Here I Am

I know that I had a reason for coming on here, but I have since forgotten it. My train of thought seems to have lead me away from where I began and therefore I am here, rather than there, where I had intended to remain so that I could write about it on this thing that has no purpose whatsoever. Maybe this blog should have a purpose. Are you interested in helping me out with that? That would be lovely. Thanks for your assistance. Not. Because you aren't there. So I am basically talking to myself. I should do something with my life, rather than dancing and sitting around here, in my house, and doing absolutely nothing. Today, I have successfully spent six hours at dance and four hours coloring and watching Disney princesses with my younger sister (who, for the record, is in the 7th grade. And yes, we colored princesses). While at dance, I learned the five fairy (including the mysterious dragonfly) variations from Cinderella (which is the ballet we are doing again this year) and sat around quite a lot. I am the winter fairy this year, and the variation is considerably easier than I thought it would be. That's always good. I am also understudy to Cinderella, which doesn't really mean anything except for that I get to spend even more time learning things that I won't ever dance. Hooray. A few weeks ago I auditioned for the Kirov Academy of Ballet, or whatever it's called, because my teacher wanted me to, and got in. Now I have a bit of a dilemma. Camp is for four weeks, and I am already going to that (of course). However, the Kirov summer program is three weeks. That would mean that I would be away from home for seven weeks. Seeing as my parents are divorced, that leaves me only about a week and a half with each parent. But the program would be fantastically amazing. Eh. Oh well. I will decide. That's what I am doing about my classes as well. I am supposed to choose my classes on Monday for next year (that's Sophomore year, folks! Thank god I will no longer be a loser of a freshman!) and I have absolutely no idea what to take. Math will be precalc and English will be American Literature. Science will be Chemistry and I will take French 3. After that, though, I am lost. I could take AP Human Geography or Ancient Civ or Ancient History. My remaining two electives could be any combination of Beginning Women's Choir, Mixed Choir, Newspaper, Yearbook, and Speech. So many decisions! I have a phobia of them. I think that the reason that nobody reads this is because my life is really incredibly boring and no one wants to read about it! If you happen to be reading this- congrats! You're probably the first. Hm. I am really good and forgetting where I begin and ending up somewhere completely different. Oh well. I am going to bed now because I feel better when I wake up early and it is nearly midnight. Buona Notte (that's Italian for "Good Night"), mie amiche (my friends... I think... I haven't taken an Italian class in a year).

And now it's Sunday...

Looks like I'm on a writing jag! This is the second day in a row that I have written on this silly thing that nobody reads. It's basically a record, especially since I haven't written since like, August. Anyway, not much has changed since yesterday, and since I haven't written any new poems I suppose I'll just have to come up with something interesting. Oh! So I have recently become obsessed with certain famous youtube-ers, like charlieissocoollike and standardtristan. If you haven't seen either of those people, I recommend you do so. Like now. *Pause while you watch their videos and laugh* Ok now that you're back... my obsession with these wonderful characters has inspired me to start my own youtube channel, but it turns out it's harder than it may seem to be funny and... well, make people watch your videos. Thus far, I have zero (0) subscribers and about five people have watched my videos. Welcome to loser-ville, Harper! Yesss that's my name. Didn't know if you knew that... Whatever. In addition to my failure at youtube-ing (is that even a thing? I don't think it's a word), I apparently fail at this "blogging" idea. I wonder what one does to make people find them on the internet. Any suggestions? Nope, because nobody is reading this. If you are reading this, feel special (because I think you're the only one) and please, please help me out. I just want someone to know that I am here. Do you ever feel like you are the only person on the entire planet that has no friends? And spends their life inside watching random people on the internet and reading books, and ventures outside only to walk the dogs and to go to dance? And that you are the only person who does their homework on a Friday night and are disappointed because your class rank is among the top fifty out of seven hundred and you'd rather be in the top ten? Maybe I'm the only weirdo like that. Who knows? Either way, my life is extremely boring. The issue with my life is that it's extremely stressful for about three days and then it's ridiculously boring for a while. My life should get fairly interesting soon. Or slightly more interesting. I will be playing tennis at my high school (because I'm in high school now!) in March, and we begin rehearsals for Cinderella next weekend, provided I'm not going to the Kirov Academy summer program audition, which I might be but I'm not sure yet. Additionally, I am trying to go to a speech and debate meet on the 12th with my drama piece, based on the novel Shug, by Jenny Han. Basically, it's a ten-minute monologue made up of sentences and pieces cut from the book and it has to be a proper story and,  because it's supposed to be "dramatic", they are generally sad. Unfortunately, my piece is not extremely sad. I am hoping that I will be able to go to the meet and see what else is out there. But we shall see. I really should go read The Odyssey. I'm procrastinating horribly. Thankfully I have already finished the rest of my homework, although I cheated a bit on my math homework because it didn't make sense so me. My math teacher has mysteriously vanished... She was gone on Friday and hasn't put any grades in all weekend, which is surely unusual for her. Sometimes she has my test graded by the end of that. Granted, I have math first period (it's awful). I have gotten very off topic. I am going to go read that ancient book that is apparently one of the best of all time. To tell the truth, I don't really understand. I get that it's important because it's so insanely old, but it is still just a book. So yeah. There's my deal for today. I really am going now. Have a lovely Sunday.

p.s. read A Mango-Shaped Space! I got it at the book store because it looked interesting and it was quite good, although I nearly cried at the end...

