As Real As It Gets

Telling me to try harder is like telling me I can get to the moon if I drive my car fast enough.
My answer is still the same.
I'm not you. You have to be world-class socially awkward and unpopular to even begin to come close to how low on the food chain I am, kid...

---

She watched them as she sat among them. Occasionally a kind soul or two would attempt to open for her an easy way into the conversation, but each time she accepted their indirect offer, she found she had no common ground with anyone there, and the room would fall into an awkward silence for half a minute or so.

She soon gave up trying.

Glancing often at her watch, she counted the minutes till she could excuse herself politely.

When that time had come, she got up and left the table quietly. It wasn't hard, they were all preoccupied. Somehow, she was more glad than disappointed that the conversation didn't pause when she did so. At least it meant that she wouldn't have to face a group of people who were merely trying to politely fulfill their duty as "acquaintances".

When she had reached the door, she heard a voice call her name amongst the continuing conversation. She inwardly steeled herself and turned around, smiling in as convincing a manner as she could manage.

"What is it?"

He returned the smile with a particularly strange one of his own, which she assumed meant he had seen through her act already.

"What, leaving so soon?"

She'd planned on him asking this question. He was too nice to do anything else. "Yes, I have a headache," she said, meeting his gaze squarely, almost daring him to call her out on her bluff. She knew he wouldn't, though, he was too cordial for that.

He licked his lips, and she could see it in his eyes; he'd seen through the pathetic lie immediately. She expected nothing less of him. Her excuse wasn't even an excuse, really, it was just formality.

"Alright," he replied. "I hope you join us again soon," he added, as sincerely as he could.

She smiled warmly, as though she really meant to take him up on his offer, but the both of them knew she wouldn't. As she turned the doorknob and passed the doorway, he returned to the group, and she heard him make no mention of her departure.

As she took one last glance at the group before she left, she silently thanked him for letting her escape in peace.

Your Perfect Woman

If I ran a matchmaking agency, it'd go something like this...
Although I think I'd run out of business in the first day.
Actually I wrote this a while back because I was frustrated with the standards some guys have for women ("What, you mean you're not perfect too?!")...
Moral of the story being: If you want THE stereotypically perfect woman, you'll probably have to settle for a fake one.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He sits across the table from me, eyebrows knitted, evidently sick of searching all his life for The One and failing miserably. Oh, poor fellow.

I smile and open my laptop.

"Okay, so run me through your list of criteria," I begin, fingers poised over the keyboard.

He licks his lips. "She's got to be hot, obviously."

I begin typing. "Nothing new."

"Long hair, long legs, long eyelashes."

"Go on."

"But shorter than me, of course." A rather unsettling grin creeps onto his face. "Oh, and she's got to be a C cup at LEAST."

I purse my lips and mumble, "Wow, that's deep."

Unfortunately he hears me and glares at me, but he continues anyway. "And she has to have lots of stamina. You know what I mean."

I make a face behind the laptop.

Leaning back, he looks out the window. "I want her to be submissive. I can't stand a woman talking back to me."

"Of course, sir. I'm sure she's got to be the perfect woman."

He bends forward and looks me in the eye. "You gonna help me find a hot chick or not?"

"...Actually, I do have the perfect woman for you. Please excuse me for a couple of minutes."

He smirks cockily and puts his hands behind his head. "I'll be waiting right here."

---

I rap on the door five minutes later, holding a blow-up doll of epic proportions. Or maybe epic measurements. It doesn't matter.

He flings open the door and practically leaps on her. (Fortunately I step aside in time.)

"Ohoho she's real fine... WAIT."

I grin innocently. "Pardon me, sir, aren't you happy with our selection? She's perfect, you know."

"But she isn't real!" He squeezes her in a rather immodest place, almost as if to prove his point.

"Exactly. Always a pleasure to leave a customer satisfied, sir."

I smile politely and show him the bill.

Nothing

He walked on her right, a calculated distance between them, and they remained quiet throughout. She chanced a sideways glance at him, and he looked stiff, as though he'd much rather be elsewhere. The expression looked rather odd on his face, given how she'd become used to their chatting and laughing in the past.

Sighing almost inaudibly, she continued the awkward walk with him in silence, hoping they'd reach their destination soon.

Just then, a young boy of about six appeared out of nowhere, presumably running to play a game with his friends, and bumped rather roughly into his leg. Surprising her, he bent down and beamed warmly at the kid, telling the boy rather amiably to be careful. He told the boy to run off, but not before he gave the kid's shoulder a friendly pat.

She watched him calmly, and marveled at the sight. Now that's the boy I remember...

He looked up at her, almost as though he had forgotten the awkward silence earlier. "You're smiling to yourself. A penny for your thoughts?"

She shook her head lightly. "It's nothing."

You Again...

This is the first part of a story Clio is working on. She was wondering on a long car ride what it would be like to reignite an old friendship after a long time. It is inspired by a number of things.

1. A story of the way Clio's friend's parents reunited

2. Her friendship with some special friends who will remain anonymous (you know who you are)

3. A secret between her... and herself ;)

As usual, Clio thanks you for reading this, and she hopes you will continue on visiting The Three Muses. She is hoping to have a thanksgiving story up by tomorrow.

It had been years since she’d seen him. She couldn’t believe that they met in that way. How could she have gotten so lucky as to run into him that particular afternoon?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was merely walking past a Starbucks when she glanced through the window. Busy running errands, she barely paused to see who was inside the coffeehouse on that chilly fall afternoon. However, on that day, someone inside caught her eye. Halting abruptly in her steps, she turned to enter the shop.

A young man had his back turned against her, apparently waiting for his drink. She studied him briefly. He was lean, yet slightly muscular, and his dark hair was slightly messy, probably from the frosty wind blowing outside.

“Liam? Is that you?” She inquired of the young man who looked so liked a friend of hers in high school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liam spun around, completely taken aback. Who was she who knew his name? He didn’t recognize her, not straight away at least. Upon examination, he identified the young woman who stood in front of him.

“Claire? Wow, it’s been ages.”

She smiled at him, instantly igniting their old friendship.

Snow White, kind of...

Richard - on his high horse as always - rode slowly and sexily down his usual route. He was getting bored of all his twenty-five wives in the palace, and he would have liked a bit of variety in his mundane life.

