Authoress: Missurder (Duh)

Summary: Classic tale of a school project in a creepy house;complete with creepy old guy! 

A/N: Happy Halloween!

Christie    sunk lower in her seat and tugged at her sweater sleeves. It was already a week from Halloween, and she still hadn’t picked a topic for her Journalism class.Ms. Smith had assigned their first article to be about something local around town. Each team, the partner to which Christie also hadn’t chosen, was to find a local story and write an article, preferably with photographs, about something important to the town. She was vaguely thinking about ways to avoid the bus ride home when Ms. Smith called her to her desk.Christie stood from her seat in the back and, keeping her eyes down, walked towards the front of the room.

“Christie, I would like to discuss your assignment. It is to my understanding that you haven’t yet chosen your own partner, so I’m teaming you up with Ranaya.” Christie bit her lip, already dreading this new fact.  

Ranaya was basically her polar opposite. Christie was frightfully insecure and shy, while Ranaya (often called “Ran” for short) was tall, confident, and one of the only people Ms. Smith complimented.As if called on cue, Ranaya came bounding up and offered a hand with a big smile.

“Hi, Christie! We have ideas to discuss.” Christie shook her hand, not meeting her eyes and walked back to her desk, Ranaya following a step behind.“Ok, you know that old house on Brooke Street? Well, I heard that the old man who owns it is selling it. Now, that house is practically a monument for this town, don’t you agree? So I say we go there after school and try to get an interview.”

Christie nodded dumbly at this. Maybe being partnered with this girl wouldn’t be so bad. She did seem to already have planned everything out.“Ok, so I’ll meet you there!”

The next few classes went uneventfully, other than Christie’s growing dread at going to that creepy old house. Still, as shy as she was, she always kept her word, so after school she gathered her things and rode her bike down to Brooke Street.Christie showed up a few moments later, jogging up to her with a pad and pen in hand.

“Let’s do this, eh?” Christie, for once, voluntarily reached out and pushed the faded white button that was presumably a doorbell.

After a few minutes they heard a loud Thump, swish.Then an old man opened the door.

“Hello Sir, my name is Ran, and this is Chris-“

“I don’t want what you’re sellin’!” He said in a gruff voice.

“We just want to do a report.” Christie said quietly.“If we could just ask you a few questions, sir, it won’t take long.”

“Hurry up then!” The old man gave a quick glance behind him.

“Ok, So is it true you are Jacob McReily, a former coroner?”

“Yes.”“And you are in fact selling this house?”

“So what if I am? It’s my property!”

“It’s just a question sir, “Christie said in her same quiet voice.

“Yes, I do happen to be selling this God-forsaken house.”

“And you must be fully aware of the several unsolved murders in this house? The massacre of forty-three?” Ranaya pushed on with her questioning.

“Of course I know about ‘em! I was the coroner for ‘em!”Ranaya continued on with her questioning, Christie choosing that moment to gaze up at the Victorian-style house. It would be a rather nice place if not for its creaky old wood and particularly gory past.

“And would you mind if my friend and I took a few pictures for our report of the inside of the house?”

“You will not be steppin’ foot in this house! It’s my property, my property, MY PROPERTY!” With that Mr. McRiley slammed the door and walked away with a Thump, swish.

“Chris, did you see how he acted? I’ll bet he has something to hide in there. Maybe he has proof of the murders!”

“Ran-“

“Oh, wouldn’t that be great?” Ranaya interrupted. “We’d be like heroes, wouldn’t we? Oh, shoot, now I have to know what’s in there!”

And that is exactly how Christie, quiet, shy, Christie found herself dressed in her darkest clothing and scaling the side of an ancient house, at 11:30 p.m. to get to the second story. Ranaya heaved her up and through the window into a dark room.

“Ran, we really shouldn’t be here!” Christie quickly tugged at her clothing and fiddled with her hair. It was odd being in the presence of someone so much more confident than her.

“Oh, please, haven’t you ever been curious about something? This will be fine, and our report will be magnificent!” Having said that, Ranaya stepped into the long hall and located the nearest door.

“Chris, help me this is locked!” Christie shook her head and thought that it was probably for a reason. “Shhh!”

 Christie saw something glitter under the red carpet. She bent down to find it was a small brass key.

