A Good Ol' Lake Story

My friend Madeline has an amazing lake house and during the summer I practically begged her to let me come down for a few days. Now this lake house is on a lake called Allatoona. The house is small, but quaint and cozy. Their house is right on the water and they have a boat, too. Now this house only has one real bedroom, which is Madeline's parent's room. Madeline has a bunk bed in a smaller room. There is also a kitchen and a living room connecting the rooms.

Now this day in particular, we spent the whole day out on their boat, water skiing and water tubing. We even stopped at a shallow region and swam for a while. If you've never water skied or tubed, let me tell you now that it's exhausting. When we got back to the house, everyone was exhausted. Madeline and I climbed into our respective bunks and fell asleep listening to our IPods. Before I fell asleep, though, I made sure that the tiny window on the wall near my bottom bunk was closed. For some reason, that one window freaked me out. I guess I was right to be freaked out.

I woke with a start and jerked my eyes open in the dark room. My IPod was still playing music, softly, when I ripped the headphones hurriedly out of my ears. I slowly climbed out of my bunk and tried to whisper to Madeline, but she was gone. Confused and dazed, I didn't see any lights on in the whole house. I squinted in the dim light and saw the faint glow of Madeline's IPod laying on her bed, turned off. My stomach dropped. She would never leave her IPod there without locking it. I felt a chill and saw that my bunk window was open, the curtain flapping in the breeze. I heard the floor creak and I whipped my head to face the kitchen that was connected to the room I was in.

I screamed.

At that final moment I realized what woke me up in the first place. Madeline's scream. I prayed that no one heard my shriek and I closed my lips tight and closed my eyes and that's the last thing I did.

Don't Leave Me

"I'm so happy my mom could babysit Trevor tonight," said my beautiful wife of three years, Elizabeth, "and it'll be nice to eat dinner without having to worry about him, but I have to say that I miss him already." I chuckled softly before I replied,

"I guess I feel the same way, but we should probably decide what restaurant we are going to before this rain sweeps us off the road." The rain was coming down hard, and my wife turned to look frightfully out the window. I had forgotten that she always had a fear of bad rain and I never knew why. "Hun, I'm sorry. Don't look out the window anymore, ok?" She nodded and I got a quick glimpse of her pale face and continued to speak, "So I was thinking we could try out that new Italian place on – No!" I screamed as I tried to turn the car away from the headlights growing by the second from the window behind my wife. I heard a crash and then nothing. Just nothing. But I did feel something. A small hand slipped into mine and gripped it lightly. I managed to look over at Elizabeth and tears slid down my face. I knew she was gone. And all I wanted was to go with her.

I woke up to doctors me in a tiny room. They told me that a drunk driver had hit the passenger side of our car. They said I didn't sustain any major injuries. It didn't register at first. It didn't register for a few hours. Then they told me I could walk around and it hit me. The memories flashed through my head like a broken movie reel. I demanded the nurse show me my to my wife's room. She stuttered the room number and I sprinted past her. She chased after me, but I was faster.

I burst through the door and would have collapsed, had the wall not been behind me. My face became wet with tears for the second time, as I saw the broken, bruised body of my wife. My beautiful wife.

I stumbled over to her bed and stroked her hair. "Elizabeth…" I whispered through the tears, 'Please don't leave me now. Please."I faintly heard the nurse say that Elizabeth was in a coma, but I still waited for her to reply. I waited for minutes. I waited for hours. I waited for days. She never answered. Then the machine next to her let out one long monotone noise and I knew it was over.

Six months later, I strolled through a cemetery with flowers in hand. I gripped Trevor's small hand and squeezed it. I kneeled down before Elizabeth's grave and rested the flowers against it. They were tulips. Yellow and red tulips.

At that moment the feeling gripped me stronger than ever. I just wanted to leave here to be with her again. As I considered my options for making this happen, Trevor's small hand tapped my shoulder. I turned to face him and a light breeze hit my face. Carried on that breeze was a specific scent. Elizabeth's favorite perfume.

"Mommy said that it's time to say goodbye," he said surely, as if she had just told him. I nodded and smiled at him. I turned to Elizabeth's grave and whispered a soft goodbye as I stood to leave. The breeze followed us out of the cemetery comforted me.

Years later, cemetery visitors say that when they contemplate joining their deceased loved one, they feel a strange comforting feeling, smell a beautiful perfume, and sometimes see a red or yellow tulip, no matter what the season.

Deadly Dance

She loved music. She was in her high school band, marching band, and even in her own band. She played more instruments than her many teachers and had mastered nearly all of them.

Now of course, fitting all of these activities into a High-Schooler's schedule was tough, but she managed. All her practices left her wiped out each night and each night she would come home and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep and would not stir again until morning.

One warm summer night, though, something changed. She found herself having a dream. Except this dream was not an image, but a sound, and that surprised her. She listened carefully to the sounds; the musical, beautiful, deadly sounds.

When she opened her eyes and continued to hear the sounds she had to find their source, she ran out of her house, down her street, out of her neighborhood, and into the nearby woods. She used the sounds as a map to their source.

