Starla

Title: Starla

Plot # 22

Written: Jan 2010 

“Whoohoo!” my laughter echoed through the air as I soared by on the newly made star, “Rosalina this star is amazing!”

“Yes, Starla,” My aunt was standing on the ground watching me try out her latest design, “and I would appreciate it if you avoided the buildings and save the stunts for when it’s not your first time flying it!”

I steered back towards her and landed, “This is defiantly your best invention yet.”

She pulled the star out of my hands smiling, “Thank you, but you realize that is what you always say about my inventions.”

“Because it true!” I threw my hands in the air for emphasis, “all your inventions are incredible, and the next one is always better then the last.”

She smiled but I could tell she wasn’t convinced, “It is very maneuverable but,” she pressed a button on the top and the large metal board shrank into a ball of light the size of a lemon. She held it up to her face like she was examining it with new eyes, “it doesn’t have a very long range. It can only go a couple of galaxies before it looses its connection and dies.”

A couple of galaxies? “Sounds long range to me.”

She laughed like that was funny, “well yes, to you,” she said it like I was five and still thought unicorns existed, “but when you’re traveling the entire universe, a couple of galaxies isn’t very far.”

“True,” I took the light from her hands, “but as you can see, I’m not traveling the universe, so I say it is long range; making it your best invention yet.”

She rolled her eyes, “Some day you’ll invent something twice that powerful and wonder why you ever praised me.”

I had to think about how to respond to that one. Aunt Rose was always modest, but that comment was almost insulting. I wondered for the millionth time why she had been so critical lately, “well until then,” I hugged her neck trying to squeeze the sarcasm out, “you’re still the best inventor I know.”

She just hugged me back, not bothering to argue. She knew as well as I that I wasn’t an easy person to sway.

* * *

       “Stella, if you wouldn’t mind…” I jumped up to keep my papers from flying across the room as my morph star whizzed into the library. She changed from her star shape into a six-inch version of me. The mini-me walked across the table making her usual tinkling sound.

       “What else would I be doing besides studying constellations?”

        She made another tinkling nose and I blushed, “I’m not always thinking about Jack. I concentrate when I need to.” I stood up from my chair and walked over to a shelf.

        The library wasn’t very big. Well, considering the size of the observatory it was on; plus it was an observatory so you’d think that the library would be a key point in the structure, but no. still it was a pretty good size and had over five-thousand books, so it still made it hard to find things.

       My eyes scanned up and down the shelf, “Do you remember where Aunt Rose keeps her nebula books?”

       Stella made her “beats me” sound.

       “Of course you wouldn’t know,” I bit my tongue. Apparently I hadn’t squeezed the sarcasm out of Rose, but sucked it into myself. I turned around to see Stella, now a flame, blackening the edges of my papers, “I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated. I’ve been studying for hours and I still can’t figure out this galaxy.”

       Quick to forgive, she turned back into mini-me and flew over to help me search.

       It took us about ten minutes to find the nebula books, but it wasn’t much help, since as soon as I sat back down at the table I suddenly remembered this galaxy didn’t even have nebulas.

      “Ugh!” I banged my head against my useless pile of books, “This is hopeless!”

      Stella gave me an encouraging tinkle, but I just shrugged it off, staring at my books mindlessly.

      “You know,” a voice came from the door way, “I hear you get a lot more out of the book if you actually open it.”

      A tall boy stood in the doorway, about a year older then me. He was wearing kaki shorts and a stripped polo that brought out his blue eyes. His sandy spiked hair and gorgeous smile made him just about the most attractive boy alive.

      My mood immediately lightened and I jumped up from the table, “Jack!” I ran across the room.

      He laughed as he swept me into a hug and spun me around.

     “What are you doing here?” I asked when he finally, but regrettably, put me down, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for another two weeks?”

      He shrugged, “Change of plans.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

      Stella mad a sort of ‘attention please’ noise and flew over to us.

      “Who’s this?” Jack asked.

      “Oh, that’s right; you haven’t met Stella have you?” Jack and I hung out a lot, but we were usually planet searching. He hadn’t really spent that much time on the observatory. “This is my morph star.” I motioned to the bird perched on my shoulder.

      “A morph star?”

      “Yeah, we have a lot of them here. They are originally light stars, but they can change into whatever shape they want. She likes birds for some reason, but she usually changes into a mini-me when I’m around.”     

       As if to illustrate that point she changed into that shape.

       Jack flashed his gorgeous smile, “Cool. Can she do me?”

      “She could, but she won’t,” he looked at Stella with mock offense and I laughed, “I’ve yet to get her to change into anything male or ugly.”

