Paradise

 

As if my feet were attached in some other dimension and would go there without the slightest indication that my body wanted to do so, they practically glided through the doorway.

The smell threw me back a stride and for a second I had to catch my breath. Except I knew what would await me if I stepped into the dark shadows of the room. Behind the curtains, inside the toy bin, beside the small bookcase of children's books. It was there. It was everywhere. But my legs didn't care, and apparently neither did my brain.

I might as well have jumped right off a four-hundred foot cliff, than go into that room. My heart skipped beats and I knew this because I could hear them in my ears. My body throbbed and my eyes spun. They couldn't take in everything, something, anything. I was in a complete daze and things were beginning to get fuzzy.

I could just make out dolls with bulging eyes lining one wall, sitting atop dark mahogany shelves. Row after row, they stared. They watched me as I roamed blindly. The small rocking horse creaked slowly, back and forth, back and forth, with fading childish colors. Teddy bears with missing buttons and worn bows sat sprawled carelessly in random places on the the horrid green carpet. The walls were engulfed by jungle designs: one wall had gorillas and monkeys hanging aimlessly from tall trees, another with bamboo plants and other unrecognizable plants. The third wall had exotic birds feeding their young, taking up very bit of that wall. And the fourth wall... The fourth wall had.... Had...

Jealousy - An Interview with Finch, Student of KAF

Interviewer: How did you feel when you realized Anya was Garret Dill’s girlfriend?

Finch: They’re together? How do you know that? Maybe they’re just friends. They could just be friends, right? Yeah. They’re not together, silly.

Interviewer: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Finch: Well… Maybe. Wait, no. No! Of course I don’t. That’ll all girly stuff. Gross. Love.

Interviewer: Do you think you’re tougher than Garret Dill?

Finch: Of course. He may have meat, and good looks, and isn’t just accepted but invited to the Knights Academy of Farland, but the kid’s worthless. He’s a wimp.

Interviewer: Might you be… May I say, jealous?

Finch: WHAT? Jealous? Of… Dill? Yeah, ha ha, I’m way jealous. He’s useless. I am not jealous.

Interviewer: Do you like Anya?

Finch: Yes—no! No! She’s cute,  and all, but no. I don’t even know her. Wait— Is that my mom calling? I better go. Don’t want to keep her waiting!

The Moron and His Muttonhead Friends

No way was I going back there. How could I? Everyone just saw my… Well, you know. And I’d never live it down! At that moment, as I bolted for the nearest safe haven with my tattered shorts bundled in my arms, I decided that I couldn’t attend the school, even if by some miracle I was accepted. I’d never, ever, ever, ever live this down. I’d hear about it every day in class, in the hall, at practice.

                I ran and ran, like the coward I was, findin the side door to the school’s main building. Just as I ducked through the tall double doors, I skidded to a stop. A girl, a beautiful one (of course, right?), walked down the hall.

                I swear, she must have been floating. Or I was going dizzy.

                She was the most beautiful girl. And believe me when I say it: I was probably drooling. Her dark blonde hair fell lazily around her narrow shoulders obviously effortlessly and natural. And her eyes… so stormy and deep, perfectly blue-gray. And  looking straight at me.

                Oh, brother. I sounded like a girl. Was I really thinking like that? Knock it off, Finch. You’re a man. Act like it.I scolded myself and straightened up just as a blow hit my shoulder and jerked me sideways, almost directly into Her Highness. A stupid jock bolted passed me, looking back and laughing an idiot laugh at an unknown person behind me.

                The kid ran off down the hall. Just my luck, I turned around to put the broken puzzle pieces together and see who the instigator was.

                Garret.

                “Oh, would you look who it is? It’s Mr. Drafty!” Garret tease, elbowing his friends and pointing at my currently pants-less legs like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.

                “Aren’t you so funny, Dill? Wait, rhetorical question. Just in case you happen to know what that means,” I tossed back.

                Garret must have been the king of dopey looks. He kept a straight look on his face, not laughing anymore, with an ugly curled lip. The kid was downright stupid.

                “You should really work on your comebacks, kid,” he finally said, shaking his head and holding that hideous smirk. He muttered something that sounded like “what an idiot” to his following idiots then turned to me again and gave me a shove.

                Under circumstances, I would have shouldered back. Well, probably. Maybe.

                I let the push go, though, because then Garret stepped around me and did something that, of all things, probably crushed my hope most, of anything.

                He reached out to the beautiful girl I had locked eyes with. “Let’s go, Anya. This fool’s gotta get home for bedtime.” Anya returned his gesture by slipping her arm around his waist. It was like a slap in the face.

The pigs plus the pretty girl walked off down the hall.

Dreams

Daydreaming by Theresa Ann Moore 

Reoccurring images seen by the light of day
In a mind that visualizes with fanciful sight
Thoughts are purposefully flash upon the screen
Dreams are not confined to the darkness of night

The mind has a voice with words audibly heard
The words spoken reverberate within the brain
Total absorption transpires under a cerebral dome
The dialogue is restricted to this solitary domain

A mind has amazing eyes with lids that do not shut
Scripted scenes engross and are convincingly clear
Releasing sweet warmth or retaining a frigid chill…
Reality interrupts and captivating dreams disappear

Embarrassment

I threw myself into the ring, knowingly not quite prepared for what I might have been facing once I slipped my hand around the handle of my new best friend.

Oh boy, was that sword heavy.

Now, who was I to say I could win this fight? I knew my chances were slim; even that smelly guard knew I was about to get pummeled to a squealing pulp. Except I still knew I needed to do it, or at least try. A few black eyes in places that eyes aren't even located never hurt anyone, right?

I lifted my massive sword and stepped to the painted center circle of the battle ring. My eyes locked with Garrett's and my head suddenly failed me. It went blank. Totally blank. Sword skills? Nope. Fighting skills? Nada. Running skills? Not even a chance. My ears, though, in the distance, allowed me to joyfully hear the annoying announcer counting down. 3, 2, 1...

Garrett struck with amazing speed, making a B-line straight for my jaw. Luckily, he overestimated my height and even luckier for me, something told my head to duck. I swiped at his thigh, the closest thing in my range of sight. I felt my blade skim it just a little and I saw only a small amount of blood trickle down.

The idiot looked down with wide eyes full of surprise, for what reason I'm not sure. But it gave my body and brain just enough time to compose itself once again and get steadied before he took another sorry swing. My cheek this time felt the wind this time.

It may seem as though I was doing quite well for the circumstances, except my heart was about the only thing working as fast as anything else should have been. I swear if he had stopped for another second to breath, he'd hear it slamming against my skin.

Bonehead as he was, his sword moved amazingly quick, even if without too much accuracy or technique.

It slashed next at my legs, but this time catching. I was sure where the blade hit me, because pain hadn't reached my brain yet, so I looked down with raised eyebrows and a surprised look of my own.

My first thought as I mentally assessed my situation, I'm sure, was not something I should mention.

The draft hit next. I quickly realized it was a windy day as my cacky shorts, now attached by less threads than I'd wish to explain, flowed freely in the cold wind. He'd swiped at my legs, for sure. No doubt about that, as my audience, containing friends, parents of all, teachers and guards, instantly decided holding their laughter would not be necessary, for my sanity or theirs.

Garrett Dill had just struck my pants. And they were now free as a bird on a sunny summer day.