love

by

Emerald Grace

Emerald Grace
(aka The Ice Maid’s Change)
by Miles Rost

As night fell, Amy looked into the small bonfire that her friends had set up for the night. She was alone, sitting by herself in awe of the fire. Sayaka and Chieri were off gathering up wood, while Yumi and Michiko were off getting marshmallows and chocolate from a nearby roadside shop.

I don’t understand. Everything I know about life and existence is in my head, but why is my heart feeling empty? She asked herself.

Second by second passed, and as Amy’s clothes absorbed the smoke of the bonfire, Amy pulled out speakers and her iPod from her backpack. After setting her speakers up, she moved her iPod to a song…a medium-paced celtic song that Michiko gave to her called “Emerald Grace.”

She sat for a few seconds, as the first vocal strains of the song started to play, and a thought immediately came to her mind.

Dance.

She looked around for a few seconds more, and the thought came back to her.

Dance.

Only 20 seconds passed before Amy stood up. She looked at the circle around the fire, a ring that was able to hold two people side by side, and looked upward. As the second refrain started, the accompanying sound of cymbals and triangles joined in, and Amy started to sway. She closed her eyes and just let herself go in thought as she swayed to the music.

What good is knowledge without a root to be grounded in? She asked herself, calling up her memories, I used to be grounded in family, and in life. She looked at herself in her memory, and remembered a time a few years ago when she used to dance.

Amy, make sure to let yourself move with the music, her dance instructor told her You have God’s grace, just let the music be your worship.

Amy looked on this memory and smiled.

She was right. I had been fighting against God for so long, I didn’t understand what He was giving me, she thought.

After a few seconds, a flute joined in, and Amy started to move around the fire in a counter-clockwise circle. She moved her hands upward, her arms following, in a smooth motion. Her hands, upon reaching the apex, moved downwards toward her chest, and outward in a T. She twirled and smiled as she danced to the flute and the triangle, getting into the movement and remembering the fun she used to have dancing.

The vocal strains came back for a third time, and as the voices sang, Amy lifted her hands up and continued dancing. As the voices died out, and the drums introduced what Amy called the “Base Plain” of the song, Amy started her prayer in dance.

Father, I understand now what you have been telling me, she thought, The knowledge that I have is a gift, and it needs to be used for you. You have given me a view of my life that I never would have seen with my own devices.

Amy knew that she had a choice to make. To continue the dance of life that she was dancing, or to walk from it. This would be the point of no return for her, and as the drumbeat descended, Amy made her choice.

Iesu, our Father sent you to give me life, a free gift. I have fought you before, but I will no longer fight against you. I love you, Lord, and I ask of you to enter my heart and enter my life. My life is yours, so I ask for you guidance.

The drums ended, and the haunting vocals came back for a fourth and final time. Amy moved her arms to the voices, while her legs stood still. As soon as the drums started, she went back to movement, praying along with.

I am The Ice Maid. I am Amy Kuruyama. And I am your child, Father. Lay your hands on me now as I pray this in Christ’s holy name.

As the final notes of the song played, she went down to her knees and the finals word of her prayer escaped her lips.

“Amen”.

At that moment, the bonfire roared and Amy jumped backwards, falling backwards over a log. She fell with a thud, but as she sat up, she felt alright. And she was laughing.

“I bet you anything, Amy,” a voice cried out from the other side of the fire, “that you would not noticed me while you were dancing.”

Amy quickly stood up, nervous and embarrased and looked across the fire. She eased as she saw that it was Sayaka.

“You dance well. Very well. Apparently, there are still some things that we do not know about you…”

Amy just blushed as she quickly sat down, turning off her iPod.

“You don’t have to hide it, Amy. We are friends, and fighters.”

Amy looked up with a smile, when she opened her mouth.

“And now, we’re sisters.”

Sayaka immediately shot her head up from the ground and looked straight into Amy’s eyes.

“You mean…that…”

“Was a dance of prayer. He found me, and I said yes.”

Sayaka squealed in happiness, and gave Amy a big hug.

“This is so unbelievable. It’s like God is putting everything into place.”

 

by

Living A Boy’s Adventure Tale

Living A Boy’s Adventure Tale
by Miles Rost

“It’s coming! It’s coming in! Mama, look! It’s huuuuuge!”

Peter Brislin couldn’t contain his excitement at seeing the beautiful new plane that was pulling off to the side of the terminal. The young 8-year old was so excited to see the brand new DC-10.

