it's inhabitants safely from the outside conditions. Looking in the direction this ship is flying, you are nearly blinded by the light of the sun.

Coming back to reality you realize you were once again living in memories of almost a month ago. The sound of your captain's voice droning on and on until the words become twisted and garbled in your mind and lose all voice at all. "Purple dragon six seven gardens... Will go with Joshua." He says looking directly at you. You make direct eye contact in surprise, but before you can ask further you are interrupted. "You two will go immediately to retrieve Brian from EX61009, and bring him back here to The Überlebende."
You look around for clues as to what was just discussed, to no avail. A tall stocky figured man with dark hair, green eyes and a bearded face walks up to you. "Are you coming?" He asks growing impatient.
"Uh, yeah." You respond and follow him as he stalks away, shaking the ground as he lets each step collide with the concrete below.

You take a small shuttle through space to a chunk of earth that has remained relatively in tact this past month it's been floating loose. On this chunk of earth there is 2 acres of land and a white house. Leaving the shuttle outside, you walk to the porch. Looking up you notice the contraption that was once a doorbell. Wires reach up, through a small window that leads into the house, those wires pull a metal bar up, and when released it falls to hit two metal bird cutouts, making a loud hollow sound echo through the house.
The door is unlocked. Joshua steps inside first, it is a small room, with one door out and another leading further in. It does not take long to find Brian, the curly ginger haired boy. This was his mother's home before she passed. He explains that he had to come back, one last time before it drifted too far in space to ever be found again. He had taken one the of the ship's shuttles to get here.
While Joshua speaks urgently to him, explaining that we have to leave this place, an old record player catches your eye. Or so it appears to be a record player. You step closer and realize it is technology beyond that of such time period. You press a red button, a holographic recording opens in front of you. A family playing outdoors. Screams of laughter fill your ears. This was taken before the earth crumbled.
The image cuts out, but there is still a woman standing next to it. At first you believe it is still playing, you look to Joshua and Brian, who do not seem to notice the figure's image in front of you. As if it is not really there, only you can see it. "Are you seeing this?" You ask. Joshua looks at you questioningly, "See what?"
Brian's blue eyes grow wide, but he does not look in the direction of the figure. The woman smiles. "There is a woman standing right there!" You tell them pointing in front of yourself at the figure.
Looking back to the two men standing there, Joshua continues to stare perplexed. Brian, however, you see his eyes focus on the figure, and sadness come across his face.
"That's my mother.." He says.
You realize she is a spirit, still attached to this record player, never able to move on. Just as this realization is clear, another figure, a woman with white hair and a red dress, appears feet away from the first, with a sickening grin on her face. The house begins to shake with anger. This second spirit was not as friendly.
Joshua turns to swing open the door outside to reach our shuttle, but the door was locked and could not be broken through. Instead you follow Brian as he opens the only other door to the stairs leading up to the unknown. The door closes behind you as you rush up the carpeted stairs. You believe that Joshua is right behind you, but when you look over your shoulder he is not there. You try to open the door you just came through, but it is locked like the last.
You think for a moment. Your eyes darting back and forth rapidly, you have very little time and you can hear Brian speaking with the first spirit. Something about almonds.. What could that mean?
Without wasting another moment on technicalities of whether your newly thought out plan will work, you run up the rest of the flight of stairs, to another room to find a window. By some miracle the old window opens and leads to the roof. Carefully you slip through the opening on to the slanted roof as the wind blows a cold chill through your clothing.
You find the courage to jump off the roof and roll on to the grass below. Bringing you back to the front door. When you turn the knob the door opens, as it swings wider you see Joshua holding his blaster, pointing at... you. The last thing you remember is a loud bang.

