Why Does My Heart Cry?

--The Story of a Young Writer--

There was a place he often travelled to. A nice place. A place where the creatures had been told were nonexistent thrived. A place where the smoke from the trains smelled like the kitchen when his mum used to make strawberry jam. A place where the clouds tasted like sugar and the lake was surrounded by cherry trees. It was a place where the sun was made of gold and the moon was carved out of silver. You could travel anywhere you wanted from this place--Paris, Edinburgh or even the Americas. It was a place sprinkled with happiness and love. And in the middle of this place was a small school desk where Christian could write.

"Christian!" Ms. Ellroy howled. He hopped out of his imaginary writing place and tried to nonchalantly slip his writing parchment under his arithmetic book. Ms. Ellroy clacked down the isle of desks in her heels. She was an older woman with grey hairs whisking off the top of her head. For some reason she still tried to dress like the younger ladies in town. Christian didn't like that at all.

The young boy stared nervously up at her through his messy, dark brown bangs. His lips were too busy quivering to talk. "Are you writing again?" Ms. Ellroy frowned.

"Y-yes ma'am," Christian's voice cracked--as usual.

"See me after class."

The kids in the classroom stared at Christian with smirks and wide eyes. It was as if he were wearing Ms. Ellroy's bright, red clacky shoes. He stared down at his desk and tried to hide his shaky, watery eyes with his long hair.

All through arithmetic he tried to stay focused, but he hadn't been able to since his mother died. His mother was the only one who ever excepted his writing, but other than that, he couldn't think of many logical reasons why. Then again, Christian wasn't good at thinking up logical reasons for anything.

When Ms. Ellroy called for dismissal, Christian shuffled up to her desk, his head hung low. "You are a wonderful writer, Christian," Ms. Ellroy smiled from her desk. "But that doesn't mean you can't try in your other subjects."

"I am trying," Christian heard his voice crack on the word "am".

"Is there anything you need help with? Arithmetic perhaps?"

"Eh... no. But thanks."

"Alright. You let me know, Christian. I can help you in any subject."

"Thank you, Ms. Ellroy." Christian could feel a sickening, anxious feeling in his stomach as he exited the classroom.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and carried his lunch pail in his hand. He shoved the door open and stepped outside into the sunny, Spring air. He loved the sun. The way it illuminated ordinary things like berries and spider webs and Betsey Pendreigh's silvery eyes. Yes, he had had a crush on Ms. Pendreigh since the third grade. And ironically, she had been in his class every since. Come to think of it, this was their fourth year together.

As he watched her laughing with her friends in the schoolyard, he thought about what it would be like to kiss her and fall in love with her. He knew that he would fall in love someday, he just didn't know when. His thoughts were interrupted by Ms. Ellroy's squeaky voice, "You forgot to shut the door, Christian!"

Ah, so he had. Christian turned around, closed the door to his classroom and began walking around the school towards his house. As he turned the corner of one of the brick walls, he was met with a punch.

Christian took a surprised breath in as he stumbled to the ground. From behind the wall, Edmund emerged. He took a few arrogant steps in the new leather boots his father had bought him and stared down at the poor, stupid kid who never paid attention in class. "Brian says it was you who put worms in my lunch yesterday," Edmund growled.

"I didn't put any--ow!" Edmund kicked Christian where it really counted. Christian curled up into the foetal position, his hands over his crotch muttering, "Stop, stop, stop..."

Edmund kicked his leg and then his crotch again. "Why do you torcher me, Christian?" he asked as he made his hands into fists. He bent over the boy and what remained of their class gathered around. Christian blinked a few times and spotted Betsey and her friends out of the corner of his eye. He nearly melted right there in embarrassment.

"Edmund, please--" he tried to ask nicely. But, he was only returned with a punch in the face.

Christian sucked in air and tried to breath as Edmund tackled him. He was terrified. He wasn't strong. He didn't know how to fight. And he would make a fool of himself in front of the entire class--including Betsey. Still, Edmund continued to pummel him with punches in the nose, jaw and eye. Suddenly, Christian felt blood mixed with tears dripping into his mouth. He started sobbing uncontrollably. He blinked through his tears and managed swats and slaps at Edmund.

"Edmund, stop!" Betsey's cry rang loud and clear over the murmurs of the other school kids.

Edmund failed to listen. He continued to claw at a hysterically sobbing Christian. Christian blinked and saw Betsey racing inside. Seconds later she raced outside pulling Ms. Ellroy by the hand. "They're at it again!" she cried. Christian and Edmund had gotten into fights several times, but this would be the first time Betsey interfered.

Ms. Ellroy reached down and grabbed Edmund's shoulders. He successfully kicked Christian one last time before being pulled away by the teacher. For some reason Christian still could not stop crying. He stood up but his body wilted and he found it hard to walk. He limped over to Ms. Ellroy and tried to thank her, but she was too busy calming Edmund down. "Alright everyone," she said as she dragged Edmund inside to talk. "Get on home."

Once the two of them were inside, Christian's eyes lit up as he realized what had happened. He limped as fast as he could over to Betsey. His crying had slowed down now and he tried his best to wipe the tears and blood off of his face. "Betsey," he said softly as he neared her. Her friends faded away and began talking. Christian moved as close to her as he could.

"Christian," Betsey's eyelashes fluttered.

Christian's stomach fluttered too and his insides began shaking. He breaths were nervously irregular and his eyes grew wide. "You saved me. Thank you." He was shaking and sweating all over and his lips were trembling. He kept telling himself he could do this but he wasn't sure. His hands stood awkwardly between her body and his. He was afraid to touch her. He closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss, but Betsey backed up.

"You're welcome, Christian. Sorry. I've gotta go."

Wow. So okay, it's a brand new Moulin Rouge story. I'm hoping this one isn't like the others. I hope this is a new idea and I hope you like it. But there's something I've gotta say.

As I was writing this story that it kind of parallel's to my life and my character in some parts. It's freaking me out. Notice I said SOME parts. I've never gotten beaten up or tried to kiss someone named Betsey but still. Please read and review--good comments or bad. I love you no matter what you write in your review.

Got Scots?