DISCLAIMER: According to "WordNet" a disclaimer is: noun : (law) a
voluntary repudiation of a person's legal claim to something. Yea, what
they said.
A/N: Have you noticed that there are absolutely NO Morgan stories? So I wrote one, from her POV. It is a monologue, with not much actual action, btok. REVIEW PLEASE!
I've watched him for years. Ever since I was born, has been there. But never for me. Always for Cory, never for me. For Topanga, never for me. For Eric and Jack, never for me. And worst of all, for Angela, never for me. To him, I was the insignificant blonde annoyance lurking in the background and getting in the way. But despite it all, my love grows stronger over the days. He had a mystery surrounding him, and that mystery drew me in and held me with one, firm arm. I only wish I could be seen. But I sat there, at his wedding. I could barely suppress my sadness, my anger, and most of all, my jealousy. Cory said I looked beautiful and older in the dress. Would he notice? The royal purple satin top hugged me in the perfect places. One shoulder had a two inch strap, with a see through purple material cascading gently down, covering my arm in sheerness. The other shoulder remained bare. The top had a slight taper on the side seams, accented with pale green jade, shaped into perfect beads. The full, satin skirt, in the same purple satin, fell strikingly around my ankles and petite feet, which were perched high on heels, encrusted with shimmering jade. My white-blonde hair was pulled back into an intricate design, somewhat resembling a lily. It was held in place by the jeweled barrettes that he had given me for my graduation. My makeup had been done professionally, along with my hair. Although I was not in the wedding party, I was to sit at the head table with the rest of my family. I was also to be in the wedding pictures, so I had to look faultless. But not for the pictures. For him. I waited in the preparation room with the bridesmaids and bride. The bridesmaids wore the same pale green jade as my beads, and carried white roses. And then, there was Angela. Her impeccable skin was illuminated by a snow-white, sleeveless dress. The bodice was decorated with gorgeous, slightly cream colored beading, which ended at her waist. A few inches of her curly, ebony hair had been pressed flat, so her veil would stay put. Her veil was a six inch headband, decorated with the same beads as on the dress. The classic white chiffon fell over her glittery hair and ended just above her hips. Even I had to admit, she looked stunning. She sat there quietly, alone for a few minutes. She blankly stared out the window and fingered her bouquet of dyed, purple roses. Someone called into the room that the service stared I five minutes. There was a mad dash to make one's self look just right. I departed for my seat, in the front pew, where my mind was inundated with thoughts. As I watched each member of the wedding party march silently down the aisle, I watched his face glow with pride. Suddenly the song floating out of the pipe organ stopped, and a different song began. I counted the bridesmaids. They were all accounted for, meaning it was Angela's turn. Everyone in the sanctuary gasped when the doors opened and Angela strode through the falling glitter. The sight of her brought tears and a smile to his face. And to mine. Why couldn't he cry those tears for me? I squeezed my eyes shut, partially so I didn't have to watch, partially so I would stop crying and my eye makeup would stay in tact. I felt like a two year old child, not a nineteen year old, fully grown, mature woman. But as the minister asked if anyone objected to this union. I realized I was biting my lip. Hard. It was a beautiful wedding, closely followed by a reception. The banquet hall was spectacular. I forced myself to be happy for the couple, forgetting my feelings for the time. By the time the dinner was over and the cake cut and all, the dj was set up and ready to spin. The first and family dances went by in a blur. All of the sudden, the dj was calling for a slow dance. The newlyweds were on the dance floor in a heartbeat. I started to head to my seat, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. A boy who looked my age opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then shut it and simply held out his hand. I took it, almost reluctantly, and allowed him to drag me to the wooden dance floor. It was a song I thought I knew, but couldn't recognize. The stranger boy wanted me to look into his eyes, so instead I rested my head on his shoulder, to look at the content couple. The boy seemed happy enough with that. The dance ended, and I watched Angela pull him into a playful kiss. A techno song came on next, and the boy again invited me to a dance. I told him to wait a minute, while I went for a glass of champagne. I took this time to investigate the board with photos from the pair's life. I searched the snapshots, and soon found one with me in it. It was my whole family, when I was about four. Then there was one from right after I was born. He and Cory were holding me. I felt a tug on my dress, and as I whipped around, champagne glass still in my hand, I saw the boy running back to the dance floor, motioning for me to follow. I held up one finger to indicate that I would be there in a few. I turned and saw that I nearly ruined the picture of me as a baby. I quickly grabbed a cloth napkin with their initials embroidered in the lower left hand corner. I wiped the picture dry and fingered our faces. I heard the boy calling again, and this time, I followed. Some time passed, I'm not sure how much, when he dj called for a dollar dance. I scampered to my purse and grabbed a five. I paused and switched it for a one. I got in the quick moving line to dance with him. I watched him dance with many people, Topanga, Rachel, my mom, the Dean, and others. She danced with many guys too, Cory, Jack, Eric, Tommy, my dad, her dad, Feeny, and other guys I didn't know. I handed my dollar to the usher, gulped, and stepped into the place I had always waned to be in. His arms. He eyed me carefully as he swept me across the floor, gracefully dancing. I only had half a minute left when he leaned down, next to my ear. I thought he was going to kiss my neck, but he simply whispered, "Thank you, Morgan." My heart stopped. He said my name. I felt his arms lift from around me. And I realized it would be alright. The boy found me again, and glided with me into a dance. We danced and danced, the whole night. We exchanged numbers, and slowly I felt him slip from my heart. And soon, Shawn was nearly gone. But, still, forever, I love him. I love Shawn. Shawn Hunter.