All is quiet until the ringing in your ear becomes louder and louder until you are unable to sleep peacefully anymore and a splitting headache grows stronger as you come to. You groan as you adjust your shoulders against the hard surface you find yourself laying on. A warm hand rests on your right shoulder. Your eyes flutter open to see Joshua standing over you, the interior of the shuttle around you. "You'll live." he says with a grunt. He releases your shoulder and stands up to walk back to the control panel of the flying shuttle.
"Wait!" You exclaim sitting up on the cold floor as your muscles ache in protest, you are barely able to get the word out through the hoarseness of your own voice, you don't recognize yourself speaking. Clearing your dry aching throat, you ask, "What happened?"
Without looking back Joshua replies, "You got in the way. Lucky for you my blaster was only meant to cause enough force to make the image dissipate, not enough to disintegrate a human body. Next time, try knocking."

You return back to The Überlebende. Your limbs beginning to loosen from the blast you received hours before.
The shuttle comes to a steady stop safely within the floating island that is your home, tugging along the the shuttle that Brian took to reach the house. Joshua emerges first from the shuttle, then Brian, and you follow close behind. "Go see the medic." Joshua states bluntly, making eye contact with you to be sure you understand it is an order. "Make sure there was no internal damage." You give a silent nod in reply as he walks away.
On your way to the medical office, a man and woman dressed in leather armory come stumbling your direction, having just come back from their own shuttle. As they get closer you see the blood staining their chests before they collapse to the floor. You rush to help them and call for the medic. The woman with long dark hair is gone but the man, coughing blood, speaks to you with a straining voice. "They are coming, the plague, it's here.." He trails off with one last breath leaving you bewildered.
The captain strides to you with his long jacket trailing behind him as he moves. "What happened?" He asks urgently. You cannot answer for you do not know what could have happened. Who is coming? What plague?
You open your mouth to speak when the woman and man take a deep breath and their eyes open wide, causing you to jump back in surprise as you watch their wounds through the tears in their armor heal completely. This is beyond any technology you have seen, no medic could ever bring back the dead.
The captain, looking just as surprised is speechless. A new threat arises, for the unknown here is a dangerous thing.

Certainty of What We Do Not See

  In a small patch of woods, a little grove not a quarter mile from the highway, sits a bench. The wood has become weathered along the edges from the seasons, taking on a dark grey hue where there was once almost naturally white wood.
  Drawing closer, as the saplings and wildflowers tug at your sides, you see the last hour of sun begin to come out from behind the clouds and bring into light the the wood of this bench for what it once was. The middle of the seat begins to glow with an angelic like presence from the sunset, making you feel safe, while growing more curious of this place.
  Your hand can almost reach out and touch it, the strokes of grain smooth under your fingertips. This was once important to someone special. You can't say why, you simply know, by the spiritual presence coursing through the confines of the trees.
  While contemplating the presence around you, something catches your eye you didn't think was there a moment ago. A pile of stones stands neatly stacked feet away from the bench. You turn to get closer, when you feel your footing pulled out from under you. You catch yourself on your hands and knees before your face can hit the earth. And there it is. Brushing away the leaves you make out a name in the aged stone plaque, and words of wisdom to guide you on the rest of your journey. "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."

Dark Summer Nights

It was a cool late summer evening on the streets of Bland Missouri. The moon shining as bright as the street lights that lit the quiet lonely road. This narrow road seemed a mile wide tonight, standing in the middle of it between the many antique shops that dapple the sides. They lie empty and lifeless, while filled with mannequins dressed in 1950's dresses and tin buckets sat outside the doors, hoping to draw in customers who can still remember the smell of fresh warm milk that once filled their brim.
The orange lights shown a glow over the black pavement and still water from the early morning rain. The dark shadows of the trees stretched over the road, reaching out for an unsuspecting wanderer to step too close, so he could then be engulfed by the blackness.
 

Dear Kit

People hurt, they caress your body with a knife of the purest silver and when they depart they leave you with that knife still throbbing in your chest, and words of love and promises still ringing in your ear. You think you will never again fall into false hope. When will you give up on this hopeless idea? What will become of you when your heart is broken for the last time?

