...We encounter one more swarming crowd before entering the dark tunnel that lead out to the football field. Just before the hallway ends, Alexis pulls out a key and jams it into the door handle. With a quick flick of the wrist, the door swings open and the mixed smells of perfume and hairspray greet us. On the other end of the padded mat is a door that leads to the gym and Alexis is wasting no time getting to it. “Jake is supposed to meet us on the other side,” she says over her shoulder. Sure enough, when she opens the door, a long, chiseled face with slightly sun bleached brown hair is waiting. “Hey gorgeous,” he says, bending over to give her a quick peck. When he sees me he adds, “Welcome back, Viv. Good to see the South let you return.” I laugh and follow behind them. “Yeah, granddad is still furious at daddy for bringing us up here. It's been nineteen years. You would think he would get over it. He even offered to send me to some snooty private school if I would just move back but I just couldn’t leave you two alone. Lord only knows what kind of trouble you could get into?” “Well, on behalf of our virtue, I think you made the right choice. Senior year would be completely different without you.” "It's going to be different no matter what," Alexis sniffs before smiling brightly and waving to friends in the crowd. She strays a few feet away to take her seat with some of the other cheerleaders and motions for me to sit next to her. I hold up a finger to tell her I’ll be there...
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...“NO more of this nonsense!”, claimed my father, and cursed under his breath. A few weeks before, my brother left with the only rifle, after the conflict between him and my father. Tom had wanted to help America win over their land, where he could have freedom, and have a chance of excitement as a solider. Father disagreed with him entirely. He had always had been loyal to the king. Never had any of him lied under his name. As my father stormed off, my mom started to weep and I put my head down. I glanced at the paper and saw horrifying titles. “THE BRITISH FIGHTS BACK FROM THE BOSTON TEA PARTY!” had been written in huge black letters. I quickly looked away, carried my plate to the water basin, and helped my mother up. I still remember the first bang go off when the Americans had been first seen dead. As the lights soon came down, and all the noise I could have heard was from my dad cursing over his breath of rum, and I soon fell asleep with the fear of anxiety. The next morning became even worse. As I woke up, I soon changed, and came downstairs. My father and mother were in different side and the reek of rum took over the kitchen. Things were splattered, everywhere , and my father had soon disappeared. My mother and I soon went outside, for both our faces red faced, and we headed to the baking parlor. The fresh ocean breeze hit me, and the nice peace , was soon gone. Red streaks were on the harbor, boats were docked, and everything had just gone into heck. People were screaming...
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...wanted to stay home and help with our family business. When I woke up I felt very sluggish and sick to my stomach. Mom told me just to try to make it through the day, and to go to the nurse if it got any worse. When I went to school I tried my best to still be positive and said it was just a bug and kept doing my work. I went to lunch just like always, but I didn’t really have an appetite to eat. I put my lunch back in my bag and continued to talk to my best friend to keep my mind off of not feeling well. We went back to class and finished the rest of our day. I packed up my bag, slid my jacket on and walked to the bus to go home. I went to my normal seat and found that my seat partner went home so I had the seat to myself. I set my bag on the seat and put my head on it. I picked my feet up and curled up on the remainder of the seat. The bus started moving and I dozed off after the first stop. My best friend,...
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...Amy and I was someone we all went to school with. I was close with her, but she would hang out with us when we found ourselves at the same party. “I came in today.” “How long are you stay…we should get together for a drink?” “I will only be in town until tomorrow.” “Well if you’re free I get off in 20 minutes.” “Sorry Amy, next time. I have some business I have to take care of.” “Next time, then! What can I do for you today?” “I need to make a withdrawal.” “Can I get your account number?” I handed her my debit card. “I need to withdrawal $5,000.” Amy looked at me apologetically, “I’m sorry Roxy, but this account is with Umpqua Bank; I can’t give you anymore than you daily limit on your debit card. Do you have an account with US Bank?” “No.” I said disappointed. “Are you sure there in no way to withdrawal more.” “I’m sorry, but no.” “Ok I will take the $15,000.” Amy counted the bills with precise proficiency. “It was great to see you Roxy.” She said. “You too.” I said. As I turned to make my way to the door Jack stepped up to the counter. He graced Amy with his charming graceful smile and asked to withdrawal $4,500. Amy didn’t even look at his account number. She kept her eyes locked on him while she processed his request. “Anything else I may help you with, Jack?” Amy fond over him. “That will be it, Thanks Amy.” He said and met me at the door. I hesitated with my hand on the door handle. I knew I had an infatuation with Jack, but I was not entitled to the wave of jealousy...
