I lay on my bed in a dreary state. My stomach was revolting against me, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But sadly I had several essays due by Friday, the most important of which was due tomorrow at midnight. Before I could convince myself to get up and get ing, my cell phone went off. I sighed, trying to will the energy to answer. Around the third ring, I managed to extract it from my pocket. I had expected it to be my boyfriend calling, but, to my surprise and confusion, it was a call from the home phone.
I flipped it open, wondering why someone in the house was calling my cell while I was procrastinating on my bed. "Hello?"
"Do you need me to pick you up?" my mother’s tired voice asked. She’d arrived home moments ago, and I had given a weary ‘Hello’ to her greeting as she had walked through the front door downstairs.
"…Mom, I’m home." I replied, confused as to how she had thought I was out somewhere when I had called down to her just a minute before.
"What? Where are you?"
"I’m up here in my room. I said hello when you came home." I told her, the whole conversation beginning to feel extremely ridiculous.
"Oh. I didn’t hear you." She said. "Your sister didn’t know where you were, either."
I rolled my eyes. My sister had a friend over, and they were in their own little world behind her door. She d it when any of us disturbed her for anything, so it was not surprising that instead of telling our mother that I was in the house somewhere, she had just said she didn’t know. "Well, I’m home."
"Good." My mother said simply, before hanging up abruptly.
I stared at the phone, then returned to feeling sorry for myself. ‘In a few minutes I’ll start that World History essay,’ I told myself. ‘Just a few more minutes…'
--
Yeah, this actually happened. In case anyone is concerned, I am mostly done with my World History. It just needs a conclusion and a revision of the introduction. 'Compare and contrast the causes and characteristics of the Chinese and European voyages of exploration between 1400 and 1550'. Oodles of fun. Really.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step
Hi there. I'm Cara. I like to write, but I don't do it too much anymore. And now that I have to work on scriptwriting in my television class, I've noticed that my lack of constant writing has effected my talent. So, I've made a New Year's resolution that's a little early: To write something every day in here. A little story or what have you. Probably a description of an event that happened during the day, or maybe an event that has popped into my head.
To start off, this is my most recent work, an unfinished little story that is actually part of something much greater, but I hope can stand on it's own. (Incidentally, this is the story I'm adapting for a screenplay for Television class)
--
What to do when you’re in love with your best friend’s sister? For Jon, all he could do was skateboard up and down the boardwalk from the second school let out till the street lamps lit up. It didn’t help that said boardwalk passed right in front of the bookstore the g.irl of his affection worked at.
Up, down, up, down. S.hooting past the display window where she carefully arranged that week’s shipment of new books. It was all he could do to keep from crashing into a pole every time he rolled by it. She was just too magnificent for words. He never wanted to take his eyes off of her. Off of her light brown hair, which dazzled in the afternoon sun. Off of her perfect mouth, which always formed an equally perfect smile. Off of her nimble hands, her slender legs, her luscious…assets. He could see beauty radiating from her like a halo, despite the fact that she never wore anything but overalls.
He longed to be near her every second of every day, but he couldn’t. First off, she was his best friend’s sister. His twin, to be precise. Jon couldn’t date her, she was off-limits, he was supposed to think of her as his own sister. Which brought up point two of why she was unattainable--she undoubtedly only thought of him as a second brother. She’d known him for as long as he’d known her brother, which was somewhere around first grade. So why would she ever think of him as anything other than Jon, the Other Brother?
And worst on his list of reasons why she would never, ever see him the way he saw her--she was in love with someone else. Yes, the g.irl of his dreams was currently attached to a cripple. A younger guy, with a heart disease, always in the hospital. Jon despaired the thought of his love spending hours in that cold place with that frail twig of a boy. But she visited him nonetheless, every evening without fail. And Jon raced up and down the boardwalk, his eyes blind to anything but the image of her. Wishing hoping praying that one day she would come to her senses and see him standing there, like he had always been, waiting for her.
This was what kept spinning through his head as he sat in the back of the church at the funeral. Days ago, her boy, Lucien had taken a turn for the worst and died. Jules sat at the front of the church, crying. Jon wasn’t supposed to be there, he hadn’t been invited. But he couldn’t stay away. He desperately wanted to comfort her, to let her cry in his arms. But as always, he kept his respectful distance.