Dear kit, sad naive dreamer. You must one day realize that people are only here with you for the pelt you can offer. They will fill your head with ideas that seem grande and beautiful. They will offer you warmth and safety from the cold world outside. Only so that they may nurture your body and soul before they skin you for all the beauty that you are. You will be left broken and alone with nothing left, not even the fur on your back to keep you warm.

You will say to yourself with the heavens as your witness, "Never again will I fall into the hunter's trap and be skinned alive and left for dead!" Yet again and again you let yourself believe you have found someone who will nurture you for all that you are, all that you may offer, without desire to tear it away from your flesh.

You believe you can love and be loved in return. But each time you find that you have less to offer. Each time your pelt is ripped away it comes back with less vibrancy, it returns with mats and fleas. You begin to hide away in the bushes, so that no one may see the scars of where you have been cut.

Do not give yourself anymore to those who only mean you harm. Go back to your home, away from hunters and traps and learn from these experiences. Grow hard and steady and build yourself from what they have left you as. Become strong and clever, so that you may never again be caught in their steel traps.

Let them become entrapped by your beauty and fierceness. That which they can only see from the outskirts of the forest, as you disappear like a shadow of a spirit. Live in the safe confounds of your woods, where there is much to be discovered. There are miles to be traveled. Protect yourself from the evil in this world, when it is a battle you cannot fight alone. You have not yet found your ally in this war.

And remember what your scars are there to remind you of, not to hold you hostage to memory, to guide you on a further path.

Dear Younger Me

This is written with the idea that we could some how, some day, reach back to who we once were and give words of advice that may make the years we know now were hard, easier.
It gets worse before it gets easier.
This is a harsh saying but it is so true in ways we may not understand yet. Dear younger me, our heart gets broken more than once in our teens. The cute rat tail boy chooses someone else after three romantic teenage months. His sister does just as much damage. The first kiss is awkward, but there's much to learn from it. We learn that letting go is the best thing we could ever do for the rest of our life.
There is a college student that we find attractive, but it doesn't work out. Due to different aspirations in life. By this time dad is gone. We get through it with a strong heart.
At eighteen we met someone who seemed like the perfect end to a fairy tale, that forever that everyone is looking for. There's so much we don't know about him at first. At this point it feels safe to say he will do the most damage to our teenage years. Next time there is any doubt about someone, we run. If they are ever cruel, ever controlling, ever say something against the things we care most about, they are not safe to have in our life. And be sure to squeeze a ketchup bottle as often as possible. If there is anything I might change at all, I would say break his heart five months earlier. It's not worth keeping contact. Or maybe I'm wrong, perhaps all things have their purpose.
Never try to impress those around you, they are not important.
Don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't wear, even if it's just an opinion.
It's okay to scream, whether there are people around or not.
Drive with the windows down and music loud, even if there are other drivers and it's an embarrassing song.
When the strange woman tells you that you are beautiful, you will want to think she's crazy and just saying what any girl wants to hear, even though she says she hears from god. She might be actually be right. That statement is going to be very important one day, thanks to our last heart break before we hit twenty.
Leave the people who don't prove loyal, or honest, and keep the friends that were always there even in the hard times.
Continue with the things that matter, leave behind the things that do not.
No matter how hard things get, or how it feels like the sun will never rise again, it will. Given time.
When you are driving alone with your thoughts screaming louder than the music, and you start to doubt life and this bigger picture, you think your faith is a lie, that there really isn't a god in this torture called life, take a deep breath and see what he has put in front of you. Sometimes it's a sunset, sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's something terrifying, sometimes it's something wonderful. As his children we rebel, and he takes great measures to remind us he is always there even when we don't see him. And no one is ever going to have the knowledge to persuade you to see otherwise, even when you doubt, if someone argues you will argue that he is true and faithful, because you are faithful to him. To the end. Those people who try to turn you against him will become angry, they are stubborn but they know not how you could ever be so stubborn to believe in a higher power that doesn't exist. What they don't know yet is that he does exist, and that they simply don't have the sight to see him yet. If they grow angry, let them throw their tantrum as you remain calm and always logical. They are angry because they want what you have but they can't understand it right now.
And finally, make more wishes with dandelions.
-Aspiring Photography, Lily

Happy Easter!