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...ON 08-02-2017 AT APPROXIMATELY 2224 HOURS, I WAS DISPATCHED TO THE SUBWAYS LOCATED AT 624 WEST HALLANDALE BEACH BLVD IN REFERENCE TO AN AGGRAVATED ASSAULT WITH A HAND GUN. UPON ARRIVAL, I MET WITH COMPLAINANT N`NAMDI G GIBSON WHO WAS STANDING IN THE PARKING LOT OUTSIDE THE BUSINESS. N`NAMDI EXPLAINED HE CURRENTLY WORKS FOR THE ONLINE MEAL ORDERING AND DELIVERY PLATFORM KNOWN AS UBER EATS. N`NAMDI ADVISED PRIOR TO MY ARRIVAL HE WENT TO THE LISTED SUBWAYS TO PICK UP AN UBER EATS ORDER. ON ARRIVAL HE OBSERVED A LONG WAITING LINE AND AT THE TIME THERE WAS ONLY ONE PERSON BEHIND THE COUNTER TENDING TO CUSTOMERS, WHICH WAS THE MANAGER, LUIS FRANCISCO MORALES CRESPO. N`NAMDI ADVISED HE TOLD LUIS THAT HE WAS THERE TO PICK UP AN UBER EATS ORDER, AT WHICH TIME LUIS INFORMED HIM THAT THE CUSTOMERS IN THE STORE HAS PRIORITY OVER THE UBER EATS ORDERS. N`NAMDI ADVISED HE DECIDED TO JOINED THE LINE, BUT AFTER WAITING FOR A WHILE HE CANCELLED THE ORDER. ONCE THIS HAPPENED BOTH N`NAMDI AND LUIS STARTED TO EXCHANGE WORDS BACK AND FORTH, AFTER WHICH LUIS AGGRESSIVELY WALKED FROM BEHIND THE COUNTER TOWARDS HIM SHOUTING TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HIS STORE. AS THE TWO MEN WALKED OUTSIDE, N`NAMDI ADVISED HE WAS CARRYING HIS CONCEALED WEAPON (HANDGUN) IN A HOLSTER ON HIS RIGHT HIP. N`NAMDI ADVISED LUIS CONTINUED TO ACT AGGRESSIVE TOWARDS HIM, AT WHICH TIME HE LIFTED UP HIS T-SHIRT TO DISPLAY HIS HANDGUN AFTER WHICH HE PLACED HIS HAND ON IT. N`NAMDI ADVISED AT THAT POINT LUIS WALKED BACK INTO...
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...I swung my feet as I sat high above the strawberry fields in an oak tree. Below me satyrs played their reed pipes as campers plucked strawberries from their vines. There wasn't much to do around camp today, seeing as it was mostly a lazy day. Chiron had let all the campers take a day off from their activities. We had had an eventful past few days. "Alexis Garcia!" Someone shouted from below me. I looked down to see my best friend, Nico Di Angelo. He was the only one who was allowed to call me by my full name. As much as I hated the name, I could never get him to call me by anything else. If any of my siblings ever found out my full name was Alexis they would never let me live it down. I had been at camp for ten years and I had always introduced myself as Alex, never Alexis. I despised the name. It always reminded me of my past. When I was born my mother put me up for adoption so I was in foster care for the first four years of my existence. I had always been called Alexis so when I was brought to camp I saw it as a fresh start. "Nico you know how much I hate that name. For the love of the gods, please call me Alex." I called down to him, beginning the long decent down to the ground. "No can do. I was wondering if you wanted to spar?" Nico asked. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, and his eyes narrowed as he looked up at me. His pale skin and dark clothes made him stick out in the bright colors of the strawberry field. "I can beat you with one hand behind...
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... The world was still. Everything around me frozen in time, almost as if my universe stopped spinning. The dog, asleep on the ground, dreamt about running through fields as fast as his mature legs could take him. This dream wouldn’t last long, however, because soon a loud shriek made its way to his ears. “Mom,” Emma cried, “Cheryl won’t give me back my shoes!” “They’re not your shoes, they’re mine!” As soon as I was able to, I ran down the hall to the living room, where they happened to be. Their screaming was going to wake my mom, who was asleep after having her calcium drop to an extremely low level. For most people, this wouldn’t have been an issue, however, my mom happened to be on stage three of kidney failure, so it was slightly more important. She had already taken more calcium, and gone back to bed, but she shouldn’t have been getting up or having to deal with my sisters, which meant that it was my job to diffuse the entire situation. “Why are you fighting?” I asked calmly, keeping in mind that Cheryl’s medication has been slightly off, which means that she’s not always able to be reasoned with. Emma quickly explained that she had let Cheryl borrow her shoes a while ago, but Cheryl has not returned them to her possession yet. I recognized the shoes, which were in fact, Emma’s. “Cheryl,” I explained, “You need to go to your room. Those are Emma’s shoes, not yours, and you know it.” “No, they’re my shoes! I’ve had them for a really long time and Emma stole them...
