Writer's anyone?

[Luce]

Hey Dark Goddess...this thread is cool.
I'll be back whit some more stuff                    

[Luce]

Another song...CONFESSIONS AND CONSTILATIONS

i could never believe
that a star could glow
bright enough
to cast the moon in its shadow

what seemed like a shooting star
is now a meteor

a profound connection
lost in a second
longing for confession
will the truth ever spill.....
into my heart

a shooting star no matter how glorious
vanishes in the beat of a heart

letters written in the ink of your own black heart
lose themselves as i lost myself in you
it took so long for my eyes to adjust
to the absence of your radiance

as for now
i wait
unseen
by all the world
illuminate my life once again
i beg of you

so let it be known and shut the door
on your way out of my life
cause you can look at me and say
that you think it's better this way

the end
* in pre-fix the word "sus's" is really sun's                    

[tha_pong]

As love’s bleeding fingers clenched a tight fist around my heart, the tears began their long and salty course down my cheeks.

      Yet again, I recalled the deafening sound of bullets hailing towards us in torrents, as both my parents slumped lifelessly to the pavement with one heavy thud after another. Despite the sharp pain this brought, I shook my head vigorously, desperately trying to shake those images free, without much success. Another painful memory. I was screaming in confusion and fear as I flung myself onto my knees, next to my parents’ bullet-ridden bodies.

      Next thing I knew, the sound of screaming sirens broke into my confused thoughts, and I become numbly aware of someone trying to pry my fingers loose from my mother’s arm. As the two stretchers were deftly placed into the ambulance, I caught a brief glance of my father’s face. What I saw made my heart go cold. It was a look of a face that was briefly touched by death.

      Now at my parent’s funeral service, like moving pictures in my head, the memories kept coming back to me. Ever since that night of senseless assassination, I had to wonder, how come I was still alive. Was it because God decided it wasn’t yet my time? Why my parents? And why? Oh why, did I have to be deprived of my parents to be left alone on this cold, heartless earth? I drove myself to the brink of frustration and insanity trying to come to terms with these questions that would never be answered.

      I even began having dreams at night. Dreams that my parents were both still alive; but that is why a dream is called a dream; because it could never become a reality                    

[Chaos]

nice work guys...i might try the story thing and give the poems a rest...maybe.                    

[tha_pong]

This place was beautiful in June - green and wild. He drove along the coast keeping his mind fixed upon the lovely time him and his newly wedded wife will enjoy for the weekend. Through the open windows of the car, they could hear the water hurl itself against the rocks. Passion, romance, excitement - the sound expressed all three. From time to time there were wildflowers along the roadside, tough little blossoms that could barely stand up peaked through the worn out rocks that glistened near the shoreline, they saw functional beauty in this place. He was so fuddled with the environment he did not even notice the absolute silence held by his wife.

“ Sweetheart…What’s the matter?”
“ Hey its nothing…just can’t believe we’re married”

He arched is brows giving her a slightly considering glance, scanning her face thoroughly and then glued his eyes once more on the roads with a broad smile casted on his lips. She tightened her thick tartan shawl over her shoulders and cuddled closer to him resting her head on his strong, soft yet masculine arm. Nothing could be better than this he thought our parents will never find out and we are not young, we will be together forever.

   The two teenagers turned the corner. The sight that met their eyes was one that they would never be able to forget. Susanna screamed out loudly detaching her head from the protective arms as Mark stopped the car and grabbed her covering her face.
“ Nooo…” tears bustled down her cheeks that were boiling in grief.
“ Mark tell me that’s not mom please…please…please…” she was crying hysterically and he did not know what to do. The sight devoured his heart and knowing it was Susanna’s mother.

   Susanna sprinted out of the car and ran towards the scene, Mark followed her and held her in his arms. She felt a cold rush to her cheeks, and stood rooted to the spot. Oh, my God, was all she could think. The car was crumpled into a nearby tree and her mother lay in the middle of the road face covered with blood and pieces of metal protruding her body. Her eyes were wide open together with her mouth which flooded out in blood, her arms were sore, her bones look crushed and the metals pierced their way though her abdomen. Susanna pelted herself to her knees and held her head in her arms screaming helplessly, she was loosing it she felt to die, she wanted to go with her mother. Police officers at the scene investigating the matter tried to control her. It was impossible.

