Friday, December 31, 2010

A wedding gift for a new year wedding






A Wedding Gift

Something old

Our love is not new
It has grown for a long time
From the very first “I love you”
Our love has crossed that line

Something new

We start a new time together
And With a new year
We promise to be forever
A new family started  here

Something borrowed

Time is always a borrow
The promise of tomorrow
We know that from this day
Together will be our way

Something blue

At times our life as been blue
For couples this is not new
Blue times empowered our love
And proved it came from above

Grandpa Brock

Grandpa Brock

You were always our strong, opinionated, stubborn rock
that taught us what it meant to be a Brock

Through the teasing of many dogs
And listening to us all sing many country songs

Though we shed many tears
Our stories will keep you alive for many more years

Everyone will miss your kind soul
That tried to keep the family whole

The lessons, smiles, and love will remain
Although your body and soul is now aboard the heavenly train

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Elizabeth



 Elizabeth
June 27, 2006

Elizabeth, you show how
Being faithful to God is a vow

You have a very emotional soul
And your imagination makes you whole

Like many others under the Cancer sign
Your intuitions tend to align

Others would be honored to be in your protection
Their thanks they would not have to mention

You are very loving
Life with you is never boring

My dear sweet Elizabeth
You are the girl
That gets fire
Where there is no desire
My daughter give everything a whirl

Daniel


 
Daniel
October, 11 1984

Daniel you send the message of God’s Judgment
You have been blessed to be his agent

A Libra as you are
Means being an idealistic star

Your romantic and charming personality
Keeps your social interactions cheery

Being easygoing lets you take your life
without strife

Your peaceful demeanor
Means you are hard to anger

Daniel, you are gallant
And refined
Hold your head up high
And show those around you the great judgment
Your star and name you have been assigned
Reminds us that kind souls are always nearby

Adam





Adam
April 9, 2003

Your name was bestowed to the first of mankind
Be proud of the name you have been assigned

God’s first creation was named Adam
This is a name from His great wisdom

My dear son, you were born to be an Aries
And have the traits of other beauties

Some of your incredible beauty
Is your endless energy

Your adventurous spirit
Means you are never without wit

My dear Adam
You have no idea how much you mean to me
I hope that one day you may see
The love
I have for you son

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Holly Acronym

HOLLY

Hopelessly
Opposing
Logical
Loving
Yankees

Facebook friend poetry





A writer
for hire
this dame's
life
involves many games
being a devoted wife
wearing lots of hats
Who is she?


He was always very cool
in school
being part of the national guard
had to be hard
now that his married life has begun to start
there is happiness in his heart
who is he?

During the week of rest
he will be remembered as the best
always organized and there
for a question from anywhere
the new purple hue
makes his writing anew
who is he?

Through the years she has been a mother
with strength like no other
she makes her memories last
and learns from the past
you may find her out
with her little girl scout
who is she?

Although we have had a fight
it seems you are doing alright
your boys are splendid
your broken heart they have tended
you have learned you can do it all on your own
and like to sit next to your bonfire throne
who is she?

love until death (marriage)





we love each other most days
even through our different ways

our rings are not the symbol of our commitment
it comes from a different place
where a morning face
and bad breath
are efficient
for a kiss

this is the love until death

building a home
is not easy together
you wonder if it would be easier alone
you question whether that would be better
then you remember

this is the love until death

working, kids, bills
become our everyday thrills
and making love
are what our dreams are made of
but this is what we signed up for

this is the love until death

sometimes I don't like you much
I have a hunch
you feel the same way
like the other day
when I seemed to nag you with my very last breath

those days

we remember

this is the love that lasts until death

depressed mind





there was a time
when my mind
was all mine

there was a time
on my face
there was a smile in that space

there was a time
I would laugh out loud
I would enjoy the crowd

In this time
something has taken over
something has chosen to hover

my mind is full of rain
my soul is full of pain
my face is been painted with a frown
my whole body has been forced down

Mom and Dad




Dear Mom and Dad
I hear you fight
everynight
I know you live every night sad

Most of my friends have parents that leave apart
you choose to stay together in our home
although in your heart
you both feel alone

You think this is what is best for me
you both don't see
what happens at night
what happens during every fight

You don't see me pray for you to be happy
this may seem a bit sappy
dear mom and dad
I know you are sad

I will be fine
please mom and dad
if you are happier apart
it will not break my heart

Friday, November 5, 2010

Elevator of Terror

This is my very first flash fiction story. I entered into a contest for it, but did not place. I am still proud of it though.