“Ain’t that a sight, Petey? Big ol’ plane for my big ol’ boy,” his mother said, grinning all the while.

“Is that what I will be flying on today, Mama?”

“Yes, you’ll be flying on that type of plane. You’ll be going to places that you would have never dreamed of while here.”

Peter looked on with excitement, holding his suitcase with his clothes and toys.

“Will you be going with me, Mama?”

“You’re going ahead of me. I will be on a later flight, as I have to finish things here.”

Peter looked up at his mom and smiled.

“I can’t believe I get to go on that plane!”

After waiting for another hour for their plane to pull up close to the terminal gate, the big DC-10 with the large Northwest Orient Airlines banner across the top.

Peter’s mom walked with her son out to the stairs and slowly helped him up the stairs. After they reached the top, she waited next to one of the stewardesses. Peter waved at his mom as he was led to his seat by another stewardess. He buckled in, and his mom smiled a sad smile as the other people filed through the plane.

“Your son is traveling alone today?” the stewardess asked her.

“Yeah, I’m sending him to his uncle and aunt in Portland.”

“You’re not going with him.”

“He’s going to a…a better home. I can’t provide for him here.”

The stewardess looked at her, and noticed the small bruises on her face, covered by a large floppy hat on her head.

“I understand. I wish you could go with him.”

“I wish I could too. I just can’t, not when I have another little girl to protect from the man I married.”

The mother gave a brown paper envelope to the stewardess.

“There’s a note on the front. That’s for the head stewardess. It tells her what needs to happen, and how he needs to get led to where his aunt and uncle will pick him up at the terminal. It also has important papers that they need to have. Guardianship papers.”

The stewardess took the envelope and put it under her arm.

“I’ll do my best to make sure he gets to his destination safely. I’ll even check with the pilot to see if we can do something special for him.”

The women bantered for a few minutes, solemnly. Once all the passengers were on board, the time came to seal up the plane and get ready for takeoff. His mother walked down the stairs and stood far off to the side, looking for her son in the plane. She saw a small hand waving on the plane, and she waved back, tears now flowing down her face.

It would be the last time she would see him.

On the plane, Peter smiled as the plane started taxiing to the end of the runway. The stewardess that talked to his mother came up to him and smiled.

“You must be Peter.”

“Yes. Mom told me I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. But you’re helping me, and you’re nice, so you’re not a stranger.”

She chuckled at Peter’s insistant declaration.

“Well, Peter, my name is Tanya. I will be helping you and the other people in this plane, and if you need anything at all, let me know by pressing this button over here.”

“Could I have a soda?”

“After we take off, I’ll get you what you want. We’ll get you to Portland safely, too.”

“Okay! Thanks Miss Tanya!”

The stewardess smiled, but as she left Peter’s seat, her face betrayed a sadness that no one else could see. The brown package that she had under her arm was now placed in a secure spot on her seat. She would help get Peter where he needed to go.

by

Changing Tides

Changing Tides
(aka Mayumi’s Story, Part II)
by Miles Rost

The old pangs were just like torture.

The old desires, the old needs, all of them were trying to drop Mayumi in her tracks. And damn if she was going to let it.

It had been nearly three weeks since her ex-boyfriend was sent packing across the Outback on his motorcycle, with her hoping he’d never return. She examined herself fully to see how she was, and for the first couple of weeks, it seemed to be alright. She was getting by on her work at the radio station, spending lots of time working radio traffic during the week and hitting up the 7-10 shift at Shine FM on the weekends. With one day off on Mondays, it was a nice job to have, especially dealing with all the stuff she had to deal with.

What she didn’t expect was those old pangs coming back. The feelings that she had still stuck around, the residual mess that was left to be cleaned up.

The pangs were slow to creep up on her. Just a little reminder of the way her boyfriend used to hold her, at a time when she was vulnerable; or a little reminder of the gentle kiss that he’d give her while they watched wrestling on TV. Small things like these kept popping into her mind as the days progressed.

It was a Friday afternoon, and as she got home, that she felt the old feeling of loneliness and desire pop back into her life. The indicators were there before, however.

——

12:45PM, Friday

The papers were all stacked up on her desk. Inputs for commercials and liners were ready to be processed. She picked up one of the requests and started to write on the page. As the pen ran across the sheet of wood pulp, her knuckle started to ache. It was a small ache at first. As she processed each request, the ache got worse and her emotions started to run a bit higher. After a half an hour, she sat back and rubbed her hands across her face, ending with one going through her sandy-gray hair.