Mark was speechless and paralyzed with fear. He could do nothing, only feel sorry. He knew now that his life would be frayed. Susanna would never be the same; this will have an eternal impact on her life. He looked at her she was trembling. As she looked at her mother’s body she criticized herself, I should have never got married, I should have never left, and maybe she was looking for me and ended up dead. All negative thoughts flew through her head. Susanna sighed ran towards her only hope for life and screamed…
“ I am the fault!”                    

[Chaos]

I hate to see you like this,
Your pain, depression and anger,
You talk about dying and suicide,
But, my friend, you would be missed.

Life can't be all that bad,
To make you scream and shout,
To hurt and cut yourself,
Think of the good times you've had.

Each day I see you, there are more,
More slits and scratches on your arm,
More pain and hurt inside,
Your arm- so red and sore.

I love you and each day,
I suffer not knowing how to help,
Each night before I sleep I kneel,
"Be here tomorrow, please!" I pray.                    

[demented]

wait wait wait..this thing happenin again but jus is like gsi ppl taking over this place..wam tuh all ah allyuh other ppl allyuh cyah write oh wuh.wuh is it really goin on jed                    

[Chaos]

Boy ...calm yourself nah........demented.....u lookin to get a bad rep. or something? and g.s.i. not tryin to take over....i just have a thing for writin poems.                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

Hey, i know i been away from this thread a while, but school hasnt given me much time to do any writing.

Thanks luce, nice stuff from you, btw, i like.

chaos and tha_pong and the others have some decent pieces there, not too shabby guys, keep it up.

I would REALLY REALLY REALLY appreciate some more short story/extract type entries, as while this thread was intended for writer's on the whole, i meant more specifically the short story kind as opposed to the poetry, though the poetry we have in this thread is excellent (mostly).

it's beginning to get a lil jumbled, maybe we should start a separate thread for poetry? and stick to one for short stories etc?

keep it up people, and demented, don't make me have to slap you upside that mentally unbalanced head of yours, please.                    

[tha_pong]

yea yea doh worry im coming out wit some stuff soon jus gotta get my head back on                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

She lay in her hospital bed, golden hair fanned out beneath her, framing delicate shoulders and an oval shaped face.
   Tubes ran along her once strong body, now frail with disuse and lack of spirit, leading to needles in her arms, feeding the living corpse.
   The monitors beside her kept watch over vital signs, one keeping a rhythmic beat symbolic to her heart.
   Her broken heart. Her betrayed heart.
   Deep, deep beneath the reaches of consciousness, submerged even from the grasp of sleep, while her body lay at silent rest, her mind swam frantically; seeking, searching; trying to find the water’s edge, trying to find the surface…because in this, the wilderness of her mind, she hears a voice.

   The sound of it is all over. She can hear it everywhere, anywhere.
   He won’t go away…why won’t he go away.

   Because he haunts her.


   “She’s been like this for over three weeks,” her brother says, brushing hair from her pale face and adjusting the blankets covering his only sibling.
   “What do the doctors say?”
   Her best friend. Her second half in so many ways, since they were both little girls in kindergarten. Since before they knew what lies and untruths were.
   A true friend.
   “They don’t know what to think,” her brother replied, “At least she’s peaceful.”
   

   She ran.
   She ran through the dark jungle of thought, fighting with every step the veil that kept her from consciousness.
   Fighting the voice of a traitorous, dead lover.
   Dead. By her hand.


this is incomplete. but read it for now.                    

[androsovic]

roight.

check this.not much of a poem man but i tried

Untitled Poem

I see it before me,
It smells fresh,
I feel a craving,
My heart’s racing,
I reach it,
And bite in,
The juices run,
Down my mouth,
Oh, life can be so,
Splendorous,
It’s done now,
It was short,
I must go,
For I must find another,
Apple.

