testimony

I don’t know exactly when it happened.  It wasn’t immediate.  No, I turned my back on God one-step at a time. I didn’t trust him anymore. I thought I had been doing what he wanted. I thought I was listening to him, but it seemed like every choice I was making ended in pain. If doing his will was only going to lead me to pain, then turning my back was the only way to keep from hurting. I wasn’t going to let myself be hurt anymore.

 

Within a year I experienced some of the worst pain I’d ever felt. Just one thing would have been enough to test my faith. But it happened over and over.  I kept getting hurt. I lost three of my best friends over the course of a few months. One of which I had been friends with for over 10 years. My marriage deteriorated to the point that we separated and divorce was imminent. It seemed like everyone I was close to ended up hurting me.  

 

 Throughout this time I was still connected to God. I was studying the life of David. As I read a chapter a day of A Heart Like His by Beth Moore every chapter talked to me specifically about what was going on in my immediate life. He was still speaking to me and I was still looking to him for guidance. I was desperate to know what to do. Thankfully he led me back into my marriage. My husband was the one God meant for me to be with. It wasn’t hard to follow that guidance. Despite all we went through, we still loved each other. I wanted to be with him.

 

It wasn’t until after everything happened that my relationship with God faltered. I was sure I had been wrong before. I had thought I was hearing his voice but I must have misunderstood.  That was my first step. I didn’t trust my ability to discern if what he was telling me was real or not. I didn’t trust that it was his voice. It didn’t take long for me to stop trusting him. I stopped listening…and he stopped talking.

 

I didn’t lose my faith. I knew I was wrong. I knew he was good. There must have been a reason for it all. But trusting him was too risky. I was learning first hand that Satan attacks those who are closest to God. I wasn’t. He didn’t have to waste his time trying to distract me from God. I was already there.

 

Over the next few years I watched God work in my life. I knew what he was doing. I recognized his work. So I stood back and watched him do it all.  

 

My marriage was still rocky. We were back together, we loved each other, but we were both still broken from the past. Neither of us was very convinced that we would make it. What would it mean for me if that happened? I would have to move back home. Get a degree so I could support my kids. I decided to get a head start just in case. I decided to go to school now.

 

To the world, this was the smart thing to do. The right choice.  I don’t regret going to school, but I knew my motives were not from God. I didn’t want to have to rely on him to take care of me.  Didn’t want to have to trust him. So I was making sure I could take care of myself. 

 

I fell in love with going to school. Honestly, I always had enjoyed school. It was exciting to be learning again. I devoted myself to getting an “A” in every class and at the end of every class my confidence grew when I achieved that goal. Then God stepped in.

 

I received a call from my academic advisor. My upcoming History class had been canceled. There were several choices I could choose from. I don’t remember what those choices were. As soon as she said creative writing the others didn’t even register. Writing has been my passion since the 3^rd grade. I had even been working on and off (mostly off) on a book series for years. Needless to say I chose the creative writing class.

 

My first assignment for the class was a short story based on a painting. I didn’t have to think twice about what painting to use. Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night is my all time favorite. When I look at Starry Night I see myself. All the disorder of my thoughts and feelings. I knew how Van Gogh had been feeling when he painted that piece. I didn’t realize until later that the reason I understood it so well was because, just like Van Gogh, I’m bipolar. My short story became about a young girl who through the painting finds out that she is bipolar. To this day I don’t think my professor knew that I was the girl in the story. That I am bipolar.

 

I was terrified the first day of class. I had gotten a great score on the paper, but I assumed everyone had. It was the first assignment. She probably was just being easy on everyone. I wanted so badly for her to think I had talent. If she told me otherwise my confidence would have plummeted. Then the girl sitting next to me in class started talking about how harshly she had graded them and everyone else started agreeing. It probably makes e selfish, but I had to fight not to smile.

 

I was feeling pretty good. We went on a break and as my professor was walking out of the room (we were the only two left) She stops and turns to me. She said,” You’re a really good writer by the way.” A college professor. An English teacher who had seen plenty of writers’ work had stopped to tell me I was talented. It may seem silly, but my life changed in that one moment. I was going to write. I had the confidence to actually try. But I still planned on finishing my Elementary Education degree. I would just write on the side.

 

The class ended having blown my confidence as a writer sky high. It was month or two later when I received a call from the professor. She had mentioned a publication they were starting in class. She thought we might want to submit some work for it. She wasn’t calling to ask me to submit some of my stories, though. She was asking me to be the editor. I was completely blown away.

 

It was then that I realized I didn’t really want to teach. I had always worked with special needs kids. It seemed like the obvious path to take. Now I knew I wasn’t passionate about it. But this I could be passionate about.  I decided to change my major to English.

 

The first issue of the publication came out and after a lot of bumps in the road it finally got printed and it looked amazing. Seeing my name as editor-in-chief was amazing. A University publication, and I was editor. A thousand copies were distributed between campuses and nearby businesses. The experience was exciting and we couldn’t wait to get started on the next issue.

 

The same week the publication came out I had scheduled surgery. For almost a year my husband and I couldn’t sleep in the same room because my snoring was so loud (slightly embarrassing). Despite that our marriage was doing well and has continued to improve since. My snoring hadn’t always been that loud. It just got a lot worse pretty suddenly. Looking back on it now, God has perfect timing.

 

In the middle of February I had surgery to fix the sleep apnea that was causing the snoring. They removed my uvula, adenoids, tonsils, and a portion of my soft palette. It’s not a fun surgery I assure you. I was terrified before the surgery that my voice would be ruined. I’m a pretty decent singer. Not the best but I have a little talent. Losing that would be devastating. It’s one of the things I love to do best in the world. When I was pregnant with my first son, my diaphragm all but gave out. It was awful not being able to sing, but luckily I got my voice back eventually. But what if the surgery ruined it for good?

 

Two weeks later I had mostly recovered from the surgery and I decided to give singing a try. I was anxious to know what I sounded like. As soon as I started I realized how much easier it was. Then I realized how much better I sounded. I was ecstatic. In my excitement I recorded a video of me singing “Never Alone” by Barlow Girl. The next day a friend from work, who I knew was a Christian, said she loved the song. Then she asked if I wanted to go see a Newsboys concert that night.

 

I had gone to a Newsboys concert when I was a teenager and I still to this day talk about it being one of the best I’ve been to. I’ve told many people about how exciting one part was where two of them started playing the drums on this platform that rose up, tilted, and started to spin. It was amazing and probably my favorite concert moment ever. Well, it was my favorite concert moment ever.

 

So naturally, I was stoked. I cleared it with my husband and rushed to the show as soon as I got out of work. On the way there, my friend explained to me that it wasn’t exactly the same group. They had changed a lot. I was pretty sad when I found that out. The sadness didn’t last long. When she said Michael Tait was the lead singer. Michael Tait. As in DC Talk. DC TALK! I was stoked once again.

 

Going into this concert I knew my relationship with God was probably going to change. As time had gone by the wall I had put up had slowly gotten weaker and weaker. I was very aware that soon there would be a moment when that wall crumbled and I’d be back where I should be. I had just been waiting for the moment to come. Concerts are always extremely powerful. It’s like God puts his hand on every one of us as we worship him. But I was still fighting it. Not as hard as before but I still was.

