My readers will have to forgive me, because my book is still in the "extremely rough" stage. Also, please keep in my mind, that this is only a snippett...so events may be slightly unclear.
Start of a new chapter (the thoughts of Lori Russell, age 14)
September 3, 1993
I'm beginning high school. I never thought I would make it this far. Who am I? What am I? What am I to become? It's so large compared to our little Green Meadows Elementary. Karen is, as expected, very excited. She's so boy crazy...geez. Well, the boys don't interest me. I have too much studying to do, and if I want to be a lawyer, will I have time to be a wife and mother? Besides, I don't think I want to get married. Maybe if mom were still here...maybe I would want to. No, my mission has now...no, to call it a mission sounds too...charitable. My DESTINY is to overthrow the rule of the Kensington family. Gross, destiny sounds romantic. Ah...yes...this is my REVOLUTION. "I want to be change, change for the truth, the better good, the people." -to use Daniel Kensington's own words. He is change not for truth, but for falsehood! Maura's father has become insufferable. He has ruined so many families with his dirty schemes. And now...he wants to run for state governor? What is to become of our town...our state? Is there no justice? I seem to be the only person my age who sees this, except for Karen, and maybe the infamous Ty Waters, whose family has been bankrupt by the Kensingtons. Everyone else thinks Mr. Kensington is just dandy! They have been so blinded by his superb acting skills. I have seen him for what he really is...And I cannot tell anyone, not even Karen. No, I must not even write it. It is too terrible a truth...for now it must continue to haunt my dreams, along with the lady in the strange veil and robes. Mom would have known what to do...
September 5, 1993
Although I may hate Maura Kensington, I cannot help but pity her. I walked by Kensington Manor today and heard screams. I rushed by, wishing not to see more than I already have. Oh God, if there is one, what do I do? I cannot hide in the shadows forever.
***
The day had been a bleak one. Foggy, rainy-but not the good kind of rain, the kind of rain that only spits, frizzes one's hair, and makes you feel like a dirty wet dog all day. Lori was tired...she had had another dream about the lady again.
"Lori, would you please answer my question?" Mr. Slater had called on her. Oh Christ, what were we learning? Lori thought frantically coming out of her doze. "Geometry, please, Ms. Russell...not daydreams." Mr. Slater reprimanded.
Ty Waters and his chronies sniggered behind Lori. She didn't care about Ty, she was used to it by now, but offending Mr. Slater was the last thing she wanted to do. Shamed, she sat up straight and bent over her notes trying to concentrate.
After class, she apologized to Mr. Slater and he had been understanding...even worried. "Lori, I've noticed you looking very tired all the time. Maybe less studying and more sleeping?" "Right," she said, "more sleeping." If only I could sleep, she thought. Would Mr. Slater understand a mysterious woman visiting her dreams? No, it was best not to let on you were crazy, especially in a small town.
She walked out of the classroom, thankful it was Friday, and bumped into Ty in the hallway. "Excuse me, Ms. Daydream...I mean Ms. Russell," Tyler tipped an invisible hat. "Ugh...very funny Ty," Lori grunted, bending to pick up her books. "Very original, really." Tyler bent to help her. "Here you go, Ms. Daydream," Ty said, slipping the last book into Lori's already full arms. "Yeah, whatever, thanks Ty," Lori said disgruntled. Tyler walked away laughing.
Lori rolled her eyes at Tyler's back and turned down the hall toward Literature class. They had been reading Anthem. It was an interesting read and Lori, of course, had finished it before everyone. But there had been something wrong with the ideas in the book. Was it really all about individualism? Lori had wondered. She had voiced her skepticism in class one day only to be met with stares from her classmates who clearly did not understand. The teacher, Mrs. Keating, although kind, had given Lori quite an unsatifactory answer. "Ms. Russell, I do believe you have read ahead, and we will have to address this later," Mrs. Keating had said.
When Lori had asked her father about it later, he had asked to see the book. Mr. Russell flipped through the last few pages of the book and dismissed it as a "horrible philosophy that left no room for charity." Lori wasn't sure about charity, she thought that sounded terribly religious. But she had agreed that it was a horribel philosophy. The author was clearly off her rocker. How could a world survive with people only thinking of themselves? Their "I"?
So this was why on this particular day Lori was slightly apprehensive about Literature class. Lori hated disagreeing with teachers, but what she hated even more was not voicing her opinion. Clearly, today's final book discussion was going to be heated.
However, it so happened that Mrs. Keating failed to see Lori Russell's hand waving frantically in the air for the entire fifty-minute class period. Thus, the dear Mrs. Keating had succeeded in convincing almost everyone in the classroom that the way of the "ego" was the best path through life. Lori, determined to right this serious miscarriage of justice, decided to "have words" with Mrs. Keating after class.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Keating," Lori began politely, "but I do want to tell you that I strongly disagree with your opinion on the book."