She came upon a lively bunch of beautiful and deadly looking creatures dancing and laughing and playing and singing. She became so caught up in the music that she failed to notice anything more than the beauty of them. She should have been more afraid of the deadly side of the creatures.

One of the creatures pulled out of the crowd and requested that she join them. She quickly nodded yes. They asked her to sing for them and she sang. They asked her to dance for them and she danced. They asked her to play their instruments and she did. The evil creatures began to sing, dance, and play as well. But only this time, it was in the girl's voice. When she tried to sing again she could not. When she tried to dance and play instruments she found she could no longer. Still entranced and entrapped by their magick, she was unable to leave.

She watched as the festival began to slow and the Faeries began to part ways. The last to go was the one who had asked her to dance. She watched as the Faerie walked up to her and grinned. The girl saw the Faerie's figure and face turn into one she was very familiar with; her own.

And that was the last thing she saw. She made the choice to enter the dance. A Faerie Dance. A Fool's Decision.

One Last Time

"Boy can I tell you a terrible thing? It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks. Please don't be sad now, I really believe, that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me." Terrible Things- Mayday Parade

I sighed as I put down my pencil after writing that final lyric on a clean piece of loose leaf. I heard the bell's cheery chiming and I followed the current of students down the swirling hallways until I found my locker. I placed my hand on it for a moment before I moved my hand down to put in the combination that I knew by heart.

I reached inside my locker and grabbed all my stuff from my four years of existence here. I saw him stand next to my locker. I heard him talk to me and I heard myself respond. I walked with him numbly out to my car. When he opened his locker Monday morning, he'd see the note and he'd know what happened. He'd understand that I had left for good. I couldn't bear to tell him myself. I just hoped the note said enough.

He kissed me goodbye, one last time. He smiled and turned his back to walk away. I said his name and he turned around, one last time so I could see his face, one last time. I smiled softly and said goodbye. He smiled and waved as he continued on his way. I got in my car and put on my sunglasses so no one would see my red puffy eyes or the tears that streamed down my face.

Panicked, I searched for him in the crowd, but his car was gone. Broken, I drove home. When I arrived, I went to get the mail, as part of my daily routine. I reached my hand in the mailbox and didn't feel flimsy paper, but something cool and circular. I pulled the ring out of the mailbox and collapsed in tears. Joy and frustration combined. I felt his hand on my hand as he held me in his arms.

I mumbled yes and he smiled. I knew I had to tell him. I looked up at his loving eyes and said "I'm dying."

He smiled that loving, knowing smile and said "I know."

Tonight I'm Leaving

She left her car, her books, her keys, and a note. All she wrote was "Tonight I'm leaving on a train." I sighed as I realized where she was going. I should have known she'd leave me again for him. She told me she loved me and I believed her. Again.

She was heading west to 'make things right'. By that I knew she meant to go back to him. Again. I guess I don't blame her, but she doesn't realize how fake he was. How much he kept from her. He's going to think that her coming back to him is just one more sunset, when she means to stay forever. Well, it's her fault if she hasn't caught on yet.

I remembered our last fight and wished I'd told her "don't go". I wonder if I could have said something or done something different to keep her with me.

This whole relationship started with a drunken kiss that I just couldn't let go. I just wanted to walk her home that night, but she left me for him. This just made me want her even more.

My IPod played her favorite song on repeat for the next two whole days. I managed to forget her and move on. What I didn't know was that she found who she was looking for finally caught on. I didn't know she longed for just one more smile with me. And how she hoped that I missed her, because she sure missed me. I knew she was coming back and would come right back to this house. I made sure I never saw her again.

When she showed up at my house, she found an old crumpled note taped to the door.

"Tonight I'm leaving on a train."

Witch

They used to say they were my friends. They used to talk to me. They used to listen to what I was saying. They used to trust me. But after one accusation and a false assumption, their trust is gone. How could they tell me I lied to them? How could they think I plotted against them? How could they say that I hexed and cursed them? Why would anyone say that?

My eyes searched for someone to plead with, but my sorrowful eyes met only hard, disgusted stares. The mob chanted and cheered as they carried me away from my family, away from my so called friends, away from my life. I couldn't believe that just a week ago, I had been part of the crowd; cheering and yelling insults at the dirty witch. They forced me to the center of town. Forced me into the heavy shackles. Forced me to stand on a square in the wood. Forced me to put my head through a rope.

It was in that moment I wished they had been right. I wished that I had cursed them; I wished that I could curse them. I could feel their accusing stares burying into my skin. I could feel the souls of the multitudes of the accused witches surrounding me. The ugly, disgusting, terrible people crowding around the small plaza watched silently to see to my demise. I watched as their grins grew and my tears streamed off my cheeks. I saw my parents. Not even they believed me. They were frowning and their eyes were filled with disgust. As my time approached, I felt a burning on my hand. I looked down to check what was causing my pain, and saw a black spiral etched into my palm. Maybe they were right after all. I heard the chute beneath me open. My feet were no longer touching the ground.

Maybe I am a witch.

After the crowd calmed down, they went to check my body. Too bad I was gone. They never found out how I escaped; never knew if I'd lived or died.

Too bad for them; I didn't die.