Just then, he stumbled across what appeared to be a funeral amidst a thicket of bushes. He would have snorted and continued on his way, if not for the fact that he had caught a glimpse of a particularly beautiful woman lying in the open casket.

He descended from his horse and walked over to the (gasp) vision of pure beauty lying there. Upon closer inspection, he realised there were seven midgets obscuring the view.

Proceeding to shove two of the oddly short men out of his way, he knelt beside the casket and caressed her silky black cropped curls. She looked so beautiful, being dead and all, and he couldn't help himself.

He felt a sudden stirring in his gut, and a strong necrophiliac urge overtook him. He bent down to press his lips upon hers, and the seven dwarves collectively inhaled sharply.

However, the moment his lips brushed hers, she sat up, coughing, and a slice of an apple fell from her mouth. He immediately stood up and looked her up and down for a few seconds.

Her eyes fluttered upon, and her gaze settled upon the tall, equally dark-haired prince. "Oh, darling, have you come to rescue me from the curse?"

He frowned, and the beautiful lady looked quite taken aback.

Drawing his sword, he proceeded to plunge it into her stomach. As she fell to the ground, lifeless, he caught her in his arms, and smiled dashingly.

"I like her better this way."

---

I'm sorry, that was so random.
For the life of me, I've never understood why any prince would kiss a dead woman.
Just saying...

The Lady in Red

He knew it was his last chance. Should he mess up this case, he would be dishonorably discharged from his unit. The detective strove to hear what the only pair in the bar was speaking about. While he was getting up and inching slowly toward the counter, his suspect caught his eye. The suspect shifted in his seat, blocking the investigators only opening into the couple's conversation. Rising, the detective stumbled to the bartender, pretending to be drunk.

“Another round for me,” he slurred, keeping his guise.

“Are you sure that's a good idea, sir?” The bartender asked, raising his eyebrow, “this is your fifth round.”

Still slurring his speech, the detective replied, “of course!” Nodding furiously, he stumbled blindly back to his seat.

While waiting for his drink, the detective looked around, observing his surroundings. It was winter. A cold, brisk wind blew in the street, making them unusually quiet for the average late night in 1928 Chicago. The bar was dark and empty. There were only three people in it, the detective, his suspect, and his beautiful companion. The detective glanced over at his suspect. The man was dressed well, his clothes pressed neatly and his maroon hat covering his eyes suspiciously. His companion was a gorgeous lady dressed in a crimson satin dress. Her silky, golden hair was curled fashionably. Although she appeared pretentious, snobbish and superficial, he tried really hard not to gape at her striking figure. Flicking his eyes back to the man, the detective noticed that he seemed rather nervous.

He noticed that the couple had been conversing in hushed tones for close to an hour now, occasionally stealing glances at the supposedly drunk detective. While waiting for the right moment, the detective reviewed his case in his head for the hundredth time. He was an undercover cop trying to discover the identity of the top criminal in Chicago. If he got lucky, he would even be able to arrest him. His suspect was said to be an expert in disguise. Studying the curious figure with the scarlet lady, he could understand why.

Suddenly, movement broke his train of thought. To his horror, the detective realized he had forgotten to continue his drunken stupor during his contemplation. The suspect whipped his hand out of his pocket and shot the detective in the side with a small 9mm pistol. Crumpling to the ground, the detective grabbed his side, desperately trying to slow the bleeding. An intense, stabbing pain shot through his body.

Several mysterious occurrences happened next. The lady in red, rather than running and screaming, rose to her full height and smirked at his collapsing figure. Glancing at her, the bartender, a young man in top form, turned away quickly and began minding an already very clean row of beer mugs. He appeared to be simply terrified of the scarlet lady.

“Hello, detective.” Signaling to her companion, she enunciated in a beautiful British accent. “Bring the poor man a seat.”

An epiphany struck the detective. The answer had been staring him in the face the entire time, literally. Whispering hoarsely, he forced the realization from his lips.

“You're it! You're the criminal I've been hunting for.” Her impeccable Queen's English made his New Jersey accent he had had since he was a little boy suddenly sounded harsh and grating to their ears.

“Now why would you say that, my dear detective?” Picking him up and dropping on a hard wooden stool, the detective’s original suspect placed his gun against the detective's back hostage style.

“I can’t let you go now that you know my little secret, can I?” The detective met her cold blue stare with an equally dark one.

“How did you do it? How did you fool so many people into believing these crimes were committed by someone else?”

“Elementary, my dear detective. I merely planted enough clues as to point it to someone else. As the police force has pointed out, I am a master of disguise. Besides, no one ever suspects a woman, especially a beautiful one. Now that I’ve answered all your questions, we’re done here.” She gestured to her bodyguard, as the detective guessed her companion was.

“Finish him off.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is a story Clio wrote for school. She was to look at a picture (she would tell you what that picture was if she remembered) and write a story based on it. She wanted to try her hand at a mystery/detective story, and she dearly hopes you like it.

The 7th Day

EDIT: Note(foreword, whatever, blah, random things i have to say)

Yeah this is one of my longer stories and I am rather thankful that I managed to blast it out in one day(and a few hours) but I suppose it needs work and I should've done more with it before stashing it here in the euphoric sense of achievement I felt after completing it.

After reading it through I realised I really need to work on my punctuation. Its absolutely atrocious. Or maybe I just need a brilliant editor who will take the time to punctuate stuff for me properly. Right now I'm a little too scared of messing it up, (though actually the coherency is quite affected as of this moment) to do anything about the punctuation but I'll give it a fix sometime in the near future. I hope it didn't spoil the story for you!

****************************************************

It had been one week since I got the news. I still hadn't gotten used to him being gone, and I wouldn't for a long while. Every now and then I think of him, and it hurts. Just like that, our perfect little world fell to pieces, and there was nothing I could do about it. We had finally been able to afford a place of our own after years of slogging away deep into the night. It was supposed to be the start, the first step on the road to our dreams and our happily ever after.

Life is cruel sometimes.

It was an accident as they like to call it. A horrific one, 11 cars piled up in the middle of the freeway. 17 injured, 3 dead. I never read the newspaper reports, and I couldn't step out of the house for three days, but I still remember the face of the police officer at the door, the icy fear that gripped my heart.