“Hey, Mayumi. You okay?”

Mayumi looked at her deskmate, Kelsey. A fresh-faced Sydney graduate, buxom and smart, Kelsey seemed to have a second sense to when problems were about to start.

“Yeah, Kel. Ah just have a lot on m’plate. That’s all.”

Kelsey looked at her through strands of her dark chocolate brown hair, and squinted.

“I don’t believe that for a second. In a half an hour, you can get through a stack like that on your desk. You’ve only gotten through half. What’s going on?”

Mayumi sighed, as she continued to process the paperwork.

“Ah’m just still dealing with my ex.”

“I see. Still haven’t been able to let him go, have ya?”

“Ah let him go. It’s just hard to let the memories fade, y’know.”

Kelsey pursed her lips, as she thought carefully. The brunette scratched her hair with a pencil, while she thought.

“It was two weeks ago, right? And how long were you together.”

“Yeah. And we were “together” for over 8 years. High school sweethearts and all that junk.”

“Ow,” Kelsey grimaced, a slight twinge of pain going through her face.

Mayumi sighed and looked at her friend.

“What’s bad is that ah know when my emotions are overwhelming me. The aching in my knuckle tells me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, ever since ah had this depressive episode back in ’06. Whenever ah have too much emotion, and ah’m about ready to cry or needing to release, it screams at me.”

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. I mean, you haven’t taken a day in the year I’ve been here, and you are probably going through some major league withdrawal if it was that bad.”

Mayumi thought about it for a few moments, and looked at her paperwork. She did get part of it done already, but she didn’t want to leave until she finished her work.

Kelsey looked at her again, and sighing audibly, she put her hands out. She told her, without words, ‘Give them to me. You need rest’.

After a few moments of writing the last page on her desk, she gave the stack of papers to her sympathetic comrade and registered her sick leave request with the manager. Getting it approved. she popped into her vehicle and raced home.

—-

She was already into the apartment when she dropped her keys on the floor. She didn’t even notice them, as she stumbled into her ornately decorated bedroom. Falling upon the bed, she grabbed a full length pillow and hugged it tightly. Tears started to flow down her face, dropping it’s salty emotion onto the sleeve of her light silk blouse. She held onto the pillow for dear life, as her mind raced through the emotions that were bombarding her from all direction.

She cried as she recounted the feeling of his touch on her skin, the longing of wanting that touch on her body. The warmth of his hands on each of her shoulders was still firm in her mind.

Mayumi’s mind was in agony as she went through all sorts of memories. She didn’t know what to do with all of them, with all the extra energy that she had without directing so much of it toward her idiot ex. The “good memories” were the ones that caused her the grief she was experiencing, though at times the bad memories came surging upward, forcing a scream into her pillow as she recounted the numerous numbers of abusive barbs.

You’re not worth the time, Yumi.

That was the one that hurt the most for her. It was one of the last things that the idiot said to her the night before he left for parts unknown. 8 long years, and she had her time wasted.

She screamed out curses at his name, at the memories as the tears poured down her face like a mini-waterfall. Her blouse was becoming soaked with her tears, just like the pillow she held onto.

All of the desire that she had, the lust of her heart, the pain and memories, flowed out of her. The pain in her finger throbbed at all the emotion coming from her.

The culmination of the three weeks of stress and all the old feelings had burst forth from it’s prison. As she sank into what would be called a deep sleep, in the last vestige of her consciousness, she saw a vision of an old tree chopped into firewood, and a hole filled with dirt.

Finally, she was facing all those emotions head on. And the healing would begin in earnest.

by

The Lady In White (Take Me With You)

The Lady In White
(aka Take Me With You)
by Miles Rost

I’ve seen her before. In the recesses of my mind, when I haven’t been paying attention, she’s there.

It usually starts the same way. I’m doing some sort of work-related task, maybe grousing a bit, or I hear a certain song. My mind drifts off to a beautiful beach. I assume that I am on a beach somewhere in the Southern Pacific, somewhere like Australia. That seems to be where my mind drifts off to, lately.

I’m on this beach, and I see this woman in front of me. She’s grabbing a hold of my wrist and forearm, laughing and being playful. Never do I see her face, but I do see what she wears. Each time I have the dream, or vision, she’s always wearing the same thing.