 

Then the opening bands performed. I had never heard of Anthem Lights or Abandon before. Being separated from God kind of puts you out of the loop when it comes to Christian music. Hence the not knowing about Michael Tait being the lead singer of the Newsboys. So when Anthem Lights took the stage I didn’t even know they were a “boy band.” I use that term loosely. I specifically remember seeing the four of them start singing and turned to my friend and in thirteen year old girl excitement say “THEY’RE A BOY BAND!”.  But that’s not why I got addicted to their music. It was how my life changed after the concert that hooked me.

 

After they were done, Abandon played. And they were just as amazing. I’ve never quite rocked out like that and simultaneously felt the amazing worship going on at the same time before. But I was still fighting. I was excited, jumping around, having ridiculous amounts of fun, but I was still holding back on the worship part. That wall was falling, I could feel it, but I wasn’t letting it down completely.

 

The Newsboys played and were fun and exciting. I loved seeing Michael Tait in a concert again. I thoroughly enjoyed their performance too. But when I went home I downloaded every single Abandon and Anthem Lights song I could get my hands on. I added “God’s Not Dead” and “I am second” and made a playlist literally called Newsboys Concert. Then I listened to it for 24 hours. No joke. I slept with the ear buds in my ears all night with the music still playing.

 

I never had that, “okay, right this second I’m back to God” moment. But a day or two later I was a completely different person. I accepted Christ when I was 5 years old but I never known anything like this before. Not the person I was before when I was close to God. I was a COMPLETELY different person. I didn’t have the emotional high I used to get after a concert like that. I had a calm but intense fire burning inside me. I wasn’t just back to God. I was closer than I had ever been. Even my self-confidence was changed. I wasn’t afraid anymore. To talk about God, to be who I am in him without being scared of what people will think of me.

 

Anthem Light’s song “Can’t Get Over You” was the song that resonated with me over the next few days. It brought me to tears and at one point sobbing and crying out to God about His goodness and how he never left me. I turned my back on him. I watched him work in my life and it still took me this long to come home. (Today Abandon’s song “Why Does It Take So Long?” is really speaking to me about that.)

 

That’s when it all started. It felt like everyday he was showing me himself in every aspect of my life.

 

I emailed the women’s bible study group at our church and told them I realized they were probably close to the end of their studies since they started quite some time ago. But I needed to connect with a women’s group. I needed that support. I received an email in return telling me they had just started a study the week before. Following the life of David…David. God was going to be speaking to me constantly, just like he had when I was still looking to him while reading A Heart Like His. Just like he was before I turned my back on him. He was going to show me his unfailing guidance.

 

I was listening for his voice again. I needed to hear it again. But I still had doubt. I asked him to speak to me. A clear thought came into my mind. Quit School. It shocked me. Ridiculous. That couldn’t have been him speaking. I blew it off. I was sure he hadn’t told me to quit school. Then I asked him how I knew what was him speaking. How can I tell if it’s really you?

 

That same morning in church a man talked to the congregation about a class on prayer starting that coming Wednesday. He said it was about learning to listen for God’s voice and be able discern when it’s him talking or not. Wow. Loud and clear God.

 

When I went to the women’s bible study Priscilla Shirer talked about listening to God’s voice and answer his call. Suddenly quitting school came to mind again. This time I didn’t throw it aside. I asked the women to pray for me. That I know what God really wants me to do.

 

Sunday. I went to God and said, “I need to know once and for all. What do you want me to do? Do I quit school or not?” I have only had God ask me to get on my knees a handful of times. This time I hit the floor and knew it wasn’t enough. I rested my forehead on the floor. “I will tell you at the service”. I was so sure it was his voice. Going into the service I knew He would answer and He did. The sermon talked about following God’s call. I knew without a doubt he want me to quit school. To leave behind one of the things I love. And without being a student I would have to say goodbye to being the editor of the publication.

 

But I was steadfast. I knew without a doubt what he wanted and I was going to do it. Usually I would second-guess. I would think maybe I was wrong. This time I never waivered. Not once. That alone tells me this was what God wanted. I had to explain to my financial advisor and my academic advisor my reason. They were confused. Obviously it wasn’t that I was having trouble in school. I had achieved my goal of straight A’s.  I asked my financial advisor what I needed to expect when it came to financial aid. Coincidentally (yeah right), after this class I would have exactly 24 credits. The end of my first academic year. Clean cut financially.

 

Then I had to tell my creative writing professor and the other editor of the publication. By God’s grace the other editor was a Christian and my professor was orthodox Jewish. Both would understand after a small amount of convincing that this is the road I was meant to take. The fact that I was heartbroken showed that this truly was an act of faith and not just quitting school. I knew exactly why he was asking me to do this. He showed me that at the same time. He didn’t say the words. I just knew. He wanted me to write. I needed to focus on two things. Writing and my family. I was lacking in filling the responsibility I had as a mother and a wife. And the books I’m writing are interwoven with biblical stories. He wants me to write them and I can’t do that working and going to school.

 

Over the next two days there was lots of crying in private and fighting the tears in public. I was exhausted. God was speaking to me so much. I felt like I needed a break. It felt like too much at once. Wednesday I went to prayer class and told them about how God had led me to quit school and all the pain that came from that. I barely got the words out between the tears. After the class the grief had been lifted. I didn’t feel burdened down by it all. It wasn’t God speaking to me that was overwhelming. What he was asking me to do was and he gave me peace. He spoke to me and told me to rest. I needed a time of rest. Then I realized I had taken the day off of work the next day to stand in line for the midnight showing of The Hunger Games. An entire day of sitting. Resting. The next day we drove home to see our families in Omaha, NE.  The rest of the weekend I spent with my family, resting. God is good.

 

The next Wednesday was our last week of prayer class. (All of this has happened over the course of these three weeks.) After the class ended a woman came up to me and asked if she could pray for me. Surprised I agreed and we prayed together. She asked God to help me let go of what I needed to let go of. I just need to let go. I was shocked and bewildered. What in the world do I need to let go of? As I drove home I listened to my Newsboys concert list (of course) and Abandon’s song “Let Go” played. It was my house.

 

I needed to let go of frantically cleaning my house. Our house was being inspected by housing on base that coming Friday. They check the electricity, appliances, etc. I have an anxiety attack every time. I’m ashamed that my house isn’t perfectly in order. I have lots of big projects I need to do to organize everything and having three boys it’s hard enough keeping it picked up. I needed to let it go. I am still the same person in God with a dirty house as I am with a perfect one. And with quitting school I’ll be home more. One day at a time, getting it all done.

 

Sometime in the past weeks I was browsing through the Newsboys concert schedule. (Yeah, I know, I did say I was addicted). I saw they were playing in North Platte, NE. We go through it every time we drive home to Omaha. It’s exactly halfway. 5 hours. I could do that! So I bought two tickets.

 

The concert was on the same day as the inspection. On the way to the concert my husband calls and tells me they had to reschedule. They won’t be coming until sometime in May. A month away. Let it go. Thank God I did.

 

When we arrive at the concert incredibly we get seats in the second row. Insanely close to the stage. I noticed the catwalk they had in the first concert wasn’t there. That kind of stinks, but not a big deal, just stinks they won’t be able to do the entire show as well. Little did I know.

Anthem Lights and Abandon are as amazing as the first time. Well even better because I knew every word of every song and my wall was down. I was worshipping my heart out. “Can’t Get Over You” got me pretty choked up of course. Of course I sang along to every Abandon song too. My friend loved them. I knew she would. We did in fact drive the 5 hours pretty much to see just those two bands open. I had no idea what was coming next.