Saturday Morning

Today is Saturday- It's a lovely Saturday morning and I'm sitting on my bed to write this. I haven't written in quite some time. In fact, my life has changed a great deal since I last wrote. Unfortunately, after reading my last posts, I feel that my ability to write well has decreased rather a lot since I wrote them. Ah, well. I think I am a rather odd teenager because I woke up at seven thirty this morning. No, slightly before then. Is that not slightly ridiculous? I feel rather sad, because I recently discovered that this blog has only ever had ten views. And I can be fairly certain that nine of them are mine, due to my desperate searches to regain access to this dusty old site that nobody every reads. Although I could prefer this to being famous or something of the like. I mean, internet-famous. That would be weird. The main reason I spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get back on this silly old thing was because I wanted to post a few poems I have written recently. They are not particularly interesting, and nor are they particularly good, but here they are anyway:

The Day of the Ribbon Tears

If she could, she’d run away.

She’d build herself a tree house and wait for him.

Her tears would be ribbons, slipping from her pain-filled eyes.

She would sew them into a blanket, a tent,

Something to hide her from everything that hurt.

She’d try to give them away, to sell them, because she hated them,

But they wouldn’t be worth anything to anyone else.

So she’d sit beneath the pale blue sky,

Crying her silver ribbon-tears, and wishing that they’d bring him back.

She would cry mountains of them.

They would spill from the windows of her tree house,

Cascading into a silvery mess that would slither through city streets

To find him.

And then he’d know;

He would know that she was broken

Shattered

Splintered.

Like the broken pieces of a mirror.

He would feel her pain and meet her among the shadowy trees.

His green eyes would laugh and he’d take her out into the world.

He would hold her hand and they would forget that they had been something before.

She would forget that she’d thought he had lied, told her that he’d loved her

When maybe he hadn’t.

And he’d forget that he’d moved on, forgotten the first girl he’d loved,

Held another girl’s hand.

They would lie in the tall grass, marveling at the love they shared.

They would run and dance and he’d tell her just how beautiful she was

As she ran her fingers through his golden hair.

And they’d burn her silver tears in the late afternoon, and watch the smoke disappear.

And then there's this one: 

 Coming back from the Bathroom

In this nighttime house,

Darkness seeps into the corners and doorways

Like water searching for a crack

My bare legs are long

And pale, but I can’t find the moonlight

To illuminate them.

So I stand in the dark, my eyes adjusting

From the stark and sterile bathroom brightness.

Slip up the creaking, narrow stairs

In this giant, silent house.

Yellow light pours from my open bedroom door,

A slithering, watery light

Like the light I forgot to turn out

Downstairs.

And there’s a box of crayons sitting on the floor

Next to my bed.

It smells like being young.

that I wrote last night. Coming back from the bathroom. Actually, it was nearly this morning. It was eleven twenty and I still managed to get up at seven twenty in the morning, which is ridiculous for a Saturday morning. I really ought to go shower now. So here I go. Arrivaderci, my invisible readers!  

Summer

Hullo there, my non-existent readers. Ever notice how easy it is to get lost on the web? You start off looking for one thing (say, the new Apple iPad) and end up on some random page in the middle of nowhere looking at Nintendo Wii games and you're looking into purchasing one yourself. Funny how that works, isn't it? After going on that interesting little tangent, I shall begin what I came here for. 

It's summer! Lovely, wonderful summer. Or is it? School ended earlier than my parent's school did... May 27th. And oh, how wonderful it was to be free. No schoolwork equaled no stress. It left me time to pursue what I wished and do what I pleased. However, this was not really true. Freedom? From schoolwork, but not much else. Dance became even more intense. 

We were preparing for the summer showcase. Again. The time had come. Actually, we started in January. So we worked on it for six months. Six whole months! Despite this lengthy amount of time, we were nowhere near ready to perform our show, due to many girls' absences from the weekly rehearsals and classes. Anyhow, we had five-hour rehearsals on Saturdays. The week before the show (which was on the 14th of July) we had two six-hour rehearsals on Tuesday and Thursday. Then, on Saturday, we had our usual five-hour rehearsal. Between all that and attempting (failing) to have a social life, tennis, and piano lessons, I had little time for anything else. 