She wears a white cord-knit sweater, a slight bit bulky but not too big. Big enough to hide things, but not enough to make it a true mystery, even though most times the dream is a bit fuzzy (like when I don’t wear my glasses.) The sweater is a long-sleeved one, and reminds me of an older style of dress. She also wears a pair of white pants. I’m not sure if they’re jeans, capris, thin material, or whatnot. They show her curves off, but not so much as to make her look like a Kardashian or Mitsune Konno. Finally, she wears a pair of white canvas shoes. I know that they are because I cannot perceive holes anywhere on the shoes. It would also fit the idea of beach attire.

Strangely enough, I never see her face. She seems to have long hair, but I’m not sure what color it is exactly. It could be brown, black, or even red. But never do I see her face. It’s always obscured, or blurred out like one of those pixelated pictures to hide a person’s identity. Always a bit frustrating, but hey, who said dreams and visions weren’t a challenge?

The first part of the dream or vision, as I said earlier, is her pulling me along the beach. I can feel the salt in the air, and I can see that she is laughing. Apparently, she’s either wanting me to see something, or she’s just happy that I’m there. It’s in slower motion, but I noticed that she’s trying to keep me close as we stumble down the sandy shore.

Each time I’ve had the vision of her, it’s been a bit different. The first time I had the vision, we were as said above. But in later ones, she’s always been in my mind. Recently, when going through the final processes of giving up an addiction from which 20 years descended, I saw her in my dream. She wasn’t pulling on my sleeve. The air about her seemed to be serious, but with loving concern, and she gave me a thumbs up. It seemed like she was saying “You’re gonna make it through, and I’m here for you.”

Other times, I’ve had more than one dream or vision in sequence. The other dream is of both of us on a porch, looking over a hilly meadow and a tree that has afternoon autumn sunlight peeking through the browning leaves of the tree. She’s laying against my shoulder, while I hold her gently. We just sit for hours as the sun falls below the hills off in the distance.

I keep wondering about this lady in white. It feels quite a bit like one of those bad anime where a boy makes a promise to a young girl that they will be together and get married, and they move away from each other for 15 years or so, and meet up again to find that they’re different…and yet, so alike.

There are so many different possible explanations to what it could be. From wild and creative ideamaking, to a personal prophecy, to inter-soul communications, there are hundreds of explanations.

But I realize that sometimes, an explanation is not the thing that one needs. Maybe, just maybe, one may have to enjoy those fleeting moments in your own mind. If it turns out to be true, then all the better…

by

Intimate Strangers

by Miles Rost

From the diary of Richard Sullivan

With the plop of papers into my basket, I was done with my day.

I slid on my leather trenchcoat as I stood up from the desk. It had rained earlier in the day, and it helped to keep my clothes dry. I looked at the papers on my desk, sitting neatly in the basket in which I plopped them down. A typical Thursday evening, everything was ready for tomorrow morning, and I would be on my way home.

I walked out of my building, and onto the sidewalk. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second as I looked towards the sinking sun in the northwestern sky. The heaviness that was in my heart, in my hands, had come back to sit down upon things.

My thoughts turned from work and work issues to the burden on my shoulders. As the heaviness in my heart spread, the indicator that I was being “called” came up. As I felt the stiffness and the aching in my index fingers, and knew that she was the one in trouble.

I walked towards my home and I focused my thoughts inwards. I took many deep breaths as I walked slowly towards my one-bedroom apartment. I searched deep within my heart to see what was going on, what the problem was.

She has been there for the longest time. I’m not sure who she is, as I have never met this woman. It’s unusual, because I normally wouldn’t connect with someone I don’t know. But, I can sense her in my heart and in my indicators. I feel as though she is not doing very well today. When this happens, I think about the things that I can do from here.

In the time since I left work, have been thinking about this woman, and arrived outside my apartment, it’s been about 25 minutes. Walking is a great thing as it clears one’s head. However, to be honest, I didn’t feel much clearing today, especially in regards to her.

I walked into my apartment and set my things down. After taking a shotglass of water and downing it, I sat on the edge of my bed and started to pray. In this case, it’s the only thing I can do. I don’t know where she is, so I cannot be near her. I know that my prayers, however, will allow her comfort. That she will be shown love in a way that’s totally different from anything.

This woman and I are intimate strangers. We are connected in a way that no one could even fathom, and yet we have never met. And I hope that sometime in the very near future, I’ll be able to see her and that we’ll both know that we’re the ones. This is my hope and prayer.

by

Dancing In Heaven

by Miles Rost

The ringing of the phone told him it was time.

“Hello?”
“Gabe? It’s Jennifer.”
“Jennifer! Hello! Are you calling to say you’re ready?”
“Everything is done. How long will it take you to get here?”