"Mrs Parker?" He said. "Sophie Parker?" He shifted hesitantly as I nodded, "I'm really sorry.."

The way my world plunged into darkness.

But I had to move on. Or at least try to. I brought Ally out to our backyard to play that day, she was only four and I hadn't and wouldn't and just couldn't tell her. Daddy was far away, I said. He wouldn't be coming back so soon, yes he still loves you very much. She said she understood and gave me a brilliant smile, and it took all my strength not to tear up as I returned the smile.

September 10th, it was to be her fourth, and her first without him. The first of many, but she wouldn't miss him that day I told myself. So I had decked her out in her favourite red dress and set her out with a new shiny set of sand tools in the sandpit in the backyard. The autumn wind bit at our heels that day but she didn't mind; and so I didn't either.

It was a beautiful day, the leaves were golden, and the slight haziness to the air just served to make the soon approaching sunset more picturesque. The wind picked up again, and the dead leaves stirred themselves once more, and soared through the air in a kaleidoscope of colour.

Just then a cloud went over the sun and something went wrong. The leaves fell to the floor, dead again, but the breeze kept blowing, no longer nourishing. No, it was a winter wind, powerful and vengeful seeking to claim and to take; the beauty of the autumn day spoiled and corrupted. A lone church bell tolled in the distance and I felt an icy panic grow within me. Ally didn't notice. The bell sounded again, bringing back memories of a different time. Memories, from a place so far past it seemed like another life.

Chinese bells, funeral bells.

The thought shook me, death was the last thing I wanted on my mind. But yet it was all around, the cold, the finality of it all. Suddenly it struck me of how alone we were. The yard seemed impossibly large, and the fences around it unnecessarily high. Like prison walls they loomed. And yet the yard grew ever more expansive. There was not a human to be heard. The bell tolled again, and once again my mind flew back to the time before and I heard the voice of my long dead grandmother speaking.

"The Chinese say that on the seventh day, the soul of the dead will return....to make a final visit"

Visions, pictures flashed through my mind.

"If you spread talcum powder on the floor and see footprint traces the next day, then you will know your loved one has found their way home......"

Ah Girl tonight you must sleep with us and don't touch the food on the altar. Tomorrow also don't touch. Don't go out of the room until we tell you to okay?

Wah wah come look, Ah Gong came back last night, and he took the oranges we left him...

A strange mood had settled about the place, and I struggled to deal with the inexplicable flood of pictures from my past. Suddenly I noticed the yard had grown deathly still. The loudest sound to be heard was my own breathing, followed by Ally's erratic scraping of the sand.

Just then I heard a distinct crunch behind me. Not loud but distinct, like a footstep. On the edge, I spun around but I found nothing there. Trying to calm myself down, I sat myself next to Ally, and took in the structure she was building. A tower, or lighthouse. I couldn't tell.

Crunch

I jerked myself to my feet and looked around in futility, taking in the sparse grass, and high wooden slats. The safety of the house a million miles away.

Crunch

"Ally."

She looked up.

"Go inside, its time for your dinner soon." I said, trying to keep my voice even, watching her as she slowly gathered up her toys.

"Just leave them dear, I'll get them for you."

She turned for a second and looked at me with her big brown eyes. Is everything alright Mommy? I gave her a reassuring smile, and her mind at ease, she ran the distance up the yard, slamming the screen door behind her as she scrambled up to her room.

Now it was just me. Me and the yard. I didn't know what I was looking for or what made me stay, but then the wind stopped just as the cloud moved away from the sun, pouring light down on me. It was then that he stepped behind me and drew me close, holding me against him with his hands around my waist.

"John.."

"Shh..." he whispered into my ear, "don't try to turn around."

I sighed as he stood there and breathed deeply, once again taking in his scent.

"They didn't lie to me did they John."

"No no," he said, sadness pervading his voice. "They didn't."

I cried; in his arms and he held me tighter, comforting me slowly with his soft words as I slowly made my way back from the hurt, the raw hurt.

"Sophie, I'm going to have to go now." He paused. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you like I said I would, I hope you'll forgive me."

I tried to speak but I choked as the words for the moment eluded me, emotion forming an insurmountable lump in my throat.

"Give Ally my love will you, I'll miss her."

I began to cry again, and he hugged me like he always used to once more, pressing something to my hand before letting go.

As soon as he released me I turned around but I was alone again, and he was gone forever. In my right hand was a white rose, whiter than the snow, pristine and perfect.

And I do believe, that the heart does go on.

No One

She walked into the room and, to her pleasant surprise, she saw a rich chocolate cake placed invitingly on the centre of the table. Eyes shining, she took in everyone standing around the table.

"Ricia! You're just in time! We went ahead and bought the cake without discussing it with you, hope you don't mind."

Mind? Why would she mind? She hadn't expected anyone to remember her birthday - it would be expected given their track record - and any cake was better than none.

She rushed excitedly to the table, pulling out an empty chair and the birthday song began.

"Happy birthday to you,"

I can't believe they remembered for once! This is the happiest day of my life!

"Happy birthday to you!"

Perhaps I still mean something to them.

"Happy birthday to Linus..."

Wait, what?

"Happy birthday to youuuuuuu!"

Linus, the new boy, beamed proudly, and pausing to make a wish under his breath, he blew the candles out quickly and cleanly. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and it took her mind a while to wrap itself around the matter.

Linus grabbed the knife and cut firmly into the cake, and she choked back a sob of disappointment. Reaching for the door, she thought up an excuse to leave the room.

Oh, hey, guys, just going to take a piss.

As she stepped out, she realized it wasn't necessary at all.

No one noticed she left.

Just Friends

The party was going great. Inside, people were dancing and hanging out by the food, as teenagers always do. Outside, a fire had been started and was burning merrily. Caitlyn sat down by the fire to warm her chilly fingers. This is exactly what I needed after this week, a good time out with friends, with no worries.

“Hey Dylan, how are you?” Caitlyn smiled at the smartly dressed kid next to her. She hadn’t really spoken to him in awhile. Their friend circles were vastly different, but he was a nice guy.

