Amarantine's Stories

Soldier's Baby Girl

2007-09-19T23:06:02Z

I am a soldier’s baby girl, conceived in pools of tears and abandoned hope. I am dressed in shiny war wounds and broken hearts. I live forever in the black and white memories of a past I can hardly recall, and one in which my father will never live.

Shattering glass and echoing vibrations played music to my ears as I would sit on hardwood floors playing with my Sophie doll. Vague scenes of my mother crying, clothed in the secrecy of the night, flashed across my mind as I tried to remember his face.

The only solid evidence of him existed in a crippled photograph that survived the fire. The rest were destroyed by a hatred that did not belong to us.

Fury rose in the pit of my stomach and overtook my hands as I clenched the aged piece of paper to my heart. I sat rigid, eyes closed, fighting through barriers to days I convinced myself I could somehow remember.

I was only four years old when the corrupt minds of humanity stole the life of my father, and shattered the foundations of my family forever.

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2007-09-19T23:05:26Z

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2007-09-19T03:24:48Z

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Us Against Time

2007-08-17T21:06:22Z

We stood together at the front of his car, in the midst of a crowded parking lot on the hottest day of the summer. His arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, seemingly as if afraid I’d fall apart it weren’t for him holding me together.

Maybe he was right.

A lone tear slid down my blushed cheek, and I wiped it hurriedly away, afraid he’d perceive me weak. But the second tear gave me away, and I couldn’t help but let the rest of the river flow wildly from my eyes.

Time was always an issue. A phone call here, a letter there, and less than an hour of physical togetherness was all we ever had. There wasn’t enough time in the world for us. Never.

“Honey, don’t cry,” he whispered, placing a finger underneath my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze.

“Why are we so hard?” I asked, unable to stop the flood of salty tears now.

“We just have more to prove to the world,” he said, grinning in that special way of his. “We’re soul mates, baby. Together we can get through anything.

Us Against Time

2007-08-16T05:38:24Z

Maybe he was right.

Time was always an issue. A phone call here, a letter there, and less than an hour of physical togetherness was all we had. There wasn’t enough time in world for us. Never.

“Gumby, don’t cry,” he whispered, placing a finger underneath my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze.

“Why are we so hard?” I asked, unable to stop the waterworks.

“We just have more to prove to the world,” he said, grinning in that special way of his. “We’re soul mates, baby. Together we can get through anything.”

Barriers

2007-08-06T23:29:11Z

So many people have so many hardships and obstacles running against them, and somehow they find some kind of hope to hold onto. They turn such negatives in their lives into positives, never letting those barriers in between them or their dream to be something.

What’s their secret?

Why can’t I be like that?

A Few Seconds in Wonderland

2007-08-01T04:48:20Z

This was our haven. We made it up a refuge for our love, a safeguard for what we held dear to each other. We’d drive out every weekend when we knew we could get away, and the pair of us would escape into a time and place where tragedy never existed. We would cook meals together in the tiny, beat up kitchen, have picnics by candle-light on the rickety old wood floor of the living room, and spend all day in bed with thin white sheets wrapped loosely around our bare bodies, intertwined in the most delicate of places. He’d whisper sweet phrases to me in various languages, and I’d lightly trace the tiny black hairs down his chest, drinking in every word.

We knew our fantasy couldn’t last forever, but we took advantage of every second we had left in our Wonderland.

And then it was back to reality.

My Opinion on the Matter

2007-07-31T21:09:19Z

Technology seriously scares the shiitake mushrooms outta me.
You can walk down the street, and see artificial life waves behind glossy eyes. You can practically hear them thinking about what they’re going to do on the computer when they get home, or what video game they’re going to go play.

What happened to all the damn children playing out in their front yards?! What happened to empty cardboard boxes being the best thing you could possibly get?!

Now you’ve got television sets teaching you your ABC ’s, and computer games showing you how to color inside the lines.

What happened to life?

Back to School Again

2007-07-31T20:28:54Z

Walking down familiar cobblestoned pathways between stone buildings covered in greenery, I breathed in the fresh cold air and reminisced on past memories. Blood, sweat, and tears, sleepless nights, inside jokes, and the occasional milk-through-the-nose, and here I was: still making it.

I walked against the current of the crowd of people gossiping, stressing, dropping books, frantically searching for cell phones and car keys, some desperate for a pillow, others looking for the next rush.

I was on the outside looking in, observing the chaotic, and waiting for the next big scandal.

Just me and my trusty journal.

Two Worlds

2007-07-31T19:40:26Z

The waves crashed against sea-drenched rocks, shattering the silence with its morning greeting. The sun rose up slowly into civilization, awake from it’s long slumber , blasting brilliant reds, oranges, blues and purples into the dawning sky.

Seagulls called in my ear, the wind teased my hair, and seashells alive with creatures tickled my toes.

I was in the perfect place on earth, gazing out at the end of time, two worlds at my feet: the land and the sea.

Who said dreams were impossible?

Waiting For An Apology

2007-07-31T19:33:50Z

I keep waiting for that phone to ring, waiting to hear his deep voice say, “I’m sorry,” with that laugh of his that reassures me that everything in this world is more than fine.

But the harder I stare, the more silence there is, and I’m only getting more disappointed by the second.

He said he needed time…for what, I don’t know. But I guess I’m willing to give it to him.

The Graduate: I Dream

2007-07-03T04:48:43Z

I dream of beaches, and I dream of setting suns.
I dream of laughing friends, and endless fun.

I dream of one true loves, and first time romances.
I dream of steamy first kisses, and second chances.

I dream of high school memories, and each of their faces.
I dream of being young, and learning to tie shoe laces.

I dream of the past, and I dream of the future.
And the more I dream, the more I am unsure.

I wish I could capture every waking moment.
To save every second of myself from the torment.

I dream of their faces, and I dream of the days
When pinned up photographs remember our ways.

Their Night

2007-07-03T04:30:34Z

His hands trembled, faltered, was unable to hold on. He closed his eyes, willing his heart to return to his chest, wishing that he could return to that one moment…

She was gorgeous and pure; the way the pearly white dress hugged every curve of her body, accentuating every goddess-like quality she possessed. And the way she felt against him, secured tightly against his chest, his hand placed on the small of her back, her favorite spot…

It was only the pair of them, dancing on shiny marble floors fit for Kings, embraced in the closest hold they could possibly muster.

“I love you,” whispered a ghost from behind his ear.

He shivered, letting a lone tear escape and fall down his ice cold cheek.

He let the crumpled dark photograph fall from his fingers, and watched as it fluttered to the floor.

What he would give to return to that one moment, one last time…

Blood Type

2007-06-27T21:05:10Z

I wasn’t expecting such a sight. My heart thudded hard against my chest, my body buzzed and tingled. I felt dizzy with fear and excitement.

My body threw up red flags: stop now, but my feet refused to obey. I walked alone along this concrete path battling reason and intrigue. I was blatantly defying everything I had been raised to abide by; I was, without reserve, going against my own rash morals. But curiosity killed this cat, because I did everything to refuse going back to my car and driving away.

I arrived at the huge oak door; this is it, I thought to myself, taking hold of the big brass door knocker, and pounding it against the door twice. I waited. I tried to remember how to breathe, how to think clearly. My body stung in the cold, but my blood was scalding hot.

I heard footsteps, then, loud and heavy on the other side of the door. I was nervous, of course; there’s no telling why anyone would willingly throw them self into the home of a monster.

Here’s to hoping I wasn’t his blood type.