“Try this,” she said handing over the key. It worked, the tumblers of the lock grinding and the door creaking open. Christie stepped in first, only to stop dead in her tracks. On the far wall, there were six gleaming knives. Well, close to gleaming. I it weren’t for the dark stains on them.

“What the heck is that?” Christie whispered, pointing to what could only be a shrine.

“Are those–Is that? And are those…pictures?” Ranaya stuttered, taking a cautious step forward. She was right, next to each of the knives was a small yellowed and torn newspaper clipping of a face.

“Hey, I recognize them!” Christie exclaimed, leaning close to the shrine to examine the blurry faces. “These are those victims from the massacre!”

“Hey, they are! Well then these knives must be….” Each girl turned towards each other, a look of sheer terror etched on their faces.

Suddenly Christie’s knees felt weak.Then there was an already too-familiar Thump, Swish and then the sound of a knife being sharpened. 

Shink.

Thump, swish, shink, shink.

Thump, swish, shink, shink.

The pattern embedded itself all too quickly into each girls mind. Ranaya was shaking in fear, turning towards the door. On the left, there was a clear pane of window glass.

Christie panicked as the sound came nearer, searching for some sort of an exit. There was a window (leading to a two story drop),  the door they came through, and…and…Christie turned to Ranaya, the girl who always knew what to do. She was paralyzed in fear, her brain not able to keep up with everything that had happened in the past few minutes. Then she suddenly kicked into action.

Thump, swish, shink, shink.

Ranaya jerked upright, her eyes searching frantically about the room.

Thump, swish, shink, shink.

She grabbed Christie’s arm and ran to the closet door. It was the only place left to go. It was jammed.

Thump, swish, shink, shink.

“I guess I’ll be addin’ a new knife and a couple of pictures to my collection, won’ I?” They turned with dread. In the window pane, the face of the old man practically loomed at them, a gleaming new butcher’s knife held firmly in one hand, a maniacal look shining in his eyes.

Christie felt the scream rise up from her throat before she could stop it, a raw, harsh sound that could convey the absolute terror she felt to any living thing. She was distantly aware of a similar sound creeping from her friend’s mouth.

Ranaya gave one violent tug at the door before it splintered and fell to the dusty ground. Her eyes lit up with understanding and she ran into the closet, pulling Christie into the dead end along with her. Christie understood, quite suddenly, what Ranaya was doing. She picked up and heavy old cane and brought it down upon the floor beneath her with all the strength she could muster.Wood splintered; glass broke in the room behind them, with the creaky sound of the door opening, somewhere a clock struck 12.

Thump, swish, shink, shink. 

Finally, the worm-eaten wood gave way and collapsed under the girl’s combined weight and desperate assault. Christie felt herself falling and threw her arms instinctively in front of her face. She landed on something not soft, but not hard either. Ranaya groaned next the her.

“I think I twisted my ankle!” she said.

Christie scrambled to her feet and helped the other up, hearing a small crunch every time she took a step. She tripped, thankfully not taking Ranaya down with her and for the second time let a scream rip through the house.

Next to her head lie a small, partially broken, human skull. Thump, swish.“We need to get out of here, NOW!” She said, practically dragging Ranaya to the nearest window. A five-foot drop.“We have to jump!” Ranaya nodded and let Christie lift the old window.  Ranaya jumped out first, than Christie and after the jump, everything went dark.

XxXxXx 

Christie groaned loudly and opened her eyes to the stark white walls of a hospital room. She shuddered as the memories of that night returned to her. The old man in the window, Ranaya’s broken ankle, the knives, the pictures, the clock, the skull. The terror.“What happened?”She sat up slowly and looked around. In the bed next to her, Ranaya was sitting with a newspaper open on her lap. She just smiled, turning to the front cover and handing it to Christie across the small space.

 “Teen Heroes Discover Coroner’s Gory Past.” 

“Neighbors heard you scream. Called the cops and took us here ’cause we landed on some nasty stuff.” Ranaya said shortly. Christie nodded again.

“Well, that certainly was an interesting night.” 

“You can say that again.”

Authoress: Missmurder (duh)

Sumary: Ok, I have this things about fallen angels and dark angels and stuff, so I wrote this.  I put the pictures in to help give some kind of visual because I don’t give much of one, and also I really loved the pics. Due credsit to the artists. Who are not me.