 

Newsboys were amazing. Worshipping with them made this time so much better for me. Then they got to Jesus Freak. If I thought it was excited when they did it at the last concert I was going crazy at this one. No they did have the catwalk. They had something SO much better. When I realized the drums were rising up on a platform I freaked out (no pun intended). I had been recording the entire song. Listening back on it I would like to blame the insane screaming to a hoarse voice since it was close to the end of the concert. But it wasn’t. I couldn’t help it. I was getting to see my favorite concert moment all over again and getting it on video. I screamed louder when the platform tilted and would have gotten louder if I could have when it started spinning.

 

After the show we went out to meet Abandon and Anthem Lights. Talked to Abandon for a little bit and started searching for the Newsboys. I eventually went back over to Abandon and asked them where we could find them. They broke the news that only the VIP ticket holders got to meet them. Them one of them said, “You should pray about it.” I laughed and we started walking. And in true crazy girls that we are form we decided we were going to find their bus and see if we could meet them there. Hey I said we were crazy.

 

There are several buses and trucks out there and I’m saying we won’t be able to find which one is theirs. We go back inside to go to the bathroom and I remember Abandon saying jokingly that we should pray about it. So I did. We really wanted to meet Duncan, the drummer. He’s one of the most exciting parts of the show. He’s so fun to watch. We wanted to meet Michael Tait too but we weren’t getting our hopes too high. Just Duncan would be fantastic.

 

When we walk out the doors towards the buses again we see Jeff Frankenstein putting some of his gear away underneath their bus. Now we knew which one was theirs. We’re succeeding at this whole stalker thing (I hope you can tell that was a joke).  A man gets off the bus and we stop him asking about Duncan. He’s still packing up his gear so he should be coming out soon. We look at each other and realize we probably just pulled this off. We’re actually meeting Duncan. How sweet is that?!

 

After a bit Duncan comes towards the bus and we explain the 5 hour drive to see them and we were wondering if we could get a picture.  I’ll admit it was sucking up a little but it was true…

 

Then Michael Tait pokes his head out of the bus and I jump on the opportunity to ask him if he’ll take a picture with us too.  At this point I realize how different I really have become. A month before I never would have had the courage to ask him.  So Michael comes out, pizza in hand. We interrupted his dinner. How cool is he for doing it? I love that he’s holding that pizza in the picture. It cracks me up. We got to chat with Duncan for a bit and finally headed home.

 

As we talk the whole 5 hours about the concert and how amazing the night was, I really start to think about it all. How incredible this past month has been. How this night was the perfect ending to a life-changing month. And it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, this whole night was a gift from God. A blessing for following him again.

 

 Think about it. North Platte, a tiny town that seems slightly random for a stop on their tour. If it had been in any other city between here and Omaha I’m not sure I would have considered going.  But I’m so familiar with North Platte and how to get there. It just seemed perfect. I’m used to driving the 10 hours to Omaha, North Platte would be a cinch. Getting amazing seats. The drum platform!!! And Abandon jokingly telling us to pray about seeing the Newsboys and when I actually do it works?! I’m certainly not saying God solely orchestrated the concert for me. There were so many people at the concert whose lives were touch and changed. But in my small world, I’m thanking God for a gift I in no way deserved.

Starry Night (updated)

Salty raindrops dripped from the end of Rachel’s nose as she walked. It was a little less than two and a half miles from Walter Kline High School to her house. Usually she enjoyed the long trek. It was the only time she had that was her own. No teachers constantly telling her to be quiet and no parents to either yell at her or ignore her completely. Today was different, though. She was definitely not enjoying her walk.

The rain fell hard on Rachel’s head but she knew trying to shield herself would be a waste of energy. Even the thick coat she swiped from the school’s lost and found was drenched. Her light colored jeans had become a completely darker shade of blue. Silently, she prayed that her homework wasn’t ruined as it sat in her soaked messenger bag.

Rachel suddenly stopped and her face twisted into a grimace as her shoe sank into a deep puddle. That’s when her anger was triggered. She could only think about her mother laying on the couch not caring that her daughter was walking home in a thunderstorm. It wasn’t the first time her mother had failed to even attempt acting like a decent, caring mother.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked making her jump. With her head down, she told herself, just a little farther, almost there. Her pace quickened with every step until she reached almost a jog. Finally, she turned a corner onto her street. She ran as fast as she could without slipping on the rain-covered cement. As she reached the front porch, she stopped and stared at the doorknob.

Standing there in the cold was better than going through that front door. Rachel had never felt normal. She always thought there was just something different, something wrong. Depression ruled most of her life. She felt like an outcast everywhere she went. Even her family didn’t understand her. That lack of understanding led to frustration and harsh treatment.

Taking a deep breath Rachel turn the knob and walked into the house.

————————————————-

The next morning she woke up already anxious to get out of the house. The night before had been a typical evening with one positive side. Her parents didn’t yell at her even once. They were too busy screaming at each other. After getting dressed in record time, Rachel grabbed a package of pop tarts and ran out the front door. She wasn’t in a hurry. School didn’t start until eight a. m. It was only six thirty. She spent the extra time relaxing on a bench in the school courtyard.

“Rachel!”

Rachel jerked awake. Her best friend, Gretchen, had sunk onto the bench beside her. Readjusting her ponytail, she sat up and groggily looked at her friend. Gretchen wore a sarcastic smirk, finding great entertainment in finding her friend passed out on a school bench. Rachel rolled her eyes at her.

“What time is it?”

“ ’Bout seven forty-five. I figured you wouldn’t want to still be sleeping on this bench when the rest of us left on the bus.” Gretchen’s smirk widened into a big toothy grin.

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

Thirty minutes later Rachel sat next to Gretchen waiting for the school bus to take them on their field trip. It took an hour and a half after they left to arrive at the art museum. The class piled off the bus and gathered in the entryway of the museum. Instead of a guided tour, their art teacher told the students to choose a partner and explore the galleries on their own. Their assignment was to choose three paintings and write about the style and techniques used to create them.

Rachel and Gretchen instantly paired up and headed down the hallway to their right. The hall opened up into a large, bright, and open gallery. They began to browse the paintings barely paying attention to them. Their conversation seemed more interesting to them than old paintings.

“So then, I told Steve to get lost. I mean, I’m not going to waste my time studying with a guy who has no interest in actually getting a better grade,” Gretchen complained.

“You’re so right. He must be interested in doing something other than studying,” Rachel winked at her.

“Um…EW!”

Rachel laughed,” Don’t be so-“

Gretchen turned to see why Rachel had suddenly stopped. She stood frozen in front of two Van Gogh paintings, The Starry Night and Starry Night Over the Rone. Her eyes were locked on The Starry Night. Stepping closer and without touching it, Rachel traced the swirls in the sky with her fingers.

“Do you see this?” Rachel asked not taking her eyes off the piece.

“Um…sure…it’s…um…pretty.” Gretchen looked at her with a confused expression.

Rachel finally pulled her eyes away long enough to give Gretchen an intense look. “You don’t understand. I know how he was feeling when he painted this.” She turned again to examine the painting. “These swirls are the chaos of his thoughts. He painted the wind like that to show his feeling that he was moving through existence too quickly. This tree is like there is something inside of him that is a large and ugly part of him that only shows when he feels chaotic. The whole painting is his expression of the chaos within him.”