The one thing Caitlyn really liked about winter was the snow. The sparkling, beautiful, peaceful, and perfect snow always seemed to make her day. However, there was none. Today was just cold… miserably cold, bitterly cold. She shivered in her thin cardigan. Although she had taken a special care to dressing tonight, she forgot to take into account the freezing temperatures. Dressed in a sheer lilac blouse and blue jeans, her favorite pair of black boots, and a light cardigan, she felt free and happy… until she stepped outside.

“I’ve been pretty good. Not so good sometimes, but pretty good nonetheless. You know how it is.” Dylan grinned wryly at her, showing his pearly whites.

Caitlyn raised her eyebrows briefly, and then laughed aloud. “I suppose I should.” She took a moment to stare at the fire. The flames danced brightly, flickering amber. She shivered again. I wonder what’s going through his head…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dylan scrutinized Caitlyn for a moment. She looked prettier than usual. It was obvious she had dressed more carefully than usual. For what reason, Dylan could not possibly fathom.

“And how have you been, Caitlyn?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He had unintentionally, but all too obviously broken her train of thought. He watched her shiver so slightly but uncontrollably. He felt the sudden urge to remove his warm coat and give it to her; she looked so cold. I can’t do that; people will think I like her. So what’s stopping me? He pondered the thought for a second.

“I’ve been doing pretty well so far, school’s tough, but it always has been.” Caitlyn tried desperately to warm her hands in the fire. “Oh, it’s freezing.”

That’s it. I don’t care what people think.

Dylan peeled his thick, warm coat off and draped it over her shoulders. With a warm smile he said, “I’m not that cold, you need it more than I do.”

Caitlyn was completely taken aback. They were in public, in the middle of a group of their friends. What was Dylan thinking? But the coat was too inviting. She gripped both sides and drew it close to her.

“Thank you.”

Clio apologizes for not writing for a long time. However, she has been busy with school and all the other wonderful things life has to offer (although it is not very apparent in her stories, Clios does have some sense of humor). This story is not finished (unless the readers want it to end here). Do comment and tell Clio what you think. Thank you for visiting The Three Muses.

~ Clio

Again And Again

Why ask for help if you don't even want it from the person you're asking?

---

Where on earth was Joseph? He hadn't been himself these past few weeks, and he was starting to worry her.

After looking around for a bit, she saw him sitting at a table by himself, and went over. Tapping him on the shoulder, she asked him gently if he was alright.

He remained silent for a while, and when he finally spoke, it was to utter one simple sentence. "No one cares about me."

Her gaze fell onto his hands, which were folded crudely in his lap.

"No one at all?" she questioned softly.

What she said seemed to have struck a nerve, as he glared angrily up at her. "If anyone cared, do you think I'd be like this today?"

She met his stare with a sad one of her own.

He continued, "Does anyone care? Does anyone ever ask me why I'm like this?"

Just because I'm not her doesn't mean you have to take me for granted, she thought with a trace of weariness.

"Has anyone even noticed I never sit with them any more?"

I have. Doesn't that matter to you? She remained silent, even as she mentally answered her own question.

Obviously not.

Waiting For The Rain

This is a tribute piece that I wrote. A tribute to a local hero during World War 2. Who fought for what he believed in until the very end. Lt. Adnan Saidi's story was I guess one that we all know, something during Total defence day this year made me want to research a little deeper and this is the product of it I guess. Sometimes I wish there was a better way of remembering historical events instead of trying to drill it into children's heads here until they simply don't care anymore. I guess most of us already know his heroics, how his heavily outnumbered infantry company fought hard against Japanese troops, tanks artillery, and planes just to buy the British soldiers a bit more time to retreat. And they did.

*********************************************************************

He crouched there, in the middle of the dense forest, in his little muddy foxhole. He listened to the crickets. It was early morning now, and dawn wouldn't be too far away. He clutched his rifle to him tightly, it was the only thing he could hold on to for now, his companions were a distance away, in their own holes in the earth. Watching, waiting for any warning signs.

They had left last night. The white folk. Ran back to the city, unwilling to stay in the damp. We aren't going to die here they had said, not for nothing. He clenched his teeth at their cowardice, then slowly released his anger. Keep calm he thought, it would do no one well to dull your senses with rage.

He listened out, for any footsteps, as he breathed slowly. He heard the rustle of the leaves, and felt the wind blowing softly on his skin. This was once a peaceful village he thought. He had come here before, to enjoy the tranquility. To help out his aunt and cousins wash their laundry, along the gentle jungle stream. Now the huts stood empty, the people gone, and the peace gone with them. However, in this rare lull in the ceaseless bombing, he again found the forest quieting. The trees, unmoving and resolute.

The enemy had come like a raging hurricane, sweeping everything before them. Nothing had been able to hold them back. It was pointless to resist, he recalled the white folks words, as they scampered away. But he couldn't, this was where he had lived, and if so be it, it would be where he died. He thought of his children, they would be safe away from this place, he would miss them. It was Valentine's day today, he realized, and he hadn't had a chance to wish Sophia so, since she had left ever so reluctantly with the kids, her headscarf blowing in the wind, her silhouette, still framed in his mind.

He knew then, that he would never see her again, and it pained him to think of her grieving. But she would have to be strong, he knew that she was, it was why he loved her so. Just as she had to be strong, so did he. His men were counting on him to lead him, and he would not, could not fail them. Let them come, he thought. We will be ready. Nearby he heard a rooster crow, and he watched the forlorn sun creep its way over the horizon. He looked upon it anew, with a sense of wonder and fear.

A shout rang out from his comrades, ringing out and shattering the silence, and they ducked low as the shells began falling upon them, tearing up the soil and shaking the once immovable trees like thunder. He spotted a flash of khaki coming up the ridge, took aim and fired. The man fell, and never got up again. This was it, there was no turning back now. He stood tall and gave the rallying cry.

Biar putih tulang, jangan putih mata

Death before Dishonour.

Advertising

Inspired by a conversation I had recently...

---

She stepped out of the changing room and did a 360-degree turn. "So, Mother, what do you think of this skirt?"

Her mother's eyes bugged out of her head, and she exclaimed, "Mercy, Felicia! That skirt is entirely too tight!"