“Wh

Furi Then–>

y are you so terrified of me?” The girl screamed, hunching over in pain.

” I am not. I simply know what you are! I know EVERYTHING about you.”

“But how could you-” Her sentence was cut off in favor of an antagonizing gasp. “…I never knew until-until-”

“Of course you didn’t! Until you found the feathers! That’s how it always starts! And you started to get scared, who wouldn’t? And then what happened?”

The girl falls to her knees, glancing around at her fallen comrades. Tears prick her eyes, her pain subsiding from physical to emotional in seconds. “They came for me.”

“And as all good angels, you started training you. They used you, didn’t they. To help them win this…war.”

The girl looked around. Her friends. Her love. All of them lay unconcious around her, only the slight ruffle of their feathers proving their life.

“It was not them that chose this. I was chosen. To save them from-From YOU! You think you’re silly mind-games can defer me from my purpose. Lucifer, you dispicable bastard. I’m stronger than you. And they knew that. So, you have a thousand white angels? Are they true Seraphs? I think not. look at them, their feathers are fake now. Fate took them. Just take a wild guess of who I work for!”

“O, but, dearest Furi, Fate has no limits. She does as she pleases. She will take this world and crush it for me. She will kill my angels.”

“We are not your angels! Our name was not meant to be used in such a way. we are Lucifer’s Angels in the fact that we will destroy you! Devil himself, you are not. A mere copy. A fake.” She clutched her chest tightly as a fresh wave of pain ghosted through her. Why did she have to be dying now? When it mattered?

Somewhere behind her a bright llight suddenly shone behind her, her shadow showing the evidence of her wings. Charcoal black from absorbing so much evil in the past few months.

It was maginifcent. one of her comrades lifted his head, usuing most of his strength and watched as Furi her wings dyed black and driping with the unexpected scent of evil, braced herself against the floor and slowly rose to her feet. She was weak. She was fallen. Yet she sill prevailed against her own bodies’s weakneses. But the light, it was a sign. A signal. Hope.

He knew what he had to do.

Furi gritted her teeth and tuned out Lucifer’s laughter.

She was alone now. Her friends had all fallen.

She was alone.

To fight a war alone, was a task not even she could accompilish. The evil dragged her down. Tendrils of it wrapped around her body, invoking the agonizing pain she felt. Dying.

A few months ago, she had no idea. She was not dying, she was not an angel. She was not a guardian. She had been alone. As she was now. No one to rescue her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a movement neither threatening nor imopsing.

Her eyes grew wide as she watched he love stand on terribly shaking feet, and standing solitair and exposed, facing towards the white angels, head tilted upwards to the sky.

“No, what are you-” But Furi’s cries were cut by the menacing shrieks of the White angles as they charged at him.

Suddnely the evil enveloping their was no longer a problem as was teh fact. She watched in horror as they pounced on im, throwing hom down and clawing at his skin and wings. Furi fell once more to her knees as  his screams met her ears. 

Lucifer flicked his wrist  and they left, leaving the boy in a huddled,unmoving mass on the floor. Grey feathers were strewn across the floor, his wings no longer wings, but the featherless membrane of a wing, translucent and sprinkled with blood.

Furi blinked on a state of shock, her mouth slightly open.

He. Was. Dead.

It hit her like a brick.

He was dead.

Dead.

Gone-forever dead. Furi twitched unknowingly. She felt that acheing feeling in her chest, but not from the evil. The white angels took a step back when her eyes flickered between black and red. A shudder ran through her as the fury raged through her.

Dead.

She switched her position so her feet were firmly planted on the ground, arms held in front of her as if she had something to throw. Lucifer stopped his chuckling when she took a step towards him.

“Still haven’t given up I see…” he said in his smooth, dangerous voice. He watched amused as she took another step forwards.

“Please, Furi, don’t make me laugh. the devil shouldn’t laugh so amusedly. He could lose some of his terrifying credit.”

She meerly took anopther step towards him, feeling the plams of her hands heat to a buning intensity. She couldn’t feel the pain anymore. From the evil,  from his death. All she felt was the need to destroy, kill, this man.

The Devil was not usually one to be unsure of himself. But Furi kept walking towards him. Agrivatingly slowly, a stggered step each few seconds, eyes glowing a meanacing red, the black color of her wings very slowly draing to dark grey, to grey.