Finally, the day came. I woke up early. Butterflies danced in my stomach as I walked carefully around the house, not wanting to hurt myself moments before the show. I twisted my hair up and quickly applied as much make-up as I dared. We arrived at the theater at ten-thirty in the morning. I checked costumes and finished putting on make-up. We were called for a dress rehearsal that was really just a spacing exercise for the first half of the show (nothing that we had choreographed for the showcase part, that is). The butterflies grew until they fluttered into my heart and made it beat faster. I was in costume, waiting in the wings. 

I stepped out into the bright light of the stage, my feet dancing the steps they had learned for so many months. My pointe-shoe-clad feet picked themselves lightly up off the ground, carrying me this way and that. I was a Bluebird for Cinderella, and that's all that I was. I was no longer myself, only that wonderful person dancing madly on that brightly lit stage.

And I was off. I scurried down several flights of stairs to the crowded, smelly, sweaty dressing room. I changed my costume and returned upstairs. This was It. My solo. What I had been waiting for (and fearing) for so long. I stood in the wings, nearly shaking. I plastered I smile on my face, hoping it didn't look as nervous as I felt. I took my position, waiting for the music to start.

 It started loudly. I took off, leaping and traipsing about the stage. I flew through the air, feeling the hot lights above me and the soft click of my pointe shoes against the Marley as I landed. Finally the end came- the part I feared the most. Italian Fuettes - for those of you (are you there?) who don't know, it consists of pushing yourself onto pointe from one leg putting the other in the air, and then swinging your leg around and to the back (attitude derrière) and back onto pointe. Very difficult. My first was close to perfection. On my second, I didn't make it back onto pointe as I came around. I hurried offstage after hastily bowing. Tears burned my eyes. I felt ridiculous for crying at one little thing. I kept the tears from spilling down my face, but barely. 

I changed again and returned to the stage as a ballroom-goer. I danced the steps I knew, angrily speaking through my grinning teeth to the little girls who had no idea what in the world they were doing. Finally, Cinderella (time #1) was over. We shouted as the curtain came down with joy and the succession of our show. I looked forward to the second half. 

The first dance of the second half was not interesting in any way. The second dance was the reason I dance. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. It was a quartet my friend and I had choreographed to "Hey Soul Sister" by Train. The stage lights beat down on me, and the floor was solid beneath my bare feet. My feet moved and twisted and I felt so free and so alive. It sounds cheesy, I know. But it's true! I didn't think of anything but the dance. The smile on my face was real, not forced. It felt like heaven must feel. It was like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day, a fire in a cold room. I left the stage feeling euphoric. The final dance, to "California Star" by Wilco just added to my generally fantastic feeling. 

Believe it or not, the second show was even better. My teacher told me that the "Hey Soul Sister" dance brought tears to her eyes, which I did not fully understand, but figure it meant something good. 

Now that dance is over, I don't know what to do with myself. I'm just waiting for it to start again (July 5th) and to go to camp (July 15th). So I wait. And now, good-night, dear readers, who may or may not exist. Good-night. 

Well then

I seem to have problems in routinely writing in this blog, but here I am, again. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm is the reason I have so few readers (if I have any at all). Ah, well. I just returned from a spring break trip to Seattle. No, I have no relatives there, nor did we have any particular motivation to go to the rainy city, it just seemed... interesting. And interesting it was. Now I am sitting and waiting for my pictures to download. 231........232.......233....... I am quite an impatient person, so waiting for half an hour for pictures to download is unbearable. Well, nearly unbearable. There isn't much to write about. School: boring. Dance: long. Writing: not really happening. I seem to have run into an extreme writer's block. If anyone reads this, if they would be so kind as to suggest some sort of topic, that would be most excellent. Everything I write seems to turn into trash after a few readings-over. Maybe I'm a bit too critical of myself. That's quite possible. I tend to do that.... Off to edit pictures. Most of them will be trashed because of my criticism of myself and anything that I create. Lovely! 'Evening, folks. If there are any of you....

Random Story

I wrote this story a while ago but haven't decided to post it 'till now. Here goes...

Hovercraft City

The sky slowly filled with the dark underbellies of hovercrafts. The once-blue sky turned gray and a sense of unrest filled the city. The subways filled with people on their way home from the workday, as usual, but there was little chatter. The tension was evident, even among the schoolchildren. Lights around the city flickered on as the children left the schools.

                An average-height, pale girl with plain brown hair slung her backpack over her shoulder. Her wide eyes looked around curiously as she was swept along by the tidal wave of teenagers heading home.

                The subway was cramped and a few people spoke in hushed voices. A crazy old man sitting beside her muttered softly under his breath and shook his head repeatedly. The girl heard a soft ringing and pressed her finger to her ear.

                “Hey, mom.” She said quietly, looking down at her shoes.

                “Hi, Lil. Are you on the subway?” Lily’s mother sounded worried. She softly approved that she was.