Felicia patted her bum and smiled at her reflection approvingly.

"This, Mother, is called advertising."

Starlight

This is the first story I've written in a long while. It's been a tough couple of months for me creative-wise. But hey, not bad.

This story kinda came out of nowhere, I just found some quiet and thought of a story and setting came to me first. The characters just took on forms of their own. I initially planned it to be a harsher darker encounter, with the female lead considering suicide and such, but when it didn't really write itself out that way initially, I didn't try to make it and I just went along with it.

This actually took me about slightly less than 3 days to write(as opposed to my usual 20 min story, don't judge! They call it flash fiction for a reason, not just cause of the length), partly cause I'm distracted, partly cause I didn't really know where it was going and got stuck at several points.

I guess that means its slightly disjointed and if some parts don't totally make sense then sorry!

Still, I hope you enjoy it.

It's a story about understanding, struggle and that little ray of hope that sometimes just manages to shine its way through I guess.

Enjoy.

*****************************************************

Victoria ran out of her front door, leaving it open, the swirling maelstrom of emotion following her out, leaving its twisted trail behind as she slammed open the door to the stairwell and pounded her way up blind. Never, again, she told herself. Never.

7th floor, 8th floor, 9th, 10th, circling, thrashing her way upwards through the sea of red until she finally burst through the door at the 20th storey, the sounds of the eternal city instantly washing over her as the night sky opened up above. She ran out of momentum a few steps away from the door, gasping for breath as the cool air hit her lungs, and stumbled over to the edge, staring at the blaring noise from the traffic below her.

"So what brings you up here young lady"

The casual drawl startled her; vulnerable and raw, she spun around tensely. It was a man, his face full of stubble, on a plastic deck chair, gleaming white in the dim brown that was the roof. He leaned back into his chair and after drawing a deep breath from his pipe, unleashed a foul smelling cloud of smoke from his pipe.

She didn't know what to say,

"Stuff...I guess"

"Always is," he said sighing, "nobody just ends up here. Unless cos you're me of course."

Victoria stood there in silence as he sank into a silent depression, the quiet surface giving no hint of the turmoil that must have been within. Quietly he intoned, "Look up into the sky."

She looked up, above the city lights and light haze, and saw stars. Stars upon stars upon stars, twinkling, dazzling, winking stars. She looked away for a moment and saw the man had gotten up, his face now pale in the moonlight.

"Beautiful ain't it." he whispered, not pausing from his look into the heavens.

His eyes took on a faraway look, and she turned her gaze back to the depths of the galaxies as he softly breathed,

"Star light, Star bright

The first star I see tonight,

I wish I may, I wish I might,

Have the wish I wish tonight"

Suddenly she felt dumb. What was she doing there anyway. Guilt and confusion washed through her as she backed away instinctively.

"I'm sorry." she said, realising who the real intruder was.

He broke and regarded the girl gently once more, and as Victoria stared into his eyes she saw an understanding there; the sense that the soul considering hers had known, had been and had moved on. Feeling self-conscious she looked away and saw him smile.

"You're alright kiddo," he chuckled to himself; seeing her confused face, he stilled his laughter. "Just realise you ain't alone, and find your own space you know what I mean?"

She sighed for the first time that night, his words sounding hollow to her; it wasn't that she didn't know, but realising that fact didn't make her problems any easier to deal with.

He smiled knowingly.

"Oh but Victoria, I do know."

"How did you know...."

He slipped off his trench coat as he unfolded his six foot wings, and shook them free as they shone, gleaming white under the light of the moon, taking on a ethereal glow, brilliance unlike anything she'd ever seen.

"Even angels have their problems, just remember; you ain't as alone as you think."

Weariness all gone, he tilted his head upwards, looking out into the sky.

"Someone's thinking of you, don't forget that."

And with that he was gone.

******************************************************

*While writing this song I thought of the Drifters song Up on the Roof. It was a song that featured somewhat frequently throughout my childhood. (1962 oh gosh) It might've partly helped to inspire this story, the mood is kinda different, but hey I think its a pretty good song. Give it a listen I guess.

If not then thats enough drivel for now!

:/

-Ian

Fail of Epic Proportions

She walks over and takes the seat opposite him. "H-hey."

He nods barely perceptibly, and flips a page of his novel.

"The, uh, weather's pretty hot recently, right?" She mentally slaps herself as the words leave her mouth. Yeah, way to strike up a conversation, Jean. She can feel the cold sweat trickling down the back of her neck, and decides that this, perhaps, is not such a good idea.

Another nod. This time, her eyes rove from the floor to his own eyes, observing them as they follow the words on the page. Perhaps too obviously, but he never once looks up from his book.

"..."

"..."

"By the way, you don't like anyone, do you?" she asks nervously, attempting to sound light-hearted, merry, and more joking than serious, but failing miserably.

He flips the page. "Like as in how?"

She bites her lip. "Um, you know, like like? Like, uh... romantically?"

He finally closes the book and turns to face her, the hint of a smirk showing faint amusement. "Why, do you?"

"No! No, of course not. How could I possibly like anyone, right? Haha, ridiculous, ridiculous!" she replies, in too high-pitched a tone and far too quickly for her liking. This time, she mentally kicks herself in the butt. Idiot. This was definitely a bad idea.

He says nothing again, smiles a vacant and polite smile and opens his book again.

But this time, he looks up at her, and he seems to look right into her. The smile changes from a blank one to a enigmatic and knowing one, and she gulps.

"Uh, I should be going now," she says, half-jumping straight out of her chair and dashing off.

He watches her leave out of the corner of his eye. She is too fun to mess with.

Isn't that a shame

And for some reason this sounds oddly familiar...

---

He looked up from his phone at the deep groan that interrupted his game of Solitaire. After a brief second of observing her, he looked back down and grinned.

"What's up?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

She remained slumped face-down on the table. "I didn't get to see him today."

"...Well, isn't that a shame," he said, not bothering to hide his sunny grin.

The Cute One

She studied him from the back as they stepped on the bus not quite together. He wasn't exactly tall, or built like an athlete but he sure acted like it anyway. Her heels clicked hollowly against the floor as she spied a seat ahead. A seat.

He smiled wryly as he saw her head towards it and then stop, not willing to sit and let him play the macho tower of strength.