       He seemed fascinated by that, “Why?”

       I shrugged, “My theory is what they morph into, to them, is like what we wear to us. A girl star would never change into a spider and a boy star would never change into a daisy. Just like you would never wear a dress and I would never wear baggy shorts.”

       “He nodded, “That makes sense.”

       “Not to mention,” I leaned towards him and whispered, “Stella tends to be a little more vain then the rest.”

       Jack laughed and Stella turned into a flame again, making me jump.

Two Spies

Title:(unknown)

Written: Oct.4^th 2010 (typed Nov.20^th)

Plot# (none)

       The air was just cold enough to cause discomfort, but not enough to make me shiver. The sound of my car door shutting seemed like a bang and my shoes seemed to cause echos off the asphalt onto the trees.

I could see his silhouette on a bench next to the playground. Given the hour of night and the abandoned park, this should have been a very freaky situation, but surprisingly I wasn't scared. I wasn't frightened at all; which is usually an emotion that comes easily to me. But I was definitely nervous.

        Once I got close enough, he stood up from the bench smiling, “Hello Clarissa.”

        “Hello, Shaun.”

        There was a good yard or two between us and he started to walk towards me, “I didn't think you would come.”

        That makes two of us, “I couldn't exactly not come.”

        He smiled, “Very true.”

        I stood there uncomfortably waiting for him to say something else. I never knew how to act around Shaun. We had known each other almost our whole lives and considering all the things we'd been through and the type of relation we'd had, we should have been enemies, but for some weird reason we weren't.

It made it even more awkward with the fact that he, for some unexplainable reason, was completely in love with me. I didn't even really view him as a friend, but he saw me almost as a potential wife. He was well aware of the fact that I wasn't a big fan of him, due to past decisions he had made, but that didn't dampen his spirits. He was constantly making moves on me; throwing out blatant compliments, trying to hold my hand, or standing extra close to me.

       “Just couldn't keep away from me?”

        I rolled my eyes, “Let's just get what we came for, okay?”

       “What, no grand welcoming?” he took a step towards me, “We haven't seen each other in a while. I think I at least deserve a special greeting.”

        “I said 'hi',” I tried to discreetly take a step back, but he just took a bigger step forward, “I think that's plenty of a greeting.”

        “Come on, I think I deserve something a little better then just a 'hi',” he closed the majority of space between us. I could feel his hand brushing up against mine.

       I long ago gave up trying to keep him from being friendly. Obviously I put up some resistance, drawing the line at holding hands or, heaven forbid, kissing. But little things, like hands brushing, I just tried to ignore.

But this one was rather difficult, since for some reason it was making my heart pound, “I have more important things to do Shaun, namely get the thing I came here to get.”

       “I think that can wait a few seconds,” he brushed his finger along my arm, sending a wave of butterflies into my stomach. Correction, not butterflies. Butterflies were what you got when you were happy and were associated with romance. These were more like bats, poking my innards with there wings and sending a weird rush through my body.

       The rush was small enough that it more woke me then entranced me and I quickly stepped away, “I have things to do. Lets just get this done.”

       He shook his head, “Fine. This way,” he then disappointed, but confident, started to walk away, “You know, you should really loosen your schedule if you don't even have time to enjoy the moment.”

       I muttered a,”whatever,” and followed him to the other end of the park.

       He walked in front of me, wearing a stripped polo and khaki shorts; my weakness when it came to men's apparel. He'd probably done that on purpose. I silently cursed myself for not thinking ahead and changing before I came. I'd been in a dressy mood that day, so I was wearing a nice pea-coat, along with dressy shoes and my hair was down and curled. Which he probably thought I had done on purpose, which I hadn't.

Fairy Tale Scene

    SNOW WHITE TWIST

 