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...and youth, describing the times when they only ate fish sticks and fries for dinner on Sunday nights. I smile as I share memories with my sister and brother, talking about the time my brother pushed me off of the trampoline, or when I pushed my sister off of the trampoline. Coming home from school, from work, from trips, I rest knowing I am home. The smells of laundry detergent, the oddly-always-the-same 73 degrees temperature greeting me, the sounds of my cat meowing, my dog's open mouth almost representing a smile. At night the bed that brings me subtle slumber, these are the things that describe home. I step out of my car, taking notice of where I am and where I am going, relaxing as I feel the gentle brush of wind that comes after shutting my car door. I walk up to the old storage building, gripping the cold metal handle and walking into the ever so chilly room, greeted by the sight of couches and desks, students and adults, friends and family, the setting of my church youth building. The smell of old wood and metal, the sound of my best friend's music blaring through the building, the pat on the back of my closest friends showing their love and greeting, these are the things that describe home....
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...I was drenched in sweat. Running through the streets of Manhattan, bumping into the warm bodies all around me; I was like a lost body in a vast sea- helpless, confused. “Mom!! Dad!!” I bawled out as loud as I could, only for my voice to be vanished in the beams and flamboyance around me. I was running through an abyss, and they were nowhere to be seen, but the last thing I recalled, I was walking right alongside them. We had gone to New York as part of winter break about 3 years ago, and were having the times of our lives, visiting Madison Square Garden, touring the great Manhattan, and truly enjoying ourselves. That was, until a murky, near midnight and glacial December night had befallen us. Ahead of us, there was a swarm of people, similar to that of ants. Following my beloved family into the mass of tourists, hoping that we would make it out together, the inevitable occurred. People shoved and forced their way through the crowd. I began to feel dizzy, slowly losing contact with my family, until I had lost them completely. They were screaming my name, tearing through the people around them like madmen, but I could not hear them- the world around me began to fade, and all I could concentrate on was the hum of the conversations and strobes in the vicinity. When I regained collection, the crowds had died down, seeming that it was about three in the morning. I was frantically zooming from street to street, searching for my missing family, until I spotted the hazy silhouette...
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...blood. My school bag laid a foot away, the blue strap turned a vivid mulberry and the tan carpet it laid on looked like a murder scene 24-hours later. "It's so weird how ANYTHING can happen in so little time. Like, tomorrow the world could explode! We could discover alien life! You could die!" Maybe you could die. I gasp and choke on air. ShiTsHItshitshIt wHat h a pp e nEd. I scramble up from my place on the floor and look around frantically. I spy my phone laying haphazardly half on-half off my dresser and I trip over a book grabbing it. I unlock it and scroll through my messages, 10 from George that rapidly increase in panic every five minutes. Hey Cain, when will you and Abel be home? Hey, there a was a police report saying that they had a homicide called in that's along your route home from school. Stay safe, guys. Cain please respond Cain Cain where the hell are you they found Abel dead in an alley off 56th CAIN The phone hit the floor with a solid thud. My hands tremble. The gritty texture of the brick is harsh, the alley drenched in the stench of day old garbage, alcohol, and copper. A guttural cry is followed by a soft whimper that echoes and rings in my head. Oh god, what have I doN E? I throw myself at the door, frantically twisting the doorknob to unlock, desperately trying to leave the evidence of my crime behind. I burst from my room and run straight into George, knocking me backwards. I cry out, my head makes a resounding cRACK, my vision swims. Black dots...
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...Lexi ordinarily would not have complained over a little hair pulling and nipping of teeth, but after her encounter with Karl nearly every prick of pain to her sensitive skin was a reminder of a time that she very much wanted to forget. There was no easy or delicate way to interrupt her lover in the midst of fucking to politely tell him that he was being too rough and was bringing up unsavory memories of the time when she was assaulted, so the socialite bit her tongue and tried to enjoy herself. Instead of letting her eyes drift closed she forced them to stay open and observe her lover as he fucked her relentlessly, their bodies moving together rhythmically instead of forcefully. It became evident that Richard could not tell that she was perhaps not responding with such enthusiasm to his touch than may have been expected. Lexi was internally glad that he did not notice anything amiss beyond their usual lovemaking, but eventually it came to a point that she could no longer ignore the glaring similarities between her potential fiancée and the head of security. Despite prolonging both of their orgasms she bade him to stop, her heart racing even faster as they gazed at each other for a moment. She could feel his eyes searching for something, wondering what had caused her to halt their romp. “Only when it comes to you…” The heiress felt relieved when Richard didn’t question her at all, and she smiled against his lips when their tongues tangled. Being in control was something that...
