Dust Motes

Imagine the immensity of tiny dust motes:

The sheer volume of whirling specks,

Torpedoing along a beaming spotlight,

 Competing against the wind to survive.

Imagine the dust motes as tiny planets: 

Each in orbit around the shining sun.

What may seem so small, so futile,

Can be another’s whole entire world.

Don’t underestimate the tiny dust motes.

They are always there, buzzing, living,

Never still even in the stagnant light,

Like tiny humans in an infinite universe.

Summer

The sun is warm honey on my skin

In the midst of a radiant summer.

The time for clothes that call to sin

And spiked lemonade in a rummer.

The time for smiles that reach the eyes

And laughing as an anthem song.

With adventure seekers under azure skies

And where foolish ideas are never wrong.

Feeling my toes squish through the sand
And the salty breeze kiss my cheeks.
Seeing my skin with a golden tan
And the days blending into weeks. 

Never wanting the bright sun to set,
Always being the best summer yet. 

The Cry of Silence

The cry of silence: so sharp, so deafening, 

Piercing my ears in the bliss of night.

Waiting for the vacant whispers to sing,

Or watching for the reluctant flickers of light.

I hold still in the weightless cocoon,

Barely a breath I let form a plea.

Hoping for the sun to rise again soon,

Before the darkness wholly envelops me.

My eyes trace the shadows of ghosts,

And their tacit will to move unseen.

I feel like the shell of an unwanted host,

Counting breaths for the first ray to gleam;

Praying for light to burst at the seam.

Letters from Kay and Kai

To: kaimatthews@ecmail.com
From: kaymatthews@ecmail.com

Dear Self,

It's been a while since I've written. I haven't been in the mood lately. I came over to the eleven year old computer on my cluttered desk and stared at the boot up screen for what felt like hours. It was probably minutes, but I have been feeling impatient as of late.

Who am I kidding? I've always been impatient.

I almost forgot my own email user name. How sad is that? But, seriously, it's been that long. I wonder what others would think of me if they knew I sent emails to myself because I have no one true to talk with. I mean, it's not like I don't have friends. I have plenty. But they are all so fake.

Just like me.

But I'm getting tired of pretending. And I think Emilia and Bridget are starting to notice, too.

Just today at school, the three of us were eating in the cafeteria when Gavin decided to grace us with his Godly presence. Em and Bridge were enraptured by the story he was telling us about how he beat up some kid who blinked wrong or breathed in his direction, Hell if I remember. I wasn't even listening.

And the girls definitely noticed.

I just don't know what to do anymore.

Sincerely,

Myself

Kayla (Kay) Matthews

p.s. : Could I be any more of a loser?



To: kaymatthews@ecmail.com
From: kaimatthews@ecmail.com

Dear Kayla,

I think there has been some kind of mistake, for I am not Kayla Matthews. It seems our email usernames are only off by one letter, so I have received your intended email instead.

But, do not fret!

People always tell me that I should become a therapist because of my superb advice-giving abilities. Okay, that might be a lie, but whatever!

First, you should have told Gavin to Shut-The-Fuck-Up, and then maybe punched him in the face to give him a taste of his own medicine. Or, better yet, send me his address so I can rough him up for you.

Second, your friends sound like they are privy to ass-kissing on a daily basis. Like they can't even think for themselves and just do whatever people think they should. Or they act and do whatever it takes to look perfect in the eyes of a bunch of spineless, cliché lackeys. Am I right?

AND third, you are NOT a loser.

Well, maybe just a little, but who am I to judge?

What you need to do is say "Fuck You" to your obnoxious, stuck-up friends and find someone else to eat lunch with.

By the way, what did your school serve for lunch that day? Because it seems you have forgotten to add in that important detail and it was greatly missed.

But, then again, maybe I'm just hungry.

ANYWAYYY,

Your next email better not sound so depressing or I might just have to come through the screen and give you a karate chop (I'm secretly a ninja) until you come to your senses and a smile appears.

Or something of that nature.

As my sensei always said, "When there is a sun to rise and set, there is still hope for you yet."

He may have been certifiably insane 90% of the time, but some of the shit that came out of his mouth was definitely quote worthy.

Sincerely,

Not Yourself

Kaiden (Kai) Matthews

p.s. : Could I be any more awesome???!!!

Quest Plot Outline: Upon a Wishing Well

Act One:

Rosaline-

Materialistic person, loves to impress the society ladies with her outward appearance, spoiled by her father.

Goes shopping in the town square for the perfect dress for a high class society dinner event and she realizes she doesn't have enough money.

Returns home to get more money from her father and he sits her down and tells her that he has received a pay cut and can no longer permit her overly lavish lifestyle. He tells her she needs to find her own way of getting/making money for such opulent expenses.

Force that moves protagonist into action: no more money- puts a halt to her familiar lifestyle. Rosaline goes into the town square to sulk and overhears whispers about a mythological wishing well that grants a wish to few selected "chosen ones" or people deemed "worthy."

Decides that the wishing well is the perfect way to get the money she desires so her lifestyle doesn't have to change and her society ladies will never have to know about her father's pay cut.

Questions:

Will Rosaline find what she is looking for? Will she be worthy of the wish? Will she get to keep the life she is so used to?

Act Two:

Rosaline sets out to find the mysterious wishing well.

Goes to a secluded library and searches for information on the wishing well in old scrolls, books, manuscripts, etc.

Speaks to the wise librarian and she tells Rosaline that there is a book that she has kept safe for generations that contains a map on how to reach a mysterious "wishing well," but the book was already checked out just hours earlier. She tells her that she overheard where the other customer was heading, and she can try to catch up with him.

Rosaline catches up to the customer: Josiah

Rosaline and Josiah both want to find the wishing well and decide to team up together.