"Its alright, you can sit. I'm sure you must be quite tired," he quipped, knowing that it would make her feel like doing the opposite.

She shot a look at him over her shoulder. As if she was made out of glass, she thought, she could hold her own thank you very much. But she was wearing heels, and the temptation was too great so she sat down.

"Thank you, yes I am." she said, smiling sweetly back at him, sliding not so effortlessly into the seat, her heels clattering awkwardly against the floor. Oh she hated those things.

He looked at her for a while, that perfect smile still on his face, and looked away. She was sure he was laughing ever so slightly in his head.

They made small talk as the bus journeyed on its way forward, dancing and probing each other through their conversation, not once did he miss a beat, and he seemed unfazed and unconcerned by any stumble she made.

Just then an old lady got onto the bus, spotting her immediately she rose to give her seat away.

"You'll lose your balance," he told her, his eyes sparkling as he did. "someone else would've given up a seat, you needn't have."

Before she could retort the bus started up quickly again, and she found herself falling backwards. As everyone else on the bus except him swayed and grabbed the hand-grips tightly, he seized her hand smoothly and pulled her back onto her feet before she could fall.

Instead of issuing another effortlessly hopefully charming remark, as she regained her composure she instead saw him withdraw his hand quickly and look down to one side sheepishly, the picture of the suave, strong smooth-talker oddly incomplete.

Interesting, she thought.

***********************************

I usually base my characters off people and a few random ideas in my head. Interestingly I based both the characters in this story in part off myself.

I'm sorry if you found the characters attractive cause I definitely killed it off now.

Haha.

Leila: Part 5

Clio is sorry this has been so long in coming. School just started and she has had little to no time to write.

“She hasn’t spoken to me in forever! It’s like she’s still mad at me for that… incident.” Seth grumbled.

“Oh… Maybe she’s busy. School is pretty hectic now.” Crystal explored the possibilities. She knew Seth wasn’t thinking straight.

“No. She’s online and not responding to me. She’s not even responding to my test messages!” Seth was annoyed. Why was Leila being so incredibly evasive?

“Well, maybe she’s on, but not on. I’ve done that before.” Why am I protecting her?

“For six days?” Seth couldn’t believe what Crystal was doing. When did she, of all people, become so defensive over Leila?

“It’s possible… I don’t know.” Crystal trailed off uncertainly. She didn’t know what Seth wanted to hear from her anymore. He didn’t get her either nowadays… What do you want from me?

All of a sudden, Seth’s phone buzzed. Crystal raised her eyebrows.

“Speak of the devil…” Seth hit the red cancel button angrily.

“Call her back. You're never going to get anywhere if you guys don’t talk.” Crystal wondered why she was giving love advice. She had never been in a relationship before…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days later…

“Go talk to her. You’ve been waiting for her for hours, days even.” Sounds familiar…

“You don’t mind?” Seth gave Crystal a puzzled look.

“No, of course not.” Crystal paused, “well, yeah I do, but when has that ever made a difference…” She mumbled under her breath. It’s not as if your mind is around anymore now that she’s here…

“Oh, okay. Bye!” Seth scampered off as fast as he could. “Leila! Wait up!”

“Bye…” Crystal looked across at them dejectedly. She didn’t like Seth, not that way, but she loved him. She couldn’t stand seeing him be with… her. The “witch” as some of her friends called Leila. Many were wondering why they were still together, especially Crystal. Seth could do so much better.

Diary of Remember Allerton, daughter of Isaac Allerton

This is a story Clio wrote for homework. It is an entry into a diary written by a little girl aboard the Mayflower when it landed in 1620. She was not sure whether she should post it as it uses a radically different style from her usual writing. But she thought she would prove that she can branch out to different genres.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 11, 1620.

After weeks (or what felt like forever) of sailing aboard the Mayflower, we finally landed on dry land today. Well, maybe it was not dry, but it sure was good to see land again. We landed on the beaches of Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

Mother, during that awful voyage, always said to be grateful we can go to the New World, but I really want to get off this boat! Unfortunately, we cannot. I have no idea why, but everyone seems really worried about some patent. I have no idea what a patent is; mother told me it tells us where we can live. That confused me, because I thought we came over here so that we did not have to be told where to live. But apparently this patent is a big deal.

I felt the worst today when we were on the Hudson River. I overheard the crew talking about how dangerous it was to be traveling there. I guess that is why we turned around. I really hope I can get off this shop tomorrow because after this many people shared the ship for that long it smells here real bad.

I am still feeling a little seasick although we have been docked for several hours. And everyone is looking a little poorly. I really hope no one gets sick. Mother, who is never ill, is feeling so. But father blames it on the new baby that will be coming.

The New World looks amazing! It is so unlike crowded Leiden back home. The first thing I noticed was the greenness. Every shade of green imaginable, it is here. I stood by the side of the boat for hours just staring over the side of the boat. I saw hundreds of fish in the waters, and sometimes, I would catch of glimpse of an animal running through the forest. How I long to go run out there after being cooped up on this vessel for such a long time.

Remember When

This is an unfinished work by Clio. Hope you like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remember when I stayed up all night to talk?

Remember when I listened to all the problems you had?

Remember when I helped you through all you were going through?

Remember how many times that happened?

Remember when I was always there?

Remember all the times you disappointed me?

Remember when you used to care about me?

Remember when you promised you’d always be there for me?

Remember when you said you loved me?

And now I need you, but you're never there. When did you become so inconsiderate? When did you become this person I don’t know. You were always oblivious, but never so much. I never had to tell you that you hurt me, until now. And even then, what was your reply? “It’s the truth.” You never really understood, but this is worse than ever. It pains me to see you like this.

What happened to you? What happened to me? What happened to us?

It’s almost like I never existed.

Don't Forget

When I say I'm bad at beginnings and endings I really mean it.

The following is kinda an example of a terrible starting.

Honestly, I have no idea how to improve it.

I'll title it later.

Get ready for a blast of emotion.

No more than the usual.

(;

Another night, another day of agony he thought. He stepped off the bus aimlessly, catching his foot on the sidewalk and nearly falling, almost comically to the floor beside the street lamp. It was late, he thought, under the glow of the light, very late.