After telling her it would be about 15 minutes, Brian “Gabe” Gabrielson exchanged the last pleasantries with the girl he had wanted to be with for so long. Ever since he saw her fixing her shoelaces in 8th grade gym class, he felt that Jennifer Cross was the girl he was meant to be with. Finally, after 7 long years and many classes together, Gabe was about to get his wish.

He hung up the phone, looked around the room, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then he jumped in the air and gave a loud “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAWWWWWWWWWW!”

He grabbed the keys from the board and ran out to his vehicle. He slid across the hood, doing his best impersonation of Luke Duke while praying he didn’t plant his face in the gravel. With luck, he landed on his feet and hopped in his 1971 Oldsmobile 442.

Within a minute of hanging up the phone, he was in his car. Within 10 minutes, he was outside her place. Within 20 minutes, she was in the passenger’s seat and they were tearing down the highway heading out from Las Cruces. Tonight was going to be a blessed night, and one for the ages.

“Are you ready to do this, Jenny?”
“I’ve been waiting for this for many years, Gabe. I think our first time should be really special.”

Gabe smiled and blushed just a bit, as he blasted down I-25, and onto a paved but relatively deserted county road. The sun was still high in the sky, but within two hours, it would be dark. And that would be where the fun began.

They drove for a long while, talking about what they were thinking about doing after college, and how the 7 years they knew each other flew by. Jennifer played with her hair, curling it around her finger, while Gabe kept running his hands through his own head of hair.

Finally, after a long drive through the craggly Southwestern landscape, they finally turned onto another paved road, where they would meet their destiny. A sign in front of them greeted them:

WELCOME TO SPACEPORT AMERICA!

They stopped the car at the terminal, and they waved to the waiting cameras as they filmed them walking through the terminal and out to their new vehicle, “SpaceShipFour”. Reporters tried to ask questions, but were held back by a team of skirts and suits. They just smiled as they entered what looked like an oversized commuter jet.

“Dancer 1 and Dancer 2, are you ready to go?” the pilot asked them.”Seat belts fastened. You got the gravity generators ready for the room?” Gabe responded.
“That’s been taken care of.”
“Our other guy is on the plane?”
“He’s strapped into the room. Once he gets the green light, he’ll be able to walk around. Cameras will also be operational there.”
“Then let’s do this thing.”

The control tower squawked their clearance, the pilot responding with a “roger”, as they taxied to the edge of the runway. With a short boom, SpaceShipFour blasted down the runway and took off at a high rate of speed. Cameras rolled as it quickly buzzed east through the skies.

Within 10 minutes, the sub-orbital was past the Karman line. Within 15 minutes, the vehicle was orbiting at around 300km above Earth’s surface. The signal was given to Gabe and Jennifer to unbuckle and to float towards the door to the other room. Doing so, and avoiding bumping into anything, was a bit more difficult. They both made it into the room, and closed the door. After holding onto a railing near them, the lights came on in the room and a whirring sound filled the space. Their feet landed on the ground with a short thud.

“Gravity has been set,” Jennifer said, as she walked over to the flat, vertical platform where their guest was. After unstrapping the man, he proceeded to pull out a notebook, and walked over to what looked like a music system.

“Alright, you know the rules as we agreed. Once the cameras start rolling, the song with start playing, and within 10 seconds, you will have to start dancing,” the man said, with a nasal intonation, “After the song is finished, we will certify the results, and we’ll get ready to land. Are you clear on this?”

Both of them nodded.

“As a member of the Guinness crew, this is the first time this has ever happened. Let the cameras sync!”

After a second, the cameras turned on and the music started to play.

This night, Gabe Gabrielson and Jennifer Cross would make history as the original holders of the Guinness World Record for Highest Elevation Dancing. They would “bossa nova” 300 kilometres above the earth.

by

Everywhere That I’m Not

by Miles Rost

A small green light popped on. A buzzing sound rattled urgently across the dresser.

An arm reached up from the bed, thrashing around while trying to grab the buzzing phone that was going insane. After a few seconds, and a vase knocked onto the floor, the hand and arm grabbed the phone and pulled back under the covers.

“mmmmfrla…Hello?”
“Hi, honey!”

Paul sat up in his bed, hearing the voice of his insanely beautiful fiancee, her voice waking him up like a shot of espresso to the veins.

“Anna! I…I miss you!”
“I know, honey! I do, too.”
“Where are you today?”
“I’m  sitting on a beach, looking out over the tides in the Bay of Fundy.

