July 4th

Today is the Fourth of July! It's funny to realize that, because it hasn't exactly felt like the Fourth of July. For most of my life the Fourth of July has been a huge pillar of my summer, the event to look forward to, the time when family comes to visit, a day full of friends, fun, and funnel cakes.

Ever since I moved to Iowa the Fourth of July has actually begun just after dark on July third. My family, and whatever cousins or friends were visiting, would pile into the truck (and other vehicles as needed) and head out to a neighbor's farm. There we would begin the very Midwestern ritual of frog hunting. For those of you who don't come from a small farming town, frog hunting is exactly what it sounds like. We go in groups out to the local ponds, armed with flashlights, nets, and five gallon buckets, to catch ourselves some good jumping frogs. The art of frog hunting is 99% holding patiently still and 1% lightening fast frog grabbing action. The time tested procedure is a three man operation, and for us it was always the same. Man one is the catcher, this is the person with quick hands and steady legs. It's their job to wade into the water and wait for the frogs to surface. Man two is the lighting expert, this person needs to have steady hands and good eye sight. It's their job to spot the frogs and then shine the flashlight into the frogs eyes. This blinds the frogs temporarily, allowing the catcher a better chance of retrieving them. Man three is the bucket guard, this person needs to be strong and watchful. It's their job to carry the bucket full of pond water and frogs around the pond, open it for the catcher to deposit their frogs, and keep the already caught frogs from escaping. By the end of the night, which usually falls shortly after midnight so that we have ample time to wish everyone a "Happy Fourth of July!", we would have a bucket filled with frogs that we prayed would jump as well in the morning as they did when we tried to catch them that night.

Despite the late night out, the Fourth of July always began bright and early. The pancake breakfast started at 6am, but we usually didn't roll in until 7:30 or 8. Then it was off to register for the Firecracker Frog Jump, the reason for our night time escapades. The Frog Jump was always one of my favorite activities, and it was something wonderfully small town Iowa that I loved to share with visiting relatives. It involves place the frog you recently caught into a hula hoop in the center of the ring. Then, without touching the frog, you have to get it to jump twice. The judge then measures the distance from the center of the hoop to where your frog landed, and whichever frog jumped the farthest in each age category is declared the winner. Sounds simple enough, but I assure you that there is an art to it. You have to know which frog to pick, where to set them, and how to encourage them to make life risking long jumps. I won a few times over the years, but my family had a reputation for always bringing a winning outsider. It's often said that those who can't do teach, and I was apparently one hell of a teacher. 

After the Frog Jump the day really began. The Quilt Show and Flower Show open, with their lovely displays, then it's time for the car, tractor, and engine show. Then there's the big wheels race and a Haystack Money Hunt for the younger kids (which is exactly what it sounds like, kids digging through haystacks for money). Then there's lunch at the Presbyterian church, which is always homemade and delicious. Once you've had your fill of delicious food it's time to find a spot on the sidewalk to watch the parade! Our parade always had a theme, and floats and cars and people came from all over Iowa to participate and see our parade. When I was little the parade meant crowding on the sidewalk and catching all the candy, or perhaps building a float or a costume to try and win one of the parade categories. For the last five years or so though, it has meant setting up a speaker system, collecting out of order cards, and announcing the parade. It's always a lot of work announcing the parade, but it's fun to be part of something like that.

Once the parade is over it's time to head over to the park. That's where they have carnival games, a petting zoo, carnival rides, carnival food, and of course plenty of places to buy glowsticks and poppers and all other manner of celebration paraphernalia. After you've had a good run around dinner is served at the school, complete with homemade pie and ice cream (which beats store bought by miles). Once you feel full to bursting the best part of the evening begins. Everyone grabs a lawn chair or a blanket and sets it out in the football field by the school. There's a DJ playing music, you buy buttons or tickets for raffle prizes, they give out the prizes which range from gas cards to a brand new outdoor grille, then just before dusk the skydivers jump down carrying the American Flag. But the true magic, the reason that people have gathered in my tiny town from all across the neighboring area, begins shortly after dark. That's when the little town I grew up in sets off the largest fireworks display in SE Iowa. Nothing compares to being just a few hundred feet away from where the fireworks are launched. Lying in the grass and looking straight up as they burst will always be one of my favorite things about summer.