Regaining his balance, he looked up and stumbled out of the bus stop. The days had been bad as of late, it was almost as if he was in a permanent stupor, like he was drunk, except he hated alcohol.

A figure loomed out of the gloom in front of him, coming suddenly yet not quite unexpectedly, like a dream creature materialising in a nightmare. The shape seemed startlingly familiar, and he paused. She stepped into the light and he stopped. She stopped too.

They both stood there for a while, in the silence. It all came back to them immediately, expectations, dreams, hopes, disappointment, anger, bitterness, all catching them in their powerful force, it was as if, as if no time had passed. But yet, things were different.

"Hey..." She offered uncertainly, her voice faltering as her brain failed to find something else to say.

"Go away." He said, almost mumbling and muttering it, he turned away, hurt on his face.

She took a half step forward and reached her arm out to him, searching for words for the moment, there were only two.

"I'm sorry..."

The words came hesitantly, but they came nonetheless. He struggled with the powerful emotions they triggered at him, unsure of how to proceed. He wanted to turn, hold her and never let go, but he wouldn't let himself, he couldn't.

She could see what he wanted, but also saw him fighting against it, and felt a tinge of regret spread within her.

"You didn't have to go."

He spoke slowly, but they hit her like bullets, so hard, so hurting, so true. It had been her, and he had borne more than anyone should have had to bear. She had her reasons, he had to see that. It had been hard on her too.

She watched as he stood there, hurting and angry in his conviction, she realized she couldn't hold herself back anymore, and flung her arms around him as he faced away from her. He stiffened momentarily and then felt his body instinctively relax. Right then, they remembered the happier times, the whispered ambitions, the forever they once had. Right then, they were them again, and once again, they managed to share forever.

Then he tore himself away from her, and looked at her in the face for the last time.

He was crying, she thought. She had never seen him do that before, not even when he thought she had gone forever. He was gone forever she realized, the wound had cut too deep. Too deep for her to heal, one that perhaps would only be fixed by another forever. A different one.

An icy chill gripped her heart as he said the words that she knew he would say. Don't say it, she silently begged, but as much as he didn't want to, he would.

"Goodbye." He said, finality in his voice. He managed to stride past her with all the willpower in his being before he choked up, and began to run, from her, from the past, to the future with no hope.

And it was her turn to feel that strange wetness on her face, blurring her vision, sticking to her glasses, ruining her make-up. She fumbled for a tissue, she had always been the stronger one, and dabbed at her eyes as she walked ahead to the bus stop and stared out at the night sky and the endless cars, endless possibilities that passed her by.

As they made their way away from each other, they both knew that the regrets would remain with them for a long time, that many other nights would be spent in despondency, pointless dreaming over what might have become. There was no going back for them they realized, and in a beautiful sad way, that was the last thought they ever shared.

All We Have Left

This is another interesting story of mine. I was supposedly heading somewhere, a very odd somewhere but I figured it was going to take me at least five pages to get there, and that it pretty okay enough on its own*. The last four paragraphs are newly written, so if there's any disjoint, then you know why.

I guess in some ways it's better off in it's original form. It's an open ending and all mysterious.

On another day I guess I would've just left it.

But heck.

Here it is anyway.

*****************************************************

He coughed hard as he stumbled in the desert sun, brushing the mini sand storm brewing at his feet out of his eyes, shielding them at the same time from the blasting heat. Blasted heat, he corrected himself. He looked over to his left to see how she was doing, as usual, she was striding just a little ahead with no problem, he had no idea how she did it.

They had been at it for days. Days of trekking, looking to find a piece of civilization in the wasteland. The prospect of solitude was always daunting, but he took solace in the fact that he wasn't alone. There had still been people in the city, but at the thought of the city he felt a chill despite the scorching fireball above him.

A bird cry broke the sound of their rhythmic and his not so rhythmic trudging and snapping out of his reverie he brought his rifle to bear, scanning the horizon for danger but there was nothing. No people, no buildings, trees, or signs of life save the unidentifiable bird in the distance.

"Relax Joe, there's nothing around, I doubt it spread this far." She said casually, returning her own pistol to her holster as she did.

He grunted in reply, it didn't matter, it paid to be careful, but she knew that, and he knew that when danger came she was always the more cautious one. He cleared the sand out of his gun before slinging it back over his back and following after her. The pistol was probably a better option or even no gun at all, the sand got everywhere in the desert it did. It got into eyelids, nostrils, phones, bags and guns. His clothes had sand on them, in them, and when he licked his lips he could taste sand. Everywhere he looked he saw sand. He was sick to death of it, but there was nothing to be done about it. He spat a mouthful of sand out onto the sizzling floor and felt for his knife on his belt, a little something that wouldn't stop working cause of sand.

As the noon sun changed to evening sun, and the sky took on the softer hues of purple and orange, he spotted something in the distance.

"You see that Sheila? We aren't supposed to hit anything for another week."

She struggled with her parka as another gust of sand-filled wind started up, the white grains obscuring the screen of her hand-held device as she tried to read from it.

"We might've gone off course, let's head for it anyway."

She was at it again, making decisions for him, but he let her, it didn't matter as long as she didn't do anything stupid. But she wouldn't. So he followed as they neared the structure.

It was an old building, an imposing stone structure, the type that hadn't been built for a few centuries now. As they poked about it in sunset light the ground beneath their feet crumbled and they landed harmlessly in a pile of sand. Sloppy. His mind whispered, you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up.

He leapt to his feet as soon as he could and swept his flashlight across the dark. There was nothing. He looked behind and met her gaze, they both nodded silently. All clear.

Ruins, in the middle of the desert. He mused to himself as walked through the cavernous hallway slowly, rifle at the ready. Yes this building must have been a few centuries old at least. Before the meltdown, before everything changed.

"Sat nav shows that we didn't go off course, the maps say there's nothing here." She remarked, the blue glow of that confangled Apple construct reflecting off her face.

"There's more to this world than the maps, how far back do they go? I'd say this place has been gone for more than a century."

It was her turn to fall silent as she mused about the fall of technology. They had been forced to revert to the antique firearms since the melt-down, almost everything had stopped working in the same way. And so they had lived with it, and had done their best to cope. It wasn't as if things a hundred years back were primitive, just inferior in a few ways.

