Small Bumps:

“Are you coming?” Parker smacked my bicep.

“Uh, not yet, I don’t think. I think I’m just going to watch…” the word ‘you’ was on my tongue but I dropped it. “For a minute.”

Parker squeezed my bicep and shrugged. He stuck his feet to his skateboard and threws an ollie into the bowl.

I watched for a minute, just like I said I would. I could skateboard too, but no other fourteen-year-old was as good as my best friend. He made skating look like an art form, look like a ballerina performing her most graceful pirouette. I preferred my inlines, making myself look like an ice skater, instead.

I pulled the laces on one of my inlines to tighten it. As I did, I watched a thin line appear just above the boot of my skate. It was a red and angry line. Blood leaked into the hem of my white sock. I screamed.

Parker looked up from a jump without breaking his concentration on his landing.

I pushed myself off the side of the bowl and slid into it.

“P!” Parker shouted. He ran over to me and helped me off my knees.

I settled down on my bottom as he pulled my skate and sock off to inspect my scratch.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I- I- Something scared me and I fell,” it wasn’t exactly a lie. The scratch just appearing did scare me, and I forced myself to fall. It wasn’t the first time I feigned an accident to keep people from asking questions.

“This scratch looks pretty deep,” he said. “We should get you to your Uncle Joe so he can stitch it up.”

I nodded.

He hooked a hand underneath my arm to help me up. With his free hand, he grabbed my sock and other skate. “Let’s go find Crispin,” he said.

I rested my bare foot on the skate I was still wearing and allowed him to lead me to the edge of the bowl.

He lifted me up onto the concrete outside the bowl, then climbed up after me. He led me to the parking lot, and we went to Crispin’s car.

The Douchewagon. It was actually an old station wagon, but Parker’s older brother pimped it up to make it look all douchey. I kind of hated him.

“What did you do to your girlfriend?” Crispin asked his brother from behind the wheel as Parker opened the back door for me.

“I didn’t do anything to my best friend,” he glared at Crispin. “She fell into the skate bowl.”

 “I already told you, P,” Crispin sighed. “If you can’t skate, then you should stop going into the skate bowl.”

“Shut up,” I frowned at him as I slid in the backseat.

Parker came in with me. “We need to take her to the hospital,” he told his brother.

“That is not a thing I agreed to,” Crispin looked at us through the rearview mirror.

“Come on, man, she’s hurt.”

“Fine, I’ll drop you off,” he said. “But you get one of your uncle’s nurses to take you home, young lady. I am tired of chaperoning you just because you insist on spending all your time with my younger brother.”

“You’re a jerk, man,” Parker said.

I simply stayed silent as Crispin started his car and put it into gear.

Parker grabbed my knee and smiled reassuringly.

I smiled back. I would be fine. We would get to the hospital soon, and then I wouldn’t have to deal with Crispin until school in the morning.

In Between Fairytales: Down the Rabbit Hole.

“Oof!” I didn’t land quite as gracefully as the girl seemed to. My backpack broke my fall. I reached into it for my cell phone. Unfortunately, my mother’s world doesn’t have any bars.

“Well, let’s go,” I said to myself.

I stood up and bent over to roll the hems of my pant legs up. It was about to get hot. I headed out.

Time didn’t move in my mother’s world, so I can’t say that I grew up there. But I spent a lot of my own childhood there. I knew all of the fairytales she used very well. I knew how to get from one of them to the other to the rest. I knew exactly how to get to the Queen of Heart’s rose garden.

The land between each of the fairytales was pretty barren. Lots of sand and lot of dunes. But if I looked carefully enough, I could see the shapes of certain fairytale worlds. I could see the shadows of Rapunzel’s tower and Maleficent’s castle in the distance. I could see the green of the Queen of Heart’s world coming up.

I traveled toward the green. Soon the sand became soft grass and the dunes became marshmallow shaped trees.