Gretchen’s eyes grew wide as she listened to her friend describe the painting. “How do you know that? I mean, how would you know if that’s what he was really feeling? That’s just your interpretation of it.”

Rachel turned back to face her again. “I don’t know how I know, but I know that’s what he felt like.” Then she looked to the right and saw Starry Night Over the Rone. With a nod of her head she motion toward the painting. “That one he painted when he felt calm, almost serene. Look how peaceful the water is. It has people in it, too. He didn’t feel as alone.”

Gretchen’s expression was even more confused. ”When did you get all insightful?”

“Honestly I don’t know.” Rachel smiled and shrugged. As they walked away she stole one last glimpse of the paintings before they turned down a different hallway.

———————————————-

Later that night Rachel sat on the edge of her bed, head in her hands. Her mind raced in search of some meaning behind why she felt such a strong connection to the two paintings. Something about them touched her. She saw herself in the chaotic swirls. Did this painter, Van Gogh, feel the same as she felt? Life was a constant up and down, chaos and calm. She shook her head as she stood and walked to the computer on her rickety old desk.

 

After a long moment sitting in the chair, Rachel pulled up the search engine and entered the name “Van Gogh.” She didn’t have to search very hard for what she was looking for. The second website link was “Van Gogh: His Life and Times.” The page it sent her to was only a few paragraphs long.

 

The page described his struggle with mania and depression. Mania? Something deep inside stirred. Her fear of being “crazy” had followed her for as far back as she could remember.  The feeling that she was different. That her mind didn’t work the same way as everyone else’s. Rachel forced herself to keep reading.

 

She read halfway through the last paragraph and it felt as if her heart froze. In 1890 Van Gogh was found dead. He had shot himself “for the good of all.” How many times had she thought everyone would just be better of if she was dead? Tears slid down her cheeks. Right then she knew without a doubt, whatever was wrong with Vincent Van Gogh so many years ago was wrong with her too.

 

The next words she typed into the search box were “mania and depression”. Almost every resulting link had the words “Manic Depression” or “Bipolar” in the title. Without opening any of the links she typed in “Van Gogh” and “bipolar.” Site after site discussing Van Gogh’s Bipolar Disorder filled her computer screen.  Her breathing came faster and her hands started to shake.

 

This time she simply typed in “bipolar.” For hours she read about the disorder, about herself. Slowly a calm she wouldn’t have expected filled her. She was relieved. Now she knew. She finally knew what was wrong with her and there was something she could do about it.

 

The next day she made an appointment with a psychiatrist. He was a kind man probably in his sixties. After listening to Rachel describe herself, they way she felt, and how she thought, the doctor nodded his head and agreed with her self-diagnoses. She took a deep breath as he handed her the small slips of paper with different medications written on them.

 

She didn’t leave the clinic right away. She sat quietly in her car for what seemed like a very long time. With one more deep breath she cranked the engine and pulled out of the lot. As she drove to the pharmacy she told herself that everything was going to be better now. And it was. Vincent Van Gogh quite possibly had saved her life.

Strange Love: a Halloween special

Jessie looked at her friend and sighed.

 “Sarah, what are you doing?”

 Sarah nearly fell out of her chair. All of a sudden the papers on the desk in front of her needed a lot of her attention.

 “Nothing,” she blushed.

 Jessie laughed and shook her head.

 “Yeah, right, you were totally staring at Jason again.”

 Sarah’s face reddened even more.

 “Shut up. I can’t help it. He’s just…he’s just…just look at him!”

 Jessie laughed and went back to her cubicle. It was obvious she’d only come over there to tease her. Sarah silently cursed herself. She really couldn’t help it. It shocked her that anyone could. He was just so beautiful. He was tall and slender, but toned. His dark brown hair was thick and full of waves. His skin was an olive tone, just enough to give him an ever-present tan.

 Sarah loved how he dressed professionally but relaxed. He could pull off a sweater and khakis a hundred times better than anyone else. The cologne was slightly overdone but the smell could melt any girl’s heart so the intensity was forgivable. Every time he walked by she had to stop and enjoy the experience. The view and the aroma were worth being admired.

 Jason was kind of a loner. As attractive as he was, she didn’t understand why people weren’t surrounding him at all times. Instead he was always alone. He ate lunch alone, took his break alone and barely spoke to anyone unless it was work related. It completely confused her.

 Jessie was always teasing her about Jason. She told Sarah over and over to go talk to him. She wouldn’t even consider it. Courage was not her strong suit. Besides, she was almost positive he wasn’t interested in her. So she was left with her daydreaming.

 To keep herself, mainly her eyes and mind, occupied she reorganized her desk. The work for the day was done. Now she was just waiting for the end of the workday to come. Of course, no matter how occupied she tried to be, her mind still kept wondering to Jason. She really couldn’t help it.

 Finally, 4:30 came and she headed out of the office. The sun had already started to set and was reflecting of the windows of her car. She searched her purse for her keys. When she looked up Jessie was standing in front of her, Jason in hand. Sarah’s eyes grew wide with horror. Jason looked uncomfortable. Jessie was grinning.

 “Hey Sarah! I was just telling Jason how I think you two would hit it off. You should totally go out sometime. Well, better go! See you tomorrow!”

 She gave Sarah a wink as she left them in an awkward silence. Sarah was truly horrified. She couldn’t believe Jessie would do something like this. Yeah, right. Of course Jessie would do something like this.

 Sarah couldn’t decide whether to look at Jason or at the ground. She chose the ground.

 “I’m sorry. Jessie can be… well Jessie.”

 He shrugged.

 “It’s okay.”

 Sarah couldn’t just walk away. This would probably be her only chance. She had to force herself to take it.

 “So, what do you think?”

 Jason looked at her for a long moment. She could almost see the gears turning. He was trying to decide.

 “How about Friday night?”

 Her heart jumped. She couldn’t suppress a huge smile, but did her best to look calm.

 “Sure, we can go to dinner after work if that sounds good to you.”

 He nodded and she saw the corner of his mouth slightly curve upward. They said goodbye and went their separate ways.

 It took forever for Friday to come. Sarah spent an extra hour and a half making sure she looked perfect before she went to work. She was full of butterflies all day. Every time Jason walked by he gave her a small smile and, of course, Sarah would blush. The time ticked by excruciatingly slow. It seemed like every time she looked at the clock only a minute had gone by.

 Finally Jason walked over and asked her if she was ready. Trying not to seem anxious she gathered her purse and coat and they walked out together. He led her to his silver Ford Taurus, nothing super fancy but not a beater either. He opened the car door for her then settled into the driver’s side.

 He did things like that all evening. At dinner he pulled her chair out for her. He even asked what she wanted to eat and ordered for her. She didn’t have to open a single door herself. She felt so special every time. The date was better than she had expected. She was afraid it was going to be awkward. He was usually so quiet. She didn’t expect him to be so open and friendly. She could practically feel herself melting.

 Because they had left straight from work their date ended back in that same parking lot. Jason parked and immediately jumped out, walked around the front of the car, and opened her door for her one last time. She thanked him as he gave her his hand to help her out. They smiled at each other.

 “I had a lot of fun.”

 Sarah looked at him timidly. He brushed her long brown hair behind her shoulder.

 “I did too.”

 Now her stomach was full of knots. The idea of Jason kissing her was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. She prayed silently that he wouldn’t hate it if he did. He leaned towards her and she closed her eyes. She felt his lips press softly against her cheek. She wasn’t disappointed. Waiting was okay. It would give it more meaning.