                “I need you to get off as soon as possible. Get a taxi and meet me at home. I will explain later. I have to go. Love you.” Lily frowned and tapped her ear to turn the auto-phone off. A sign above her head flashed the next stop.

                “The station is approaching.” The cool, male voice stated. Lily jostled her way off of the train and hurried up the stairs. She hailed the first taxi she saw, the yellow craft bright against the gray buildings.

                “Where to, miss?” the kind-looking driver asked. Lily quietly explained her address and stared out the window as the taxi moved reluctantly around the corners. She handed the driver a few bills and climbed out of the craft.

                “Thank you.” She said, and jogged up to the house. Before she could reach for her key and unlock the door, it flew open and her mother gathered her into a hug.

                “My baby,” she whispered into Lily’s ear, sounding almost as though she was crying. Lily pulled away from her mother’s embrace and looked at her oddly.

                “Mommy? What’s going on?” the gentle, quiet girl’s face was suddenly filled with fear like a cup is filled with water. The surprise rose from her mouth to her eyes and brought her eyebrows slowly together. She squeezed her mother’s hand and looked nervously around the house. She glanced out of the window as though a murderer was standing outside.

                “Let’s go sit in the living room,” her mother said and guided her gently to the wide black couch. Lily pulled her arms out of her backpack and dropped it to the floor where it landed loudly. She brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. Once she was comfortable, she turned and looked expectantly at her mother.

                “Darling,” she sighed, “Before I begin, I want to tell you that I’m sorry.”

                “You’re sorry? Mom, just tell me.” Lily grew suddenly frustrated without knowing why. She took a deep breath and sighed. “Go ahead, mom. Sorry.”

                “It’s ok, sweetie. So here it is. Several years ago, before you were even born, your father and I were part of an international organization known as IPO, or International Peace Organization. Our goal was to promote and increase peace worldwide, and ultimately create a world in which there is no war. However, several large politicians and even some countries received enormous amounts of money from wars and had the opportunity to receive even more if they continued to fight against one another.

                “The main IPO base was here, so we decided to move to this city so that we could continue to work with the organization. One week after we moved here, our good friend Marco was assassinated by some politician who left a note saying that any other person attempted to continue the IPO, they would be murdered as well. A short time before that, I had discovered that I was pregnant with you. We could not continue our relations with IPO, despite our loyalty. It would not be fair to the unborn child: you.

                “The assassinations continued as you grew. Three weeks before you were to be born, we discovered that I carried not one but two children. I gave birth to you and your twin sister, who we named Lila. As we left the hospital, an unknown person called your father. They told him that we had three days to leave the city or they would be forced to kill all four of us. Of course, there was no way we could allow them to take and murder our newborn children.

                “We struggled to pack everything together and somehow made it to the hovercraft port within twenty-four hours. You and your sister seemed manageable to me and your father, and we relaxed as we were about to take off. Moments before our departure time, a man clothed all in black, including a hat and sunglasses, stepped onto the craft and pulled a gun from his jacket pocket. He said that two people from our family had to go with him. If we surrendered and sent two people with him, he wouldn’t kill anybody.” Her mother suddenly seemed to break down and her voice caught in her throat for a moment. She cleared her throat and continued.

                “Your father said he would go. He said he had to take one of you girls to make it easier for me. He promised he would take care of Lila. The man told him that he would be able to call if he wanted to. They took him away along with your sister. For three years he called me regularly, eventually allowing Lila to talk as she learned. Then, suddenly, the calls stopped. No one told me what had happened. A month ago, he called me and said that he and Lila were on the run. He said that they had decided to return to the underground IPO organization. Today, IPO revealed that it was once again up and running. They figured that they had lain low for so many years that it was now safe. Obviously, they are not. All the hovercrafts are here to attack the IPO. The IPO is conferring in an abandoned building in the outskirts. Your… father, the one you… grew up with… is not really your father. He is… was… your father’s and my… best friend. I’m so sorry.”

                Lily’s face grew stony as a single tear leaked from her eye and lurched down her face, landing softly on her blue uniform skirt. She looked at her mother, distrust and fear etched across her soft features. A torrent of tears began to slip down her face. They slowly created a small pond on the surface of her skirt. She stood up slowly and shook her head in disbelief.

                “I can’t believe you, mom. I can’t believe you did this to me.”  Fear and anger shoved themselves out of Lily’s mouth in her words with such horrid, powerful force. She turned her back on her mother and walked slowly, dignifiedly out of the room.  Her mother began slowly crying as Lily had done. The two were crying softly on different floors of the house when the first shot rang out above them.

                “Mommy!” Lily cried as she flew down the stairs and landed on the couch, immediately curling up into herself and wrapping her skinny arms around her mother’s arm. “Mommy, what’s going to happen?”

                “I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know.” Her mother was eerily calm as she stared out of the window that faced the street. The doorbell rang and it echoed through the house. Lily and her mother froze.