I reached the hedge maze that led to the rose garden. In my mother’s world, none of the heroines from the fairytales actually existed. So Alice herself never walked through those hedges. I knew from memory how to get through them and found the card guards still painting the white roses red. Off with their heads it would be for them.

I could hear the court going on in the courtyard, “Constance Innocence, you are hereby guilty for trespassing in the rose garden of the Queen of Hearts’! Queen of Hearts, what shall be her punishment?”

I pulled off my red ring and slipped it into the smallest zipper pocket of my backpack. I ran toward the courtyard.

The Queen of Hearts was standing plump and proud in the castle’s terrace. “Off with her head!” she yelled.

“No! Off with your head!”

I made it through the army of card guards. I let out a couple of huffs of air to knock over the two holding on to Constance. I grab her arm and run her off.

Meet Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary:

“She’s awake!” a voice next to me said. I looked over to see a black-haired boy about my age in the next bed. “You were out for three days.”

“It’s Saturday?” I groaned, struggling to sit up.

“Yeah,” he swung his legs over the side of the bed so that he was turned to face me. “What was it?”

“A car accident,” I said.

“Was it your accident?” he said.

“No,” I laughed.

He hopped down from his bed, “I’m dying.”

My chuckle died down. He took me from 60 to 0 just like that. I leaned forward to take in his jaunt features. His hollow cheeks, his sunken eyes, the protruding bones of his wrists. I didn’t want to know what was doing it to him.

“What’s your name?” he climbed in next to me. His shoulder rubbed against mine. I could feel the sharp bones in it.

“Mary,” I said.

“Mary,” he grinned. “I’m Daniel.”

“Daniel,” I said. He was still grinning, it was beautiful. He was beautiful for someone who was dying. It was such a shame. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Colorless: Purple.

Royal. Velvet. She is sophisticated.

She’s happy. She’s energetic. She is the joy that spreads across the girls faces. She is flowers that bloom as spring approaches, purple like the wisteria she braids through her hair.

Kendrance Ryan pulls purple smoke from her cigarettes. She lets the ash fall purple to the floor. The fire always sparks purple as she lights a new one.

Purple smudges her eyelids where her tired eyes rub. Lilac smears the lips that often kiss. Purple is nails that are polished.

Kendrance Ryan has a purple bedroom. It holds her head at night. It covers her while she sleeps. It closes over the window that she sometimes looks at as she lusts to be wrapped up in the purple stars.

But most of all, purple is who Kendrance Ryan is.

Momentary Magic:

“We should tackle your room tonight,” Mackenzey unlocks my apartment door.

“I’m too tired to tackle my room today,” I drop my jacket over the back of a recliner. “Going back to school is absolutely exhausting.”

“Pick up your jacket, young lady,” Mack comes in behind me, hands over her hips.

I head off to my room, and my tanned leather jacket lifts up and follows me. I pull my book bag off and set it on my bed. The jacket falls beside it. I change into a Victoria’s Secret long-sleeved tee shirt and sweatpants.

“Where do you want me to put your magazines,” Mack calls from the living room.

“Are you cleaning again?” I call back. I pull my schoolbooks from my bag. I need Internet access to do my history work, so I grab the needed book and make my way over to my computer.

“Seriously, babe,” Mack appears in my doorway. “I can’t find your magazine rack.”

“That’s because I moved it in here.”

“Oh.” She finds it settled under the window by my bed and sets some magazines from the living room on it. “Are you sure you don’t want to clean your room today?”

“I’m sure,” I say as I pull Facebook up over the webpage.

“What are you doing?” she looks over to find me staring at the Facebook login screen. “Oh, you’re going to tackle that today.”

I nod slowly. I move my cursor to the sign in bars and login.

“Woah,” she breathes on my neck.

I have dozens of messages, hundreds of notifications, and one friend request.

“Is that Toby?” she gestures to the friend request.

I click it. Indeed it is. I accept it.

“Well, I’m going to dust your coffee table. You have fun flirting with Toby.” I flip her off, and she smacks my middle finger just before she bounces, giggling, back into my living room.

