An Insurrection

It was a rainy day in verdant England. Sean and Calvin were having a grand day playing in the pastures, and devising devious plans.
“I'm quite tired of all these monstrous slurs. Let us start an insurrection!!” Sean looked extremely jovial and pleased with himself as he kicked his way through the puddle in front of him.

“What does that even mean, Sean? Do you even know what that means? I definitely don't know.” Calvin, his life-long friend, who happened to be a little behind in the vocabulary department, seemed a bit agitated at the thought. I don't think he understood a quarter of the words in that sentence!

“Well of course I know what it means Calvin. An insurrection is an act or instance of rising in revolt, rebellion, or resistance against civil authority or an established government, of course. It's what people do these days. I think it's a brilliant idea.”

“You and your words. You are a fountain of useless information, you know that? And what are we revolting against anyway,” Calvin asked.

“Monstrous slurs of course,” Sean replied nonchalantly.

“Well, yes, but what kind of monstrous slurs Sean? We can't just make them up!”

“Of course we can Calvin! No one needs a reason for a revolution except that the don't like the way things are going now, and they have a better idea! For instance, if I were king of this great land, no one would ever have to take a bath!

Sean chuckled as they continued walking though the green, misty pastures of Oldham, flinging mud pies at each other and giggling about Flora Bailey, who was the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world according to them. As they came to the edge of Sean's farm, they plopped down next to the nearest fence post and began devising the insurrection.

“First, Calvin, we need to devise a plan to get people on our side. Like candy or something. And then we need to devise a plan to take over the world, and quick. Mum's going to make me take a bath today and I want it to be my last one.”

“Hm,” Calvin thought. “We could offer to do people's homework for them!”

“That would work, except no one would let you do their homework Calvin.” A frown came over Calvin's ruddy little face.

“How about ice cream,” Sean suggested. An ear-to-ear grin came across his face.

“And where are we going to get this ice cream, King Sean,” Calvin replied sarcastically. Sean realized that this idea was intangible for lack of funds, and his grin quickly dissipated. Calvin felt quite satisfied. It's not often he gets to shoot Sean down like that.

“I think,” Calvin suggested, “we should come up with these monstrous slurs you were talking about earlier. Maybe that will inspire us!”

Sean's face lit up and he began patting himself down looking for a writing utensil and paper. Luckily he'd left them in his pants pocket. He always wanted a pen an paper ready in case he had another brilliant idea.

“That's the first smart thing you've said all day, mate! What'll the first one be,” Sean asked, pencil to paper.

“Well… how about that every one wears socks! That's just terrible!”

“No, no, no. That's not a slur! That's a fact! And socks aren't terrible, they're just extremely annoying.”

“Well what's a slur then you ninny,” Calvin asked, a bit embarrassed at his suggestion.

“A slur,” he paused, “is to cast aspersions on; to calumniate, disparage, depreciate.” He looked at Calvin's face for some sign of understanding.

“Huh?”

“Goodness, Calvin! It's to make someone sound bad with words that aren't true!” Sean shook his head.

“How do you know all this stuff anyway Sean? Bloody hell! We're only ten!”

“I just know Calvin. Now get on with it then. What slurs shall we say are being said?”

“How about that… I don't know, Sean! I'd like to see you come up with something!”

Sean answered with a smirk, “Well that's easy, Calvin. All we have to say is that the government told us our mothers are all wenches!” He scribbled furiously. Calvin's eyes widened, and he furrowed his brow.

“But that isn't true at all Sean! The government never said that!”

“Precisely, Calvin. If we can get people all riled up, we can make an insurrection, and then we can talk in front of thousands of hundreds of people and become kings and never have to take baths! It's brilliant!”

“I think it's preposterous and I won't do it,” Calvin said indignantly as he crossed his arms.

“We'll see, Calvin. We'll see. All this scheming is making me hungry. Shall we continue this tomorrow?”

“I guess,” Calvin said with a shrug.

“Alright then, cheerio!” Sean rose from the muddy grass, crammed his pen and paper into his pants pocket once again, and ran to the house.