Paul just shook his head, and chuckled.

“I thought you were in New York?”
“Not today. I was two weeks ago, remember? I had to deal with a mugger that day.”
“That’s right. I remember now…did he recover from his injuries?”
“Hey! I didn’t kick him in the nuts that hard.”

Paul winced a bit, in sympathy.

“So where were you last week?”
“I had to go to Tokyo. They needed my services taking care of a negotiation between Culture Japan and the Aomori city government for promotions.”
“I find it fascinating where you go, but I feel very…lost without you.”
“Why do you say that?”

Paul sighed, as he pulled on his pair of long sweatpants.

“Well, let’s see. You call from New York, where I’m not.”
“Yes?”
“You go over to Tokyo, where I’m not…”
“Yes?”
“You’re in Nova Scotia, but I’m not.”
“And what are you saying?”
“Yeah, you’re everywhere that I’m not. And I feel lost. I want to be everywhere with you.”

A giggle resonated through Paul’s ear, as Paul’s face twisted in frustration.

“What’s so funny about that?”
“I think it’s very cute that you want to join me on my adventures, even though your job doesn’t allow you to go anywhere.”
“I wish I could get a job where that would be the case.”
“You never know, you may actually get one soon.”

His eyebrows furrowed, as his twisted into one of confusion. This was unusual, not Anna’s normal words that he was hearing in his head.

“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you look out the window?”

He ambled over to the window. Looking out, he saw the snow-covered ground of his rural Pierce County home, the lights of his neighbor’s Christmas lights, a Tacoma power truck. He was about to tell Anna that he didn’t see anything important, when he noticed someone waving. He blinked again, and saw a person standing on his front lawn.

It was his lovely Anna, holding up her phone in her hand.

“Anna!”

He ran out of his bedroom and bounded down the stairs like a boy at Christmas time. He opened the door, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges as he ran out into the cool air and the snow. He bounded over to Anna, and just as she opened her arms, he pounced on her. They fell, in a mass of tumbling brown and auburn hair and pasty, while legs.

“Anna! I missed you so much!”
“And for a second there you actually thought I would be sent to Nova Scotia.”
“It’s because you’ve been gone so…”

A look of shock rang across his face.

“Are you wearing my favorite outfit of yours?”
“You mean the dark green turtleneck and short black miniskirt that you bought for me on our trip to Vancouver last year?”
“That’s the one!”
“Then the answer is yes!”

Paul smiled as his beautiful fiancee beamed her relief at being home.

“How about we go upstairs and crash for the day. I’ll call into work and take a sick day.”
“I think we can do that, so that you can be where I am.”

Anna smiled at him, as he lifted her up and carried her from the frozen lawn into their house.

by

You Can’t Run From Love

by Miles Rost

15 years ago, Charles Martin stood on top of an outcropping over Lake Superior and yelled out to anyone who could hear him on the lake.

“I WILL NEVER, EVER, GET MARRIED!”

Charles was a frustrated man. From the time he was young, everything he wanted to do was thwarted in some way. He had a dream of becoming a congressman, and the corruption of those who he looked up to left him in disgust. He had a dream of going into the NFL and becoming a great running back, and a torn ACL in high school killed his career before it could even start. Before that day, 15 years ago, he was engaged twice. Both times, the women left him.

“You’re boring.”

“You are just not right for me after all.”

Charles was so frustrated by these dumpings, and his incredible bad luck during his teen years, that at the age of 24, he made his proclamation to God, the world, the water, and anything that could hear him.

Those 15 years gave Charles a chance to get himself on a better track. He graduated from college, toured the United States, and later left for China to teach Mathematics to university students.

He and his fellow teacher, Shen-Wei, sat in a bar and joked over a couple of Qingdao beers.

“Man, I could never live in the US again. They’re just falling over flat. Being here…it’s close to heaven,” Charles said, his speech slurring slightly from the amount of beers that he has.

“China can be good place for people. Not exactly heaven, but it has great beer.”

As they laughed at the botched reference to an old Wisconsin tavern tune, a young lady walked up behind Shen-Wei and tapped his shoulder. She asked a few things in Chinese to him, and he replied brusquely. She nodded, and walked over to Charles.

“I told your friend, you are very handsome,” she said, in broken English.

Charles eyed her up and down, to get an idea of who she was. As he finished giving her the scanning eye, he noticed a small tattoo on her shoulder. The tattoo was of a celtic cross. He started to feel a bit fuzzy, as he looked down at his own shoulder. He remembered getting a similar tattoo years ago, without even thinking about things.