Eventually the fireworks end, usually with a truly fantastic finale, and when the last spark goes out the night ends as well. The crowd swells with applause and then, almost as one, everyone stands, gathers their things, finds their cars, and goes home. It's funny that the day can build up so much and then just end like that. Knowing what my Fourth of July is usually like, you can see that one spent seeing a couple of movies and working at Universal may seem a little dull. I feel like I didn't actually celebrate the holiday, but I was thinking of my friends and family back home enjoying the small town celebration that I'm only just now realizing is a big deal. Happy Independence Day!

Until tomorrow.

July 3rd

Today there was no D&D game, which means that you get an interlude with Riley instead of a full out campaign journal.
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"Get up! How do you expect to survive in the arena if you can't make it through one training session?" The half-orc loomed over me. I resisted the urge to smile up at him from where I was lying in the dirt. He thought he'd bested me, and I was perfectly happy to let him think that...for a few more seconds. He raised his mace high in the air and brought it crashing down, right where my head had been. I rolled to the side and sprang up quickly. I kicked out with my left foot and knocked the mace to the ground while bringing my clasped fists down hard on the half-orc's back, making sure he followed the mace to the dirt. In one practiced fluid motion I kicked the mace out of reach, flipped the hal-orc over, knelt on his chest, and brought the dagger I'd grabbed from my boot firmly to rest on his throat.

"I expect idiots like you to continue to underestimate me." I said, pressing the dagger into his neck. A slow clap echoed through the pit where we were fighting.

"Well played half-elf, I think you've proven yourself." The Duke walked into the pit, his red satin doublet and shiny boots out of place in the rust colored dirt that covered the arena and it's gladiators. I quickly removed the dagger from the half-orcs throat, slipping it into my boot as I stood. I took a step back and picked up my great axe from where it had fallen. Still keeping half of my attention on my enemy I faced the Duke. The Duke kicked at the half-orc, but I noted that he didn't allow his boots to come into contact with the creature. That simple gesture spoke volumes to me. I watched as the half-orc rolled to his feet and picked up his own mace. He stood at attention, ever the good little soldier.

"Few have ever bested Fargore, and certainly not a nobody who's never been in the arena. Where did you learn to fight like that?" I studied the Duke's face and considered my answer. Bet it would really bend his mind if I told him I learned from the Elven King's best knights, but I knew better than that.

"I've been to a lot of tournaments." I didn't elaborate, tell him that I competed in and won every tournament I'd even been to, that wasn't important. The Duke studied me in a way I'd become familiar with over the past few weeks. I'd fought in twelve pits since I arrived in Derishka, each one sponsored by a different noble, and each of them looked at me the same. I stood comfortably still, my great axe held casually but ready in my arms as he circled me. He lifted my hair, bits of my armor, the cloth of my shirt. He ran his hands over my calves, my shoulders, my arms. He squeezed my muscles and noted the daggers hidden in my boots, along my forearm, and strapped to my thigh. Like every noble before him he stopped when he reached the birthmark on my arm. He yanked down my bracer to see the brand clearly, tracing the shape with a finger. They all paused when they saw it, and up until now ever single one had then sent me away without a word. The Duke simply walked back a few paces and looked at me again. He held out a hand.

"Your axe." I almost laughed, almost. I don't know who he thought he was, but he had to realize there was no way I was handing over my weapon. I shook my head. His eyes hardened. "If you want me to sponsor you in the arena then I need to know the quality of your weapon. I will not have my gladiator fighting with an axe made for show and not battle." He indicated the gold inlay and scroll work on my blade. He didn't trust that I could fight with this weapon, but he would learn soon enough. I returned his cold stare.