The Fight

A fight erupts,
What now? ,
Someone asks,
Who? ,
Says another,
A group of boys,
Fighting,
Not for freedom,
Or food,
But for rights,
To a corner,
A sigh of uncaring,
Released from a bystander,
A bottle,
From another,
It’s time,
Time to go,
For the authorities,
Are coming.                    

[Aka_Neo]

I’ve read about it in stories
and have seen it in movies
My heart is neither fable nor cinema
but is still playing with a thing called love

I’ve been told that perhaps
it is all a fantasy, that maybe
it was all a dream to think that
things could be what I want them to be

But once upon a time
I fell in love and have yet
to fall from it’s graces, it has
a fierce grip, the pleasure seems
to be worth all the pain

I’ve been told that perhaps
I am a fool for following
the path of gold, for being
the dreamer, for believing
in what one would call the impossible

But, how can I not follow the fortunes
that lure my heart to the edge
of insanity, a certain call of the wild,
an innate emotional sense, a drive
so natural, so instinctive, one so
hard to put into words

The story of my heart is still
in the process of being written,
edited, and rewritten. I wish I had
the power to overwrite what I
perhaps do not like, but I can not,
so I follow the script as best I can
adding my own flavor and spice,
supporting those who choose to
flow with my dramatics and
shortcomings, for no matter how
I old I may be, I am still a novice
at this thing called love

Just like a good book or movie
I want the story to continue,
no matter the cost, it feeds
my heart in full, whether with joy or pain
I do not wish the ending to come                    

[Aka_Neo]

Night stirred its inky finger at the ending of the day. The office lights breaking through the windows into the dark night. Desks emptied as people sort to get an early start to the weekend.

She completed the last letter she had to send that day filled in the final figures on the day's spreadsheet and was just about to close down her PC when a message popped up saying she had a new email. She was going to open the email to check what it was when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning round, she looked into the sparkling eyes that belonged to Andy her boss, which as normal set her heart racing.

"Still here?" he said with a smile "Nothing to go home to?"

She smiled back. "Nothing much."

Not as if you were there she thought, then scolded herself in case she let her secret feeling for Andy show.

Andy smiled once more. "Well see you on Monday" And with that left her to her thoughts.

He was so good looking, she thought to herself as she watched his rear disappearing out the door.

With a sigh, she shut of her computer, letting the email wait until Monday, and slowly made her way to the lift. She had nothing to go home to except an empty and lonely house, her husband was a long gone, and good riddance. Her son was at College far away, and all that was there for her, was another lonely night.

She reached the exit of the building, there waiting for her was Mike the security guard. Mike always there with a smile that seemed just for her, understanding her modes and problems sometimes before she herself knew them. Mike whom she could tell anything to, knowing it would go no further and that he would never judge her. As normal he held open the door, his arm almost but not quite touching her as she went bye. "Night Mable, have a good one" he said to her with a smile.

Answering back over her shoulder as she walked to where she had parked her car. "Night Mike, and thank you", blowing him a kiss as normal.

We walked down the now empty parking spaces to where hers was parked, and opened to door to get in the car, when she noticed something on the front window. Moving round, she realized it was a rose, a single red rose placed under one of her wiper blades. Taking it carefully in her hands she looked for a note or something to say whom the rose had been from, but nothing.

She drove home trying to work out in her mind that might have left her the flower. Could it have been Andy, guessing her feeling for him, and letting her know that he felt the same? Perhaps it was Mike, just showing her that he cared?

Her mind went through all the other possible people, but kept coming back to Andy and Mike. The weekend seemed to fly by, with her thoughts always turning to the rose that took pride of place on her table in the small glass vase. Was it Andy, or was it Mike? She had to wait until Monday to find out.

At last Monday came, she parked her car as normal and found Mike waiting for her with an open door. She flashed a special smile his way eager to thank him if indeed the rose had been from him. "Thank you so much" she said lingering for a few moments before walking through the door, as if waiting for him to reply. But Mike did not say anything about flowers or her, so she hurriedly made her way to her desk.

Andy, Andy it had to be Andy. After all this time at last he was showing her that he felt the same way as she did.

She waited for Andy to come in, her heart racing at the thought of him leaving a rose for her.

While she waited, she checked her mail, the first message being the one that she left on Friday, it was from her son.