Ro, his best friend, was there in the front with his sister. He kept turning around and looking at Jon, trying to figure out what he was doing there. But Jon knew his friend had no clue about his love for his twin. He couldn’t tell him, it would just be ridiculous. And it probably wouldn’t end well.
Suddenly, Jules was hurrying up the aisle of the church. She was crying, obviously the whole ordeal was too much for her. She opened the doors of the church and slipped out. Jon got up and followed her, finally seizing his chance.
She was sitting on the grand steps, sniffling into her handkerchief. He stood uncertain behind her. “Jules?”
She turned around, her face streaked with tears. “Jon? What are you doing here?”
He stepped forward cautiously. “I…I came to say good-bye. I only met him a couple times, but he seemed like a nice guy.”
Jules patted the space beside her and she wiped her eyes. He sat down beside her, his heart pounding in his ears. She looked out onto the crowded city before them. “Want to know a secret?”
“What?”
She shook her head. “I’m a horrible person. A terrible, awful, wretched person.”
“No you’re not.” Jon replied immediately. He paused before continuing softly. “You’re amazing.”
“He loved me. Lucien thought I was the most perfect person to walk the earth. But I didn’t love him. I let him think I did, and now…now he’s d.ead and I feel so horrid for lying to him.” She began to weep again, her tears staining her handkerchief.
Jon could hardly hear a word she said, he was too engrossed in her. She was wearing a black dress, and he hardly ever saw her in anything other than her overalls. It took his breath away. He shook his head, bringing him back to the present. “Oh Jules, you’re not horrible. You gave a dying boy what he wanted. He died loving you, he’ll be happy forever.”
Jules shook her head, getting up and walking down the steps. Apparently she could not believe him, would not believe him. Nothing he could say would make her stop, but Jon knew if she went off by herself that she might do something irrational. He didn’t realize what was coming out of his mouth until it’d already been said.
“I love you, Juliet.”
She halted at the bottom of the steps. Slowly she turned to face him. “What did you say?”
He had taken the plunge. He could hardly believe it. There was no going back now. He took a deep breath and moved forward. “I said I love you, Juliet.” He walked down a few steps. “You are smart, funny, beautiful. I don’t blame Lucien for thinking you were perfect, because I’ve always thought so myself.” He stepped down again. “I--I’ve loved you for so long, Jules. Every day I skate past the bookstore and watch you work. Every time I’m over at your house with Ro I wait to catch a glimpse of you. You…you are so amazing. I’ve always wanted to tell you, I’ve wanted you so badly.”
This was not the reaction he had been expecting. Instead of running into his arms and crying that she, too, cared for him beyond all reason, Jules merely stared at him. She didn’t cry, or look enthused, or enraged. Just that stony, ice-cold stare that was frighteningly unlike her. Jon waited and waited, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, she turned on her heel and stalked away.
And his heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the sudden realization that he felt everything for her, while she was walking away, feeling nothing for him at all.
What he didn’t know was that the moment she was out of his sight, Juliet Capulet-Montague sank to her knees and wept, crying for as many reasons as there were stars in the sky, but mostly for Jon’s impeccably bad timing.
To start off, this is my most recent work, an unfinished little story that is actually part of something much greater, but I hope can stand on it's own. (Incidentally, this is the story I'm adapting for a screenplay for Television class)
--
What to do when you’re in love with your best friend’s sister? For Jon, all he could do was skateboard up and down the boardwalk from the second school let out till the street lamps lit up. It didn’t help that said boardwalk passed right in front of the bookstore the g.irl of his affection worked at.
Up, down, up, down. S.hooting past the display window where she carefully arranged that week’s shipment of new books. It was all he could do to keep from crashing into a pole every time he rolled by it. She was just too magnificent for words. He never wanted to take his eyes off of her. Off of her light brown hair, which dazzled in the afternoon sun. Off of her perfect mouth, which always formed an equally perfect smile. Off of her nimble hands, her slender legs, her luscious…assets. He could see beauty radiating from her like a halo, despite the fact that she never wore anything but overalls.
