melody the brave's Stories

Real as Life Itself

2007-07-28T00:35:28Z

Never before had I a seen a statue so radiant, so beautiful. Mesmerizing, if you may. Something about it portrayed utmost emotion. A dignifying source of defeat.

Face buried in hands, his fingers looked rough and dry. I could have sworn it was real man. Dirt had piled in layers and traced his every crevice and crack. He was kneeling. Not as you would before a king or queen, but in despair. As if he had just lost his most valuable entity.

I circled the statue and gazed at its fine amenity. A pigeon rested upon his shoulder, proud and regal. At that moment, nothing could have conquered the mighty pigeon, small as it may be. In an instant, it fluttered away and didn’t look behind him. The statue was a thing of his past.

Taking counsel from the bird, I looked towards the statue a couple moments longer, and proceeded on my way to work without looking back. As fine as it may have been, there was no reason for me to stay and admire its beauty.

We could all learn a few things from a bird.

You Had Me at Hello (2)

2007-07-25T19:33:56Z

Although that had seemed to me as a strange encounter, it only took me a matter of days to place the meeting behind me. It also only took him a matter of days to show up again, asking for information on a new novel that I hardly knew of.

Fridays were usually the busiest of days. I was in the American History section, catching up on the information I had supposively missed last week during class due to a case of the flu. It was right then when he showed up.

“Aren’t you supposed to be.. working, or something?”

There he was, blue eyes and all. You see, I had never really been an outgoing person. I’d much rather keep to myself, so I found it a bit difficult to explain my situation.

“Uh.. Well, yeah. I am. They have us read these things. It’s part of my shift.”

He gave me a doubtful, quizzical look. Of course I was bs-ing, a monkey could tell you that. But nonetheless, he continued asking questions. We had a conversation that ended in the neighboring coffee shop, and from there we exchanged numbers.

Always the Same

2007-07-25T18:17:49Z

She ran. Ran as fast as her scrawny legs would carry her, ran as far as her feet would allow her. Where she was going? Nobody knew. She didn’t know either. She had no idea.

Pat, pat, pat, pat. It was the sound of her ragged old tennis shoes against the snow. She once wore those shoes proudly while defeating someone on the opposite side of the tennis court, but that felt like so long ago. Flakes of ice stung her face like a million honeybees falling from the sky. On her body wasn’t much. A sheer black coat. Torn blue jeans. The jewelry her mother had given her before she went away.

Everything was falling apart. There were numerous rips and wrinkles laying within the fabric of the life she was living. It was always the same.

Eventually the burning sensation in her tired legs went away, letting her have the freedom to leave the world and enter as something entirely new. Stopping at a hault, she felt the need to scream as loud as her lungs were capable of. To let go.

It’s exactly what she did.

You Had Me at Hello

2007-07-25T06:26:43Z

I guess you could say we met like any two people would meet. And after that, everything fell right into place. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I worked at a bookstore down the street from my loft. It wasn’t anything fancy and I wasn’t getting paid the big bucks, but it was just enough to get me along until I finished school.

Tuesday was my day to work behind the counter. My shift was over in ten minutes and I was honestly just wanting to get home and keel over. Simple as that. It was a shame that I had a big chemistry exam the next day, so sleeping wouldn’t even be an option.

“Hi. I’m Jake.”

I looked up and standing in front of me was a guy. He wasn’t insanely attractive, although his eyes were quite a catch. In his hands was a novel written by Edgar Allan Poe. I placed the book under the scanner, when he stopped me.

“I wasn’t asking to buy this. I wanted to know about it.”

“I.. I.. don’t know.”

This had never happened before.

“Huh. I’ll be back then.”

He was telling the truth.

Big Ego, Small Breakfast

2007-07-25T04:59:09Z

I placed my fork down on my plate and watched my ex-bestfriend ramble on about her absurd stories of the people that had run in, and usually out, of her life. She had a weird way of doing things to fit in with a crowd, and I silently asked myself what exactly I was thinking when I agreed to going out to breakfast with her. Another pity date, I presumed?

Taking a sip of my orange juice, I looked at her plate of chicken strips. Chicken strips for breakfast. Of course. Honestly, I wasn’t very surprised. Picking my fork back up, I placed a peice of french toast in my mouth. Maybe going out to breakfast with somebody that you completely abhor was worth the stuffed french toast and orange juice.

Snapping back into reality, I heard her ask a question of what I had been doing during my summer.

“Oh, yeah, right,” I replied, “Uh.. Well, not much really.”

That would last her the next ten minutes. She continued with her stories of summer flings and bizarre experiences. Breakfast was not worth the trouble.