In a smooth motion I shifted down into a crouch and pivoted to face the half-orc. I swung the great axe in a arc once, twice, thrice, and then returned to my original position. As I stopped moving the leather armor Fargore had been wearing fell in ribbons to his feet, leaving him standing naked in the pit. The Duke recovered quickly, but I saw his eyes widen for a moment.

"I'll keep my axe, thank you." There was a hard edge to my voice and I saw the Duke's pride bristle when he heard it. To his credit he managed to swallow that down, taking a hit to his pride for a gain to his coin purse.

"You're in the arena tomorrow. I'll get you my colors to wear. A servant will show you to your quarters." The Duke turned to leave and then looked back over his shoulder. "What shall we call you?"

"Battle Axe."

July 2nd

Since yesterday was taking up by some flash fiction I decided to spend today going over June goals and July goals. Maybe I'll do some other discussions and talking and random chatting, one can never be sure with me can they? But, we'll start with goals.

June Goals
1) Write 750 words (check)
2) Post one video on each channel (just barely, check)
3) Save $200 (failure, but I'm not being too hard on myself, there was stuff)
4) Make one music video shot list (oops)
5) Figure out living situation (It was a bit rocky, but I've got a place now)
6) Read a book (A long fanfiction AND a choose your own adventure book)
7) Figure out Ascendio AV (all set and locked away)
8) Make everything ready for Ascendio (Everything I have to do is locked and loaded)
9) Spend less than $400 on credit card (hahahahahahaha, pipe dream)
10) Keep up with YouTube/Hulu/Magazines (check)

June total 7/10. Not too shabby, but some of those have been on there for months and I really ought to be a little farther along I think. Of course the month is over so there's no use beating myself up about any of it now. Gotta move on to bigger and better and more exciting things.

July Goals
1) Post one video on each channel
2) Write 750 words a day
3) Completely set up my living space (have NOTHING boxed)
4) Vacuum at least once every other week
5) Spend less than $500 on credit card and save $200
6) Figure out costume for Celebration VI
7) Post one piece of writing on Figment for public consumption
8) Shot list two music videos
9) Shoot Fall In Love Tonight Video
10) Write out story arc for Heroes and Sidekicks Institute

I also want to mention something else that's going to change for July. Since I got involved in Figment (like a week ago), I discovered they do something called Daily Themes, these are basically writing prompts that get your creativity flowing. I'm not going to use all of them, but when I find on that strikes my interest I'll use it that day. That means that little snippets of fiction might invade my other daily post themes. Generally I'll be sticking to the schedule we've come to know and love, but I just wanted to prepare you for the possibility of changes.

Now that the business stuff is out of the way I want to talk a little bit about my life, which is my right on the lovely Miscellaneous Mondays. Getting a new apartment in July has been a bit of an adventure (that's putting it nicely), and the place and time and people have flipped and flopped, but now we're finally settled. Well, at least I hope we are because I paid them money and I don't want that to be for nothing. We're still moving to a three bedroom, my friend Amber is still moving in with us, it's just the time of the move and the place we're moving to that's changing. Now we're moving to a closer building, to the second floor, and not until July 15th. This is a bit of a bummer cause it's sorta during Ascendio, but I'm dealing with it. I'm sure I'll be plenty happy once we actually move, but getting there is a bit frustrating.

Lena arrives tomorrow, and I'm incredibly excited! I'd hoped to have a new place and a room for her, but I think we'll be fine the way things are. I've missed her and I can't wait to have her hanging around. It's a bit of a bummer that I'll be spending most (if not all) of my not at Ascendio time working like a crazy person, but that's the price to be paid. Lena's graciously agreed to help me with a couple of short silly projects, so hopefully YouTube will see the fruits of that labor sometime this month. Lena also has a lot on her plate so I imagine that most of our crazy adventures will be post Ascendio. I'm cool with that though, cause honestly I don't have enough time in my life to do anything before Ascendio.