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...While thinking about her, he thought about Justin Anderson. “I need to learn more about Justin, such a great young man, we could be buddies,” he said as tears rolled down his cheeks he added. “That boy could be my reason for staying alive.” Being tired and thirsty when he arrived home he made a drink and sat down on the sofa. *** When he woke up from his nap, Mr. Cassidy took care of his friends in the basement and was ready to go for a drive. Grabbing his keys, he went out the front door and noticed Claude standing near the fence. “Hey, do you want to go for a drive?” Running to the gate, he barked as he waited for Mr. Cassidy to open the gate. The hound rushed to the truck, stopped at the passenger’s side and waited. After Ernest had opened the truck door, Claude sat up proud and barked to let him know he wanted something more. Before turning on the engine, he leaned across the hound and rolled down the window. “How is that?” The hound stuck his head out the window and...
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...Prologue The way it is I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again? “It's April,” I answered as I waited to be ridiculed. “April, like the month of the year?” “Yes. Exactly like the month of the year.” “I thought that was a woman's name.” By now, I'd had enough and I snapped, “Are you going to give me your number or not?” “You don't have to be so snappy. I only asked you a simple question.” I took a deep breath, recollected my thoughts and then apologized. “Look, I'm sorry. Are you going to hook me up with your digits or not? The club is about to close.” “Since you asked nicely, this time, I guess so. But I need to ask you another question first.” “What's that?” “You're not a woman, are you? You know the ones that dress like men?” “Hell no! I'm a man.” “I see that peach fuzz on your top lip, but you're going to have to show me. You can never be too sure nowadays.” I took a deep breath and looked around the dimly lit club to see if anyone was looking in our direction. The coast was clear, so I took her hand and positioned it on my crotch. When she felt the bulge, a naughty grin spread across her face, and I asked, “Now can I have your number?” “Most certainly,” she replied as she reached for her sequin-covered purse and retrieved a business card. I took the card and read it before I pulled my wallet out and stuffed it behind my driver's license. Her name was Morgan, and she was a model. I wasn't surprised. Baby girl, was beautiful. Not only was she tall, but she also had a...
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...and he hates it. He hates that I’m like his ex-wife. He hates that I have no chance of becoming a loser like him. He knows I’m going somewhere. He works in a goddamn tyre shop. He’s no-one. I’m gonna be someone.” I stutter out the words, pretending not to notice the salt water on my lips and my cheeks. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. It’s written all over her face. “You should get some rest,” she whispers and pushes the hair off my forehead before turning and making her way towards the door. “Where is he?” I call out and she pauses. She’s hesitant. “He’s been, um… relocated. We’ll deal with that tomorrow morning, yeah? Yell out if you need anything, kid.” Lola never turned around. Her voice was shaking. She feels sorry for me. I am not going home. I am going to boarding school. My mother cannot be found. Either that, or she just doesn’t want me. I have no father now. He is gone from my life yet he haunts me. My dreams, my nightmares, my thoughts. He never leaves me alone. In my mind it’s all so white. So clean. Linoleum floors and white walls. ...
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... My childish, chicken scratch carved the words, “i love cooper,” into a mini notepad. Upon reading the full statement, a sense of panic enveloped me. Hurriedly, I climbed the nearest couch and jammed the secret deep between the tight cushions and went on with my day. I could have thrown it away or flushed it down the toilet to get rid of the evidence, but the remote always seemed to disappear into the couch without a trace, so why couldn’t my secret? That night, unbeknownst how, my parent’s had retrieved this note— probably while looking for the damn remote. “Zenah, come down here,” dad called with a harsh, stiff tone. Inviting my little frame into his open arms, he sat me firmly on his lap. When he showed me the note it clicked, his tone, his heavy, angry eyebrows, and his ochre eyes fixated on it, I gather that this was bad. Stooping to my first-grade vocabulary, he said, “This is bad,” followed by other authoritative reinforcers that I don’t recollect, but the intent was clear— no boys. It stuck. Fast forward to about a two years ago, after observing one of my awkward conversations that consisted of minimal eye-contact, inflamed cheeks, and constant stuttering, my friend Savannah walked with me to my locker and unabashedly asked, “Why do you always get so red and flustered when you talk to people?” Caught off guard, I weakly replied, “I don’t know.” Embarrassing? Yes. Valid question? Also yes. Growing up I’ve always been charming, funny,witty even, when speaking to...
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