Thursday, July 29, 2010


Tears streaming down her face,
She is happy.

He lays a hand upon her shoulder
Kissing the droplets away;
She smiles.

From the basement to the room,
The changes.

It's not often for Mariya to smile in such a way.  When she does, you know there is pure happiness beaming out from her like the sun shines out from behind the moon during a solar eclipse.  Mariya is a quiet girl, a knowledgable girl.  She is beautiful, but you wouldn't notice her in a crowd for she oftentimes has her head in the clouds and does not stand out against other girls clad in tight clothes and makeup.  Her beauty is soft and natural; her hair flows in the wind when she walks through fields, brushing her hands along the tall grasses.  She is a dream, and you can only hope to meet her in your deepest sleep.

The months have passed for Mariya since that day, the day she walked through the rose garden.  It was her favorite place to go to relax and be surrounded by the beauty that God had given the Earth.  The way He bestowed such a gift upon the humans to be able to bring all of the flowers together amazed her, and walking through the rows of roses made her feel like she was in heaven.  She'd close her eyes and breathe the scent of the air, misted with a rose perfume, and soak it all in.  Maybe that was her mistake.  Maybe that was her blessing.

She remembers the roses.  She remembers the rose garden.  She remembers that day.  But one can't help but wonder what parts are missing, what parts have faded in her delicate mind.

She didn't know his name before they met.  He tells her that his name is Tomi, and she believes him. When you see them together, you can see how she is falling in love with him.  He gives her flowers and holds her hand, his icy eyes looking like deep oceans to her.  His face is charming; his jaw is straight with just the right angles, and he has soft, dark hair that she likes to run her fingers through.

Years from now, they'll be just another couple in the city.  They'll move there together and start a family.  Mariya will have roses on the terrace of their fifth-floor apartment.  Tomi will work at a big office, keeping his secrets in a locked box in his desk.  Their children will run and play in the park, pet border collie herding them up once in a while.  Mariya will smile, happy.  Other mothers will envy her, but they will wonder about her quiet disposition and beautiful but lifeless eyes.

Mariya dreams of the future.  She sits on her bed, a small twin, and dreams of it while she waits for Tomi to visit her.  He brings her food and keeps her company.  She looks into his eyes when he speaks, smiling gently, listening to every word.  When he leaves, she is saddened.  He is her only friend now.  The rest have all left.  It didn't mean much, since she was such a quiet girl, and having Tomi was enough.  It was as if he knew...he knew that this was meant to be like this.  As if God had told him to find her in the rose garden that day.

She won't tell you much.  She'll just explain how they met in the rose garden and saved her life.  You'll wonder about it, but her soft words are so convincing that you'll believe her, too.  What was lost might be gone forever.  To dig it up would only lead to tragedy in her world, and one must wonder if that would be worth the trouble.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Dream #1

I'm used to having really strange dreams.  So, this one was nothing out of the ordinary.  The sense of fear, the panic:  used to it.

Basically, I was at my old house.  Things are getting foggy in my mind now, so bear with me.  I remember being at the table in the kitchen, three or four strange people eating with me.  Across from me sat a tall, dark-haired man with scruff, body built like a lean (but strong) construction worker.  His eyes were frightening when he got mad, for they sparked anger.  They must have been a lighter color; I seem to see more expression in those sometimes than darker ones.  He had taken some giant poster of mine and was opening it up and crumpling it, which angered me, and I fought with him on not ruining it, which he did anyhow.  Mind you, this was a dream, so it really does make no sense at all, and, therefore, this part was rather strange.  I ended up being a hostage in my own home.

Fade into another scene that I recall.  Looking out the front window in fear and sadness as this group of people, the ones that had been at the meal, knocked on my neighbor down the street's door, pretending to want to see their fabulous house (It was rather fabulous, so much so that the house, at the push of a button, pulled itself apart to expand to reveal a game room that some of the family members were playing ping pong at, then closed again.) but with the intention of somehow robbing them.  All I could do was watch, scared, with my boyfriend (also hostage with me) for company.  I remember thinking to myself, Why don't we escape now?  But that wasn't possible, because, in my dream, I knew I couldn't, because, well, something terrible would happen.  They'd hunt us down; it wasn't worth the risk.

Fade to another scene.  This scene was more like a feeling.  I was woozy and blacking out, afraid.  I didn't quite understand what was going on while I sat on the family room floor, beige carpet under my bottom, feeling it in between my fingers.  It was like someone was playing with the dimmer on a light, up, down, up, down.  All I knew was fear and uncertainty; something bad was happening.

Fade to following my boyfriend, who was putting on his shoes, afraid that if I didn't reach him in time, he'd leave without me.  I, still woozy, hobbled across the family room, through the kitchen, to the laundry room to put on my shoes, too, and head to the garage.  I wasn't sure where we were going, but I knew it was bad.

Fade to being in the car with my boyfriend, driving somewhere.  We were on a mission to help these bad people.  If we didn't, who knows what would have happened.  In my mind, again, I thought, Why don't we just escape now, take the car and go get help.  Why can't we just run away now?  But we couldn't.

Fade to more driving in the car.  My boyfriend was freaking out.  He told me that we should have told him I was coming with him, we didn't check in on time, you were already late (on coming with him), something something...  I could hear panic in his voice through his slightly angered-through-frustration voice.  All I knew was that I was afraid again, and we were driving back to my house (Going the wrong way, mind you - hey, it's a dream - the way that I'd go to high school each morning those years ago...very odd.).  I told him that I didn't feel good, that I felt that I had been drugged.  He drove fast, and I was afraid of what would happen if I fell asleep.  Everything was still pulsating black and my body felt heavy and hard to control.  What would happen if I fell asleep?  Would I be hurt, tortured?  Would they have more control over me, would it be even more hard to try and escape this situation?

And, then, I woke up, afraid to go back to sleep.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Stupid, useless writing.

It's kind of like that bad writing you wrote in high school, the stuff you were forced to write.  The stuff you hated or liked but sucked at.  That's my aim.  It's like sitting at the computer, with your one-inch margins on Microsoft Word, pounding out letters on the keyboard, hoping your English teacher will skim it over and give it a passing grade.

Welcome to the blog.  Heh.  Blog.  Who would have thought, just a few years ago, these things would exist.  Or even mean anything.  The truth in it is that it probably won't go anywhere or mean anything to anyone, just a few scattered people.  Who knows how blogs get popular, anyhow.  Life is still that popularity contest we battled for in high school.  So, bring it on.  Let's get somewhere in it.