      I stared down the line of my arrow, pointed straight at his heart. The moment he turned around was one of the darkest in my life. His face sank and he dropped the pebbles he had been skipping, forgetting them.
    “I guess this means you’re not really a duchess.”
    “No, you’re Highness, I’m not.”
    He raised his hands in surrender, “Well, I suppose this is it then. Mind if I ask who sent you? My uncle, I assume”
    “Your stepmother actually.”
    “Ah, they’re branching out I see,” His voice cracked on the last word, revealing his fear of the being so near to his imminent death, “Well take pride in this moment. I’m a bigger kill then even you realize. You sure you’re up for it?”
    “I have no choice.”
    “Being threatened? Doesn’t surprise me. So, I am only one of two victims here. My apologies for you being dragged into this.”
    My expression stayed the same. Every muscle in my body was completely still. Every fiber in my being told me not to do this, save one, but that one survival instinct seemed to over power all the rest.
    His face was desperate, “I beg you, do it quickly before I have to ponder on the prospect  of  my death for a moment longer.”
    My hand began to shake. What kind of person was I? Could I possibly bring myself to kill him? I had a good incentive to be sure, but how noble was preserving my life really? If the queen had threatened a love one of a innocent friend, I could do the crime without the guilt of a weak motive. But, she was only threatening me. Could I really put my life so decidedly above some one else’s? His demise for my survival?
    My muscles wouldn’t move and I began to be creeping into the dangerous possibility of him killing me. I had to cover up my hesitation, “Why does she want you dead?”
    He thought I was taunting him. His voice was angry, “Why does she want any one dead? I’m a road block on the way to her idea of a perfect world.”
    I stared at man standing before me. His blonde hair and blues eyes made him fit the royal family, but was he really one of them at heart? My perspective was rapidly changing and I began to want this man alive more then anyone else I ever knew.
    “Please,” his voice was mournful agitation, “get it over with and leave me to die in peace.”
    I didn’t move. The air between us was thicker then any tangible substance.
    I let the arrow fly.
    It whizzed past his ear, missing his skin by a fraction of an inch. It took only a second to recover; he began to charge me.
    I quickly pulled out another arrow screaming, “That was not a mistake!”
    He was forced to a stop five feet before my already cocked arrow. He poised to jump, but there was no way he could reach me before my arrow killed him. He was at my mercy once again.
    “Believe me your highness, if I wished it, you would already be dead.”
    He stared at my weapon breathing heavily. He stepped back, slowly nodding, “I believe you.”
    I lowered my bow, practically dropping it to the ground, “There’s a cave behind those trees,” I pointed across the lake behind him, “It’s surrounded by berry bushes. if you’re smart you can stay there undetected for a good week.”
    I walked over to my horse, still grazing, and pulled a water canteen out of it’s saddlebag, tossing it to the prince, “There is a clean river close by as well.” 
    He stayed still for a while, just looking at me perplexedly. I walked back over to him ready to push him towards his new directions.
    “Who are you?” his question inquired after more then just my name.
    I looked up at his handsome face. Everything about him was royal, “You already said it yourself. A victim, just like you,” I reached beneath my sleeve pulling out my cherished bracelet, “It’s a blessed charm. I swear it’s kept me form danger countless times. Take it. Perhaps it can make up for the crime I was selfish enough to almost commit.”
    He took the gift, respectfully placing it on his wrist, “I believe that has already been done,” he looked at me with a level of gratitude I had never witnessed.
    How rapidly our relationship had changed.
    “Good luck,” and with that he ran away to where I had directed. I watched him till he disappeared into the trees.
    I slowly moved back toward the bow, picking it off the ground.
    I had a feeling I was going to need it.

Confession

     “Will,” I looked down at the grass not being able to meet his eyes, “there's something you need to know about me. It's kind of a weird thing to bring up, but if we're going to be friends you need to know this,” I dared to look up at him and took a deep breath, “You've been asking a lot of questions about me lately and I'm not mad, but it's just... there are a lot of things about me you don't know and there are a lot of things that I can't really tell you.”

      He just stood there waiting for me to go on.

      “I'm a very complicated person. I have a very unique past and there are some things that for a very long time, if ever, I won't be able to tell you,” I was trying to make it sound normal like I just had an embarrassing history rather then a completely unbelievable one.

He slipped his hand into mine and stared at one of my curls flying in the wind, “What are you trying to tell me?”

      “I know it's not fair and if you want to keep some things secret from me you can.”

      He used his free hand to snag the curl he had been watching and twirled it around his finger, “I don't want to keep any secrets from you.”

      I wasn't getting anywhere. At this point I could feel tears sneaking up in the back of my eyes, “J-Just know that if you ask a question and I don't necessarily answer it, I'm doing it for your own safety,” my voice dropped to a whisper, “and mine.”

      Something flickered on his face and he looked me strait in the eyes, “Annie, are you trying to tell me your in some kind of danger?”

      My heart nearly broke in two. His eyes were full of nothing but caring and protection. I wanted to tell him so badly. Yes I'm in danger. Yes I want you to help me. But I would be putting not just him in danger if I did that.

      My fear of him getting hurt was bigger then my want for his help, “No, I'm not in danger,” the first time my lie sounded completely fake. I blamed it on the tears.

      I recognized his calculating face. He was trying to guess, “Are you in trouble with the law?”