                “I’ll go. Go hide in your room. I’ll come get you in five minutes if it’s okay. If I’m not there in five minutes, assume something has happened and don’t come out until it is absolutely necessary. I love you.”

                “I love you too, mommy.” Lily squeezed her mother’s hand, tears threatening to resume their course, and scurried up the stairs. Her mother walked slowly to the door and looked out of the peephole. Her eyes widened in amazement as she fumbled with the lock.

                “Luis!” she cried, throwing her arms around a tall man with a grim face. He gratefully wrapped his arms around her. “My baby,” she said softly, turning to Lily’s twin.

                “Mommy?” Lila looked at her mother in amazement. “Mommy!” she threw herself at her mother.

                “Lily!” her mother called up the stairs, “Lily, come here!” Lily tripped down the stairs and gazed in amazement at her twin. The sisters stared at each other as their parents gazed at the twin they hadn’t seen in so many years.

                “Lila,” Lily said, softly.

                At the same time, Lila said, “Lily,” The sisters broke into uncertain, relieved laughter. The reunited family slowly made their way into the living room, looking in happy amazement at one another. The strangeness of the whole situation suddenly struck Lily as funny, and she began to giggle softly. The laughter spread throughout them and within moments, the entire family was laughing uncontrollably.

                The sound of a machine gun reached the house, followed by a scream. Everyone was instantly sobered. The reality of the coming war hit them like a tidal wave, and they were instantly silent.

                “We have to do something.” Luis said, and everyone nodded in silent agreement. “Come with me.” The grim-faced family slipped out of the door, unnoticed in the chaos of returning parents and children. They climbed into a hovercraft and took off into the gray city.

To be continued…

               

Luis guided the hovercraft as though it was simply an extension of him and they slipped through and around the mid-evening traffic. Lily watched her father incredulously while Lila gazed at her mother. Lily wondered for a moment when Lila had been told. Perhaps she had always known. Lily would have preferred that to discovering the truth moments before her sister and true father arrived on her doorstep. Her entire world had been flipped upside-down and backwards in less than fifteen minutes. However, it seemed more natural to her than her old life had ever seemed. It just seemed right that her identical twin would sit next to her in the shiny hovercraft gently guided by her father.

                “Luis.” The twins’ mother sighed as she placed her delicate hand over his. Lily realized that the whole thing had been a million times harder for her mother than it had been for her. Her mother had kept the IPO a secret from Lily for nearly fourteen years, all the while fearing for her husband and daughter’s lives. She never got the chance to watch Lila take her first steps or speak her first word. She never got to see Lila as a little girl coming home and reciting the alphabet, or learning how to read and write. Lily suddenly felt a great sympathy for her mother.

                “Hey, Lily, I’m so glad I finally get to meet you!” Lila looked earnestly at her twin, holding her hand out formally.

                “I’m pleased to meet you as well, Lila!” Lily grinned as she shook her sister’s hand. The action felt too formal, so she pulled her hand away and pulled her sister into a hug.

                “You know, this is really weird. It’s like I’ve known you my whole life, but I only just met you. It’s like… meeting a long-lost sister. Wait, no. That’s what it is!” Lila spoke quickly, smiling widely.

                “Yes, quite weird.” Lily was overwhelmed by this enthusiastic replica of herself. She wanted to shout out “I’ve only known that I even had a sister for twenty minutes! Can you just leave me alone for a moment!?” and crawl into her bed to wake up and learn that it was all a dream. Lila noticed her expression and looked worriedly at Lily.

                “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is kind of surprising for you…” she looked so sad that Lily felt bad.

                “It’s just… new. Don’t worry about it.” Lily smiled kindly and gently took the hand of the stranger that she knew so well.

                The hovercraft was eased around the sharp corner of a building and suddenly the street was filled with hundreds of people. Not just the usual after-work rush home, no, this was an organized, purposeful group of people. They all stood looking up at someone standing on a platform in front of the building, their faces grim but filled with excitement at the same time. A few held signs.

                “Let peace begin again” one sign proclaimed, held by a squat man with a full moustache. Another read, “Pace, paz, peace. Whatever it is, we want it.”         

                Luis stopped the hovercraft and fondly lowered it to the ground before allowing the family to exit. Lily stood uncertainly beside her parents and twin. She wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to do, but apparently everyone else did. Lila took her by the hand as they waded through the crowd which roared its approval of the speaker every few seconds. Lily abruptly found herself standing with her family by the makeshift stage. It was really just a wooden platform raised a few feet above the ground. However, the stage seemed so rebellious to Lily that it was incredible.