I pull up my notifications. Most of them are wall posts, so I move to my profile.

Hundreds of wall posts. I scroll through literally hundreds. Most of them are simple condolences and “sorry for your loss”es. Some of them are a bit longer, but still leave me with the same nasty feeling. But then I stop at one.

Mrs. Martinez, my clumsy, old math teacher left a note on my wall just the morning after prom. I think it’s a little inappropriate for a student to have her teachers of her friends list, but Mrs. Martinez requested me early last year, so I accepted. I read her message.

Brigitte, Brigitte, Brigitte. I can’t believe it was just last night that your parents chaperoned your prom. Your mom looked so gorgeous in sparkly red. Your dad just as debonair as always. When I saw them looking at each other, I didn’t think I could see another love so strong. Until I saw their gazes fall on you.

I choke a sob.

You were dancing with your brother, and the two of you were so happy together. Your parents looked so happy to be just that, your parents. It was the last time I saw the four of you so happy.

I am so sorry that this is happening to you. I thank the Lord as I type this that you still have your brother to take care of you. Stay strong, the two of you.

I cry hard as I type a reply.

Mrs. Martinez,

We haven’t been strong. We’ve been apart. And I haven’t been strong enough to get on Facebook until just now.

Thank you so much for your words, though. They are the only ones on here that really captured my attention.

My parents were so happy in that moment. My parents were always… so happy.

So, thank you.

After I hit enter, I drop my head to the desk and just sob.

The noise of Mack moving around in the living room stops for a moment. I can tell she’s thinking about coming to see me, but she probably believes I need my space. And I really do. She starts my vacuum cleaner up.

Several minutes later, a chime sounds on my computer.

I look up.

Toby messaged me.

Bridge. Brigitte.

I laugh. I type a reply.

Hi, knight in shining armor.

I wait a couple of minutes as the screen tells me he’s typing.

Knight in shining armor, huh? I think I like that.

I’m feeling a little flirty after my sobbing session.

I think I love it. I might have to call on you to save me again sometime.

Again, the screen tells me he’s typing almost instantly.

You plan on getting into a car accident again?

A sob starts fresh in my throat. I’m sure he didn’t mean to make a joke of my parents’ death, but after having just read such a sweet condolence from my teacher, the pain is new again in my heart. I’m about to get up to leave my desk when the page chimes again.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about that being so insensitive. I’ll save you from anything, not just from car wrecks. Brigitte, I’ll save you from this pain.

I close the Facebook page and turn my monitor off. I climb back on my bed. Crawling over to my pillows, dragging fistfuls of sheets with me, I pick up my book bag and dump it of its contents. The small bottle of fairy dust rolls across the bed.

I capture my prize and empty half of the powder on my palm. It doesn’t take me long at all to snort it up.

I curl into my pillows and sob, fresh.

“Brigitte,” my best friend comes softly into my room. She climbs up on the bed with me and pulls me into her arms. Her comfort is exactly what I need.

Regarding Katrina: Meet Tawni Corazon~

As I'm working on my outlines for Regarding K today, I thought I might share it on here.
It's a journal entry of a boy named Jay written seven years from now, about a girl named Tawni.