      I nearly jumped at him even thinking of me as a criminal, “No! It 's not like that.”

      “Annie, if you need help, you know you can tell me anything.”

      Could I?

      I looked away from the painfully understanding face, “No,” I shook my head, “I'm not in danger or anything I just wanted you to understand that if I don't tell you some things it's not because I don't trust you. I...” my voice started breaking, “I just can't tell you.”

      Will put both his hands on my cheeks, making me look at him, “Do you promise? Do you, Annie Marie     Martingale, promise that you are in no danger in anyway? That you aren't telling me things for the single reason of protecting me?”

      My heart dropped and a tear escaped down my cheek. I couldn't lie to him like that. I couldn't break a promise. I gently pulled his warm hands from my cheeks and looked at him for a moment.

      Then I ran.

      I could hear him calling my name till I was far past the hill and nothing but fields lay ahead of me.

Hillarious story written by an anonomous girl in my class

Boris Bordonaro deposited the 1 cup measure of bullets into his homemade blender. His blender was really a work of art, powered by a V8 diesel engine, the rotary blades could turn even the toughest of flesh into a pulp. Boris, however, wasn't trying to pulpify flesh. He was just having his daily breakfast, liquified bullets. (Yes you read that right. Unless you read something other than what I wrote, in that case, you read it wrong.) Boris wasn't particularly loquacious. He was a man of action, not vocabulary. When Boris's breakfast reached equilibrium, he dumped it into a crystal cocktail glass and headed to his work-out room. He headed over to the Thigh Master and started...mastering his thighs. Between leg compressions Boris would sip his breakfast. Boris Bordonaro had a lot in common with blender, his muscles seemed to chiseled out of the finest marble, he was powerful and tough, and he could turn even the toughest of flesh into a pulp. (With his bare hands I might add.) You see, Boris is no ordinary man. He is in fact, the number one contract killer in the world. Now you might wonder why a man would ever want to murder contracts, I'll tell you this: I don't know. But that's not really the interesting thing about Mr. Bordonaro, decimating legal documents is only his career, killing people is his hobby. (That was the interesting part.) Boris thought about his plans for the day. His percolating brainwork went something like this: Gotta bunch of contracts at work...Gunna rip em' to shreds. Yeah...rip em'. Then I'll smash em' with a meat tenderizer. Then I'll get my battle ax and pulverize a whole cabinet of contracts...That's good. Gotta kill the man at the phone booth today...he always takes a really long time...gotta kill that guy. Yeah...I'll rip him to shreds...like a contract. 

I told you he wasn't much for conversation, I'm sure you can see why. Boris headed out to work and he killed those contracts. The scene was brutal and borderline offensive, when he'd finished up Boris Bordonaro trekked to the red phone booth on the corner by his penthouse and waited. He hadn't exactly formulated a plan, but he didn't really need to. Instincts would guide him in this kill. Where is he? Where is the dirty rotten scoundrel? I gotta get this...wait...what's that smell? Oh...yum...Boris had noticed a construction zone and was distracted for a moment. When he turned back to look at the phone booth it was empty. This was odd. The man was pretty regular in his daily usage of the phone. Boris pulled open the door on the booth and went in. He'd never actually been in one of these things before. He decided to finish out his wait in there. Unbeknownst to Mr. Bordonaro, Steven Halling, the man he was out to kill, was home sick. Steven had a horrid cold and decided to stay home and watch the Discovery channel on his faded blue sofa. As Boris sat in waiting for a man who wouldn't show, people started to gather. You generally didn't see a man like Boris in a little red phone booth. But that's not why they were gathering, a krispy kreme truck had tipped over in the road and people were scrambling to get free doughnuts. After 6 consecutive hours of waiting, Boris drew the conclusion that the man probably wasn't going to show, so he decided that he'd kill some people stealing doughnuts instead. (They were being really noisy and he had a headache.) Boris stood and pulled on the handle of the door. It wouldn't budge. Boris yanked harder. Still nothing. Boris rocked his body back and forth against the walls of the phone booth, hoping to tip it over and gain freedom, but he only succeeded in making himself look like an escaped mental hospital patient. Boris was stuck. He was stuck bad. When the realization of this sunk into Mr. Bordonaro's skull, he sunk to his knees and began to weep violently. At this, people with doughnuts and camera cellphones gathered around the booth. It wasn't often when you saw a man like Boris in a phone booth, but even more rare was seeing a man like Boris sob. These people knew a you tube hit when they saw one. They smiled as their phones captured this media gold. What a great day, first free doughnuts, now this. Life doesn't get much better than that folks.