"Hi Mum," it read "I was just passing through on my way to a friend party and thought I'd let you know how much I love you. I hope you enjoy the rose. Love Don

With a sigh the dream bubble burst. Oh well she thought at least her son loved her.                    

[Luce]

after Mundus repeatedly killme in dante must die mode i picked up a pen add frabricated this.....

Dear world,
the pieces of time each soul resides on youis the length of time the needle stays in you. the level of significant action that soul makes is how deep it stabbs you; and these wounds never heal. when all your naturally assembled shift as people do them you become more and more like a bomb. the gradual burning of your fuse accelerates as civilization complecates itself. the direction of the "chess pieces" make the aria to chaos. you are in an intertransition piont to cure yourself.

However.... how did the dirt corrupt the waters transparency in the first place? an entity that was so absolute in purity that it was numb was un explainably stained! what interfered? that is my question! through un fairness in your life our live only seem to be unfair. your concequences were never brought about by your desire or actions; they were induced. please.....tell me by whom before you take me and accept another scar...............

love  LUCE.                    

[Anonymous]

A few paragraphs of my uncompleted story

The night was cool and clear, not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Stars of various colours stood high above twinkling in the dark night. The moon shone radiantly, illuminating a vast city spread out below filling it with mystery and dread. A ruined city, a ghost city it seemed to be, nothing to be seen or heard except for the wind whistling through its confines.
   It was a beautiful city at some point in time, filled with people going about their business. But now it is a no man’s zone, with structures barely recognizable, blown away by years of fighting and artillery fire. The ground littered with debris making travel by any ground vehicle practically impossible. There were many dark holes above and beneath the ruins where one or many can be unseen by the human eye. In the larger of the holes were built and occupied.
   A man scanned the ruins from one of the few standing and stable structures left within the confines of the city, searching for any movement that could be seen upon it. His eyes spotted a flash of light in the distance, straining his eyes to see to see what it could be, he fell with a soft thud on the concrete not knowing what he had seen.
   Swiftly a figured moved out of the darkness into the moonlight, and across the ruins to a next spot hidden by darkness. Keen eyes stared out looking for the next victim, wondering how much longer the calm before the storm would be. It was a close one on the last victim, the moon shone on the lens and it would have been too late if the sentry had not been seen at that very instance. The operation was a very dangerous one, a few highly skilled selected snipers equipped with high grade armor piercing sniper rifles, and provided camouflage mech-infantry suits and lightly armored for extra speed, were to go in behind enemy lines before the rest of the attacking force to take out the sentries and to confuse the enemy as best they could while the army started its attack. Looking at the watch, it was about time to find a safe spot to snipe from before the battle began.                    

[Aka_Neo]

"Tell me where I am to go now. Tell me where I am to find my answers. Tell me where I am to live now. In the life that I wanted or the life I had. Tell me did I take the right path or did I detour simply because I did not have the strength to see through the fog. Tell me!" the woman ask.

"There is no pre-set destiny. There is no pre-set fate. There is only the honesty and the self-motivation to reach beyond to find themselves in the swirls of mists that time has lost." the tree answered

These thoughts rocketed through the mind of the woman standing in that sun-laced, shadowed place. She stared at the old oak, draped across the ground, the wide trunk twisted with the roots upon itself, and the Spanish Moss waving in an ever-constant green-gold breeze. It stood in silent majesty, a ghost of time past of nobility. The woman faced the tree with the pentegram in one hand and a closed fist in the other and ask again.

"Tell me."

The tree remained silent!

Both horses shuffled and nosed each other, the mare, the leader, and the gelding just a pace behind. Hidden in amber shadows, the dog yawned and grinned her happy smile, while the cat, the calico, played with a cricket in the sparse grass between the roots of the tree. The offering of fresh ground cinnamon, bay leaves and on lend, the bit of mandrake from Scotland. An offering of enticement to the old marsh live oak. This one she called the "Rain Tree". Growing strong and wild in the realms of the mind. In a green-gold marsh of memory.

"Tell me. I implore you. Tell me." the woman ask once again.

The tree once again remained silent!