“Cheerio, mate!” As Calvin shuffled off back to his cottage, he couldn't help but grin as he thought about what escapades the would have tomorrow.

assignment: going fearward: A Drunken Stupor

they arrive at the house. just a townhouse. nothing exciting about it, but you could hear the music banging away, and the screams of joy as another ping pong ball went into the cup. they entered, the threesome: Kate, Emma, and Senushi. Senushi was the one who had invited them.

"It'll be fun," she said. "They're a bunch of the guys from my high school."

***

nine shots. NINE shots. shit, i only weight 125. and it's only been two hours. i should probably stop. kate's mind was rushing, but she felt like she could fall over, and she never felt more alive, or sexy. gotta make it to the couch, it's not too far. she stumbled, giggling, over to the crowded couch and sat. well... really fell, next to Tanner. she looked up at him. shit. i need some testosterone. i haven't even had any physical contact with a guy in MONTHS. he's not totally unfortunate looking. the world was spinning. she felt warm, the alcohol pulsing through her veins.

in any normal social situation, kate was shy. she didn't talk to boys, much less go over to them and put her hand on their thighs. she looked into his face with her bloodshot eyes, and her rosy cheeks, her blood vessels dilated from the rum. she giggled, and they talked about something pointless. probably guitar hero. sometime after that, senushi must have come over. 

"Do you want to go? I think me and Emma are going to go."

kate must have said ok, now she was all alone. she looked around. she was lonely, and scared. she didn't know what to do now. what am i doing here? where is senushi? or emma? shit. she stumbled back into the kitchen, took another shot and tried to walk a straight line back to the couch. ha! good thing i wore flats today. she was next to Tanner. he was reasonably attractive, but definitely not her type. she doesn't remember how it started, but suddenly they had moved to another couch and were making out voraciously, sticking each other's tongues down each other's throats. god, this feels so good. don't stop she thought. and then she asked the question that would change her forever. she came up for air and said, "do you want to go upstairs?" and of COURSE he said yes. he's a fucking GUY.

suddenly, clothes were flying off, he unhooked her bra, and her bare breasts were pressed up against his hot body. they never stopped kissing. he scooped her up, her thighs wrapped around his waist, still kissing. they went into the bathroom. the lights went out, and that's where it happened. that's where kate lost her virginity. in a fucking bathroom with a guy she didn't even know.

***

the next morning, kate woke up feeling extremely anxious. she remembered all of what happened. oh my god. i had sex last night. i wasn't supposed to do that. it's against my morals. oh my god! what happened to the condom?! oh my god!! what if i'm pregnant?!!?

she threw on jeans and a t-shirt, not even looking in the mirror, sped to the nearest CVS and bought the morning after pill. i can't believe i'm doing this. oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. her eyes darted around the store, scanning for people who might see her like this: frantic. she read the directions like it was a map to Heaven, did exactly what it said. she facebooked Tanner. do you remember what happened to the condom? because i need to know, tanner. i need to know. he wrote back. he didn't remember. shit. and she waited...

and waited...

and waited...

***

on wednesday, she was still worried sick. she had stopped eating. she read on the internet that a parsley infusion and massive amounts of vitamin c were implantation inhibitors, and she had been doing that. she had been frantically searching the internet for answers. how soon can you know if you are pregnant? what are the signs? oh my god. i can't believe this. i can't believe this. shit, shit, shit, shit. if they hadn't fucking LEFT ME THERE this never would have happened!!

it was saturday. a week after. the crimson stained her underwear. she immediately ran to the bathroom down the hall from her dorm room, turned on the shower, curled up in the fetal position, and sobbed.

past lives assignment

here i was writing about past lives and what my possible past lives could have been. i wrote a short story about one:

it was a warm day in Ronda, the sun was beaming down, illuminating the streets. People were bustling, the shouts of children could be heard in the distance, birds were sweetly chirping. A young girl, Gabriella, was walking down the dusty cobblestone road. she had long chestnut hair that glistened in the sunlight, and a simple dress, tied with a royal blue sash. she was carrying her urn, going to the well to get water for the day's cooking.