"Opinion?" Mrs. Keating said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, opinion."
"My dear Ms. Russell, I understand that you are a highly gifted child, but perhaps this time you have allowed your pride to blind your intelligence."
"I'm sorry?" Lori replied, highly confused.
"You see, Lori. May I call you Lori? What I taught today was not my 'opinion.' It is a philosophy which everyone must strive to live. There is no absolute right or wrong. Our conscience must be shaped by our "I." Who are we to judge if what someone does is right or wrong?"
"Mrs. Keating, how can you--"
"Lori, I know this is difficult to understand for someone your age, but the Board of Education has sent me and several other teachers now residing in nearby towns to help correct your smalltown upbringing. The modern world is moving on from these so-called 'Christian morals' and you must learn to move on too."
"But, Mrs. Keating, I--"
"Lori, dear, I know how much you enjoy questioning and discussing, but you must not do so much of that in my class. You might put ideas that are contrary to the New Age into your fellow classmates' heads hmmm?"
Lori stared at Mrs. Keating in shock. A teacher encouraging her not to ask questions? Lori frowned. Maybe Mrs. Keating had won this battle, but the semester had only begun.
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Keating," Lori finally said. "Of course," Mrs. Keating replied cordially, and she picked up a book and began to read indicating that Lori was free to leave. Lori left, but not before noticing what Mrs. Keating was reading...Starhawk.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
I Couldn't Help But Notice
This is a short little diddy I wrote for my own amusement, and, as usual, it turned into something waaay too deep. Nonetheless, Enjoy!
Oh, P.S. if I get more than 10 comments on this story, I'll post a snippett of my book this weekend.
I couldn't help but notice that your eyes bore right into mine. That was my first clue that you were more than you appeared. "My name is Clark," I said, not really expecting you to answer or even care. But you looked up at me, eyes shining, smile radiant. "I'm Emily," you said. I couldn't help but notice that you blushed when I shook your hand. My heart leapt with hope.
We talked for hours at that party. Was it a party? I hardly remember other people there. I walked you to your car, utterly fascinated by the way your hands moved and your eyebrows rose whenever you talked about something important to you. I didn't want you to stop talking, but you had a curfew. As you drove away, I realized I didn't get your number. What chance would I have with you anyway? Well, you held me spellbound, and I simply had to find you.
I found you. You were walking hand in hand with another man. Oh how I wished I was he! You were talking together, but I could tell you were unhappy, because your hands were still and you didn't smile. As I drew closer I couldn't help but notice the way your face reddened as you saw me and let go of his hand. The boy was not happy about my unexpected presence there. You didn't seem to mind at all. Eventually, you left, out of pity for the boy, but not before you said, "It's Emily. Emily Dunham." Emily Dunham. My salvation. You handed me a small slip of paper, unnoticed by your escort. I hope that poor unlucky lad will forgive me one day. I watched you walk away. The boy tried to hold your hand again, but you didn't let him. I couldn't help but notice.
Our first date, I had respectfully asked your father's permission, because you deserved it. A picnic. A little cliché, I'll admit it, but I wanted to see you in the sunlight, not in the dark of a movie theatre. You wore a sky blue sun dress, and your hair was pulled back to stay out of your eyes, and it fell down your back and shoulders. There were small pearl earrings in your ears, and your feet were bare except for some white flip-flops. You were perfect, and I told you so. Your cheeks glowed the way I love. I couldn't help but notice.
You let me do most of the talking this time, and I couldn't help but notice that I was completely comfortable. I stopped talking. I was talking too much. "No," you said, taking my hand, "Please tell me more." So I did, but I couldn't help but notice how your hand fit perfectly in mine, and the way your hair smelled as the breeze gently blew it off your shoulders.
I brought you home, wishing, hoping, it wouldn't end. I put my hand gently on your cheek. I couldn't help but notice how soft and warm it felt. You looked right into my eyes, and I felt completely vulnerable, like the first day I met you. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure you'd hear it. I leaned in, kissed you softly, and said one word, "Emily." You looked at me as you slowly closed the door, and when you could not hear I said, "I love you."
We were in love. It's true. Why you would love me was still impossible to discern. But you did. We were back at the park where you first took my hand. Underneath a magnificent oak, your face was so full of love, it made my heart near to bursting. I knelt on one knee, praying to God that you would have me. I barely choked out the words that would make you mine forever. Before I knew it, your arms were around my neck, and your lips were on my head, my face, my hands, my lips... Finally...could my heart handle the joy I beheld in your face? Could it be true? "Yes," you said. And my life was changed forever.