Yet, the green-gold breeze blew a wide oak leaf and it settled in her now upraised palm and she studied the lines in its texture and saw, perhaps, a map. A map that could lead to a reality or could lead once again to the safety of banished dreams that had re-awakened to life.

At the leaf's base, at the stem, remained a small drop of rain. It was from clear water falling, and it was the place of the leaf's birth. Where did anything start but at the beginning. Now, the beginning was Shadow Island.

How many times had she come to this place with her friends? How many times had she ridden in here, either one horse or the other, looking for wisdom from the often silent tree. She was afraid the tree's spirit had fled upon the roaring winds of too long ago. This is where she wanted to live, this where she wanted to stay until she knew all the answers but the tree was slow to give them to her. She sensed that it did want to give them to her all at once. There were so many answers to find and so many questions to ask.

The sun dropped lower in a gilded haze, rising blindingly over the brackish water of the marsh. The green-gold wind turned to evening marsh wind and blew cold as summer turned to autumn and the brown edges bit into the sharp lime grass blades and into the paler sea-green. Time seemed to have no bearing in here, with seasons changing with the blink of an eye or the dispelling of a dream.

The mare moved forward, her spirit in her eyes. A warm brush of breath on the woman's forearm and the solidity of truth returned. In a drift, time-shift, things could get misplaced or removed but only focus kept it in straight perspective.

Still, the tree remained silent.

A winter sun rose the next time the woman came to visit the tree. This time she came alone but the two horses and the dog were waiting for her on Shadow Island. The dog moved forward, her coat a pale gold in the weak sunlight. Her apple-shaped head with brow furrowed and her eyes filled with welcome. She nuzzled the woman's hand and love effused from her. It cloaked the woman's uncertainity.

The cat was absent but then, she still lived on another plane.

The woman turned to the ancient marsh live oak, her "Rain Tree", and said.

"Tell me what is love?"

She glanced down at her leaf map and noticed that the leaf had begun to turn at the edges, fading its deep green. She looked at the base of the stem and saw once again how the one main vein went from beginning point to ending tip and all the others were but dead-end splits from it. How many dead-end roads were there in life? Or was it really dead-end or perhaps a path that had to be traveled all the way to the conclusion and then a return to the main road and a new path begun? Or should one walk straight forward, looking not with peripheral vision, but as with blinders...seeing nothing but what lay directly ahead?

She ask the tree again. "What is love?"

The tree answered nothing.

When the woman came again, the sky was stormy. The hot summer rain fell hard upon the blades of grass in Shadow Island. Grass growing in profusion among the now dimly lit patterns of sunlight, masked by a brooding thunderhead. The marsh wind blew moist and humid with the summmer rain. The Rain Tree dripped puddles of water in the basins of its trunk. She came alone again and was greeted again by the dog and the two horses who lived within Shadow Island always. The gelding came forth to greet her, his sorrel coat like red jasper in the faded light. His deep brown eyes were full of puzzlement and his muzzle warm and seeking. She comforted him.

"Tell me why does love leave?" she ask of the old oak.

The tree said nothing but sent her another leaf, but only two thirds there with the tip torn away. She looked upon it and the sorrow filled her heart.

The next time the woman came, it was spring; bright and green, flush with life. This time she came with the cat. The little calico walking at her side, with her tail curled in a question mark. The two horses and the dog greeted the cat as family and surrounded the woman as all four. A stroke for each one, a term of endearment, lingering on the red mare, and the four gave her comfort and strength.

She turned to the tree and ask once again.

"Tell me what love is?"

And the tree replied.

"Love lives anyway it can."

She looked around at her friends and saw love. She knew what love was.

The next time the woman came, she brought with her a photograph book and opened each page on glossy paper. She turned to the tree and said.

"Look, old friend, this is what life I have had. Was it better than the life I wanted?"

Silhouetted in the glow of a rising autumn sun, the tree answered with the green-gold wind in its branches singing.

"If you are satisfied, then it was the right choice. Now, do you know what love is? Tell me."

The woman only answered, surrounded by her four friends, with a knowing smile.                    