Josiah: Son of the ruling family, but no one besides the ruling court knows that he exists. He left home because he is ashamed of his family and how they don't use their wealth and power to help those less fortunate, but to throw expensive parties. He left to stay/ volunteer at an orphanage in one of the poorest towns. A few of the children have come down with a fatal sickness and he wants to wish for the cure at the wishing well since he is out of all other options.

The journey: across a river, horse riding through mountains, through a small village of people more poor than an orphanage, passing beggars, etc.

On a stormy night they take shelter at the village and wait for storm to pass. The storm is so strong that it wipes out huts and crops are destroyed, people are buried, etc.

Rosaline and Josiah stay a little bit to help rebuild. The meet and get to know a family that inspires them because of their will to make the best out of even the worst of situations with a light in their eyes that never fades.

A young girl makes Rosaline jewelry out of scraps, clays beads, etc. She treasures them.

They leave the village. They hike one last hill and find the wishing well.

Act Three:

A few people have already tried to reach the well, but they were unable to. The well can only choose one person, and will only grant one wish, so it needs to make sure that it is choosing wisely. That's why it makes the path to reach it purposely difficult.

Rosaline begins that path with Josiah behind her. They need to step carefully or they will fall off the path into a ravine. (If they fell they would survive, but the slow current would carry them back down the hill. If they were to come back and try again, the wishing well would know they failed and would reject them.)

Rosaline takes the last leap: Lands before the wishing well. She clutches it to keep her balance and her bracelet (gift from the little village girl) breaks and the beads fall into the well.

The well accepts her.

She looks back at Josiah and see the disappointment on his face knowing that he won't be able to make a wish since it already chose Rosaline.

She clutches her remaining jewelry (homemade necklace around her neck) to seek courage and comfort.

She makes a wish: Wishes for the cure to the fatal sickness.

Josiah and Rosaline make the journey back to the orphanage to administer the cure.

Rosaline returns home, just in time for the society dinner. She wears an old dress, her hair down (un-styled/free) and her necklace from the little girl. All the high class society ladies look at her like she lost her mind. As the others gossip about inconsequential things, Rosaline ignores them, feeling out of place, counting the seconds until the dinner is over and busies herself with a silk napkin that she purposely ripped so she can braid it into a bracelet, knowing just the girl she wants to give it to.

Questions Answered:

Yes, she finds what she is looking for, but it is different that what she thought she wanted in the first place.

She changed along the way and was worthy of the wish.

She had the choice to keep the life she was used to, but she gave it up for the greater good and found she didn't want that life any longer.

Alberomedis

My steps were well-practiced as I meandered through the forest, brushing past the bristly branches and stepping over jagged rocks. The sun's rays filtered through the tree canopies and warmed my exposed skin. I leaned back on the trunk of a tree, the bark rough against me, and closed my eyes to bask in the residual sun.

I felt a light tickle on my shoulder and I swatted it away without even a backwards glance. I nestled further against the tree as I listened to the forest sing. Birds chanted freely, animals scurried through the fallen leaves, wings flapped mechanically, and water trickled in a distant stream.

My eyes shot opened when I heard the clearing of a throat.

"Who's there?" I spoke to evidentially no one.

There was a rustle of leaves and a groan of weathered wood before someone replied, "I thought you were going to fall asleep on me."

The voice was low and garbled, but I couldn't find the person to match it.

"Where are you?" I searched the vicinity, turning in circles until I became dizzy and fell back against the familiar tree.

"Oomph! Watch where you're going, will ya?" The strange voice was muffled and reverberated through my fingertips.

I stumbled backwards as a scream caught in my throat.

"But you can't... but you... you're...," I stuttered unintelligibly.

"A tree? Wow, you must be one of the smart ones," the voice muttered.

I took a cautious step forward to inspect the tree more closely. His bark was a dark brown and mottled with cracks and divots. He had two sunken eyes gouged into the top of the trunk and a mouth crater below them. He studied me just as much as I studied him.

"Like what you see?" He asked, waving a few branches around as one would do with their arms.

I blinked in response, unsure how to answer this strange creature.

"What? Never seen a talking tree before?" He mocked after my long silence.

I shook my head.

"Well, don't do anything rash. There's a whole bunch of us in these woods, and I don't want to have to find a new home just because one spooked girl couldn't handle her emotions."

"If there are so many of you, how come you're the only one I've ever seen? I run through these woods almost every day and no other talking tree has ever graced me with their presence," I countered.

"That's because we don't typically want humans to know we exist. Could you imagine the spectacle we would be? And the experiments they would do on us? No. No way. You better not tell anyone about me. Swear on it."

He bent forward until he was inches away from my face. His eyes were stygian pits as they bore into mine.

"I won't say anything," I promised.

"Good, now go. Forget that you ever met me."

I nodded but still asked, unable to stop myself, "Can you at least tell me your name?"

He straightened out and settled his tree limbs in their rightful place before answering, "Alberomedis."

I took a few slow steps back and turned to leave, taking one final glance over my shoulder. I saw that his human-like features were once again camouflaged into that of a normal tree.

"I don't think I could ever forget that I met you, Alberomedis."

Then I left, continuing on the routine path that suddenly felt anything but familiar.

When my breath parallels the clouds

When my breath parallels the clouds,
The whispers are silent and freeing.
As I shiver from the wispy shrouds,
I soak in the phantom blurs I am seeing.

Tentative drops fall first: quiet, unsure,
And my heart skips in anticipation.
Resilient eyes follow the liquid allure,
Utterly still: from the mirage, I am taken.

Mist feathers my skin as it whirls and dances,
Alone with me, in this frigid, ghostly crowd.
Always hoping for the storm’s advances,
When my breath parallels the clouds.