Jane’s visit with her grandma was very uneventful. She helped the elderly women clean, cook, and organize her medication. Now that Jane’s boring Saturday afternoon was over, it was time for her to go and be a regular sixteen year old.

Today, the elevator seemed to go especially slow. Finally, the steel doors opened inviting Jane inside. Before she could push the button for the lobby, the doors slammed shut. Jane heard a snap, and the elevator started to fall down the shaft at a distressingly rapid rate. Jane’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized she was rapidly descending to her death. Her thoughts went to her loved ones as the elevator got closer to the bottom floor. Jane cowered as the numbers started to get closer to the bottom floor.

 She opened her eyes to see that the elevator had lowered past the first floor, and was slowly its speed. The doors snapped open to a room Jane had never seen before. It was very dark with only a candle light glow at the end of what seemed like a long hallway. Jane slowly creeped out of the metal box that had contained her for what seemed like forever. She slowly walked through the hallway. Jane tried to use her hands to feel her way through, but she touched nothing but darkness. She tried focus on the hope that the light would lead to safety.

After what seemed like forever, Jane found the light. The source of the light was some candles in an open cave like room. The air felt very damp.  In the middle of the room, there was a metal examining table. It was very clean and empty. Jane had no idea what was going on. She walked slowly into the room.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” Jane called out. At this point, she was not sure if she wanted an answer. After Jane’s call, a doctor walked into the room. He was fully clad in medical gear and took no notice to Jane. He walked over to the table and snapped his latex gloves onto his hands.

“Give me the patient,” he commanded behind his medical mask. Three nurses wheeled the patient into the room. The patient was an elderly woman that looked familiar to Jane. She moved a bit closer to the see the curly white hair. It was her grandmother.

Jane tried to scream “No”. The medical crew went about their business as if they heard nothing. The nurses lifted her grandmother on the table with a big bang. The sudden noise made Jane jump. At that moment, her grandmother opened her eyes and started to struggle. The nurses held her arms and legs down with great force. She let out a terrified scream as the doctor raised an electric drill above her body.

The sound of the device echoed across the cavern. With no warning, the doctor lowered the drill to cut into Jane‘s grandmother. The doctor cut the chest first. It took only a few moments for fragments of bone to go falling across the room like confetti. When the doctor was sure his patient would no longer be living, he let out a laugh.  It was a playful child laugh. The doctor reached into the chest of his victim and pulled out the life organ, the heart.

The doctor continued his laugh as he used one hand to remove his medical cap and mask. His big red hair flopped and bounced at the now found freedom. The mask had not smeared any of the makeup. The clown laughed as through he had just performed the best crowd pleasing, kid friendly act of his career. Jane screamed in terror. The clown looked at her as if he had heard her scream, but his face and laugh never changed. His make-up smile stayed just the same despite having a dead patient on his table, and a bleeding heart in his hand.

It was then that she noticed there was no sign of blood on the floor. All of the blood drops were turning into little black dots on the floor. The moment that Jane noticed that the spots were moving toward her she started to feel some creepy crawly legs on her. It was spiders. She ran with a scream the only direction she knew, back toward the elevator. She ran into the darkness only to run into a wall. Jane feel to the floor as everything went black.

Jane opened her eyes. Staring at her was a man’s face asking her if she was all right. “What happened?” Jane asked.

“The cable snapped and you fell a couple of floors down. You must have hit your head during the fall, “the man explained. He reached his hand out toward hers. Jane looked around to find herself in the elevator. It had all been a dream.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Hope Products

Do you enjoy reading my words? Are you inspired by my writing? Do you want to tell others you support me? If so check out my new shop. I am selling things that tell the world that you are a support of Hope.


http://www.cafepress.com/SupportHopeLBrock

Friday, September 24, 2010

My own parenting quotes

A family member asked me to come up with some inspirational quotes that for those leaders that help special children. I took great honor in this request. I have made a list of ten inspirational quotes that I thought of for those that help these special children. Feel free to use these if you wish in anything they may help you with.