[Aka_Neo]

Time had turned against her. Too many things had come to pass...too many things of significance that left bombshell holes inside of her. She, had as many people do, sought refuge in work. She took the first job she could find and tried to get a new angle on life. That actually did become a much more plausible clause as she began to work and the money put a new power in her hands. She was beginning to come back to herself. It was a different twist but for all that she could see it was a positive one.

The place she was employed was something of an icon in the community where she lived; in fact one of two. Old money oozed through the place...old money and old names. Yet, the chief through all this splendor was a man that had married into that money. A man, the locals said, came out of nowhere.

He was a man that she had heard of most of her early teenage years and she had seen at a distance. A tall, heavyset man that walked with a stride that said "I know who I am and it damn sure ain't you!". He was the preverbal big fish in the little pond or so to speak. Married well and invested the money well. He ran both restaurants, his real estate business investments, his wrecker service and gas station, and his oyster plant with the same determined, no nonsense attitude by which he viewed life. He was the king of his domain and he knew it. His wife, his ticket to a jumpstart, was as quiet and unpretentious as he was bold and outspoken.

He was her boss (not that he would ever notice her though) and yet, she knew a great deal about him that was best left unsaid if she wanted to keep her job.

Finding things to fill her mind with thoughts other than what had happened in the past had almost become an occupation with her. She needed to think about now and not what had occurred before. It was a growing up process that she was involved in that whether reluctant or willing she had to participate in. Doors had closed and doors had opened that she was forced to walk through that gave little or no choice.

This was the summary of her thoughts in that early October morning as she clocked out from work and stepped into the breaking dawn. She flung the sweater over the shoulders of her white uniform with its pretty, frilly-laced apron and headed for the small car. Well, if one could really call it a car.

Before she reached it, she stopped and stared at the huge neon sign with its unusual logo and saw the mist rise off the tall grass beyond it. An image came to mind and her heart twisted in pain. So young, so tender and so gone!

Shaking her head as if to clear it, she began to walk again and she reached the car soon. It sat like a little gray bump on wheels. The door creaked when she opened it and the black and gray interior was torn and frayed. Well, what could one expect for a first car? She loved the old thing anyway. She climbed behind the steering wheel, inserted the flathead screwdriver in the pried-open dash ignition and putting the clutch, she started the little Simca to life. It roared like a misbegotten lion and sputtered with contentment with itself and its engine.

The drive home was short. She soon pulled the little car into the curved driveway of the land and shut down its raucous engine noise. She knew that her mother hated her coming in so early because the car always disturbed her sleep. It was every bit her intention to save up the money to have the muffler replaced on the little car because when one made only limited amounts of money, they did the best they could.

As she stepped out of the car and stared in the southern direction of the land, she let her thoughts center on the large house and spacious yard just beyond her view by a dense tree line. Once again, her boss came into her thoughts.

She really did not know why he bothered her so much except for the fact that perhaps that it was his arrogance that irritated her. She had learned from watching her parents and their cycle of life that arrogance was the perfect reason for a downfall. Mr. Young was the kind of man who never let sentimentality get in his way. When he set his goals for himself, he stayed focused on that. She had seen this evidence in her own father and also in her mother. She knew it was a good attribute in her parents but when someone caused harm to other people to achieve that, then it had very little value. Of course, there was the ever-obvious desire for power. Power! Very often the stronger motivator than love!

Just before she entered the house to sleep, she glanced around her at her home. A cooler breeze blew over the fading green of the marsh and played with gentle fingers in the Spanish moss of the oak trees. She raised her eyes to the taller, thinner pines that rose above the oaks and their draping was lost in the glistening sunlight of the dawn. The nightly melody of the bullfrogs was silent as the amphibians had burrowed deeper in the swamp mud for warmth. There was little sign of life in the empty wetland acres that stretched to an unmarred horizon. Yet, it still possessed an incredible beauty!

A beauty that failed to lift a heart gone numb. It was all too familiar and all too strong yet. She longed for total escape and total involvement in a new way of life. She needed more than ever to put the past behind her. She was still too close! She had sought refuge in the closest thing she could turn to, which was work and a different type of daily routine but even Mr. Young's employment carried with it too many reminders of where she did not want to be.