“Where did you get the tattoo?” he asked her, skipping all pleasantries.

“Korea. I got idea in vision.”

“Interesting.”

By this time, the fascination had gone by. However, his heart wouldn’t let him leave it behind just yet.

“What is your name?”

“Shen-Zhen. In English, I am Cindy.”

After that first meeting, Charles went home and sat. The image of that celtic cross on her shoulder, in the same exact place as his, made him wonder.

He tried to forget her, but everywhere he went in the city of Qingdao, somehow she was there. Even if she didn’t talk to him, he still saw her dead in his sights. Slowly, but surely, he noticed that he liked going places and seeing her there. He didn’t know what he could do. He made his vow. Did this mean that he was falling for someone again?

The answer to his question happened about 2 weeks after the last encounter, 6 months after their first meeting.

He sat in a park in Qingdao, looking around and just resting. He had seen Cindy earlier in the month, but started to avoid the bars. He just wasn’t interested in drinking cheap beer anymore.

“Charles?”

He looked up from his bench and straight into the deep dark brown eyes of Cindy.

“Cindy…what are you doing here?”

“I came to find you. You haven’t been around.”

“I decided to give up drinking and bars.”

Cindy smiled, and sat down.

“I think of you. You make me happy.”

Charles’s head swung her way quickly.

“What do you mean?”

“There is famous poet here, many years ago, said something important. “A man who says he never marries, will find love when he doesn’t want it.””

Charles groaned.

“Not another Confucius says…”

She looked at him and turned a small bit of fire on him.

“Not Confucius.”

Charles continued to groan. This made Cindy man.

“It don’t matter where you go. It’s going to find you anyways. You can’t run from love.”

Now that didn’t sound like Confucius, Charles thought.

“Who said that?”

Cindy smiled.

“Eddie the Rabbitt.”

Charles looked at her, his eyes staring at her in disbelief.

“Tell me, Cindy. Are you trying to say you love me?”

“Yes. I want you forever.”

Charles was floored. He didn’t know what to reply.

“I said once that I would never marry. What would make you different from the others who left me?”

Cindy looked at him square in the eye and pulled her shirt over her head. Next to her tank top, on the shoulder, she showed him the celtic cross. She grabbed his sweater, and pulled it to show his.

“We are linked.”

He suddenly realized that it wasn’t going to be the same as the others. If he didn’t take his chance now with this woman, he was lost forever.

“Challenge accepted.”

by

Oh Sherry!

(aka Sherry and Scott: Part 2)

by Miles Rost

Sherry Makinami and Scott Schmidt looked out at the plants that grew outside of the Hamilton Dormitory Complex, while they each sipped on a cold drink. In the aftermath of the events from earlier that day, word had spread to parts that two girls had it out with each other, but without a punch thrown. While no one really knew what happened, Sherry knew. And she was still shedding tears.

Scott looked down at her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He leaned her head against the crook in his shoulder as he sipped on his soda.

“Think you can tell me now what happened?”

Sherry looked down at his hand, sighing.

“I don’t like talking about it, honestly.”

“And yet, to make sure I know what I’m getting into, I need to know.”

She sat up and looked him square in the eye. She took a breath in, readying herself for the story that she was about to tell.

“It started in high school. I was being picked on for many reasons, most of which were incredibly childish and petty. One day, it went too far. And I just got mad at this one girl. I just kept thinking about how she just needed to go away, to just shut up and leave me alone. I didn’t realize it until after her body hit the floor that I caused her to die. They called it a stroke, but I know that it was me who did it. With my mind.”

Scott looked into her eyes, piercing the veil and seeing the true feelings in her mind.

“And this thing you have, it only happens…when you’re stressed?”

“Not really. It’s more either when there’s a lot of danger happening, like with Delia wanting to have her goons beat you up; or it’s when someone really makes me angry. I’ve learned to control it so that it doesn’t hurt people who I love when they disappoint or cause me anger, but the limiters come off when something I love is threatened.”

Scott continued to look into her eyes.

“So that means my brains won’t go splat if we have an argument, right?”

Sherry’s face turned to horror, before she closed her eyes and breathed.

“No, Scott. I wouldn’t do that to you. If you executed my mother and father in cold blood, then yes. But I know you, and I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Scott smiled, and laid her head back down on his shoulder.

“Even with knowing what you can do, I wouldn’t leave you.”

She snuggled into his shoulder and sighed contently.