There were moments I thought I couldn't possibly love you more. But everyday my heart would swell larger and larger--I loved you so much, it hurt. But I didn't mind the pain. I no longer mattered, there was only you. The days until our wedding could not have come any slower, but I simply enjoyed the anticipation. Nothing could possibly make me unhappy.
Our wedding day finally came. God must love me so much. As you walked down that aisle, there was not a fiber of doubt in my body that you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I would love you until the day I died. I could see us growing old together, and there was no fear. Now I understood. Now, in this moment, I grasped Love Eternal.
Our baby girl! She gasped and screamed, her tiny chest heaving, as I held her for the first time. Her little fists were clenched, and she had your eyes and mouth. I stared at her in absolute wonder. A new life in my hands--so delicate and beautiful. And...she was ours. Our love created her. Could there be anything more miraculous? I gently placed her in your arms. I couldn't help but notice that your face was white from pain and exhaustion, but you had the most joyful glow in your eyes. Our daughter immediately stopped crying as you held her. She opened her fist and curled it around your finger and began to nurse. You looked up at me and smiled. I slowly slid into the hospital bed next to you. You fell asleep on my shoulder while stroked Therese's soft head.
25 years, and I still love you as much and infinitely more as on the day I met you. Our anniversary isn't fancy, just a typical dinner with the kids, and I love every minute of it. Joey, as always, makes everyone laugh with his ridiculous 10-year-old humor. Therese is blossoming into a beautiful young woman--she has your spirit. Kevin is making faces at Mary, and you're helping Thomas cut his meat. When everyone is finished, you bring out our "anniversary cake." The kids helped decorate it, and it looks more like a 5-year-old's finger painting than a decadent dessert. Nonetheless, we eat and enjoy with only minor icing casualties--Mary somehow got icing in her ear, and Kevin is looking at you with his best innocent face. You simply shake your head and scold Kevin as you clean out Mary's ear. You finally look up at me and mouth "Happy Anniversary." I get up and kiss you, despite the "Dad!"'s and "Ew, gross!"
I'm walking our trembling daughter down the aisle. Wasn't it just yesterday that I held her tiny body in my arms and rocked her to sleep? As I look at her husband to be, I can't help wondering if he feels the same about her as I do about you. I hope so. He is a good man. Therese deserves nobody less. She kisses my cheek and steps up to the Altar. She is no longer mine. A single tear runs down my face. If I did not have your hand to hold, I would feel like a lesser man.
The kids are all gone. Thomas just left for college and it's just you and me again. We hold hands as we take a turn around our empty home. You look at me sadly, and I hold you tight while you cry. "You have given five new people to the world," I said, "You should be proud." "No," you replied, "We have brought five beautiful children into the world, and stayed together. We should be proud." We went to the park and fell asleep under our tree.
My time has come. We have had 75 beautiful years together. I wish we could have more, but He is calling me home. You hold my hand and stroke my face. The soft "bleep, bleep" of my heart on the monitor is barely audible. "Clark," you say, "I love you." "I love you too, darling. I'll be waiting." Some time slips by. It's become more difficult for me to stay. Finally, my soul is free. I have been anointed. I am leaving you now. I pray that our two souls may become one in Paradise.
Oh, P.S. if I get more than 10 comments on this story, I'll post a snippett of my book this weekend.
I couldn't help but notice that your eyes bore right into mine. That was my first clue that you were more than you appeared. "My name is Clark," I said, not really expecting you to answer or even care. But you looked up at me, eyes shining, smile radiant. "I'm Emily," you said. I couldn't help but notice that you blushed when I shook your hand. My heart leapt with hope.
We talked for hours at that party. Was it a party? I hardly remember other people there. I walked you to your car, utterly fascinated by the way your hands moved and your eyebrows rose whenever you talked about something important to you. I didn't want you to stop talking, but you had a curfew. As you drove away, I realized I didn't get your number. What chance would I have with you anyway? Well, you held me spellbound, and I simply had to find you.
I found you. You were walking hand in hand with another man. Oh how I wished I was he! You were talking together, but I could tell you were unhappy, because your hands were still and you didn't smile. As I drew closer I couldn't help but notice the way your face reddened as you saw me and let go of his hand. The boy was not happy about my unexpected presence there. You didn't seem to mind at all. Eventually, you left, out of pity for the boy, but not before you said, "It's Emily. Emily Dunham." Emily Dunham. My salvation. You handed me a small slip of paper, unnoticed by your escort. I hope that poor unlucky lad will forgive me one day. I watched you walk away. The boy tried to hold your hand again, but you didn't let him. I couldn't help but notice.