I feel that I should mention something else that I know you're probably sick of hearing, but since I'll never get sick of telling it, I LOVE MY JOB! The simple truth is that, while I may not get paid much, I can survive on what I get paid, I enjoy what I do, and I adore the people I work with. That's right, I actually enjoy people coming and complaining to me. I like it when people come in pissed and leave smiling, I like that I made them that way, and I'm utterly fascinated by what people complain about. I could spend my entire life just watching people and studying the way they react to things. I never get tired of it. Plus, and this is the best part, I learn a lot of names. Everyone who's been around when I write knows I hate naming characters, so I've been stocking up on the interesting names I hear at work. Mixing and matching first and last names, and mentioning to guests that I like their names and might use it for a character. I swear I'll have dedicate all my books to Guests At Universal Orlando. Life is good.

Until tomorrow.

July 1st

Go, enjoy your summer break, let loose, nothing can go wrong. That's the last time I listen to Ashley about anything. Which is not to say I haven't enjoyed this last two weeks, I have, who wouldn't enjoy two weeks in the sun, at a luxury resort, with roller coasters minutes from your bed, but nothing can go wrong? I beg to differ.

It started out glorious, I was so happy to get away from college and my parent's divorce, and just have some time to myself. I couldn't thank Kade enough for inviting me along when his sister bailed on their summer trip. He knew what I was going through, we've been friends for ages, and he thought a trip to Florida was just what I needed. We arrived at a swanky hotel, got adjoining rooms with queen beds and jacuzzi bathtubs. I spent that first night just wandering the resort taking in the three pools, spa, restaurants, and beautiful gardens and gazebos. It was in one of those gardens that I first ran into Jackson. He was lounging on a bench reading a book, and I'll admit I admired him from afar for quite awhile before building up the courage to speak. He was sexy, in a very nerdy way, with thick brown hair, square glasses, a tall lanky frame, and a shirt that read "Keep Calm and Don't Blink", and I was smitten. Eventually I made my way to stand over his bench.

"What are you reading?" I tried to sound casual, but I could feel my hands shaking. He looked up from the pages and I saw his bright blue eyes for the first time. I tried to remember to breath.

"Nothing much, it's a choose your own adventure book about the zombie apocalypse." He slipped in a piece of paper and held the book out to me. I flipped through the pages, trying to keep my hands still, and noticed the post-it tabs marking each ending.

"I do that too," I said without thinking, "mark all the endings so I know I don't miss any." Then my mind caught up with my mouth and I clamped it shut, what was I thinking talking to this strange boy I'd only just met. He didn't seem to notice, just nodded and took the book back when I offered. He studied me for a long moment and I was painfully aware that I was sweaty from running around and hadn't brushed my hair after the eight hour car ride. I resisted the urge to pull the tangles with my fingers, not wanting to draw more attention to my disheveled appearance.

"I'm just getting ready to start at the beginning again." He sat up as he spoke. "Want to help me survive the zombie apocalypse?" I must have given some reply, but I honestly don't remember. What I do remember is suddenly realizing it was getting too dark to read and that I had somehow ended up snuggled into the boy's side. We died for what must have been the dozenth time, and he closed the book. "It's too dark to read now, guess I'll have to save the zombie killing for another day."

I sat up straight and looked everywhere but at him. I couldn't believe I'd spent hours with a stranger, snuggled up to him even, and I didn't even know his name. "Well, that was fun," I said, still avoiding his eyes. "It was nice meeting you." I turned and walked quickly back towards my room, but a hand on my arm stopped me. I turned to look at his face.

"Hey, I just realized I didn't get your name, I'm Jackson." His voice was calm and cool, like he snuggled with strange girls every night, for all I knew he probably did. When he got back to his friends I'd be nothing but Sunday July 1st, another notch in his snuggling with strangers belt. I realized I was staring and shook my head.

"My name's Taryn." I managed, and then I turned and walked away. I waited until I was sure he could no longer see me and I sprinted back to my hotel room. I collapsed into bed, but even my dreams were invaded by a pair of bright blue eyes and zombies.