What could be happening? Where was all that evil going? Her wings had already absorbed it. There was no where else for it to go…

Furi felt power. Unimaginable, power beyond belief. She needed to use it. Her being relied on her usuing it…and he was the perfect target for all this energy….

Lucifer took several steps back when her saw just how truly deadly Furi looked this close up. Not even he had looked like that for five-hundred years.

Furi stopped. Lucifer heard a low growl emiting from her throat, followed by a hoarse whisper:

“You killed him.”

Furi let out an antagonizing scream. It would hurt even the most deaf ears. So full of pain, and torture, it both terrified it’s listeners and brought tears to their eyes.

Furi raised a hand at Lucifer, as if signaling him to stop. He did stop, in his tracks, as though frozen.

Behind Furi there were two swirling black masses of feathers, claws and teeth. Furi herself had claws now, a least six inches down and razor sharp.

She lunged the few fett towards Lucifer, her claws digging into the flesh of his shoulder and stomach. The creatures followed.

For a split second the devil thought he would live through this. He was the devil after all.

But both Furi’s claws and the monsters attacking him were made of his own evil solidifed. The one thing he tought no creture could ever harness to use against him. And the one thing that could destroy him.

Furi watched the blood pool around the body of this thing she hated so. She wouldn;t stop attacking. He was mutilated, every inch of his blackened body either cut or covered in blood. The girl couldn’t believe how brutal she had been.

It was…evil.

But Furi was not evil….Furi was…an angel.

A seraph.

“Stop.” She said in a soft voice, and the cretures stepped back from the dead man at her feet. Blackness had left her wings.

It resided, instead, in her heart. She had returned to normal. And become a monster in the process.

In the world, there has to be evil. The devil, source of all things evil, all deception, all crime, was gone.

Sometimes to destroy your enemy you must become him.

Furi did just that.

She had lost her wings.

Furi NOW–> 

`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`-`

A/N: Yeah, so there is my first Furi fic. She will most likely be returning and it will be out-of-order chapter things. PLEASE R&R ~Read and Review for those of you who didn’t know~’Cause I love when people tell me what they think. Of course, if you read this you’re already amazing so.

Furi has no wings after that fight, so she’s understandably depressed.

title: See Above

Authoress:Missmurer83 (duh)

Summary:A guy dies, Girl must survive! I actually like this one. Hence why I’m posting this.

I never intended on falling in love. I never actually thought I had a chance with anyone back then, that I didn’t have a true love. I was just a normal teen when it came down to it. Sure I admit I was some-what interesting. Weird even, but I never was completely insane. I was clean shaven I guess is what I’m saying. I had never done anything horribly translucent, [in my world that means vain or selfish] or even remotely shocking. Other than egging an entire neighbor hood on Halloween a few years back.

I’ve lost control a few times. Just intense yelling. I’ve even cheated on a boyfriend to some degree. (Only one. and I still feel terrible.) I’ve planned the demise of several enemies, but never gone through with it. I’m guessing that’s why I met him.

This “him” happens to be named Jacob O’Riley. Yes, I know that he sounds like a leprechaun, but he’s much, much more than that to me. Also, he isn’t a bloody leprechaun. Also he’s not a leprechaun. He’s a guy. A tall, stunningly blue eyed, black haired, musically gifted, guy. When I say musically gifted I don’t mean he’s the star student of our school band. I mean he can look at someone and hear their song. Their music. Notes composed into a life, a living breathing person. Each song different.  That’s what he saw when he looked at anyone. He saw music waiting to be written down, to tell their unique story. To be played out as life. He could see the scenes that shaped everyone, the places they’ve been the struggles they’ve faced. His music, the stories of the people around him were beautiful. It really was beautiful. There’s no way to describe the way he could convert into a song a story, it’s too amazing, to indescribable. He knew just the right instruments and notes to draw tears to your eyes, and fuel your heart with fury.           

 The day we met was a day in December, it was snowing and I was in the mall with a small group of friends discussing our latest news(mainly how my best friend finally got a boyfriend). I was sitting with them in the back of the food court near the shops trying to avoid the hundreds of tourists flocking to get lunch and return to their holiday shopping. That’s when Jacob showed up. He didn’t look like anything special, at first, really just another mall-goer from our little town. No big deal. If fact, I probably wouldn’t have noticed ihm if he A] weren’t heading in our direction and b] he didn’t have such inescapable eyes.             “Hi…” he said quietly. “I’m um…Jacob. Can I um… talk to you?” He was so shy and cute, with those bright blue eyes, so…captivating is the only word. There was just something about him that I wanted to find out. I didn’t know what, and probably didn’t need to at the time.           