 He wrapped his arms around her and whispered into her ear. His voice was deep and sincere.

 “Can I call you tomorrow?”

 Her knees nearly gave out.

 “Yes.”

 It was all she could think of to say. It was surreal. Jason enjoyed his date with her enough to want to call her tomorrow. Then she sobered herself as best she could. Lots of guys said they would call and never did. He had asked though. It seemed more sincere, but if she got her hopes up it would kill her when he didn’t.  It would kill her anyway but she hoped it would be less painful. He kissed her cheek again and got back in his car.

 They didn’t kiss until their third date. By then they had already become close. The only thing that bothered Sarah was that Jason didn’t share much about his past. She had a bad feeling there was something important he wasn’t telling her, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. Things were going so well. She wasn’t going to ruin it by being paranoid.

 They were sitting on his couch watching Night of the Living Dead. Sarah was curled up next to Jason with his arm around her. She looked up at him and smiled. In the light of his living room she noticed his skin looked unusually pale.

 “You okay, Jase?”

He looked down at her.

 “Hm? Why?”

 “You look a little pale.”

 “Guess I’m just a little nervous.”

 She gave him a confused look.

 “Why?”

 He smiled, leaned down, and kissed her softly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. They lay down across the couch still kissing. Sarah moved her hands to the sides of his face. Something rough suddenly came off in her hand. She pulled away and looked to see what it was. She screamed and threw it on the floor. Terrified, Sarah looked at Jason’s face. A large chunk of skin was missing from his cheek.

 “Oh my god Jason! What’s wrong with your face?”

 He smiled.

 “I just haven’t eaten in a while.”

 “What?”

 He put his finger across her lips and shushed her. She realized they weren’t embracing anymore. He was holding her down. Skin slowly started to fall from his face in chunks. She could see his teeth where his cheek should have been. He leaned closer and she turned her face away from his grotesque disintegrating flesh. He whispered in her ear as she cringed.

 “Don’t worry Sarah, I’m not like the others. I’m not partial to brains.”

 Her scream was cut short as he ripped into her throat. It didn’t take long for her to die.

He watched her patiently.

Then she opened her eyes, looked into Jason’s, and smiled.

Agent

The binoculars pressed into the skin around her eyes as she watched the men intently. It was supposed to be a poker party they were having next door, but she and her partner had intel that said it was something else. Something much more dangerous. She moved back to the computer monitor. The feed from the hidden camera had a much better angle. The men talked nonchalantly over the poker game. The sound was fuzzy but she could still make out the words through the headphones she wore.

Jerry, her long time partner, and boyfriend, stood up and stretched with a dramatic yawn.

“Hey, Kat, I’m gonna do a food run. What do you want?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m fine with whatever,” She replied, still studying the monitor.

Jerry rolled his eyes and closed the bedroom door behind him. Kat took her missions seriously. There was nothing more rewarding to her than stopping a terrorist. It was her obsession. She loved being an undercover agent. Hiding in the open was her specialty. Though, this mission was a little different than the others. She had never pretended to be so young.

To everyone else she was Sarah, a high school senior living in the suburbs. Her poor “parents” had been brainwashed into believing she was their daughter complete with old family photos hanging on the walls of their home. In reality she was Katrina, a 30-year-old government agent. It was a good thing she looked young. She was a good actress too. She didn’t look dangerous. No one would assume she could put them in an arm bar and break their arm in mere seconds.

Suddenly the silent alarm triggered. No sound, no flashing light, just the intense vibration of the small box strapped to her thigh. The sensation had jolted her awake. How the hell did she fall asleep? Where was Jerry? How long had he been gone? No time. She couldn’t panic. Although, she wouldn’t have even if it had been an option.

If an attack was targeted at them it would come through the window, the easiest point of entry. She pulled her gun from the holster as she dropped into a crouch beside the window, waiting, listening for any sound. The window shattered as a dark figure crashed into the room. She turned her back to protect from the flying glass then she snapped her attention back to the intruder. Adrenaline coursed through her.

Kat slid across the floor, sweeping her leg underneath the man’s knocking him onto his hands and knees. In an instant, she was back on her feet and kicked him hard in the ribs, flipping him over. She went to straddle his middle so she could pin him with the gun to his chest. Before she could, he put his foot into her stomach, grabbed around the back of her neck, and flipped her over his head.

The air rushed out of her lungs as she landed on her back. The gun slid out of her hand and across the floor. He jumped on her, but his fist stopped as her elbow smashed into his face. She rolled him off of her. Throwing both legs over his chest with one of his arms between them, she grabbed his wrist and thrust her hips in the air until she heard the crack of his arm breaking. In one swift movement she had flipped to the opposite side and broken his other arm. Kat grabbed the gun and as he screamed in pain she dug her knee into his chest. With the gun pointed at his head she looked at him with a face made of stone.

“Who did you come for?”

His lips tightened and she laid the tip of the gun on his forehead.

“I said who did you come for?”

He looked at her with cold eyes.

“You,” he said.

She ripped the ski mask off. He was white. She had expected a darker skin tone. An Arab skin tone. Why would a terrorist cell hire a white hit man? Unless, this guy had been turned.

“Who sent you?”

“Your partner,” he smirked.

It wasn’t the hit man who had been turned into a traitor. It was Jerry.

“Shit.”

She stood up holding him down with one foot on his chest and put a single bullet into his head. The bullet was engineered to lodge into the body instead of going straight through. A microburst ensured a quick death without the mess. It was beneficial at the moment. Sirens had begun to emerge in the distance. She had the perfect place to hide a body but wouldn’t have had time to clean up the blood.

She reached underneath the large thick bed and pushed a hidden button. The mattress rose up and flipped over revealing a gun locker with just enough extra room in it for a body. As the mattress settled back into its original position the lights and sirens stopped outside filling the room with flashes of red and blue.

Quickly she opened a hidden door in the wall and pushed the desk covered in surveillance equipment inside. With only seconds to spare the door slid shut and she immediately switched into Sarah mode.

Kat blubbered to the police for over two hours.

“So let me get this right. You were asleep and the assailant broke through your bedroom window. Then proceeded to choke you.”

“Yes, sir,” she sniffed. “Then I kneed him, you know…there, and when I ran to get the phone he jumped back out the window.”

Kat wiped the back of her hand across each eye and rubbed the tears away. She pulled the blanket the paramedics had wrapped around her tighter. It wasn’t very cold, it just made her seem more afraid and helpless.

“What did he look like ma’am?” The officer asked in a soft, caring voice.

“I-I’m not sure. It happened so fast. He was big but not fat. He had a ski mask on so I couldn’t see his face.”

“Did he say anything to you? Anything at all?” The officer put his hand on her shoulder as she sat down on the bumper of and ambulance. She started to shiver and nodded.

“What did he say?”

“Um, when I kneed him he called me a bitch.” She started crying again and the officer leaned down so he was on her level.

“We’ll catch him. Don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

“Th-thank you.”

He nodded and walked over to his patrol car. About an hour later the officer came back over and said they were through with taking her statement and the investigation of the crime scene was wrapping up. He told her to find a safe place for the night. Then they packed everything up and left.