Helping others find their value by lifting spirits

Revealing the riches of others gives them light

Eliminating can’t, won’t and giving up one child at a time

Eliminating can’t, won’t and giving up one heart at a time

Understanding those that need it the most

It is never to late too show a child what they can be

Special children require special leaders

Look into the heart of a child not what you can see with your eyes

Those children that are the most lost are the most at home

Children with special needs have special hearts

All quotes by Hope L. Brock

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

The story of Hope

On January 10, 1983
my mother got her first look at me
weighing seven eleven
my parents thought I was sent from heaven

I was scared of the world I could see
I wish they would have let me be

I the spring of '85
my sister began to thrive
ever since she was born
she has been my thorn

I was scared of the world I could see
I wish they would have let me be

In the fall of '93
my parents fought in front of me
they took some time apart
but soon rejoined hearts

I was scared of the world I could see
I wish they would have let me be

In the fall of '96
my best friend was a mess
she tried to take things in strife
but she took her own life

I was scared of the world I could see
I wish they would let me be

In the summer of '98
I met a guy I thought was great
he would beat me for things I would say
for four years I couldn't get away

I was scared of the world I could see
I wish they would have let me be

In the summer of 2002
this fool I got married to
lies would all I was told
then our love went cold

I was scared of the world I could see
I wish they would have let me be

On April 9, 2003
my son got his first look of me
weighing eight nine
my life finally seemed fine

He was scared of the world he could see
He wished I would have let him be

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

The writer in me

Check out my latest post in my other blog; about the struggle I am having in finding where I belong in the writing world. The writer in me

Monday, August 9, 2010

My Grief Story

Excitement filled my heart when I heard my mother call me into her bedroom one October morning before school. I had heard her on the phone talking while I was getting dressed for school. Erin, my best friend, was mentioned. It could only be that she was going to come over and stay another weekend. A few months prior to this morning, she had come to stay because her parents had gone on a business trip. Skipping to some unknown exciting news, I entered my parents’ room. The scene there was not something that I had expected to see. My sister and dad were both on my parents’ bed with tears in their eyes. My thirteen-year-old brain was completely confused. They would not be crying if Erin was going to spend another night. Maybe she had to move again. She had moved out of our town a year prior to this crisp and cold fall morning. I sat on my mother’s bed facing her with a look of confusion.

“Erin committed suicide last night.” were the words that escaped my mom’s mouth. Huh? What did that mean? Did she die? My mind was full of questions that were hard to understand at such a young age. As an adult, I find it rather odd that I would have asked myself if she had died when I had entered a room that was full of tears and long looks. My mom came in to hug me, but I still did not understand what exactly was going on. No tears or words came. It was as if my mind and soul were numb. My family tried to comfort me, but I lacked the understanding that why I needed the comfort.

That was the day when my soul and life were shattered into a million scattered pieces. Those pieces have yet to be picked up and gathered to make me the complete puzzle of the person I was before. Before the horrible loss, before the breathtaking moments that would later define every decision I would make, and before I was told by my tear stricken mother that my best friend-at the tender age of thirteen-had lost the will to go on. Her life was so bad and scary that she chose that the only way out of her black hole of emptiness was to stop breathing.

The morning I was told that my confidant was gone was the start of events that unraveled around the following years that were taken up by incredible feelings of grief. As I worked through the internal battle of angst and the external battle of going through the motions of the traditional events such as a funeral and visitation, I became a person that has been forever changed.

My family and I had arrived at the funeral home late; it had taken a while for me to get into the physical movements that needed to be done when my mind was somewhere else. There was only standing room left. There we were standing at the very far end of the back of the funeral home, while Erin’s father recited a poem I would never forget. It talked of a town putting “black gloves on” and “closing the streets” because “she was gone”. The lyrics are carved on her headstone. You could hear the strain in her father’s voice as he tried to get all of the words out. His strength amazes me. As we were making our exit out of the building, many of the friends and loved ones walked by Erin’s body to say good-bye. I refused. I did not want to remember her this way or I just did not want to say good-bye, I really did not know which one. I regret this action in hindsight. At the gravesite, her mother could be seen holding on to a ragged doll and sobbing. Her fragile body was hunched over and she required two people to guide her to her seat. The imagine of the doll with the tears flowing across her checks is one that I have and will never forget.

It was hard to understand what this new word to my vocabulary meant; suicide. At thirteen, I like to think I was not sheltered from the world of tragedy, but when it hit home my mind could not understand what was going on. I lived in denial for a very long time. This included the days up until the funeral and visitation. My teenage mind believed that at any minute my friend would bounce out from behind the scenes to reveal herself and the punch line to this cruel joke.