Easter is always a special time in my family. We have our basic traditions. Coloring eggs, lots of chocolate, and hunting for eggs after breakfast.
Back when Daniel and I were little, my dad would always hide the eggs we had colored, every year, without fail. He would hide some easy ones, and some not so easy ones. He would follow us around and give us a hint if we were close.
We always found it funny though how quickly he would forget where he hid all the eggs! We almost never found all of them. Why just last summer I found a three or four year old Easter egg stowed away in the shop. It was past the point of rotting already, it was just dust.
My dad always had special places he would hide the eggs too, so we had a few ideas where to look. In the trees, by the trampoline, there was always one in the gutter. Now that he's gone, Daniel and I try to uphold his traditions for the younger kids, with a few of our own twists.

We still colored eggs. The kids made all kinds of pretty colors and stuck stickers all over them when they were dry. We took the special crayons that keep the egg white when you write designs and put it in the dye. Using the crayons we made what we call, Scribble Eggs. We wrote all over the eggs, scribbling over every inch, and then placed them in the die, coming out with interesting abstract patterns. It's also tradition to write the name of your crush on one of your eggs every year. You can imagine who's name I wrote down.

On Easter morning Daniel and I got up early while the kids were at sunrise service to hide all six dozen colored eggs. Daniel took the north half of the house, I took the south half. Daniel hid two eggs on the roof for a laugh. I hid one in the storage mailbox in the garden. I attempted to hide one on the edge of the tree house, but a sickening crack as I was climbing down ended that brilliant plan. Daniel hid one in the cat's litter box in the shop. He also hid two eggs in the chicken coop, where the chickens promptly sat on them.
The kids got home just as we were finishing up with three eggs. Once they had eaten we took them out and waited. There were quite a few easy ones we left in plain sight for Juliet to find, then there were more complicated, clever ones for the older girls. Juliet ran and screamed and giggled over every egg she found in the grass and in the flowers. Georgianna took finding eggs very seriously, as she does with most things. Annaliese saw it as a sport and wanted to find every egg.
Annaliese was not brave enough to stick her hand under either of the chickens to get the colored eggs that Daniel had hid in the nest boxes, but Georgianna had no fear in grabbing it from under them. I was proud.
At the end of the day, I feel sad that I can't share these memories and traditions with my dad now that he's passed, as well as wishing he could see how much we have grown in these few years. The kids have gotten so big and smart, Daniel looks more like him every day, and I know I am not the same girl I was. I like to think he would not be surprised at all. He would say he knew who we would become all along.

Georgia, Atlanta!