They rounded a corner to find yet another corridor. At the same time they both paused and noiselessly dove behind a fallen pillar. They looked at each other, did you hear that. Suddenly he heard the by now all-too familiar otherworldly cry as the first misshapen figure ran out into the dim light, taking five steps before it fell, it’s head violently exploded by a slug.

Sheila muttered a curse underneath her breath as she reloaded her pistol, placing another bullet in the magazine. Impossible…how did they get here.

He didn’t bother with a reply, his heart pounding furiously he fumbled with his goggles, clicking them on as his world turned to green. He saw first ten, then twenty, then hundreds of jerky figures running towards them. He grabbed her arm.

“Let’s go.”

{finish}

*the questionable ending I was heading to was of them spending the night in the complex, somehow, they would wake up and find a really old violin, and play it. Yeah. That was the original ending, no the supposed ending. Cool right. I gave it up.

"Your best suggests another kind of guest"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was standing in front of the mirror, eyes nervously darting up and down his reflection, hands occasionally rising to adjust his hair or angle his collar just right.

"Someone looks awfully excited to get to class this morning," she remarked.

Without once taking his eyes off the mirror, he replied, "I've just decided to be a better student, of course."

A sliver of teasing intent crept into her voice. "Yes, I'm sure that's all there is to it."

Hands off his clothes. Finally. He turned to look sideways at her.

"What's your point?"

The faintest hint of a smile appeared on her face.

"Oh, nothing..."

Consideration

Hello everyone once again. This is a very odd story of mine that I wrote on a whim. It's set on a bus, like many of my other stories, though it's subtle you actually realise that's the reason the protagonist doesn't get up and entertain himself.

Yeah.

Its odd, as I said, very experimental and might not be very easy to read.

Still I hope it's entertaining enough for you to want to finish it. (;

Here it goes.

********************************************************

Hanzo was annoyed. He was tired, after a long dumb day. And now he was annoyed. Why was she taking such a long time to respond.

That was it. 5 minutes. No one neglected to reply to his smses for five minutes, and no one wanted to mess with him when he was tired and annoyed. He began planning the snarky sms he was about to send when someone who looked exactly like him shimmered into existence into the understandably empty seat beside him.

"Perhaps you shouldn't do it." He, or it said.

"Who the heck are you, I've never seen you before." Hanzo shot back.

"I am Consideration, I am here to advise you to perhaps think a little more about others."

"Thats nonsense, I don't need someone to come here and tell me to be a little nicer to other people."

"I am asking you to reconsider some of your actions nevertheless, or to actually consider some of them. "

Suddenly realization dawned upon Hanzo's face. He was fire, and this thing was...

"You, I recognize you now. You're not Consideration, you are Self-doubt. I see you all the time in him. You make him weak, I'm not going to submit to you."

"I am not, you have exceeded the bounds of normality and confidence. You have transcended into recklessness. It is only natural that Common Sense, has dictated that I be here to curb you."

"That is absolute rubbish. I can think for myself. I am not reckless!"

Consideration raised an eyebrow and crossed his legs.

"Well, that was rather impulsive and fiery response wasn't it? Come lets take a look for ourselves shall we, just today."

*Flashback*

*********************************************************

Hanzo was angry. But cool as ice this time. Still. He was angry. He spat venom, not fire.

"And what exactly are you trying to achieve by saying that Archie? Can you tell me?"

"Well I'm making fun of you."

"Well I don't like it, and I don't see anyone around you laughing."

Archie, as usual shifted to immediate self-justification and wrote himself into eternal Hanzo damnation.

"Everyone does it."

Those three words would be remembered for a long time to come indeed by both of them. Hanzo made sure of that.

"So that makes it right huh Archie? You're such a great role model, after all I'm worthless, I don't matter. You know what we should all applaud you for that."

He looked vaguely sorry, but only vaguely. He didn't say anything and looked away, there was nothing to say. But it wasn't enough.

"We should build a monument, a statue of you somewhere, so that we can remember you Archie. Perhaps. " Hanzo paused for a second before continuing with a vengeance, only the table between them preventing him from grabbing his shirt and pulling him close.

"How tall do you want it to be? 30 meters? 100 meters? You know what? Maybe we should engrave your figure into the moon. "

He stopped then and let the acid of his words hang in the air.

*************************************************************

"Not too far huh?" Consideration asked.

"Nonsense," Hanzo snorted, " You have to see the context. He's been ribbing at us for forever, if I hadn't done anything he would have continued to trample over the poor boy over and over again. He deserved every word."

He looked straight into Consideration's eyes and said slowly with venom. "My only regret was not continuing on. "

Consideration sighed and looked away.

"You're right I guess, but perhaps you could take a softer approach and work out an agreement with the boy, instead of stepping in and balkanizing all the massive scrapes he gets into. Prevention is better than cure."

"That's solely up to him, he doesn't like me. But I assure you I think about others as well. I do have consideration already. "

"Oh really?"

Hanzo smiled and pulled out a little figurine of his pocket.

"This is retrospection," he said, placing it on his palm.

"Why on earth is he so small!" said Consideration, notably outraged.

"Silence. Retrospection, speak!"

The figurine drew a tiny breath and spoke :

It is clear that the dealings with Archie were slightly overwrought and indeed venomous. However for the larger continuity of the survival of the self, it was imperative there and then to render the adversary incapable of providing any future harm. Any alternatives such as absolute kindness and gentle turn of opinion would prove to cause too much potential harm. Thus it was important to deal maximum damage there and then to decrease chances of self hurt in the future. Main Ruling 2 in the Respect And Considerations Act also states that one should treat individuals as with as much consideration as they treat you, Section 4 pertaining to Main Ruling 2 also clearly states that when no consideration is given, then no consideration is required to be given. It is clear that there has been no violation of the rules on this part and that the being Hanzo has been absolved of all guilt.

Hanzo smirked and shoved Retrospection back into his pocket.

"I told you so." He never lost an argument.

Consideration turned up his nose.

"Fine, but you should still reconsider your actions and not act on impulse. Like that text message. Learn Patience. " and with that he vanished before Hanzo could reply.

He never lost an argument either.