As my denial faded away, and it took a long time to do so, it was replaced with anger. How could she think that she had the right to leave me? How could she think only of herself? Didn’t she understand that everyone had problems? In the years we were friends I believed that we had a friendship where we could tell each other everything. I was angry at her for not telling me what she felt inside and about the battle that she faced. She had left me alone in a time when we were still growing into the women we would become.

Anger was replaced by guilt. Guilty for feeling angry, and guilt for not being there when she needed me. I felt guilty for not seeing what was wrong when she was in so much pain. Guilt is a powerful emotion after losing someone. It can take over your very existence. I spent years in the guilt tunnel. There are still times even almost fifteen years later that guilt rears its ugly head. This is one way that this experience has changed me forever. Even as a grown woman with kids of my own and to this day I will have a moment where I belief I could have done something, anything. Prior to her death, my friend had hosted a Halloween party and I felt-and sometimes still do feel-as if my costume was a bit too dark and therefore forced her over the edge. The costume was the reason that suicide even crossed her mind. I had been dressed as a witch prior to her showing up to get me for her party, and out of boredom, I drew lipstick (blood) lines on my wrist. It is strange to think that I did not know what suicide meant but knew what it was enough to include it in my costume. Sometimes I regret not asking her to move in with my family after she moved away, thinking that maybe that could have saved her. My guilt had at one point taken me over to the point I wanted to join her. I thought that because of what I had done to her that I too did not deserve to live. How I am still alive today is still a miracle to me today.

My companions today have become Guilt, Depression and on occasion Acceptance. Although Acceptance comes in waves, when it does come I realize that my live is richer for knowing this broken soul. I find it very hard to believe that after so long I am still a tornado of emotion. This moment in my youth has defined many of my actions. My heart skips when I hear of another lost soul that has chosen to end their life. I feel for the survivors that are left behind, for the dead that had felt dead a long time prior to the last breath, and my heart still goes out to my friend who I could not save. Every breath is worth breathing.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

The Good and The Bad

You have to take the good and the bad
with every experience you've had

what happened to yesterday
a new day that is done
was once full of thrilling fun
why does the good go away

what about today
the day that is here
is full of terrifying fear
why does the bad stay

what about tomorrow
what will I feel then
will I feel the exalting good again
Tomorrow always fills with sorrow

everyday is a new page
of life; but only in this confusing stage
is there no happily ever after end

                                                                                                         Written by: Hope L.Brock
                                                                                                                   (Age 16)

My Fairy Tale

When is my night
while Cinderella got the dress
glass slippers
marriage to a prince
I lived in her midnight

When is my night
while Snow White got the dream
seven dwarfs
an awakening kiss
I lived with her stepmom

When is my night
while Sleeping Beauty got the fairies
the kingdom
true love
I lived with her curse

when is my night
where is my fairy godmother
where is my generous servant
where is my true love
where is my fairy tale

                                                                                      Written by: Hope L. Brock
                                                                                              (Age 16)
 

Who am I

Who am I
what makes me me
what will I be
what makes me sigh

I am an animal in a cage
wrapped in a rage
with flying fists
with a deadly wish

what makes me me
everything you can see
along with the stuff inside
the emotions I choose to hide

In my future life
I will be a faithful wife
a mother of three
this is some of what I will be

many things make me sigh
seeing a grown man cry
everyday
someone sees pain and looks away

Who am I

                                                             Written by: Hope L. Brock
                                                                        (Age 16)

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Poetry Products

I have decided to put my poetry talent (a bit modest I know) to good use. As gifts -birthdays, christamas, thank yous, and just because, I will be writing a poem printing it out in some way and then giving them out. I could laminate the paper or frame it in cute picture frame. I can get some dollar ones from the dollar store. I will see how it goes. If you are interested in a poem for a special occasion please contact me at hopelbrock@yahoo.com.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

The Coming of a Woman

Being wrapped around your body
         sweat dripping
            over every inch
                  of each body
Feeling my heart
          racing
            againest
              your bare chest
Feeling your hands
          over alll parts
             of my
              virgin body
In the part
          of my life
            between a woman
                 and a child
Taste my first
          taste of
            love
             bittersweet
Suddenly
          my female
                lightning bolt
                  races through my body
I had never thought
          laying next to you
               you would be the one
                   to let my woman come out

        

New contest

I entered my first story for Scinti. This is the first contest of theirs I am entering. I actually rewrote my story three different times. Here is some of the beginning. You will have to wait to see if I make the finals to read the rest of my story.