Our first date, I had respectfully asked your father's permission, because you deserved it. A picnic. A little cliché, I'll admit it, but I wanted to see you in the sunlight, not in the dark of a movie theatre. You wore a sky blue sun dress, and your hair was pulled back to stay out of your eyes, and it fell down your back and shoulders. There were small pearl earrings in your ears, and your feet were bare except for some white flip-flops. You were perfect, and I told you so. Your cheeks glowed the way I love. I couldn't help but notice.
You let me do most of the talking this time, and I couldn't help but notice that I was completely comfortable. I stopped talking. I was talking too much. "No," you said, taking my hand, "Please tell me more." So I did, but I couldn't help but notice how your hand fit perfectly in mine, and the way your hair smelled as the breeze gently blew it off your shoulders.
I brought you home, wishing, hoping, it wouldn't end. I put my hand gently on your cheek. I couldn't help but notice how soft and warm it felt. You looked right into my eyes, and I felt completely vulnerable, like the first day I met you. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure you'd hear it. I leaned in, kissed you softly, and said one word, "Emily." You looked at me as you slowly closed the door, and when you could not hear I said, "I love you."
We were in love. It's true. Why you would love me was still impossible to discern. But you did. We were back at the park where you first took my hand. Underneath a magnificent oak, your face was so full of love, it made my heart near to bursting. I knelt on one knee, praying to God that you would have me. I barely choked out the words that would make you mine forever. Before I knew it, your arms were around my neck, and your lips were on my head, my face, my hands, my lips... Finally...could my heart handle the joy I beheld in your face? Could it be true? "Yes," you said. And my life was changed forever.
There were moments I thought I couldn't possibly love you more. But everyday my heart would swell larger and larger--I loved you so much, it hurt. But I didn't mind the pain. I no longer mattered, there was only you. The days until our wedding could not have come any slower, but I simply enjoyed the anticipation. Nothing could possibly make me unhappy.
Our wedding day finally came. God must love me so much. As you walked down that aisle, there was not a fiber of doubt in my body that you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I would love you until the day I died. I could see us growing old together, and there was no fear. Now I understood. Now, in this moment, I grasped Love Eternal.
Our baby girl! She gasped and screamed, her tiny chest heaving, as I held her for the first time. Her little fists were clenched, and she had your eyes and mouth. I stared at her in absolute wonder. A new life in my hands--so delicate and beautiful. And...she was ours. Our love created her. Could there be anything more miraculous? I gently placed her in your arms. I couldn't help but notice that your face was white from pain and exhaustion, but you had the most joyful glow in your eyes. Our daughter immediately stopped crying as you held her. She opened her fist and curled it around your finger and began to nurse. You looked up at me and smiled. I slowly slid into the hospital bed next to you. You fell asleep on my shoulder while stroked Therese's soft head.
25 years, and I still love you as much and infinitely more as on the day I met you. Our anniversary isn't fancy, just a typical dinner with the kids, and I love every minute of it. Joey, as always, makes everyone laugh with his ridiculous 10-year-old humor. Therese is blossoming into a beautiful young woman--she has your spirit. Kevin is making faces at Mary, and you're helping Thomas cut his meat. When everyone is finished, you bring out our "anniversary cake." The kids helped decorate it, and it looks more like a 5-year-old's finger painting than a decadent dessert. Nonetheless, we eat and enjoy with only minor icing casualties--Mary somehow got icing in her ear, and Kevin is looking at you with his best innocent face. You simply shake your head and scold Kevin as you clean out Mary's ear. You finally look up at me and mouth "Happy Anniversary." I get up and kiss you, despite the "Dad!"'s and "Ew, gross!"
I'm walking our trembling daughter down the aisle. Wasn't it just yesterday that I held her tiny body in my arms and rocked her to sleep? As I look at her husband to be, I can't help wondering if he feels the same about her as I do about you. I hope so. He is a good man. Therese deserves nobody less. She kisses my cheek and steps up to the Altar. She is no longer mine. A single tear runs down my face. If I did not have your hand to hold, I would feel like a lesser man.
The kids are all gone. Thomas just left for college and it's just you and me again. We hold hands as we take a turn around our empty home. You look at me sadly, and I hold you tight while you cry. "You have given five new people to the world," I said, "You should be proud." "No," you replied, "We have brought five beautiful children into the world, and stayed together. We should be proud." We went to the park and fell asleep under our tree.
My time has come. We have had 75 beautiful years together. I wish we could have more, but He is calling me home. You hold my hand and stroke my face. The soft "bleep, bleep" of my heart on the monitor is barely audible. "Clark," you say, "I love you." "I love you too, darling. I'll be waiting." Some time slips by. It's become more difficult for me to stay. Finally, my soul is free. I have been anointed. I am leaving you now. I pray that our two souls may become one in Paradise.
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