---

"You were out late last night." Kade commented as we walked to the park the next day. I felt my face flush and turned away.

"I got caught up reading in one of the gardens." Alright, so it wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie either.

"That's good, I'm glad to see you relaxing instead of worrying." Kade gave me one of his wide smiles and lead the way through the turnstiles.

I hadn't been to a theme park in almost five years, not since my parents started fighting and family vacations ceased to exist. I was thrilled to be riding roller coasters and eating funnel cakes and corn dogs. Kade worked hard to make things fun, buying me silly souvenirs and joshing me into riding the kids rides and seeing the shows. I raced around as excited as any of the little children, laughing and smiling and delighting in every little thing. I happily went along when Kade grabbed my hand to pull me towards yet another ride, and when he didn't let go all the way through the line or even during the twists and turns of the coaster, I didn't give it a second thought. I was so happy to be having fun without my parents fighting or school stress weighing down my mind that I didn't even notice when he went from holding my hand to holding my waist. I was still riding the oblivious high when we sat down for dinner and Kade placed our haul in one bench and scooted in to sit next to me while we ate.

I finally noticed when we got back to the hotel and collapsed side my side on my bed. I noticed Kade was tracing patterns up and down my arm and it was like I suddenly awoke from a dream. This was Kade, my best friend, the boy who used to let me paint his nails and put lipstick on his face, my partner in crime when someone needed to be taught a lesson, the one who listened to all my boy troubles and offered sound advice in every situation. This was not the person I had a summer fling with. Not the person I ruined a friendship with for a pointless make out session. I bounced up from the bed.

"Well, I'd say we had a pretty full day. I'm gonna take a walk and then head to bed. Thanks for all the fun. Night, Kade." I spoke in a rush and left before Kade could even begin to protest. I wandered out across the resort gardens, needing to clear my head. It wasn't that Kade was unattractive, and his hand had certainly felt nice in mine, but I didn't have the best track record when it came to relationships, and I didn't want to add Kade to that list. I tried to convince myself that he was only being friendly, having fun, but I knew that was a lie. I sat down on the grass trying to think of a way out of this whole mess.

---

"Taryn, fancy meeting you here. Up for another round of zombie fighting?" Jackson's shadow appeared in the grass at my feet. Well, I'd already made a mess of this day, might as well go the whole nine yards.

"Sure, escaping into fiction sounds like a blast." I muttered. If Jackson heard what I said he made no comment, just settled on the grass next to me and pulled out the book. I forced Kade out of my mind as I focused on the best way to kill a zombie with a Nintendo 64. Soon enough Jackson and I were lying on the grass side by side and I was reaching over his arm to point out a particularly important sentence. When he placed his hand on mine I didn't shrug away and I found myself leaning in to his touch as he brushed my hair behind my ear when it fell onto the pages. When the light faded neither of us made a move to leave. We turned to our backs and he held my hand and we watched the sky as we talked. We talked about my parents' divorce, his father pressuring him to be a lawyer, my worries about school, his parents shipping him off to this resort and that hotel every summer because they were too busy to spend time with him, our shared love for Doctor Who and zombie books. Talking to Jackson was easy and no subject was off the table. Hours passed and yet still neither of us stopped talking. Then at some point Jackson was leaning over me, the moon shining a halo around his head, and then he was kissing me, and I was kissing him back.

Kissing Jackson was just as easy as talking to him. There were no worries, no guilt eating away at my stomach, just a happy little warmth in my gut. His lips were warm against mine and I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation. He came up for breath, but I didn't let that last long before I curled my fingers in his hair and pulled him back down.

"Taryn?" Kade's voice hit me like ice water and Jackson rolled away as I sprung up. I didn't know how long Kade had been standing there, but a look at his face told me it'd been long enough. I opened my mouth, not sure what I was going to say, but I never got the chance. Kade turned and ran.