Excitement filled my heart when I heard my mother call me into her bedroom one October morning before school. I had heard her on the phone talking while I was getting dressed for school. Erin, my best friend, was mentioned. It could only be that she was going to come over and stay another weekend. A few months prior to this morning, she had come to stay because her parents had gone on a business trip. Skipping to some unknown exciting news, I entered my parents’ room. The scene there was not something that I had expected to see. My sister and dad were both on my parents’ bed with tears in their eyes. My thirteen-year-old brain was completely confused. They would not be crying if Erin was going to spend another night. Maybe she had to move again. She had moved out of our town a year prior to this crisp and cold fall morning. I sat on my mother’s bed facing her with a look of confusion.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Publishing research

I took the day to research some publishing outlets for webzines. I found the site to Chicken Soup for the Soul story submission. I love these books so much that I have now formed this into one of my goals. I will need to work on stories within their guidelines. I found a listing of other publishing companies on this website:

http://www.theeasylifesite.co.uk/Litlinks/gttingpublshd.htm

This will be a great thing to accomplish. With being published in their book, an author will receive ten free copies of the book that their work is published in.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

random story plot

I woke up this morning with an idea for a story. I know I sound like Stephanie Meyer from Twilight. I think she was on to something with the dream inspiration. Anyway, here is the plot.

Two women travel across the united states. They sometimes get rides to places and sometimes have to travel on foot. In my dream, they were in Texas and met up with a restaurant owner named Cobb. Cobb gives them a hard time about being in Texas. He is supicious of their situation (he thinks they are gay). Of course, Texas is not known for it's tolerance in alternative lifetstyles. Anyway, one of the girls convincing Cobb to give them both a job to raise money to continue on their journey. They have been traveling since New York...blah...blah. This is what I have so far. What do you think?

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

My Poetry

Please Don't Leave Me

The Brakes of Time

Poetic Depression

I am not Fat

Growing Up

Lean on Me

This is a story I have been working on for about fourteen years now. I would really like some feedback. This is just some of what I have written so far. P.S. The idea that I had for even this ever gets published is for each chapter to go back and forth between today's time and the memories.

It has been fourteen years and a whole century later since my world was shaken upside down and sideways. I will never forget the day my best friend died and all of the events that have happened since then. I was very young, 13, at the time and looking back I realize that a lot of my own thoughts will nothing more but a jumbled up mess. I think back to that time in my life with fondness now. I have a better understanding as to why we must suffer before we can truly understand the gifts we have been given.


I, myself, have been truly blessed in the last fourteen years. I am married to the most wonderful man I have ever met. I have known the joy of giving birth to two wonderful children. However, though all of this joy I can not help but wonder where the mentally comes from we people decide to take their own lives. To this day I wonder what kind of mother Erin would have been like. I wonder what kind of man she would have married. I also know that many of the mistakes I have made in the fourteen years since her death she would have tried to stop me from making.

True friendship is very hard to find and even harder to hold on to. There are many obstacles in the way of staying friends for a lifetime. I believe I can count the number of friends that have stayed with me though these tough years on one hand. However, it has been said that it is not the quanity but the quality of a friendship that makes it divine. I truly believe this. Erin was my best friend. We were as close as sisters but without the fighting. We had many wonderful experiences together and when those came to an end so suddenly I emerged from it a different person. My thoughts and values were forever shaken and anybody that interacted with me after that faithful time new not the person I was before, but the person I was afterwards.

Many of the people that knew me though my grief were silently, if not, greatly confused with a few gestures of such. I celebrated Erin’s sixteenth birthday at her grave with a party, complete with a cake and everything. Those that attended with me did so because they cared, although many of them thought I was just mad. I felt an overwhelming desire to have Erin with me though every milestone. I would talk to her or write her letters with every gift or tragedy that the good Lord decided to give me. I would introduce her to my new boyfriends, and my new friends. For the first few years I would take a trip to her graveside at least twice a year, her birthday and the anniversary of when she died. I felt a huge hole in my heart for a long time. It will never completely go away but I now know that I must move on. After all, it was the fear of such that made this wonderful young person decide that she had to breathe her last breath.

I stay in contact with her family a bit. Things have greatly changed for them too. Erin would have a younger brother and sister. She would be an aunt to two wonderful children. Her nephew is very proficent in the art of karate. Her older sister has settled down in her own life and more then likely looks just as Erin would had she gotten a chance to age. Methods of communication have changed since I was a broken teenage sitting by the phone. Where as Erin and I had to keep in touch with the phone or visits to each other’s house, now I can just see updates about her family on Facebook or though email. The things she never got to see still catch me breathless from time to time.