Before she slept, she let her mind trail back over the man she had met last night at work. He seemed quite charming but yet, there was something about him that put her off. She could not quite pinpoint it but she felt that he would be back and maybe she would be able to figure it out by then. He said that they had a mutual friend in common but she could not possibly think of who. Just as she felt herself dozing off, she decided that she always thought about things too much! She really needed to quit being so serious.

It was past one in the afternoon when she awoke and she knew that the house was empty of everyone but her. Her parents had gone about their business. She stirred slowly and wearily. The job had found muscles in her that she did not know that she had. She had always considered herself in pretty good condition but not used to the long hours of standing, her back was stiff and sore. She considered staying in bed longer but then realized that she did not want to waste what daylight she had before the sun went down. She felt the customary blues settle on her and then, with a determined effort, she pushed them away and got out the bed. A quick shower, a coke, and she would be on her way to town! After all, she now had money to spend any way that she wanted to.

The little Simca chugged its way into town. The car, more akin to a turtle than a bug, was bad for a first car. Her father had given it to her as a means back and forth to work. It used very little gas and it had its problems but it was unusually dependable. The radio did not work but she would not have been able to hear it anyway for the loud muffler. She decided to head for the local shopping mall and take a look at a new pair of shoes. She always liked shoes but then so did most women.

Her friend managed a small shoe store in the mall and the young woman loved to go through the various styles that were available. She had an idea of what she wanted. She had seen a pair there that she really liked the last time she was there and she hoped her friend still had the same style in stock. She considered herself now against what she had been a year ago and the difference was so vast that she was not sure which one was the better of the two. Yet, it really made no difference now.

Twenty minutes after leaving her home, she pulled into the closest parking spot near the shoe store and shut off the engine of the Simca. As she went to get out of the car, she saw a police cruiser pass directly behind her. She glanced up and waved and the Sergeant waved back. She had known him for quite awhile as he was friends with her father. As he continued his patrol, she thought of his supervisor; the son of the man she worked for. She disliked him as much as she did his father. He was spoiled, a bully and used his position as a police officer for all the wrong reasons. His daddy, who was tight with the new governor-elect, felt that he could buy anything. It seemed so sad!

As she stepped through the front doors of shoe store, her friend saw her and said "Hello, Mandy! I have not seen you in a few days."

The girl, addressed as Mandy, smiled gently at her friend and said "I am glad to see you too, Sally!" With those greetings, the two women began to catch up on what had been happening since they had last seen each other.

The day had slipped by far too fast as far as Mandy was concerned when she thought about it later that night at work. She was grateful for the work but this night shift was not her favorite thing. It seemed like she no sooner got up than the day was gone and it was all too soon to go back to work. Work...well, it was a weekday night at work and the restaurant was empty of almost everyone. She was bored until she saw him walk in the door. She had just thought about him and she was glad to see him.

Mandy found this man, who called himself Terry, to be very strange compared to most of the guys she had known in school. He had a charming air about it with just an enticing sense of mischief. He seemed to be a hard working guy but also enjoyed a laid-back attitude. He certainly loved coffee and that was no surprise to her. She found that she could talk to Terry easily and they covered a variety of subjects. Yet, they really did not have that much in common. He was nice and she liked to wile away the long hours of the night talking to him when she was not busy.

Terry did not stay long that night as he had to work early in the morning. His longer visits were usually on the weekends and she had known him to stay quite awhile after he should have left. She suspected that he really liked her but he made no move to ask her out. Of course, she did not know if she would date him at all. It was when the subject came up about her boss, that she found out that they had a very similar opinion about Mr. Young. She was to find out why!

Unlike Mandy, whose main encounter with the infamous Mr. Young had been mostly through her parents and now, her job, Terry's experience with the man had a second side effect. His mother had dealt with the man over her property and everyone knew when it came to Mr. Young and business that the man had no human heart for anything but money. He saw himself as a small emperor in a small kingdom. Terry's mother had been attached with an added tax to her property that was unfair because it had formerly belonged to Mr. Young's in-laws. Terry despised the man but there was little he could do about it. Unafraid, either of them, to speak their opinions about the man, Mandy did not really worry about her job. They both had the brashness of youth and that was usually labeled "no fear."