Kat watched as they pulled away. As soon as they rounded the corner she walked back inside and threw the blanket on the bed. She needed a plan. Jerry would see the cops were gone and come back soon. Chances that he knew the hit man had told her the truth were slim to none. He wouldn’t see what was coming. She set the surveillance equipment back up and waited. Within 30 minutes Jerry walked through the door looking concerned.

“I saw the police, what happened?”

She looked up at him.

“Our mission has been compromised. We need to pack up. I’ll get the surveillance. Why don’t you start unloading the gun locker?”

“Who compromised the mission?” His brow crinkled in confusion. Where the hell was the hit man? Maybe the police scared him off. That must be what happened. A neighbor heard the commotion and called the cops. He knew Kat wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. The hit man must not have been able to finish her off in time.

“I’ll explain everything later. We need to get this equipment out now.” She looked at him intensely.

He shrugged and hit the button under the bed. The bed settled in place and he turned the lever handle to open the gun locker door. His eyes grew wide when he saw what was inside.

“Holy shit! You killed-“

He stopped mid-sentence when he felt the cold metal of a gun pressed to the base of his skull. He relaxed in resignation.

“Now try to explain to me why you tried to have me killed.” Her voice was colder than the steel of the gun. There was no point in trying to lie his way out. Kat wouldn’t fall for it. She pressed the gun harder into his neck.

“Have you been turned?” she demanded through gritted teeth.

“Yes, I have. I’ve been turned to the truth.”

She leaned down putting her lips next to his ear.

“Wrong answer.”

It ended with the ring of a gunshot and the thud of a body on the floor.

Kilara

Kilara

She watches as each snowflake melts and freezes to the pane of glass. There was no use trying to see out of it anymore. It had been completely covered in the collection of frozen water droplets. How could something so beautiful be so cold and uninviting? She pulled her newly acquired white fur-lined robes tighter around her.  They were as beautiful as the snow, silver embroidery making its way across the silken fabric.

Her name was Queen Kilara, the youngest to ever be named the ruler of Shrya. When the King passed from this world seven days prior, no one in the entire country expected an eighteen year old peasant girl to be chosen as the successor.  She was the first woman to be chosen and forty years younger than any other.  It scared her.

Her thoughts turned towards the task at hand. She was to introduce a treaty between the Kamaron and Shrya. It would not be an easy feat. The Kamarons were well known for their heavy tempers and barbaric ways. They weren’t exactly a logical race that could be reasoned with. Kilara had no idea how this treaty had any chance of succeeding but Jergus, her royal advisor, had assured her that it would all fall in to place as long as she went along with his lead.

The village came into view and the carriage slowed to a halt.  She followed Jergus and the other elders, who had been riding in the carriage before them, to meet the Kamaron King, Trogos.  It was all she could do not to cower at the repulsiveness of him. He was the largest of the men she had seen so far, towering over even the tallest of their own men. His teeth were particularly revolting and his stench made her want to gag on every breath she inhaled. Her stomach was clinched with disgust at the grotesque people around her but she stood tall and hid every ounce of her discomfort as best she could.

They followed the King and his men into a hut somewhat larger than the rest in the village.  There was a table in the center with fire roasted pig strewn about with bones hanging every which way. Even the food here smelled rotten. There was no place to sit aside from a bed of pillows which the king himself sprawled upon. Kilara wanted to get this over with as fast as possible. Her glance at Jergus received an unfriendly grimace in return.

“Mighty king,” Jergus began bowing,” we have come to finalize the treaty which we’ve been discussing for some time.”

Kilara was surprised by this. She wasn’t aware that there had already been some negotiations prior to this conference.

“We have brought you what you asked,” he continued,” Do we have your allegiance?”

The king’s voice was harsh and slurred,” I am very pleased with the quality of the maiden. Yes, I believe she will serve me nicely. When can my people make residence?”

“As soon as the ceremony is complete.”

Kilara’s brow furrowed in confusion. She was trying to comprehend what they were saying. Maiden? What maiden? Residence? What was going on? This didn’t sound like a treaty at all. It sounded like a barter. This maiden, whoever it may be, in return for a residence. But where?

“Well, well, the girl looks confused, Jergus. Let’s clear it up for her. You my dear,” he said rising and coming towards her,” are to be my new wife. In return we agree not to destroy your countrymen and everything they hold dear. How does that sound?” He sneered down at her, running his mud-caked fingers through her hair.

She froze with terror. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. She turned to look at Jergus her eyes wide and pleading. Let it not be true. Please, let it not be true!

“It is the only way to insure peace between us, my queen.”

“Peace?” she spat back,” you’re handing our country over to them!”

Torgos laughed heartily. Jergus grabbed her by the arm pulling her to face away from the rest. “They threatened to destroy us all. We are no match for their shear numbers, not to mention their smallest male outweighs ours by a hundred pounds,” he hissed. “Would you have us all die instead?”

She stood silently in shock and fear. Jergus softened.” I know it is much we ask of you, but this is the only way. As Queen, it is a sacrifice you must make for your country.”

“Ask? You are not asking me. You are selling me to these ogres!”

“Watch your tongue, wench!” Torgos reached her in one stride, grabbing her face in his massive hand. His face just centimeters from hers, she tried to turn away but his grasp only tightened and held her toward him. “You will be my bride, my beauty, and you will fulfill all the things that a Kamaron queen must!”

He threw her down into the dirt covering her once beautiful robes. She shuddered as the tears began to streak through the dirt now caked on her cheeks. “Please Elders! There must be another way! Please!” Jergus and the seven other elders looked on her with little pity.

“There is no other way,” he said not looking her in the face. Jergus turned and lead the others back to the carriages.

Torgos bound her wrists and threw her on the mound of pillows. As she lay waiting, something in her began to show life. She refused to be victim to such horrors as a kamaron queen endures. After a long time of deliberating within her own mind, she devised a plan.  She was sure the king would have her at the coming dinner to show her to his people. At this meal she would conceal a knife stolen from one of the drunk men’s belts. She didn’t know if the knife would be enough to achieve her escape, but if not, it would gain her freedom when used on herself. With a new calm and strength she was able to sleep until she was summoned for the meal.

The king came and unbound her just as the sun was setting. Kilara did not fight or try to run as he led her to the massive fire burning in the center of the village. Every Kamaron had gathered around it.  She sat quietly and observed each of the men as they drank, silently choosing her target.  An older man sitting not too far from her became drunk quickly and stumbled about, not even aware of his surroundings. When the man came to his king to grovel, Kilara carefully slid the knife from his belt as he leaned into the king blocking his view of her.  The knife fit perfectly inside the sleeve of her dress.

She felt comforted by the cold metal resting against her arm as she waited until the meal ended. The fire was doused and the king led her back to the tent. He sneered as he threw her on the pillows once more and began to grope her. She thrust the knife into his arm as hard as she could. He fell to the side roaring in agony as she clambered to her feet and ran.

It didn’t take her long to lose them in the twists and turns of the trees. After some time she no longer could hear them following. Suddenly her foot caught, or slipped, she didn’t know which, and she crashed through the ice below her into the stabbing cold water. She hadn’t even noticed that she was running on a frozen lake and now she was thrashing to pull herself to the surface. The cold was unbearable as she pulled with all her strength.

As she slipped beneath the surface she suddenly felt a warm hand grab her arm. She stopped and felt the warmth spread from the spot to every inch of her body. There in front of her one of the five Magiks smiled through the water. The spirit was beautiful as her pale blue luminescent hair floated around her stunning face. Pathara, the Magik of the Water. She reached her graceful hand out and placed it on Kilara’s chest.