A/N: Have you noticed that there are absolutely NO Morgan stories? So I wrote one, from her POV. It is a monologue, with not much actual action, btok. REVIEW PLEASE!
I've watched him for years. Ever since I was born, has been there. But never for me. Always for Cory, never for me. For Topanga, never for me. For Eric and Jack, never for me. And worst of all, for Angela, never for me. To him, I was the insignificant blonde annoyance lurking in the background and getting in the way. But despite it all, my love grows stronger over the days. He had a mystery surrounding him, and that mystery drew me in and held me with one, firm arm. I only wish I could be seen. But I sat there, at his wedding. I could barely suppress my sadness, my anger, and most of all, my jealousy. Cory said I looked beautiful and older in the dress. Would he notice? The royal purple satin top hugged me in the perfect places. One shoulder had a two inch strap, with a see through purple material cascading gently down, covering my arm in sheerness. The other shoulder remained bare. The top had a slight taper on the side seams, accented with pale green jade, shaped into perfect beads. The full, satin skirt, in the same purple satin, fell strikingly around my ankles and petite feet, which were perched high on heels, encrusted with shimmering jade. My white-blonde hair was pulled back into an intricate design, somewhat resembling a lily. It was held in place by the jeweled barrettes that he had given me for my graduation. My makeup had been done professionally, along with my hair. Although I was not in the wedding party, I was to sit at the head table with the rest of my family. I was also to be in the wedding pictures, so I had to look faultless. But not for the pictures. For him. I waited in the preparation room with the bridesmaids and bride. The bridesmaids wore the same pale green jade as my beads, and carried white roses. And then, there was Angela. Her impeccable skin was illuminated by a snow-white, sleeveless dress. The bodice was decorated with gorgeous, slightly cream colored beading, which ended at her waist. A few inches of her curly, ebony hair had been pressed flat, so her veil would stay put. Her veil was a six inch headband, decorated with the same beads as on the dress. The classic white chiffon fell over her glittery hair and ended just above her hips. Even I had to admit, she looked stunning. She sat there quietly, alone for a few minutes. She blankly stared out the window and fingered her bouquet of dyed, purple roses. Someone called into the room that the service stared I five minutes. There was a mad dash to make one's self look just right. I departed for my seat, in the front pew, where my mind was inundated with thoughts. As I watched each member of the wedding party march silently down the aisle, I watched his face glow with pride. Suddenly the song floating out of the pipe organ stopped, and a different song began. I counted the bridesmaids. They were all accounted for, meaning it was Angela's turn. Everyone in the sanctuary gasped when the doors opened and Angela strode through the falling glitter. The sight of her brought tears and a smile to his face. And to mine. Why couldn't he cry those tears for me? I squeezed my eyes shut, partially so I didn't have to watch, partially so I would stop crying and my eye makeup would stay in tact. I felt like a two year old child, not a nineteen year old, fully grown, mature woman. But as the minister asked if anyone objected to this union. I realized I was biting my lip. Hard. It was a beautiful wedding, closely followed by a reception. The banquet hall was spectacular. I forced myself to be happy for the couple, forgetting my feelings for the time. By the time the dinner was over and the cake cut and all, the dj was set up and ready to spin. The first and family dances went by in a blur. All of the sudden, the dj was calling for a slow dance. The newlyweds were on the dance floor in a heartbeat. I started to head to my seat, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. A boy who looked my age opened his mouth, as if to speak, but then shut it and simply held out his hand. I took it, almost reluctantly, and allowed him to drag me to the wooden dance floor. It was a song I thought I knew, but couldn't recognize. The stranger boy wanted me to look into his eyes, so instead I rested my head on his shoulder, to look at the content couple. The boy seemed happy enough with that. The dance ended, and I watched Angela pull him into a playful kiss. A techno song came on next, and the boy again invited me to a dance. I told him to wait a minute, while I went for a glass of champagne. I took this time to investigate the board with photos from the pair's life. I searched the snapshots, and soon found one with me in it. It was my whole family, when I was about four. Then there was one from right after I was born. He and Cory were holding me. I felt a tug on my dress, and as I whipped around, champagne glass still in my hand, I saw the boy running back to the dance floor, motioning for me to follow. I held up one finger to indicate that I would be there in a few. I turned and saw that I nearly ruined the picture of me as a baby. I quickly grabbed a cloth napkin with their initials embroidered in the lower left hand corner. I wiped the picture dry and fingered our faces. I heard the boy calling again, and this time, I followed. Some time passed, I'm not sure how much, when he dj called for a dollar dance. I scampered to my purse and grabbed a five. I paused and switched it for a one. I got in the quick moving line to dance with him. I watched him dance with many people, Topanga, Rachel, my mom, the Dean, and others. She danced with many guys too, Cory, Jack, Eric, Tommy, my dad, her dad, Feeny, and other guys I didn't know. I handed my dollar to the usher, gulped, and stepped into the place I had always waned to be in. His arms. He eyed me carefully as he swept me across the floor, gracefully dancing. I only had half a minute left when he leaned down, next to my ear. I thought he was going to kiss my neck, but he simply whispered, "Thank you, Morgan." My heart stopped. He said my name. I felt his arms lift from around me. And I realized it would be alright. The boy found me again, and glided with me into a dance. We danced and danced, the whole night. We exchanged numbers, and slowly I felt him slip from my heart. And soon, Shawn was nearly gone. But, still, forever, I love him. I love Shawn. Shawn Hunter.