The days passed into weeks and the weeks into a couple of months that Mandy and Terry kept meeting at the restaurant. It was both of them that depended on their living from Mr. Young as Terry worked on an oyster boat that sold its catch to the man's oyster plant. The man raised beautiful houses on EPA protected land and had his little subterfuge dealings with the oil companies in the destruction of the saltwater marshes and the death of the brown pelicans. The illustrious governor-elect came into office and money went everywhere it was not suppose to until a heavy handed government investigation came and the whole sordid mess was exposed. Down came the mighty little emperor and the governor along with him and Terry and Mandy found other places to work. It did not happen over night, nor in the blink of an eye, but for Mandy, she made her passage into growing up and leaving her childhood behind. She also found something in Terry and that was called love.                    

[The_Dark_Goddess]

whoa
aka_neo, dude i will print that and read it when i get the chance yes, i in canada atm and have no time.

it looks decent at first glance though.                    

[Aka_Neo]

The story of Jumping Mouse may seem simple at first. But it is far more than just a story about a small rodent. There are so many underlying themes that reflect society, faith, generosity, personal growth, and many other aspects of a person’s daily life.

The story starts out with a seemingly simple mouse, who hears what others do not. He dares to question what is out of the ordinary, and seeks out the truth instead of dismissing it as nothing. He shows curiosity, which leads him to new ideas. When he has his experience at the river, he is given a new name, which signifies his own personal growth. When he takes his newfound ideas back to the mouse society they don’t believe him because it is far too different than what they already know, and they decide that he is harmful. The society of mice reflects society in how they didn’t understand something so they pushed it away. So many times people don’t accept or understand things because they are out of the ordinary, so they shun it. It happens every day; with racism and conflicts over human sexuality. Most people don’t understand that there is no way to define normal. All around the world things are different, and one needs to be open minded enough to understand it. Now look what being open minded did for the mouse. His willingness to listen and his faith in the frog allowed him to see into the rest of the world, even deeper into his own mind. There is a fine line between being open-minded and being gullible. Both will listen to anything to try to understand it, but gullible people lack common sense. The mouse seemed kind of gullible, in how he’d risk his safety by jumping in the water all because the frog said to.

Jumping mouse is like many people, always seeking a better way of life. The other mice were quite content with their busy life, because that was the way they have always known. But Jumping Mouse had a taste for what else the world had to offer him. When Jumping Mouse met with the old mouse, he found a perfect place to live, free from harm and lots of food. He was told he should stay but somehow, he knew that he could have better. Even later on his journey to find the mountains he discovered a small "mouse utopia" with an abundant supply of food and shelter, everything a mouse could want. Yet he still wanted to keep searching for the mountains he knew were still ahead.

The mouse in this story is a very kind and generous mouse. He comes across the path of a sick buffalo that needs one thing to make him complete: an eye of a mouse. Now it doesn’t take long for Jumping Mouse to decide what to do. He doesn’t want the buffalo to die so he gives up half of his gift of sight by letting the buffalo have an eye. In return for his gift of life, the buffalo offered him protection from predators as Mouse continued on with his journey. After he parts with the buffalo, Jumping Mouse meets with a gray wolf that for some reason cannot remember the simplest of things. But being the kind mouse that he is, our hero wishes to help and decides that by giving the wolf his remaining eye it would cure him of his problems. Now completely giving up his gift of sight is a very difficult thing to ever want to do, but Jumping Mouse decides that it is better to take care of others in need than him. The wolf’s memory is restored and it can now function again, thanks to the selfless generosity that the little mouse displayed. And in turn for Mouse’s good deed, the wolf offered to be his eyes and help him continue on his way.

Jumping mouse finally makes his way to what he has been searching for: the medicine lake in the mountains. Only he cannot see anything and becomes very frightened at his situation. And just when he thinks he’s hopeless and is surely dead, he wakes up from what he thought was his death and finds that he can now see. A familiar voice asks him to do something, and the ever-diligent mouse complies. After all of his journey, determination, and selfless good deeds, Jumping Mouse has been given the ultimate reward. He has now become an eagle, free to do anything.