as she was walking, a young man, Pedro, was pushing his bread cart. you could hear him calling out, "fresh bread! fresh bread!" he hobbled along, and no one seemed to notice him, and every time he took a step, he winced ever so slightly. gabriella saw him every morning as she went to the well, but she never had the nerve to say hello. pedro saw her every day as well. she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on, but she could never be his. no one would ever be his.

one day, as gabriella was walking back from the well, he caught her eye. she smiled sheepishly and tried to hurry away, and just when she thought she was out of sight, she tripped and fell. the urn shattered, and she lay on the ground, utterly mortified. pedro put his card down and went over to her. she sat up, and he gently brushed the hair away from her face. his bright blue eyes seemed to see into her soul, and she felt safe.

"are you alright," he asked. she blushed, a deep crimson, and laughed nervously.

"yes, i'm fine thank you." she got up and started to pick up the pieces of the urn, which seemed to be everywhere.

pedro gathered up the shards he could, and left. gabriella never got a chance to thank him for that small act of kindness. she wondered if she would ever see him again. she had never felt so safe with a stranger. his deep comforting voice and his gentle eyes put her at ease.

***

each day, as gabriella walked to the well, she looked for pedro. she didn't even know his name, but still she looked for him. he hadn't been to the square in quite some time, and she was beginning to fear he'd never return. as she left the well that day, she felt a tap on her shoulder. she turned around and saw that beautiful smile.

"i thought i would walk you out of the square today. make sure your urn is alright." she giggled.

of course, but i have to ask, what is your name? i wanted to thank you for helping me, but you ran away."

"it's pedro. most people don't want me to stay around, so i left."

"well, i'm not most people," she smiled. "if you hadn't helped me i would have been in the square forever picking up all the pieces. i wanted to thank you." she pecked him on the cheek.

and that was the beginning. every day after gabriella filled her urn, they would sit on the steps of the cathedral and enjoy each other's company. they would solve problems better than the king, and then collapse into laughter when gabriella told pedro what she'd heard at the well that day. she had never felt so calm, so safe, with anyone. she was beginning to fall for him.

one day, as they were sitting on the steps watching the people go by, pedro asked, "doesn't it bother you that i'm like this?"

"like what," gabriella asked.

"my leg. doesn't it bother you?"

"i guess i never really noticed it." she shrugged and smiled at him. he seemed shocked. "what's wrong pedro?"

"i have never known anyone who disregarded it like you. i guess i've never know anyone quite like you either." he grinned and ran his finger down her nose. gabriella placed her hand on his face and stared into his eyes for a moment as the sun shone.

"your leg doesn't bother me at all. it never has. and it never will unless you start tripping me with it," she laughed. they looked at each other for a minute, and gabriella apprehensively asked, "how did it happen?" Pedro looked away. he took a deep breath and began to tell the story.

"when i was young, my father was the one who pushed the cart. every day he faithfully came to the square, and every day he returned. as he got older, i accompanied him because the cart was becoming too heavy. one day, the king's men were riding through town carelessly, and they were coming right for him. he couldn't move fast enough so i pushed him out of the way. the chariots ran over my leg and the doctor couldn't save it, so here i am."

then she knew. she was going to make him a leg so wonderful he'd be able to run again.

"I have to go. I need to do something," she said as she kissed him.

"Gabriella! where are you going," he called after her.

"you'll see," she called back, grinning. just then, a butterfly with bright yellow wings came to rest on his leg. he picked it up with his finger and let it flit into the sunlight.