I met a really interesting new girl yesterday. She was in my roommate's study group.
As I stepped back into our apartment after work, she turned to look at me and her dark hair followed. The first thing I noticed was that she was in all black and it made her green eyes pierce.
And then those eyes sparkled.
She looked at me with an intensity I'd never seen from a girl before.
As I walked off to my bathroom to shower, I heard her ask my roommate, "Who is that?"
I never imagined anyone could have a crush on me.
I left the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around my waist. She was just standing there looking at me. I didn't mean to shout a swear at her.
She started talking to me. She was surprisingly open with me. We told each other about our pasts, our parents. We talked about Hurricane Katrina. She feels as strongly about the tragedy as I do, only on an opposite spectrum.
She asked me if she could show me her home.
I got dressed, putting a lot more thought into it than I normally do.
We walked out of my apartment hand-in-hand.
We got into her car, and she drove me to her home.
I still can't fathom it, where she lives.
I've only been here one time before, and I barely even remember it.
As she parked her car behind the peachy colored abandoned house, I told her about my one trip here. She listened intently and then graced me with various stories of her times here. She's a really good story-teller.
We went through the fence and she took me to the empty admittance station so I could get the full effects.
This place is pretty eerie: Six Flags over New Orleans.
The park hasn't even been in operation for sixteen years, but I swear you can still hear the happy squeals of children.
She took me back to the building where she sleeps. It's SpongeBob. I don't remember him at all from my time here.
The building doesn't even look how she described the ride. She said it had been a 3D interactive ride, that it was like an iMax theatre.
It does not look like a theatre now. It is very... pink inside. The walls are covered in pink velvet. She even figured out how to put in a hardwood floor. She fixed the simulator seat and covered it in pink cushions. The front row of cushions she has filled with various stuffed animals from around the park. She cleaned them up very nicely. She fixed their holes with buttons and little patches. The back row is the one she sleeps in.
We snuggled together in that back row.
The only part of the ride that she kept intact was the theatre screen itself. She set up a battery operated projector that she's attached to her tablet to play movies on.
We watched an old animated one.
Once the movie was over, she showed me her favorite broken down ride, which for the life of me I can't remember the name of. And then she drove me home.
My roommate had already left for the graveyard shift at his job. He'd left the lights simply dimmed. Something smelled of incense.
"What time is it?" she asked me.
I told her that it was almost one and I didn't think she should drive in the dark alone.
She agreed. And then she suggested that we were both probably dusty from our time at the park. So we took our very first shower together.
In the shower, I washed her wavy hair and asked how she gets showered while she's living at the park.
She laughed and told me that she gets cleaned up at the college.
She attends the University of New Orleans with my roommate.
She kissed me for the first time in the shower. And then she slapped soap over my mouth.
She has the prettiest little tinker of a laugh.
We got dressed together, but our clothes didn't stay on long.
She's so tender and pliable, her skin soft. You never could imagine that she lives in such a harsh place as an abandoned park.
I lost my virginity to her last night, but I could tell she has done this before.
I wanted to just hold her afterward, so I did. I somehow ended up telling her about my lost batman stuffed animal when I was four while I did.Her beauty just made me get lost in the story.
When I woke up this morning, she was dressed in all black again, but they were my clothes. One day I'm going to get to the bottom of why she dresses the way she does.
She was sitting at my desk, finishing up her work for class. She explained to me that she had two morning classes. and then one in the afternoon. She thought that she would have to take a nap in between. She insinuated that I should meet her at the SpongeBob ride to take the nap with her.
I didn't have to work today, so I met up with her at the exact time she told me to. She's so cuddable.
When I woke up just a little while ago, she had already gone. But she left a Batman stuffed animal in her place.

Week One of Routines.

Since I'm probably going to be without my iPod for the next week, I went ahead and made up a routine that'll carry me through to Saturday. And it's all about working on my fiction. (Tomorrow I'm just going to spend the day reading. So I didn't worry about making a routine for it.) Tuesday: Regarding Katrina outlines. I also need to write Annabelle's report for school, and make up Jay's journal (not necessarily all on Tuesday). Wednesday: Momentary Magic outlines. Thursday: Quite Contrary outlines. By day. By hour. Colorless: Outlines. And I need to figure out all of the different colors. Don't worry. That makes sense to me. In Between Fairytales: Outline. Figure out the fairytales. Small Bumps: Outline. Write a whole bunch of character letters. I may also grant you all the special treat of posting snippets of each of these books during these days. And maybe with my books' help, I can get through this week waiting for the new battery for my iPod. I made an extra little note on my routine list, that I may as well put here: Read through/proof Mave & Marti, try for anytime I'm on the computer. Re-edit Yen's Revenge like I did AWD. Re-edit the AWD trilogy like that too. BUT I want to work on the TMI fanfiction first - or do it all one book at a time. I think that'll be pretty cool. And it'll be a challenge to help me really get to know my characters.