"Well shit."

June 13th

So, it's Wednesday, the day I discuss actual life. Of course that doesn't mean that this post will actually contain real content, cause that's just a silly idea. If you've been with me for any length of time you are well aware that I value quantity over quality in these posts. It's about getting my words out there.

This week was my first non training week at Guest Services. I've only worked two days, but so far so good. I ask a lot of questions, but I think that's a good thing. So far it seems like my comments are meeting with approval from the powers that be. Had my first encounter with an IT issue today, which lead to the writing of much more comments, so that was fun. I'm sort of finding my groove with keeping the lines short and getting my comments done, which is good. It took me WAY less time to bank out today than it did on Sunday, and I think that's a sign I'm improving. Everyone I work with has been amazingly helpful and even when I ask what turns out to be a stupid question, they're willing to lend me a hand. All in all work is going along quite well, and I'm excited to go back tomorrow. I do miss Mummy (read the people at Mummy) a bit, but I think I might pick up a shift there next week, so I can get my fix.

Life with the married couple has actually been quite lovely. Our apartment is slowly turning from the "wedding war zone" back into a mildly habitable environment. I actually came home from work today to find Chris cleaning and then he went on to clean the dishes as well. It made me incredibly happy. The permanent addition of Chris has also brought other lovely things to our home; movies, shelves, regularly cooked meals, and a cardboard Boba Fett. I love our Boba Fett. He rests in the corner of the living room and I'll admit that he startles and scares me at least once a day. It usually goes something like this...

Mallory wanders into the living room, casually. She glances around that room and SEES A TALL SHADOWY FIGURE STANDING IN THE CORNER WHOISTHATIAMTERRFIEDAHHHHHHHHH! Mallory gasps, or on some occasions yelps, and then realizes that it's only Boba Fett. It's only Boba Fett. We have a freaking Boba Fett! We're SO cool!

Lather, rinse repeat.

We're also working on (perhaps) moving into a three bedroom. Nothing is set in stone, or even scribbled on paper, but I'm keeping my hopes up. I honestly don't care much at this point if we move apartments or just switch rooms, but Sara would like to move. We do have the issue of not having apartmate number four anymore, so we're going to have to do interviews for one. The way I imagine these interviews going in my head is probably hugely inaccurate, but until they happen in real life I'll stick with the awesome fantasy. We know that all potentials need to like Harry Potter and be alright with cats. The rest of the criteria is a little more flexible, but we've agreed that we all need to approve of them. I think this will make us happier in the end. Due to this vague possibility that my habitat will change, I've been trying a super clean of my room. You'll remember that I started this in May, but now I'm really getting to it. Today I went through my closet and made a HUGE pile of stuff to take to Salvation Army. I realized that I've lived here for almost a year, and if I haven't touched that stuff in that time, it's probably not going to change. I'll be continuing this tend, going from drawer to drawer, until I feel that I've lightened my possessions enough to pack things for a move.

I've been making good on my vow to keep up with YouTube despite the insane number of channels I'm subscribed to. Sometimes I think that I watch too much, but then I realize that everyone has their vices, and mine could be gambling, or cocaine, so I think a little daily YouTube watching it totally alright. I've also been reading a bit too much fanfiction, but I did finish a book (that I technically started in May) and I have another book ready to go. Meg got me a choose your own adventure zombie apocalypse book, and I already know it's gonna be awesome. Seems like something I might need, what with that man in Miami who ate another guys face. The zombies are coming, are you prepared?

Until tomorrow.

June 11th

I've been debating between writing about Sylvia more or perhaps more flash fiction. You'd figure I would have made this decision before I sat down to type, but that would just make sense, and I'm not really one for making sense. I still have a bunch of 750 words to catch up on, but I'll deal with that at another time. For now I'll just worry about the words for today. I'll just pick another picture and write a story.