The air rushed into her lungs as if she was a new born baby experiencing the miracle of breath for the first time. Pathara smiled deeply. “You are safe now my child. Although you can breathe the air within the water you can not speak, I have not allowed you that. I must speak to you and have you hear my proposition to you. You are a brave Queen, worthy of such a title. I must tell you that a Magik can only save the life of a mortal for one reason. I give you a choice. I can grant you the power to go back and save your beloved country, but it will come at a price.  We Magiks grow weaker and fear we will not exist much longer.  We have decided to instill our combined powers within one being. It is the only way to ensure that the people will continue to be protected by the spirits. You are that chosen one, my child. Once the power transforms you, you must live in solitude. It is a enormous task, but if you refuse I must take the breath from your lungs and you will parish from the water’s grip or at the hands of the Kamaron. Do you wish to save your country at such a price?”

Kilara nodded. Pathara put her hands on either side of her face. She felt the power enter her body and settle into her very cells and then it seemed to fall asleep, waiting.

“The power will come to you when it is needed,” the spirit whispered as she disappeared from existence.

Kilara rose gracefully from the same opening she had fallen through. The warmth had not left her and she realized every inch of her was dry. She marveled at the beauty her very skin seemed to hold now. It was as if she was covered in a thin layer of early morning frost. Every way she turned her arm she saw the shimmer of the tiny crystals that seemed to be a part of her now.  She was so amazed by it she hadn’t realized the knight on horseback staring at her. She quickly raised the hood of her cloak and bowed her head, praying he hadn’t recognized her. If the Elders discovered her escape from the Kamaron she was doomed to be hung for treason or worse given back to Torgos.

“Have mercy dear Knight, I am but a lowly peasant girl,” she knelt into the snow.

“You are no peasant girl! Even if I hadn’t recognized you as the Queen I would still not believe such a claim from someone who has obviously been touched by the Magiks! Please rise m’lady! I am at your service.” The knight in his gleaming armor then knelt into the snow himself, bowing low in respect.

“I fear your allegiance to me would position you against the Elders, sir. Your allegiance to the crown no longer lies with me.”

“With all do respect, my allegiance to my faith and to righteousness outweighs any oath I have made to the crown. If the Magiks have chosen you worthy and the Elders no longer uphold the righteousness they have promised to, I will choose to lay my life down for one who does.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Knight. Please, what is your name and how have you come to be aware of my being touched by the Magiks? It only just happened.”

“Sephias, m’lady. I was patrolling the road nearby and I saw a glow coming from the lake. When you emerged I knew only the Magiks were responsible. Now, let’s get you to safety.”

“Yes, I must go to the village and warn the people.”

They rode quickly through the frozen woods. As they reached the village, those crowded around the common area fire rose in alarm. A knight and the Queen riding into the village after dark was alarming to them. Kilara wasted no time and began speaking before she had even dismounted.

“Villagers, you are in grave danger! You must gather your belongings and come with us into the woods to hide. The Kamaron are coming to pillage this countryside!”

“You expect us to just leave our homes in the middle of the night because a young girl told us to?” one of the villagers said. Most of the crowd nodded in agreement.

Sephias stepped forward,” Do not forget who you speak to sir! This is the Queen no matter how young she may be!”

“No, Sephias, I understand their concern. I did not expect this to be an easy task,” Kilara nodded to him. She had grown up around these people, how could they put so much faith in someone they had known as a baby? She turned to address the man who spoke.

“Michael, you have known me for many years. Have I ever mislead you in anyway? Have I ever mislead any one of you?” She addressed the growing crowd. They still seemed apprehensive.

Sephias spoke,” This young girl has not only been crowned Queen but also has been touched by the Magiks! Can you refuse to believe one that even the great spirits have put their faith in?”

A murmur ran through the crowd.

“Prove it!” came a yell. The people all joined in the demand to be shown.

Sephias grew anxious,” Look at her!” he gently removed her hood. “Do you not see how her skin shimmers in the moonlight? “

“Maybe she has something on her skin! That doesn’t prove anything!” The crowd grew even more defiant.

Kilara rose her hands in request for silence. She walked calmly to the raging fire and laid her hands on the logs. She showed no sign of pain or discomfort as the flames silenced themselves and disappeared. The logs had been completely frozen over and the crowd fell silent.

“Please, I am here to save you! We must retreat and prepare for the coming battle to reclaim our land! The Magiks are with us do not fear!”

The people gathered what they could and made their way into the woods. For months the people of Shrya lived by the lake of Pathara, her power protecting them from anyone who may wonder too close and discover them. The able trained until not only their bodies were ready but also their minds. The Elders had been left behind to defend their palace for themselves and it was assumed the Kamaron had destroyed them.  As time went on, they grew anxious to take back their land. Kilara knew they could wait no longer or the Kamaron would become too accustomed with the land and they would no longer have that to their advantage.

As they marched into battle, they were met by the monstrous Kamaron and their disgusting king.  The people of Shrya stood proud and did not shy from the more powerful people before them.  Kilara stood before the army of her people. Beside her was the man she had chosen to lead them in training. Sephias had proven to be a leader of great honor and ability.

As the battle cries rang out, the two countries collided in bloodshed. The sounds of steel against steel and flesh being pierced with the resulting wounded cry, rang everywhere. Torgos descended upon Sephias and Kilara as they fought side by side. The knight stepped between his queen and the coming threat. Torgos eagerly attacked him while the two guards flanking him focused on the queen.

Kilara handled them easily, having trained just as hard as the rest. She struck them both down one after the other. As she searched for Sephias and Torgos she saw her countrymen beginning to fall. They were being defeated.

Torgos sneered his menacing smile at her as he held Sephias on his knees, the Kamaron blade at his throat.  Kilara felt her heart stop. Sephias had become her confidant, her protector.  She would not watch him die. It was then that the dormant power within her erupted to life.

Her hands and knees hit the ground as she felt each tiny scale rip through her skin. Her bones stretched and contorted. Wings burst from her back and unfolded in a brilliant splendor. Her eyes had frozen over with billions of ice crystals, they allowed her to see everything magnified rather than hinder her sight.

She looked down at her hands, covered in tiny white purlescent scales, and watched as they stretched and bent into crystalline talons. Her painful cries were more roar than cry.  Suddenly she towered over everyone before her, breathing air as cold as ice.  No longer were the people of Shrya losing the battle. Torgos cowered away from Sephias his face stricken in horror. As every Kamaron ran from the ice dragon who moments earlier had been a beautiful young queen, Kilara opened her massive jaws lined with crystal teeth and breathed ice upon every one of them.

None escaped.

None survived.

Kilara turned toward the people she had sacrificed so much for.

“Countrymen, take back your land. Live free and in peace. Sephias, you have the most courage of any man. It is my wish to leave you as the ruler and King of Shrya., if the people so wish.”

The deafening cheers were a resounding “hear, hear” to Kilara’s nomination. “ Rule them well dear friend. I shall always be near” With that she took flight and disappeared among the frozen ice caps of the mountains.

Writing Challenge

My creative writing instructor gave us a setting, two characters, characteristics of both, and the opening line for the story. We had 30 minutes to include all of these things in a short story. Here’s my result:

Setting: 10th floor of a highrise office building

Character A: wears a 3 piece suit and rimless glasses, often leans on a wooden walking stick, was born in San Diego, CA, drinks black coffee, and keeps an unopened box of paper clips and a $20 bill in the top drawer of his desk

Character B: wears oversized down coat, has red hair, lived in Louisiana for the last two years, eats donuts for breakfast, and rips the advertisements out of Time magazine before reading it.