Here is a List of All the Things I Have to do Now That I've Finished My Book:

I realize I said days ago that I was going to make a post stating what all I need to get started on now that I've finished my last book, but my iPod has been out of commission for the last few days, and I feel so lost without it. I mean, I'm going to get it fixed and everything, but I'm going to spend the time until it does curled up in the fetal position on the floor.
But, I'm going to go ahead and make this post now:

One of my bigger projects, honestly, is working on my three blogs. (Okay, so if you count all of my side Tumblogs, I have WAY more than three. But all I do with those sides is click reblog. So, there is that).
I have my main Tumblog: Faithliesin-me.us
Currently, I am working on retagging all of my writing on there. That's taking a lot longer than you might think. I'm on my third or fourth day of it already, and I'm only, maybe, a third of the way done. But I'm going to feel soooo good when it is done!
And when it is done, I must finish working on my writing links. TBH, those go on here, but they're linked straight to my Tumblr theme.
I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO WRITE AN ABOUT PAGE FOR NEARLY FOUR MONTHS.
And I forgot to link my new blog to my Tumblog!

Most of my work for my Tumblog is actually on my iPod SOBSOBSOB.
And that is my book quote edits.
And I cannot lose those.
And I am praying hard that I haven't lost them.
Pray with me, please!

This is the second blog I am now working on.
I need to finish my links. I thought I was finished the other day, but, nahh, I remembered a couple more links I need to add. So, I'll try to do that within the next couple of days.
I still need to come up with some writing routines for myself that I'm going to post on here.

And I made up a list of different types of post I want to make regularly on here:
Writing updates.
And I don't know why I can't post some of my own writing scenes.
I'm going to continue my black & white picture stories.
I've got the posts about hot drinks to accompany writing.
And I've got the posts about music to accompany writing.
And when I get my iPod back, I can finally start posting my writing tips that I've been working so hard on. Only, I clearly think I'm Jar Jar Binks, because this is what I actually wrote in my notes:

My last blog is my new blog, Aargh. I made the list of regular posts, but I'm not going to post those on here.

And then I have my fiction writing.

I'm working on four fanfictions (it took me a (lot more than a) minute to remember the fourth one without my iPod, but I finally managed).

I don't normally write fanfiction. Usually, when I do, it's an alternate or extra ending.

And that just so happens to be what three of my current fanfictions are.

One of them, I just cannot tell you because it's a Christmas present for someone who might read this!

The other two are:

ABC Family's Twisted,

and Descendants!

My final fanfiction project is more along the lines of rewriting my favorite book series using my original characters, instead. I think it could be fun.

We'll just have to see if I can get any of these projects done.

It took me a while to count up all of my original fiction projects, because I'm so used to having all of them right there in the palm of my hand on my iPod. But I gathered up all of my journals, and my courage, and I counted them all up. And, yeah. There are twenty.

I never did put my last completed novel through it's final edit, so first, there's that.

I need to re-edit Yen's Revenge in the same manner that I did A Winged Dreamer.

I need to trim seven novels into a trilogy.

And then I need to write:

Regarding Katrina,

Momentary Magic,

Quite Contrary,

Colorless,

In Between Fairytales,

Small Bumps,

Countess,

Lex,

Introvert,

S'up,

Flaw,

Belenus,

and two books that don't yet have names. (And if you want to know what any of these books are about, please feel free to ask me, I'd love to let you know!)

My final fiction project is taking an experience that was really great in my life, and making it into a fictional story. That's going to end up going onto my new blog.

And then, of course, there's all of the therapy work from the past three years that I still need to organize. But I really don't care too much about that.

Now I just need to come up with some really good routines.