                Lily realized as she looked at the stage that that was the difference between her and the rest of her family. She tended to stick to the rules, to do everything that anybody wanted so that she could wander off into her imagination or into a fantasyland created by words on a page. Lila and Luis- her father- and her mother were all incredibly rebellious. She figured that Lila was rebellious because she had grown up imprisoned by a politician and had spent a majority of her life trying to escape. Or so Lily presumed; she hadn’t really asked about Lila’s life. She felt suddenly appalled with herself.

                “Lila,” she shouted over the din of the crowd, “What was growing up like?” Lila looked at her with surprise for a moment before the expression passed from her face.

                “Great,” Lila shouted back, “Why?”

                “I don’t know… I just realized that I don’t know anything about your childhood, and you know nothing about mine, which is odd, considering we’re twins. I was also thinking about how you seem so rebellious.” Lily tilted her head to one side as she considered her thoughts. “I just wanted to know, I guess. Maybe you can tell me later,” she added, as her mother pulled her up onto the stage. The din of the crowd lessened as the family stood upon the stage. Lily felt as though their presence had grown to encompass all of the people surrounding them. She strangely wondered if she would be famous, after all this. If maybe they were getting her on TV… she shook her head to rid herself of the idea and started when her father began to speak.

                “People of America,” he said, his voice quieting the hundreds of thousands of people the filled up every crack and corner of the street, “we gather here today for one reason, and one reason only. Who would like to tell me what that is?” He looked out into the crowd before pointing at a young boy sitting on his father’s shoulders, waving his tiny, eager hand in the air.

                “Peace!” the little boy shouted out as people around him grinned and cooed. Lily’s father nodded enthusiastically and smiled at him.

                “Yes. Peace. Who would think that it is so hard to come by? We must ask ourselves at some point, why? Why? Why do we repeatedly kill other, innocent people? Why do we spend money on cruel, ruthless killing? Why do we arrest people here for killing but send them to other countries to do the same thing? Do we really think that we are protecting the people by training soldiers to kill without thinking? Let me tell you why those who support war agree with this. Because they want money and power and fame, but, in the end, all that anybody gets out of it is a whole lot of dead people.”

                A spray of bullets rained down upon the crowd from above, as camouflaged hovercraft floated past, and a man in uniform laughing at the screams from below him through the hatch. Lily scowled up at him, knowing that he couldn’t see her.  She wouldn’t dare offend him otherwise. A woman to Lily’s right screamed as bullets pummeled the crowd again and red, pure blood spurted from her arm. The woman’s eyes widened as she saw the blood before she crumpled to the floor like a rag doll.

                The woman’s eyes glazed over as she hit the ground and Lily leaped off of the stage to help her.

                “Lily,” Lila shouted after her, “She’s gone! You can’t help her!” Lily ignored her sister and sprinted to the fallen lady. The woman convulsed on the ground and repeatedly slapped at her skin, as though ants were crawling all over her body. A young man stared at the lady with wide, horrified eyes, helpless.

                “Do you know her?” Lily asked the young, frightened man.

                “We just got married,” he said softly, “we were going to have kids someday. She said she wanted a boy. A little boy…” the man’s voice inflated with fear and pain. Lily couldn’t think of anything to say.

                “She’ll be fine,” she said, cradling the woman’s head, “we just need to get a doctor or something in here.” The man shook his head before she even began.

                “We can’t help her,” he said, choking on his tears, “she’s gone. Finished. Done for. We can’t help her. There’s poison in those bullets. Poison you can’t get out once it’s in. The stupid government is willing to shoot poison at citizens. How much more uncivilized can you get?” Tears were flooding down his face now, mingling with his new wife’s blood. He cradled the young lady’s head and kissed her softly; he wiped her sweating brow as she moaned and shuddered in his arms. 

                Lily’s eyes welled with tears and they slipped down her face. She took the man’s hands in her own and for one moment, she felt his terrible, awful pain. With that, she squeezed his hand and plodded slowly back to her family. She noticed their shocked faces and looked down to find blood spattered over her clothing. She could not believe how much her life had changed, in so little time…

Chp.3

                Lily sat on the wooden platform as the crowd slowly eased into mass chaos. Shouts and screams rose from the people as bullets continued to rain down upon them like hundreds of deadly raindrops. Lily felt the change from a determined group of people to a chaotic mess of fearful beings. Abruptly, the constant sound of firing bullets ceased and the street grew quiet. Hundreds of faces turned curiously to the sky, excepting those mourning their dying loved ones.

                “Good afternoon, people,” a strong, male voice announced from a hovercraft, “I am the general of the City Army.”

                “City Army?” Lily asked her sister, “Since when do we have that?”

                “It was started somewhere in the last ten years,” Lila said, “it’s purpose here is to protect us because we are so far away from any other bases. I guess they have decided they’ll use it against their own citizens as well.” She said; her voice filled with disgust. She clenched her jaw together as the man continued.

                “We have come here today on order of the president. If it is indeed true that you are a group associated with the IPO, then I will continue. If not, I apologize for the inconvenience.” The hovercraft moved closer to the ground as the man spoke, so that, soon enough, the bottom of the craft was no more than ten feet above the heads of the people in that area.