So I write this, reflecting on the fourteen years that have come to pass. I seed to remember the shattered dreams of a teenager while embracing the blessing I have had since then. I have learned many things through my journey. I have learned how to keep a friend. I have learned how to listen to my friends and family. Most of all, I have learned how very lucky I am to still be on this earth with all of those who love me. Some teens will not get to feel this sense of gratidue for they too will decide to take their own lives. It is my hope that somehow, I can remind them that there are things to live for. Whether it be friends, family or even as simple as a favorite cartoon there are many things that a lost teenager needs to remember when they feel that there is no way to move on.

When I was thirteen I woke up to her my mother utter the words that my best friend had committed suicide the night before. I remember being stunned and a bit confused. Up until this point I honestly had no idea what suicide was. After a few moments I realized that this word, as strange as I was to the concept, meant I would never get the pleasure of seeing my best friend alive again. I saw tears in all of my family’s eyes and felt very much alone. Of course, like any understanding parents would, my mom and dad told me I could stay home from school that awful October morning. I choose to go to school. Why? I believed I had a great mission to tell all of those that were close to her. I believe at the young innocent age I was at I thought things still were not real.

Going through the motions at school seemed to make me numb to the idea of grieving. I told quite a few of people about the sudden change of events. Quite a few of my fellow classmates decided to leave school with their parents escorting them out of the building with loud sobs. I saw the strain on every parents face and heard the cries of others, yet for some reason tears did not reach me. I could not bring myself to cry for the great friend I had lost. I felt some sort of guilt for not expressing the feelings that were hiding inside, but a lot of me questioned those events. I wondered inside my simple teenage mind if this situation was only a dream and/or a prank of some sort.

Surely Erin was going to appear beside me and tell me it was all a joke of some kind. It was all a misunderstanding and they had the wrong kid. She was suppose to show up to the party I was having at my house that following weekend, ok I got the joke now. Halloween was in two days and that was the whole joke. Ha Ha! When I saw her again I would tell how not funny this whole thing was. She would have to call many people and apologize for being so inconsiderate. Really!?

Of course while these thoughts swam in my head, I was watching more and more students leave school from the shock of the news. For some reason the reality of the situation did not seem to be hitting me. I spent my entire school day trying to reach another friend of mine. The one I had become close to since Erin had moved to a town about twenty minutes away. Although she had moved away about a year and a half ago we had kept in touch just like always. We had spent many nights on the phone and still went to each other’s house for sleepovers. I had developed a great relationship another friend named Amanda. She was my hometown friend and Erin was my out of town friend. They were my two best friends.

I spent the entire day trying to reach Amanda to tell her what had happened. Looking back at this about fourteen years later I realize that while I was doubtful about the truth of the claim of Erin’s death I was still telling everyone the news. I realize how silly this sounds now. I found out from the school staff that Amanda had stayed home sick that day and between every class I tried to call her at home. The line was always busy each time I tried. I don’t remember much else about that day. I went through the day like any other day not paying much attention to anything that the teachers were trying to say. I think a lot of them, including that teacher that Erin and I had shared the year before, were just wondering why I was still at school.

I remember getting picked up from school by my father and not saying much in the car on the way home. I had every book with me; I had not gotten any homework accomplished that entire day. The weight of all of the books gave me the physical weight on my hands that I carried inside of my chest. My soul was hollow but had a huge rock resting on it. I felt like my body was empty but full at the same time. An incredible urge to throw up waved upon me and I quickly swallow really hard and dismissed it has carry such a heavy weight of books.

As I walked into the front room, I noticed the paper was sitting on the dining table. Unknown to me, my mother went out to buy the local paper to keep the obituary announcement. I took a simple glance at the opened paper to see a picture of Erin right beside her name.



Erin Lyn Melvin

(1983-1996)



I quit reading at the second line where the year was presented. I remember then I had yet to contact Amanda and felt like I had to right then. I picked up the receiver to the phone in the kitchen and dialed the number I had been calling all day long. It rang and I took a deep breath and thought about what I was going to say.

“Hello,” the voice on the other end said. It was Amanda’s mom and I had to keep myself from just blurting out the news and hanging up.