I went on my first flight, ever, to Georgia Atlanta last week to see my dear boy! He is working on an engineering degree at Georgia Tech.
The flight was amazing, except for being in the absolute back row with no window, but for my first time on a plane, it was great.
My plane landed Friday afternoon, the airport was huge, I had to walk for half an hour before finding him at baggage claim. It was like a movie scene when the crowd of people in front of me dispersed to reveal my boy waiting for me. I will admit I stopped and stared for a split second, thinking to myself, "He didn't have a beard last time I saw him.." It was most definitely him without a doubt though. It was difficult not to run the few yards towards him, but with my carry on bag clunking behind me and my bag jumping and bouncing against my hip, running would, in the least, not been very graceful.
It seemed to me it took forever to get near, I could not make my way across that stretch of tile floor fast enough. When I did, the first thing I did was say, "You grew your beard out!" He laughed and asked, "Is that a problem?" I wrapped him in my arms and simply said no before I kissed him quick.
We spent Friday at his aunts house, where I was spending the weekend. They were two wonderful women. Philip and I cooked dinner together that evening, we made pasta with Alfredo sauce and broccoli. The pasta kept boiling over, until he told me to 'micro manage' it, until it was done. It turned out great.
After dinner we dressed up, I wore a black lacy dress with a strong red lipstick, and he wore his white button shirt, the very same he wore the night we met. Being Halloween weekend, there were lots of costumes at the dance, my favorite being a girl dressed as Jayne Cobb. I enjoyed talking and dancing with the different people, I felt like a foreigner, in an exciting way. I did however, make an enemy of the teacher of the dance that night. He was very arrogant about his way of teaching. Every group has their own version of dancing, their own quirks, I am used to mine. He loudly announced to the three hundred people at the dance that he would not tolerate anyone doing a rock step, which is the most important step in dancing where I was taught, so it was insane in my mind to ban it. I ignored the teacher and followed the lead, some men were new and only wanted to follow the teacher, while others had been used to East Coast like I was, making a rock step. After a couple rotations, a tall guy who had been dancing for six months, was attempting to show off, little did he know I had a year and a half on him. While I am not particularly proud of being a competitive show off, I took him on that night. I made a fancy little step, and ended on a very dramatic rock step, making a good stomp on the ground. He laughed and said I was making him look bad and he was getting judging looks. The next thing I knew the teacher was looking right at me, yelling even with the microphone on him, to all three hundred people, about how awful rock step was, how there was a reason he didn't do rock step, and we should not question it, just do it. I laughed and rolled my eyes in his face, then turned to my partner and said he was a little full of himself, my partner agreed. Just a little.
After teaching was over, I was claimed by my boy and we danced through the night, among the very large crowd, feeling very tightly packed.
Saturday morning, I was kidnapped by Philip's aunts before he woke up, and taken to breakfast. I also got to see a silver shop. The most intriguing pieces I saw were a silver spoon with a intricate Koi fish pattern, and cuff links with real baseball and golf ball embedded in silver. When I got back, after his aunts had left and he heard me singing Stiff Upper Lip in the other room as I thought he was still asleep, we got dressed and went to Piedmont Park in Atlanta.

Piedmont Park, Atlanta, GA

It was absolutely beautiful. The weather was perfect. We walked for miles, catching the tail end of a farmer's market, where a coffee shop called The Blue Donkey gave us both the last of some interesting tasting coffee. We walked by a beautiful lake, played in the trees, bantering like children. We even raced each other across a stretch of field. I asked him what he would say to racing, he said let's go. Halfway across the field he asked how do we know when to stop, I said when we hit pedestrians. Fortunately we managed to avoid that, and stopped at a big tree and just talked further. We walked again until we came to a bench with a view of the lake, we stopped there for a time, before heading back to the car to get back to his aunt's house.
His aunts took us to a fancy Greek restaurant, where I tried octopus for the first time, which was quite good. I also took the time to give his aunts the gold filled bracelets I had made as a thank you for letting me stay with them.
When we got back that night we watched Jurassic World, around eleven at night Philip had to carry me up to bed.
Sunday we spent at the Lynox mall. Philip was well rested and feeling very silly, making fun of the strangely posed mannequins and trying on various hats that we found in shops. It was nice to be indoors, as it was pouring rain most of the day. We must have walked miles, up and down all over the mall just laughing and joking and having fun. We tried cherry ice cream from a little shop, which he thought was too heavy on bourbon.
At the mall we found a jacket and a hat for Philip, and he got me a neutral colored beanie hat he liked.We had fun looking at all the different shops, like the little room by the door selling entirely socks. My favorite were the sonic the hedgehog socks.
When we got back we walked to a pizza restaurant, through the pouring rain. The pizza was excellent! We were walking back through the streets of Atlanta, it was still pouring rain, each of us with an umbrella. Philip started singing various classic rock songs, and I eventually chimed in, until we were singing so dramatically it's a wonder we didn't have someone yelling at us.
The songs we sang in the rain were;
Problem Child
Somebody To Love
All Along The Watchtower
Who Are You
Rock and Roll Band
It's A Long Way To The Top
Let There Be Rock
At this point I tried to be romantic, knowing we would be back at his aunts soon and he would be going back to his dorm. So when he was looking to cross the street, I pulled his jacket sleeve to bring him into me and kiss him, but it scared him more than anything, thinking something was wrong.
And finally, just as we were getting back I started us off with,
Don't Stop Believing
"Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going anywhere."
"Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit, he took the midnight train going anywhere."
We got back to his aunts, watched James Bond, and I walked Philip outside so he could get a ride back to his dorm.
Monday morning I went to the airport, got my seat assigned, and wandered around for a while, ending up with six shot glasses for my family and a friend. All of which had Atlanta or Georgia written on them, each one in a different design.
I had a great time for my first trip out of state, first plane flight, first time really being on my own before and after being with Philip. I will say though it feels good to be home, especially with the time change jerking me around, between jet lag and daylight savings time ending while I was in Georgia, it has taken over a week for me to get back to normal sleep schedule.
However, I hope to fly again soon.