“Oh, Sherry. Our love holds on. Even through scanner events and strange dealings.”

Sherry looked up at his face, as he stared out into the darkness.

“I should’ve been gone, long ago and far away. But, now I know just why you stay.”

He looked down at her again and smiled.

“You’re worth it.”

They spent the rest of the evening and late night looking out at the people, just holding each other and being content. As the evening wore on, they never noticed the peculiarly placed plumbing van on the other side of the street.

“Got eyes on the target, Vincent?”

“Yep. I think we’ll be able to get her this time. And this time, it won’t end up in fiction like ‘Firestarter’.”

*********************

“Meow Meow!”

The sound of Scott’s “meowing cat alarm clock ringtone” helped to rouse him from his sleep. He stretched his arms out, and looked at his bed. Noticing that no one was there, and breathing a sigh of relief, he sat up and went over to the window. He opened it and looked out on the sunny quad, overlooking Humpy Lumpy Lawn.

He noticed a pair of nice looking legs tanning in the mid-morning sun, reading a book. He looked at her and grinned, as he got himself dressed.

He walked out to the lawn in flip flops, a hawaiian shirt, and cargo shorts. He stopped just before, and took a look at the nice pair of legs, attached to a beautiful rest of a female form, and he plopped down next to her.

“You are the best sight to see in the morning,” he said to her.

Sherry looked up at him from her book and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Very few people are talking about yesterday. I’m back to being largely anonymous.”

He brushed a strand of shoulder-length maroon hair out of her face. He admired her face for a few seconds.

“I don’t know how long that will be, though.”

Sherry looked up at him, puzzled.

“What if I became student union president and serenaded you in the middle of the amphitheatre?”

Immediately after the word “serenaded”, she started to blush a color that nearly matched her hair.

Scott looked at her and smiled. He finally found something that he could use for later.

“Seems that you know that there’s a fever that you’ll never find nowhere else. You can feel it burnin‘.”

Sherry closed her book and sat up onto her knees. She brought her face close to his, and looked deep into his eyes. He felt her pierce his soul, and he hers.

“Maybe you can serenade me over lunch at Rennie’s.”

He smiled, and lifted her up.

“Let’s go. We don’t have classes until 1.”

They left the lawn and headed towards the other side of campus. They walked across the street, and passed the van that was still sitting next to the curbside.

Scott was about to say something, when he felt his world go black. The last thing he heard was the muffled scream from Sherry, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

by

On The Western Skyline

On The Western Skyline
by Miles Rost

“Hey, Duke.”

“Yeah?”

“You remember Heather Yamada?”

“You mean ‘Yadda Yadda Yamada’? She was the Seinfeld fangirl in high school.”

“Yeah, she’s on my facebook. She posted something that made me think of things.”

Douglas “Duke” Chambers and Jeremiah “Jeeves” Wetherby were the best of friends, and as they sat on the porch of Jeremiah’s newly acquired house, they talked about the old days. Both went to the same high school, went different paths in life, but met back up after their tours were done. They sat looking at the sunset going down over the California high desert.

“What did she say?”

“She put up a post talking about ladies who pray for their future husbands.”

Duke snorted at the mention of future spouses.

“That sounds incredibly silly. Why would someone want to pray for their future husband? I mean, are we supposed to sit around and pray for our future wives or something?”

“That’s the thing, Duke. I didn’t really think about it at first, but it kept hitting me in the head as I thought about it more.”

“How did it hit you?”

“Not exactly sure how, but it just made sense. If a woman is praying for her future husband, then it would be rightful in thinking that there are women who are waiting for me.”

“Women? Waiting for you?” Duke said, with a chuckle roaring across the porch.

“I wouldn’t believe it either. But for us guys, it seems to make sense, too. If there are guys like us who are praying for our future wives, then that would mean that those guys are also waiting for those women.”

“And how are you so sure, Jeeves? How are you so sure there’s a woman out there for you?”

“I guess it’s all on faith. Some nights, as I’m staring out into twilight, I wish for her to be with me that night. Who, is the question I keep wondering though.”

“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

“It just makes sense, that’s all. I can tell you that there are lonely women saying a prayer on the western skyline right now, probably praying that they find you.”

Duke thought about it for a second.

“The question is, Jer, who would want me?”

“Trust me, there are women who want you. They just haven’t been given the Gibbs slap of realization yet.”

“You’ve been watching NCIS again, haven’t you?”

Jeeves looked back with a grin.

“Who wouldn’t?”