***

though she missed those mornings with pedro, for the next few weeks she hurried back from the well to work on the new prosthetic. she even made a foot for it! it was beautiful and strong, just like her pedro.

it was finally finished. after three weeks of hard work, it was finished. she happily gathered it up and set out for the well. as she passed, the people turned their heads disapprovingly, but she didn't care. nothing could wipe the smile off her face. she heard his voice in the distance, put the urn down and broke into a run. she hugged him as tightly as she could and said, "i have a gift for you." he turned around and she presented him with the leg. his eyes opened wide and he began to laugh with joy. they hurried over to the steps of the cathedral, and gabriella placed the new leg. it fit like a glove.

he stood up, scooped her up into his arms and kissed her softly. he looked at her, a tiny tear falling, and said, "I love you Gabriella, mi mariposa, my butterfly."

a sort of walking miracle

this was in response to an "assignment" based on a poem. one of the lines reads "a sort of walking miracle". 

you're a sort of walking miracle. with those bright blue eyes that are as big as the ocean, and your soft sandy brown hair that blows in the gentle breeze. you had just learned how to walk before the accident. we thought you'd never recover. and now you're taking your first steps with that tiny little walker, looking back at us and grinning. your tiny little hands grip the sides, and you step, one foot in front of the other. you look back again and giggle. that sweet giggle that we all so dearly missed. i can't stop the tears. the doctors thought you'd never walk again. each day you get stronger, your spirit has never been broken. your momma told you every day that she loved you, and you said, "I know." you never gave up. i don't think you even knew what you were fighting for, but you never wavered. those tiny little legs, bruised and beaten by the car, somehow came back to life, and now you're walking again.

you're sort of a walking miracle.

when i had finished this, a lot of the people on the board wanted me to expand on this piece so here's the expansion:

that night was a beautiful one. it was snowing out. it was one of those evenings that you'd love to sit on a bench and watch the snow fall, listen to the beautiful sound of nothing as the white flakes touch the ground. you were sound asleep in your car seat. when i looked back at you, your rosy cheeks were glowing and i couldn't help but smile. we were on our way back from the ice skating park. you just loved watching all the people and playing in the snow. 

my favorite paul mccartney song came on: no more lonely nights. i started humming. the wind began to blow harder, and the snow was falling faster. i could barely see. my heart started racing and i kept checking the mirror, making sure you were still asleep, safe. then in a split second, the car started swerving. i couldn't stop. it spun off the road and then i don't remember.

7:06 pm. that was the last time i saw on the clock. when i woke up with was 8:12. i felt woozy, and my head felt wet. i was bleeding, but that didn't matter. i looked back to find you, but you weren't there. i started screaming, broke the window and climbed out, tearing my clothes. i was frantic, searching, yelling for you. then i heard you whimper. you had been thrown from the car. i saw your tiny body in the snow, shivering. why didn't the car seat protect you? did i strap it in tight enough? i began trying to recount everything we'd done before we left the park. did i buckle you in right? i can't believe i'd let you lay there for so long. my baby, my poor, sweet baby. "momma loves you. momma's here. momma loves you." i stroked her bloody head.

everything happened in a flash. i saw the lights of the ambulance after what seemed like forever, and they tried fixing my head, but i made them look at your first. your little face was blue, and your legs. my god, your legs. they were lifeless. black and blue. all i could do was cry. if i hadn't been passed out for so long, maybe you wouldn't be so hurt. maybe i could have done something. "momma's here. momma loves you."

the police told me we were lucky to be alive. the car wrapped itself around  atree, and threw my sweet Evie through the window. i left with a few cuts and a concussion, and my baby is in the ICU. it should e me in there.

we waited. for days. your tiny little body was fighting to stay alive. rob tried comforting me, telling me it wasn't my fault. all i could do was think about her tiny body laying there in the snow. her face covered with blood, her skin cold as ice. how could a mother let that happen?

when you opened those bright blue eyes, it was like the day you were born again. i was so happy. i kept holding your little hand. "momma's here sweetie. momma loves you. i'll never leave, ok?"

when they took the tubes out of your mouth, the first thing you said was "momma". you reached out to me. all i could do was cry. you still loved me. after all that. you still loved me.

my Evie, my little miracle. momma loves you. momma won't ever leave you. never, never.

so this blog...

it's basically a place to keep all my writing. i'm not an english major or creative writing or anything like that, but i do love to be creative with words and imagery, and i love creating stories. so this will be my place to do that. i hope you enjoy it!