“Hi, it’s Holly, can I talk to Amanda please”

“Hi Holly, sure no problem”. There was a moment of silence as I heard Amanda’s footsteps coming to the phone. I could just picture where she was coming from. I had been to her house numerous times prior to this phone call. For a moment my thoughts went to her dogs wondering if they were outside since I did not hear them in the background. It is amazing the type of thoughts you have when you are trying to avoid a conversation.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not too much. Hey you weren’t at school today.” I decide to prolong the conversation just a bit more no quite sure what I would say. How was I going to explain the situation when I myself had no idea what exactly was going on.



“Yeah I was sick today.”



“I tried calling you all day and the line was busy every time.”



“That is strange; I guess my mom could have been on the phone for a bit. Wait a minute did you say you were trying to call all day? Why? What is the matter?”



“Uh, Amanda, are you sitting down.” As soon as those words left my mouth I could not help but realize how ridiculous I sounded. Everyone knows that when you are asked if you are sitting down that bad news will always follow.



“Why? What is wrong, Holly?”



“I need to tell you something.”



“Ok, What?”



“Erin committed suicide last night, she is dead.” I said straightforward. I hear her grasp for air and I later found out that she had to concrete not to drop the phone. She had not been sitting down until I said those last words. I hear tears well up on her side, and I had to fight back my own tears. I wanted to cry but I did not want to cry over the phone to someone that was having a hard time too. Amanda did not need my grief right now. She had her own thoughts to process through. “Look, I will talk to you later. Are you ok?” I asked wincing at the last question hoping that she would let me go with realvity little problems. I had so much homework to do I could not spend very long on the phone. She assured me that she would be ok and that she understood I had to go.

First Random Story

It was a new day. It was a new school. She walked through the halls with a schedule in hand and a look upon her face that could only be of a freshmen completely lost. It was a sophomore boy that took her under his wing. He was tall and handsome. The type of boy that normally would never talk to such a fragile girl, but there seemed to be something pulling him beside her. Something like a gravity pull, or perhaps a magnetic attraction. Whatever the reason he found himself wanting to scoop up with lost girl and fly away with her. He wanted to take him into his arms and soar the clouds with her, to help her escape the hassles of everyday life of a high school freshman.




As he turned his head to see her enter the hall, feeling a nag in the back of his head the pulled him away from his conversation with his friend, his breath was lost. He got a bright glare from her long red hair, that he was sure would make any sunrise jealous. It seemed to circle her face in flowing loose curls. It was like a blanket of security perhaps that color was meant to scare off any predator. The fire color could be used as a visional remember not to touch, like the animals in the wild that use visual clues to tell the outside world how dangerous they were. However, he was not scared. He was not a predator but a protector. Her pasty white skin against such a loud color of hair as astounding. He felt his heart skip several beats and all of a sudden everyone else was gone. He could imagine them in their own world, him and this red haired stranger. He did not know her name, but yet he felt like he had known her for years. Something inside of him made him glide to her side. Without another word to his friends that were encircled by his locker he was beside this stranger in a matter of moments.



She seemed very startled when he suddenly appeared beside her. She had been looking at her schedule and the map of the school trying to figure out exactly where she was and where she had to go. Not of a moment had she noticed anyone else in the crowded hall. She had become part of her own world. A world of books and hallways. Her thoughts involved only the safest place to escape the scene of the hallway. She longed to be inside the next classroom where she could sit in the back of the classroom and disappear. She thought if she was lucky she could go unnoticed for the rest of the school year when her family would move once more. She was sure they would be moving again, they always moved every summer. Her father was a solider in the army and the job took her and her family away too many countries. The school she stood in right now was just another stop on the long journey until she was an adult and could make decisions for herself. She wanted to be lost in the crowd and does nothing that would make her miss this stop, so when he came up behind her the defenses went up instantly.



He was tall, probably a foot her so over her and his dark hair was very short with a short spike on top of his head. She would have found him handsome and could have gotten lost in those green eyes if she was not so convinced to leave quietly. He tried to engage her in conversation. It was mostly about helping her but she had heard this conversation start more then once. She was the new girl, like a shiny new toy to a boy that thought he was in love. Love from first sight was never something she believed in and many high school boys tended to use that line very often. He did not go to that line right away which was quite refreshing for a change. He did stumble over simple words trying to help her find her way. She giggled a bit inside herself. It was quite funny to see such a young boy try to impress a girl. Although she was the same age as her fellow classmates she felt so much older. Her past had given her more insight into the real world then any teenager should be exposed to. She felt a little sorry that his honest and innocent soul would one day be tainted by the experiences that he would have as an adult. She had seen war and famine. She had been in the countries where children of her age had to grow up much faster then they should. Many times she had even had to learn to survive on her own.