He longed to be near her every second of every day, but he couldn’t. First off, she was his best friend’s sister. His twin, to be precise. Jon couldn’t date her, she was off-limits, he was supposed to think of her as his own sister. Which brought up point two of why she was unattainable--she undoubtedly only thought of him as a second brother. She’d known him for as long as he’d known her brother, which was somewhere around first grade. So why would she ever think of him as anything other than Jon, the Other Brother?
And worst on his list of reasons why she would never, ever see him the way he saw her--she was in love with someone else. Yes, the g.irl of his dreams was currently attached to a cripple. A younger guy, with a heart disease, always in the hospital. Jon despaired the thought of his love spending hours in that cold place with that frail twig of a boy. But she visited him nonetheless, every evening without fail. And Jon raced up and down the boardwalk, his eyes blind to anything but the image of her. Wishing hoping praying that one day she would come to her senses and see him standing there, like he had always been, waiting for her.
This was what kept spinning through his head as he sat in the back of the church at the funeral. Days ago, her boy, Lucien had taken a turn for the worst and died. Jules sat at the front of the church, crying. Jon wasn’t supposed to be there, he hadn’t been invited. But he couldn’t stay away. He desperately wanted to comfort her, to let her cry in his arms. But as always, he kept his respectful distance.
Ro, his best friend, was there in the front with his sister. He kept turning around and looking at Jon, trying to figure out what he was doing there. But Jon knew his friend had no clue about his love for his twin. He couldn’t tell him, it would just be ridiculous. And it probably wouldn’t end well.
Suddenly, Jules was hurrying up the aisle of the church. She was crying, obviously the whole ordeal was too much for her. She opened the doors of the church and slipped out. Jon got up and followed her, finally seizing his chance.
She was sitting on the grand steps, sniffling into her handkerchief. He stood uncertain behind her. “Jules?”
She turned around, her face streaked with tears. “Jon? What are you doing here?”
He stepped forward cautiously. “I…I came to say good-bye. I only met him a couple times, but he seemed like a nice guy.”
Jules patted the space beside her and she wiped her eyes. He sat down beside her, his heart pounding in his ears. She looked out onto the crowded city before them. “Want to know a secret?”
“What?”
She shook her head. “I’m a horrible person. A terrible, awful, wretched person.”
“No you’re not.” Jon replied immediately. He paused before continuing softly. “You’re amazing.”
“He loved me. Lucien thought I was the most perfect person to walk the earth. But I didn’t love him. I let him think I did, and now…now he’s d.ead and I feel so horrid for lying to him.” She began to weep again, her tears staining her handkerchief.
Jon could hardly hear a word she said, he was too engrossed in her. She was wearing a black dress, and he hardly ever saw her in anything other than her overalls. It took his breath away. He shook his head, bringing him back to the present. “Oh Jules, you’re not horrible. You gave a dying boy what he wanted. He died loving you, he’ll be happy forever.”
Jules shook her head, getting up and walking down the steps. Apparently she could not believe him, would not believe him. Nothing he could say would make her stop, but Jon knew if she went off by herself that she might do something irrational. He didn’t realize what was coming out of his mouth until it’d already been said.
“I love you, Juliet.”
She halted at the bottom of the steps. Slowly she turned to face him. “What did you say?”
He had taken the plunge. He could hardly believe it. There was no going back now. He took a deep breath and moved forward. “I said I love you, Juliet.” He walked down a few steps. “You are smart, funny, beautiful. I don’t blame Lucien for thinking you were perfect, because I’ve always thought so myself.” He stepped down again. “I--I’ve loved you for so long, Jules. Every day I skate past the bookstore and watch you work. Every time I’m over at your house with Ro I wait to catch a glimpse of you. You…you are so amazing. I’ve always wanted to tell you, I’ve wanted you so badly.”
This was not the reaction he had been expecting. Instead of running into his arms and crying that she, too, cared for him beyond all reason, Jules merely stared at him. She didn’t cry, or look enthused, or enraged. Just that stony, ice-cold stare that was frighteningly unlike her. Jon waited and waited, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, she turned on her heel and stalked away.
And his heart shattered into a thousand pieces at the sudden realization that he felt everything for her, while she was walking away, feeling nothing for him at all.
What he didn’t know was that the moment she was out of his sight, Juliet Capulet-Montague sank to her knees and wept, crying for as many reasons as there were stars in the sky, but mostly for Jon’s impeccably bad timing.
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