Every time they look at me I can feel what they're thinking. They edge away from me, take the long way so they don't have to cross my path. Every single one of them is terrified of me. Worried that what I am, what I can do, is contagious. Mother's pull away their children and more than once a restaurant or store has turned down my money. Even the churches, supposedly places of peace and solace, have refused me entry. I wish I cared as little as I tell people I do. I wish that it didn't burn a hole in my chest each time someone who used to be my friend makes a quick excuse not to see me, or avoids my phone calls, or turns the other way on the street.

They say I bring half of it on myself, dressing the way that I do. They say that if I didn't look like some vampiric princess; all black dresses and red lips, that people might actually get over all the rest. They forget, or want me to, that when this all started I didn't dress this way. When it all began two years ago, I wore jeans and t-shirts like everyone else. I didn't change my clothes until the whispers began, until best friends were suddenly always busy, until the first day "Witch" was spray painted on my locker. That's when I figured that I might as well look the part, since people were going to treat me that way regardless. At first I relished in the way they looked at me, the little spark of fear in their eyes, it served them right for turning their backs on me. Now, I'm just too tired to care. Even Mother barely speaks to me, and when she does she refuses to acknowledge the existence of all the rest. She pretends that I'm just a normal teenage girl, acting out by wearing Gothic clothing, even though we both know I'm anything but normal.

When Stacy died I thought my heart would never mend. It didn't matter to me that I was adopted, that we weren't sisters by blood, I loved her more than anything. At first I was angry that she left me with Mother, who looked at me strangely even back then, but as the days went by anger faded into sadness. I didn't move from my bed for weeks, couldn't even go to the funeral. I refused to accept that Stacy was really gone. I'd spend my nights dreaming that I went to that party with her, that I drove home when she got drunk, that we made it safely to our beds, that she awoke the next morning with nothing more serious than a hangover. When I finally reached the point that I could accept that Stacy was gone, she came to me.

The first time it happened I was in my room. It was late at night and the glimpse of her I got in the mirror was obviously my mind playing tricks on me. I didn't think much of it until the trick repeated the next morning. When she was staring me down, pale and winged, in the middle of the school playground, I finally had to acknowledge that what I was seeing was real. I was thrilled beyond belief, so thrilled that I made the worst mistake of my life; I told someone. I was so happy to have Stacy back that I didn't think twice about sharing what I'd found, and once I acknowledged Stacy, they all started coming. Soon I met more of the dead while walking to school than I did the living.

I can feel Stacy's arms around my shoulders right now. She's telling me that I'm doing good, that I'm helping those who are dead. I try to believe that, and a part of me does believe that, but another part of me fights it. That part of me remembers what life was like before I saw them, the happiness I had, and misses it. The price for keeping Stacy has been the lose of every living friend I ever had. Yet, as I look at her face, and the happy faces of those around her, I realize it's a price I'm willing to pay. After all, these are friends I'll have for eternity.
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Until tomorrow.

June 10th

I decided to base a story off of this image.

The autumn leaves fell around her as she stood amid the trees. She stared down at the white flowing dress and was once again struck by the insanity of what was happening. What sort of life was she living? She just wanted to run away, to escape back to the abandoned castle where she'd last felt safe. Before she could get her body to obey her heart a strong hand ringed her wrist.

"Thinking of running darling?" The man's voice was even larger than his hands. "You can try if you want, but that will only make it worse." A deep laugh escaped the cage of his yellowing teeth and thick black beard. She fought down the bile that rose in her throat. She knew what she had to do, even if she hated it.

"Of course not." She managed to choke out. "I was merely imagining how wonderful my life is going to be. The excitement got to me." She tried to smile, she knew it looked fake, but it seemed to please the man. He loosened his grip on her wrist from painful to merely restrictive.

"The Prince will be pleased to hear that. He is also excited for this day." The man was grinning now, and a few of the other men (her honor guard) joined in. She fought hard to keep the tears from her eyes. Once again she considered escape, but the pressure on her wrist and the five other men surrounding her reminded her that it was a foolish notion. Instead she used her free hand to fiddle with the long flowing dress, and gently ran her fingers over the slim dagger hidden at her thigh. She had been lucky that the Prince had forbidden his men to watch her dress, or she doubted she'd have even this small comfort.