Living in the United States, for what little time they may be there, gave her a chance to be a kid. Unforanutely, a new setting can not erase emotional scars. So there she was, a wandering freshmen to everyone else, but a grown women inside. She always struggled with the idea not to share her advice of adulthood with the young kids she encountered. She wanted to save many of them from knowing lose and the emotional upheavals that came with growing up. If she could she would scoop them all up in her arms and tell them about the ways of the world. She would tell them all about the sickness that reigns in many countries. She would tell them all about how many dreams they have right now would not come true. She would tell them about the realty that is the outside world. The building they all stood in was like a prison. A safe prison. It gave the false hope that their lives would always be great and what they wanted them to be. This adorable boy that had come to her ’rescue’ had no idea where he would be in ten years. He had no idea of all the pain he would experience. All she knew was that she did not want to be part of that pain.



He tried to ask her if he could help her. For some reason his voice seemed to crack and his words were very fumbled. He did not know what was coming over him. He had never felt this way about anyone before. His composure was usually very cool and smooth. He found it even harder to talk to her when she seemed to be ignoring, or maybe just not caring about what he wanted to say to her. He wanted so bad to tell her about the feeling he had inside of him. He wanted to say how he had never felt this way before, but he was scared that she would run off and he would never see her again. Knowing her for exact five minutes or so already told him that he would fall apart if she would to leave him. It took all the strength he had not to take her into his arms and wrap her in them. He wanted to pull her tightly against him. He wanted to fell her heartbeat next to his. He wanted to spend every moment of his very existence next to her. However, as the first bell rang and the lost red haired stranger found her classroom, he remembered where he had to be. It was so hard to leave her side, but he knew that in just one short hour he would find her again. He did not know how, but somehow he would find her.



She was very grateful to find her first class shortly after he appeared beside her. Having to see him struggle much longer would have made her breakout in a giggle. He was cute and seeing in uncomfortable was a bit amusing. She walked into the classroom to find it not very unusual. It was painted with an olive green color, many sciences believed this color help students study better. She sighed heavily. If only the same people that painted this room understood that the fact that there was building that students could come to learn made the students learn better. She sat herself in the back of the classroom, just as planned, and waited for the bell to ring. One more hour of torture after another. She knew that torture was not really the name for it; she knew what true torture really was. This did not compare. There were, however, many other places she would rather be then trapped in the green walls of building. She looked out the window longing to be in a field of wildflowers running free. Free from all thoughts and all people. She could spend many hours, perhaps even days in her imaginary field. She could sleep under the stars with no fear of bombs going off in the distance. She could leave her physical and emotional self vulnerable to the outside world. In her paradise there was no one else. She had spent many hours in her fifteen years imagining her world. It was a world of peace and happiness, where the hand of some glory miracle wiped away all of her memories. It was the place she could feel at home, a place she would never have to leave.



She found a teardrop falling across her check as she thought of her special place. This was often the case when she was imagining the place where she thought she truly belonged. The field was not in a country but off in its own distance. It was not ruled by presidents, martial law, or any other type of government. It was a place of freedom. She knew that she would never find this place, but sometimes just thinking of this place gave her heart some peace. Sometimes it made her sad, for the longing of some place that was like this made her even more aware of her situation. If only…this was the thoughts that often crossed her mind. She did not how that sentence would end but she knew it would be in happiness. She would find a field of wild flowers, mostly purple. Purple was her favorite color. There was a tree that stood in the middle of the field where she would often fall asleep, or maybe absorb herself in one of the many books she was currently reading. Her books too gave her the escape that she longed for. She liked books of fantasy where the biggest problem was where to hide the dragon. The only problem with books is that they too had conflicts, although most of the time they were resolved in a good way. In a way that made everyone grow to be better people or animals. Good was known to tribute over evil very often. This was not the case of the reality life she lived in. This was the false truth that the fellow classmates that were entrapped in the ugly green room believed in.

He was there after the bell waiting for her. She was very surprised to see him there. She did not know where he had come from after the first class of the day, but she had not accepted to see him there. For a moment she let the surprise spread onto her face. She tried really quickly to disguise her feelings. It was too late he had seen the smile that came across her face. It had lit up him like a Christmas tree. He was glad to see some emotion on her face. Even happier that it was a good emotion that he believed he had brought on himself.