New Day, New Beginning

One year and four months ago, July 19th 2014, I went with a group of friends to the Casa Loma Ballroom in St. Louis. We usually did this on a Friday night, but tonight was special as we were going on a Saturday to see the great Miss Jubilee. This was my first time seeing her perform, as it was for the other girl in our group, but our guy friend raved about how amazing she was ever since we agreed to go.
We danced the night away. I had started the evening wearing my high heeled boots, but by the end of the night changed into my more suitable red converse.
Nearing the last few hours of the night, I retreated to our table in a dark corner of the room. The girl in our group however was still going strong asking every guy in the big ballroom who looked like he knew what he was doing to dance. She continued trying to convince me to ask someone to dance, and would point out guys for me to ask. But I was content in my dark corner watching the other dancers and contemplating how I could improve.
I was thinking so hard I almost didn't notice her come up to me once again, or the boy standing next to her in a white button up shirt and cargo pants. I looked up smiled in politeness, assuming this was a friend of hers. Because why would anyone drag a complete stranger over to meet me sitting here in the dark corner of the room? Only to find out she was that kind of person.
She smiled rather slyly as she looked at me and looked at him. Finally to break the silence the boy looked at me and asked if I would like to dance. My heart fell hard like a rock into utter embarrassment, and ached for what my friend was doing to this boy. She was always very outgoing, too much so in my opinion.
I stood up and took his outstretched hand and let him walk me to the dance floor. As soon as we were out of ear shot of my friend I apologized for her. "Is that her name?" He asked, seeming to simply laugh it off.
I planned for the end of the song to say it was nice meeting him, and to walk away before he had a chance to awkwardly run away and never speak to me again in this life time. To my surprise, it didn't quite go the way I thought it would that night..
When the song ended, I looked at him smiling, I said it was nice meeting him, but before I could walk away, he asked, "I don't suppose you would be interested in dancing to this next slower song?"
My heart stopped and leapt simultaneously. Without saying a word I nodded and took his hand. I barely left his side again that entire night. He was entering his senior year in high school, he wanted to be a doctor. The unfortunate drawback was the music was so loud we couldn't always hear what the other said.
One of the greatest memories made that night however, was during the band's break they played Moves Like Jagger. And we had more fun than ever embarrassing ourselves in front of each other, without care that we would make a bad impression.
 I was wearing my hair tied back in a pony tail that night, but my bangs still swept in front of my face and tickled my nose, once I went to push it back behind my ear again that night but he reached out and brushed the lock of hair out of my face himself. I had never been so head over heels before, and such a simple gesture could make my heart soar. I still remember clearly the feeling.
I had begun thinking, that if we parted without way of communication tonight, we would likely never see or hear from each other again. I was beginning to work up the courage to ask him for his phone number, so that we could keep in touch and maybe see each other again. Before I did, nearing the time of the night he had to leave, he took both my hands in his and I took a deep breath as he did, he looked at me with his dark eyes and said there was one thing left to do, he wanted my phone number. With great excitement I gave it to him and watched him leave.
Before the night was over, he texted me. The exact first text we shared with each other;

Hey this is philip, your dance partner, if this is lily and i actually got your number right please tell me so i can know, thank you

 Why yes, this is Lily. Your dance partner. ;)

 We haven't gone a day without talking to each other since that night. And we have been seeing each other every chance we get. About four months ago, June 19th, we officially started dating, after I finally wkrked up the courage to ask him, in none other than that same Casa Loma ballroom.
I've been told by many people, over and over again, that he's good for me, that I am happy around him, I am a different person when he's around. I don't really need to be told though, I always knew this was true. All I can hope is that I do as much for him as he has done for me.