                “Ridiculous people, you!” a young man shouted from the crowd, “I hate all of you!” The general, now shown in the large window of the hovercraft, cocked his gun. The man jumped down from the trash bin he had been standing on and melted back into the crowd. The people grew silent, so silent you could hear the whirr of the motor of the hovercraft. Everyone seemed to hold their breath.

                “Shall we continue, darlings?” the man asked mockingly. The crowd remained silent, fearing the Death Bullets.

                “I will take that as a yes,” he grinned, exposing shiny, straight teeth. “If I could speak to your leader, privately, please, I would most appreciate it.” The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Lily accompanied her family to the hovercraft. Her father gulped as they came under the shadow of the ugly craft. Its gray exterior glinted menacingly in the late afternoon light.

                “Daddy,” Lila said, grabbing her father’s sleeve, “daddy, please don’t. Please.” She looked earnestly up into his dark brown eyes. He gave a sharp shake of his head and grasped each of his girls’ hands quickly before stepping into the pool of light beneath the hatch. He slowly began his ascent of the ladder the general kindly provided. Lila covered her eyes and took slow, shaky breaths.

                “I love you,” Louis mouthed to his family before he completely disappeared into the craft. The crowd held its breath, their beloved leader and friend a prisoner inside that craft where the windows had been covered by sheets of steel. Lily’s mother stared wide-eyed at the hovercraft, maintaining a stony look. Lily’s years of experience with her mother told her that her constant gulping was the only thing that held back a river of tears. She felt, again, a pang of guilt for feeling as though the day had been hard, because, for her mother, the last thirteen years had been hard, harder than Lily could even imagine.

                “Afternoon, sir,” Louis said, climbing into the hovercraft. The general looked him up and down, sneering at Louis’ casual worn-out jeans and t-shirt.

                “What a refined president we have here,” the general said, laughing sarcastically. His pressed black suit and tie couldn’t hide the ugliness that overwhelmed the man. His crooked nose curved down like that of a vulture while his fat fingers clenched like talons. Tiny yellowish eyes sat sunken in a meaty face. All in all, his hulking figure appeared distinctly bird-like.

                “I believe I was summoned here to speak to you, sir. I would appreciate it if we could make this quick. I would enjoy the leisure to spend time with my family.” Louis stood with his sneaker-clad feet a slight distance apart, his head up despite the fact that it was about at the same height as the general’s neck.

                “I’m sure you would enjoy that, hippo man, but we have important business to discuss.” The general sneered, seeming set upon making Louis frustrated. However, Louis remained completely calm. His face remained pleasant, his hands relaxed by his side. The general scowled at him and gestured for him to take a seat.

                “You, mister, are in heaps of trouble if you don’t cooperate, so I suggest you do, little man,” the general said, pulling a sheet of paper from inside his jacket, “and now we will begin. You are no longer allowed to continue the organization or protest acts of the government. You are, furthermore, under house arrest by the armed forces and all contact is prohibited. Any person found associating with you in an attempt to resurrect the organization will also be placed under house arrest. Your sentence will be served for ten years, with good behavior. Any further offence will add ten years to your house arrest. Any questions?” the general grinned.

                “Yes, sir, I believe you are violating constitutional rights,” Louis said, “amendment one, first. The first amendment gives us the right to protest peacefully, which I believe we were doing. Second, I have the right to a fair trial and a jury before any sentence is placed. Third, the constitution prohibits unusual punishment which I also believe is occurring here, seeing as no one has been placed under house arrest in over thirty years.” The general growled and peered at Louis through his tiny eyes.

                “Is this correct?” the general asked the pilot.

                “Yes, sir.” The pilot said, spinning in his chair.

                “Well.” The general said. “Return home, sir, and I will see what we are going to do about you. Tell all your people to go home as well. We won’t hurt them if they don’t offend again.” The general said, turning to allow the sheets of steel that had risen to cover the windows to go down again. He turned back around to sneer one final time at Louis before he jumped from the hatch down to the ground.

                Chp. 4

“People,” Louis said loudly as he landed lightly on the ground in the shadow of the fleeing hovercraft, “I have partially good news and partially bad news. The general has decided to send me to a trial. He says that none of us will be prosecuted if we do not offend again. I say we continue meeting regularly at headquarters. We will see what happens. For now, everyone, please return home. I hope to see you all on Wednesday. If something happens to me, I will send a message. May the hippo live!” The crowd roared in agreement and steadily began to disperse.

                “May the hippo live?” Lily asked her sister. This statement seemed confusing.