The man pulled her along as they continued their march through the shadows of the forest, and she found the crunch of dead leaves under her feet rather fitting for a day like this. Ahead she could see the small gazebo and the rows and rows of chairs laid out in front of it. Hundreds of people looked to her as she walked, but not a single one was a familiar face. At the gazebo stood the Prince, dressed in a beautiful dark blue suit, looking deceptively dashing. She had to admit that from the outside he seemed like a dream, beautiful, strong, and rich, but she knew better. She'd known from the second she met him.

The way he'd held her face, roughly, and turned her head this way and that. He'd touched her hair, her face, her body, like she was a statue and not a person. He never spoke to her, just at her, calling her "the girl". She tried to speak to him early on, to understand what was happening, but he'd only laughed at her as one would a pet. In fact, since she'd met him, she'd often felt like a pet. He dressed her up and lead her around wherever he went. He never spoke to her, and neither did his subjects, they treated her like a beautiful bird. They complimented the Prince on how beautiful "the girl" was and hands were constantly running over her body and through her hair. She imagined that this is what life as a cat was like, but while cats seemed to enjoy it, she did not. But she learned early on not to complain.

She'd been with the Prince for barely two days when she couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't handle being petted and ignored like a dog. In the middle of dinner she demanded that somebody tell her what was going on, and that the Prince show some respect, she wasn't an animal. The Prince had politely excused himself, explaining to the court that "the girl" was having a rough time adjusting to court life. She still remembered his bruising grip on her arm and the vein that stood out on his neck as he lead her from the hall. She didn't return to meals in the hall for five days, which is how long it took the bruises on her face and body to fade. When she did return she sat in calm silence, allowing the conversation to flow around her, and meekly submitting to the caresses of the Prince and his court.

Now, three weeks later, she was dressed in white, and walking down the aisle towards the one person she hated most in the world. The bruises on her back, badges from her escape attempt yesterday, were hidden by layers of fabric, but she felt them as she walked. In a daze she repeated the words when prompted and accepted the Prince's rough and possessive kiss without reaction. Before she knew it she was being swept through the applauding crowd. There was food and dancing and everyone stepped forward to congratulate the Prince and caress her face or hair. The evening seemed to go on forever and it was well after midnight before the Prince took her back to his chambers. Nothing the Prince did was gentle, but she endured silently until he finally fell into satisfied slumber.

When his breath deepened she slipped from the bed. As there were no other clothes in the Prince's room, she pulled on the white dress once more, checking to make sure the dagger was still hidden in the folds. She gently pushed open the door and was delighted to find the hallway empty. The Prince's men were likely taking part in their own late night celebrations. She crept down the hall silent as a ghost and made her way out of the castle. The guards at the gate were distracted by a pitcher of wine and a group of young serving girls. Everyone so focused on celebration that they never thought to turn their eyes to the forest.

As soon as she entered the trees she began to run. The leaves crumbled under her feet and tangled in her dress. Branches pulled at her hair, but she didn't dare slow her pace. She made it to the ruins just as the sun was beginning to rise. She crept through the eroded rooms until she came to the place it all began. She stared through the circular window at the rising son. This was the place she'd fallen asleep, it had seemed so comforting then. When she awoke, to a rough possessive kiss from the Prince, it had been anything but. Her home nothing but ruins, everyone she knew long gone and forgotten. Nothing left for her but a Prince who didn't love her and a court that saw her as nothing but a pretty creature. Since the moment she'd been awoken she'd wanted nothing more than to return to her slumber, to her family and friends. Now she had the chance. She climbed onto the bed under the window and laid down. As the alarm bells rang through the trees, announcing her escape from the castle, she slipped the dagger from her skirt, slid it smoothly through her skin into her heart, and closed her eyes; ready to dream.