Taken October 31 2015, Atlanta, GA

Vanelope Von Shweetz

This year for Halloween I dressed as Vanelope Von Shweetz, from the Disney movie, Wreck-it-Ralph. She is my favorite character, for her bravery and witty humor.

To make the costume I found an blue sweater from Wal-Mart, and stitched pink ribbon on the pockets, as well as thread it through the hood.

The brown skirt is from a thrift store, it was originally very long. Because I ran out of time, the morning of Halloween my mom finished it. She cut the bottom half with shaped scissors to make it look like a candy wrapper, and sewed it to the waist, making it two layers.
I found a great video tutorial for the leggings, in which you spray paint white leggings. I put the leggings over and old pool noodle covered with a trash bag to make it slip on easier, then wrapped tape around the leggings. The purple stripe is fabric paint.

For the candy hair pieces, I found a wonderful website, Delish Beads, with all kinds of resin candy pieces, including gummy bears, peppermints, hearts, and tiny dots. I attached them to hair clips and mini bobby pins.
I wore my black combat boots along with this outfit.
Everyone at work adored it, though while trick or treating for my first time, with friends, only one house recognized me, which made my night perfect just with their reaction.

My guy friend from work asked for these pictures of me holding his friend's five pound wooden sword, for a few laughs at the opposite prop. I had a lot of fun swinging it around while another friend took pictures.

Inspirational

Day 21, Faceless Self Portrait
This was new to me, but I like the idea of the photographer behind the camera.

Day 22, Inspirational
What can be more inspirational than a sleeping kitten? So peaceful, so blissful. Here lies Fuzzball, on the couch on a Saturday afternoon.








 Day 23, Patterns
I've always noticed patterns in everything around me, they lie in the floor, the ceiling and every object around us.

Red Worn Shoes

 Day 17, Technology
I often listen to my music on my phone, without it I would be left with my thoughts running off on their own, without any kind of control. Music helps me concentrate on what I need to be thinking about.

Day 18, Your Shoes
My red converse have seen it all, an entire year of my life. From my doctor who cosplay, to getting caught in the pouring rain, more than just once.

Day 19, Something You Want
I always want the chill of autumn, the bright colors, but without the changing seasons it wouldn't be the same, so I enjoy it while it's here.

Could Never Live Without

 Day 13, Can't Live Without
I could never live without my pocket knife, the first pocket knife I ever owned. My dad got it for me on one of his trips, to see his friends from the airforce.

Day 15, Silhouette
I am not familiar with taking silhouette photos, but I liked this photo with the intricacy of the pieces to this object.

Day 16, A Good Habit
I sprained my wrist over the summer, last July. Although It's healed, It may never be as strong as it was, meaning I have to wrap it with athletic tape to keep it secure when I do stunts. It's become habit for me to do this every swing night.

Something Old, Something New

Day 8, Routine
 It has always been routine, since I was a kid to get kettle corn at Old Iron Works in Meramec Springs Park. Where they reinvent what things were like a hundred years ago. We got to continue this routine last Saturday.

Day 10, Childhood Memory
I still remember clearly how these gates would open, slowly like they were opening the passage to a great castle.
This is where my dad worked, the reason I was born in the house I was born in, why I live in this town, and have made the life I live now. This is how I learned what it means to give your work your all, and your respect.



 Day 11, Something Blue
Blue happens to my favorite color ever, so it wasn't difficult to find something to photograph. I put my ear buds on my blue high top converse, two of my favorite things.