                “Yeah,” Lila said, “It’s what we call the IPO. It’s like, if you say IPO as a word it sounds kind of like hippo. It’s sort of a code word.” She shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s just how it’s always been.” The sisters turned towards their parents to find them embracing. Lily’s mother was weeping softly, silvery tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

                “There, there, Liza,” Louis gently patted his wife’s back, “We’ll stay together this time. I promise.” Liza sighed deeply and leaned into her husband. Lily leaned her head against her twin’s shoulder. It felt to incredibly natural that, for a moment, Lily didn’t remember that she hadn’t grown up with this girl.

                “Let’s go home,” Lily’s mother said with a deep breath, wiping at her teary eyes. The family walked slowly through the crowd to the powder blue hovercraft that Louis had so carefully parked. They entered the craft, relaxing slightly as they sank into the heated seats.

                “Daddy,” Lila said suddenly, “Someone’s been in here.” She pointed to the pilot’s chair. Louis looked carefully at it for a moment, his brows furrowed, before nodding quickly.

                “Check everything.” He ordered, popping open drawers and looking under seats. Lily, unsure of what to do, sat awkwardly on the edge of the seat.

                “How are you sure someone’s been here?” she asked, feeling a sense, again, of being an outsider.

                “Uh, the pilot’s chair moved,” Lila explained quickly and distractedly, shuffling through some papers that had been left on the table.

                “Um, ok, are you sure?” Lily asked, peering at the chair.

                “Yup, I really need to teach you some stuff. It was facing the window when we left and now it’s facing towards the inside of the craft.” Lila said, sighing. “Ah, here we go,” she said, lifting a sheet of paper from the stack, “Found it.” Both of Lily’s parents stopped searching the craft and stood behind Lila.

                “You should be careful,” Lila read slowly, “The IPO won’t be around much longer. That’s all.” She flipped the paper over, looking carefully at the other side. Liza shook her head slowly.

                “Useless,” Liza said, “there’s absolutely nothing we don’t know in there.” Lila sighed.

                “We’ll file it anyway,” she said, setting it on top of the other sheets of paper. Lily wanted to scream. Nobody explained anything to her! She felt useless and unimportant. She felt a sudden surge of anger at her mother for not telling her any of this previously. Maybe if her mother had explained earlier she would understand everything that was going on.

                “Sorry, Lil,” Lila said at her twin’s lost expression, “I’m going to go file these and then I’ll explain.” Lily nodded, the anger dissipating as swiftly as it had arrived. She sighed and relaxed into the seat. The hovercraft was stark white in the interior, including the seats. The hovercraft, despite appearing older, moved silently and quickly as it wove through traffic. A few people shouted at Louis as he navigated the craft around other, slower ones.

                “Okay, I’ll explain now,” Lila said, seating herself next to Lily. “For a while now, people have been invading our personal life. After dad and I escaped from the prison, we bought a small apartment in the industry district. Despite being next to a relatively noisy factory, it was nice and simple and clean. However, when I was eight, we were discovered by our neighbors. We are and were on a wanted list by the city. We were forced to move. At our next location, another apartment in the agriculture district, a note appeared one day in our kitchen, forcing us to move. These mysterious notes have followed us since then, always keeping us on the move. They usually tell us that the government is going to arrest us if we remain wherever we are, but they’ve never left one in the Baby before. The Baby is the hovercraft. It’s what dad calls it.” Lila smiled a little as she finished talking.

Let me know what you think! I'll post more of this as soon as I write more...

I don't understand why I am still awake. Surely only seven hours of sleep last night and three hours of dancing would wear me out enough to fall asleep sooner than I could say "I'm tired," but, no. Of course not. This makes complete sense to me. In an alternate universe. Not much to report at the moment. I am so tired but cannot sleep. Really. I spent the last hour attempting to fall asleep. Clearly, that did not work. I tried "counting sheep", I tried listening to music, I tried no music, I tried reading for a short period of time before turning the light off again. Poor light, I've turned it on and off many times in the last hour. I have a math test tomorrow, first period. Let's pray that I can stay awake for it, considering the amount of sleep I'll get (currently, meaning if I fell asleep right now, I would get seven hours of sleep. It will most likely be less.). I wish I had something to write about, anything, really, will do. But this nearly-dead brain of mine refuses to cooperate and fall asleep or stay awake enough to actually do something. I will read this tomorrow and think that I am crazy, which is partially true. 

A Poem Composed When I Was Supposed to be Asleep: 

Sitting alone.

Typing quickly. 

Listening attentively. 

Thinking mindlessly. 

Sleep escapes this blank mind of mine, 

stealing away my dreams. 

Sweet dreams, take me away. 

Please

Let me sleep. 

The poem sucks. But I can't think of anything else and don't feel like editing. This is ridiculous. I want to scream but that would shatter the delicate silence of the nighttime and I would no longer have any possibility of falling asleep before midnight. So I will sit and wait, not so patiently, until slumber overwhelms me and I can melt into the simplicity of my dreams. Sleep well, my friends. Sleep well.