Opening line: “I just want you to know, I feel really bad about this.”

“I just want you to know, I feel really bad about this…” George looked up at who had said it. It was 9:30 at night and he was the only one left in the office. The boy standing before him was being swallowed whole by his oversized orange down coat. His red hair clashed with it severely. The gun shook in his trembling hand.

George pulled his rimless glasses down to the tip of his nose and peered at the scared kid.

“What’s your name son?” he asked calmly.

“Wha-what do you mean? Why does that matter?”

“It matters to me,” George said.

“Um…Devon, my name’s Devon.”

George leaned on his wooden cane lessening the pain in his aching leg.

“Now why, if you feel so bad about it, are you pointing a gun in my face and trying to take my hard-earned money?”

“Cause.”

“Because why, Devon?”

“Because I’ve lived in this godforsaken state for 2 years and have nothing to show for it! I have to freaking eat donuts I swipe for breakfast!”

George nonchalantly sat down at his desk and sipped his straight black coffee.

“Continue,” he says.

Devon looks at him like he’s the craziest man alive.

“I can’t even read a magazine without ripping out the advertisements  because I can’t stand seeing what I can’t have!”

“Son,” George says. “I was born in San Diego, California. I have to say I like it better here in Louisiana.”

“You work on the 10th floor of a highrise! Of course you like it here!”

George stuffs his rimless glasses into the pocket of his 3 piece suit. He opens the top drawer of his desk, moves the unopened boxes of paper clips aside and pulls out a $20 bill. He stands and hands Devon the bill.

“Let’s go get some late dinner and I’ll tell you how you can too.”

Starry Night

Starry Night

Salty raindrops dripped from the end of Rachel’s nose as she walked. It was a little less than two and a half miles from Walter Kline High School to her house. Usually she enjoyed the long trek. It was the only time she had that was her own. No teachers constantly telling her to be quiet and no parents to either yell at her or ignore her completely. Today was different, though. She was definitely not enjoying her walk.

The rain fell hard on Rachel’s head but she knew trying to shield herself would be a waste of energy. Even the thick coat she swiped from the school’s lost and found was drenched. Her light colored jeans had become a completely darker shade of blue. Silently, she prayed that her homework wasn’t ruined as it sat in her soaked messenger bag.

Rachel suddenly stopped and her face twisted into a grimace as her shoe sank into a deep puddle. That’s when her anger was triggered. She could only think about her mother laying on the couch not caring that her daughter was walking home in a thunderstorm. It wasn’t the first time her mother had failed to even attempt acting like a decent, caring mother.

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked making her jump. With her head down, she told herself, just a little farther, almost there. Her pace quickened with every step until she reached almost a jog. Finally, she turned a corner onto her street. She ran as fast as she could without slipping on the rain-covered cement. As she reached the front porch, she stopped and stared at the doorknob.

Standing there in the cold was better than going through that front door. Rachel had never felt normal. She always thought there was just something different, something wrong. Depression ruled most of her life. She felt like an outcast everywhere she went. Even her family didn’t understand her. That lack of understanding led to frustration and harsh treatment.

Taking a deep breath Rachel turn the knob and walked into the house.

————————————————-

The next morning she woke up already anxious to get out of the house. The night before had been a typical evening with one positive side. Her parents didn’t yell at her even once. They were too busy screaming at each other. After getting dressed in record time, Rachel grabbed a package of pop tarts and ran out the front door. She wasn’t in a hurry. School didn’t start until eight a. m. It was only six thirty. She spent the extra time relaxing on a bench in the school courtyard.

“Rachel!”

Rachel jerked awake. Her best friend, Gretchen, had sunk onto the bench beside her. Readjusting her ponytail, she sat up and groggily looked at her friend. Gretchen wore a sarcastic smirk, finding great entertainment in finding her friend passed out on a school bench. Rachel rolled her eyes at her.

“What time is it?”

“ ’Bout seven forty-five. I figured you wouldn’t want to still be sleeping on this bench when the rest of us left on the bus.” Gretchen’s smirk widened into a big toothy grin.

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

Thirty minutes later Rachel sat next to Gretchen waiting for the school bus to take them on their field trip. It took an hour and a half after they left to arrive at the art museum. The class piled off the bus and gathered in the entryway of the museum. Instead of a guided tour, their art teacher told the students to choose a partner and explore the galleries on their own. Their assignment was to choose three paintings and write about the style and techniques used to create them.

Rachel and Gretchen instantly paired up and headed down the hallway to their right. The hall opened up into a large, bright, and open gallery. They began to browse the paintings barely paying attention to them. Their conversation seemed more interesting to them than old paintings.

“So then, I told Steve to get lost. I mean, I’m not going to waste my time studying with a guy who has no interest in actually getting a better grade,” Gretchen complained.

“You’re so right. He must be interested in doing something other than studying,” Rachel winked at her.

“Um…EW!”

Rachel laughed,” Don’t be so-“

Gretchen turned to see why Rachel had suddenly stopped. She stood frozen in front of two Van Gogh paintings, The Starry Night and Starry Night Over the Rone. Her eyes were locked on The Starry Night. Stepping closer and without touching it, Rachel traced the swirls in the sky with her fingers.

“Do you see this?” Rachel asked not taking her eyes off the piece.

“Um…sure…it’s…um…pretty.” Gretchen looked at her with a confused expression.

Rachel finally pulled her eyes away long enough to give Gretchen an intense look. “You don’t understand. I know how he was feeling when he painted this.” She turned again to examine the painting. “These swirls are the chaos of his thoughts. He painted the wind like that to show his feeling that he was moving through existence too quickly. This tree is like there is something inside of him that is a large and ugly part of him that only shows when he feels chaotic. The whole painting is his expression of the chaos within him.”

Gretchen’s eyes grew wide as she listened to her friend describe the painting. “How do you know that? I mean, how would you know if that’s what he was really feeling? That’s just your interpretation of it.”

Rachel turned back to face her again. “I don’t know how I know, but I know that’s what he felt like.” Then she looked to the right and saw Starry Night Over the Rone. With a nod of her head she motion toward the painting. “That one he painted when he felt calm, almost serene. Look how peaceful the water is. It has people in it, too. He didn’t feel as alone.”

Gretchen’s expression was even more confused. ”When did you get all insightful?”

“Honestly I don’t know.” Rachel smiled and shrugged. As they walked away she stole one last glimpse of the paintings before they turned down a different hallway.

———————————————-

Van Gogh’s paintings affected Rachel in a way not much else ever had. She wondered why she understood his paintings so easily and clearly. She decided to research Van Gogh and see what they had in common, as unlikely as that seemed. Then she discovered that Van Gogh was most likely bipolar. Obviously this emotional disorder would play some role in his artwork. What did that mean for her?

Her research shifted from Van Gogh to bipolar disorder. In just a few moments her life was altered forever. The cycle of emotions, the fleeting thoughts of suicide, the paranoia, insomnia, all things she recognized in herself. She realized she finally had her answer. She was different. Suddenly the fear of being crazy diminished. It didn’t scare her anymore because now she knew there was hope. Most of all, she knew she wasn’t alone.