“Um…Sure. I’m, um, Amy. Amy Jackson.” We sat down at the table across from the one where my friends still sat, gawking at me and Jacob.           

 “I’m not sure how to say this… but I want to..err….write your… song.” He said this quickly and I felt my right eyebrow arch.           

“Huh?” I asked dumbfounded.           

 “O um, your song…it’s like…the way your life plays out, only in music. It’s hard to describe. Really, really hard.”           

“My life in music…I’m guessing that you don’t mean something like High School musical do you? Something more uhhh…Instrumental?” I asked this only because I was completely obsessed with music, but musicals weren’t my thing..           

“How’d you know that?” He looked almost shocked.            

“You don’t look like the type to write for Broadway. You look more…um… something  classical. Rock maybe, as well, judging from the necklace.” He stared at me like he was amazed. Sometimes I do that to people. I can read some people like that. I don’t know why. His mouth dropped open a bit. It was almost funny.            

“I…um…instrumental…” He looked down at the thick black notebook on the table in front of him. It had hundreds of notes on it. “How you…no one has ever been able to tell that before…” He kept the same amazed expression, but he was staring at me. “No one ever guesses classical. They all think I play guitar, which I do, but I play mainly violin. I’m in an orchestra.”            

“Really? Cool. I play Sax off and on for a local band.” Jacob paused and wrote something in his notebook.

“Where are you from?” I asked. I had certainly never seen him before.             “I just moved here from New York. It was too hectic for me and my family.”          

  “O AMY!” called Julie stretching out the “a” for a few seconds. “We need to get going now! My Mom’ll be here soon!”             

“I have to go,” I said turning to him. “Here,” I wrote my phone number on a corner of his notebook paper. “Call me. This has been…interesting. Bye.” I stood and ran after Julie. “Way to ruin a conversation.” I say flatly as we passed Taco John’s”             

“Sorry” she said stretching out the “o”. “He was hot. Good hair. Yep.” She skipped off. Amy was weird like that most days. I think she had ADD or something. I knew for a fact she took meds every morning. That was almost a year ago today. It’s October. After that he called me and we talked for hours. He was going to my school and was a year older than me. We had a lot in common, we listened to the same bands, read the same books, had the same obsession with music, practically everything. Still, he was surprising. He knew things about people that I could never have figured out. He said he was just good at reading facial and body expressions. He didn’t believe in downloading music. I downloaded music constantly from iTunes.           

 “iTunes is stupid.” He said, “If you don’t buy the CD there’s no… I don’t know what it is. I just hate not having the album, the CD in my hands. Like if I don’t it’ll disappear. It’s like…proof I guess.”            

 I figured he didn’t like things disappearing. Or leaving, come to think of it. He had never met his father. He had promised he’d be right back, and then he was gone. Just like that. No one knew where he went; no one could find him anywhere. Jacob didn’t think he walked out, he thought he crashed or something and no one found him. We became good friends, best friends.“O my god!” Amy practically screamed into the phone. “I can’t believe your friends with him! I still think he’s hot, but then of course I would never date him ever. Too quiet for me you know? He barely says anything to anyone other than you and Michelle and Mike…you know, dorchestra twins.”

 “Don’t call them that.”This was true. We were his few close friends. Michelle and Mike were friends of his from school They were twins. And both played Viola.  He didn’t like people much at all. Like me, he hated crowds of people. They were annoying and loud and didn’t understand what truly went on in the world.         

Jacob preferred his black notebook, its pages covered in notes. Musical notes, of course. There were almost never any words in it. It was like he knew exactly what everything meant and how it was supposed to sound without any markings. Every once and a while there were dynamics and tempo changes. Then there were the names. Every song had a human name. There was one for me, one for Michelle, Mike; those were the only ones I knew. Every other piece was for people I never knew. The only way I knew about them was when Jacob played.            

When he played for me…that was more than amazing. I can’t describe it to you in words at all. He was better than anyone. A prodigy really. He belonged at some musical school, not Jefferson High.The music he wrote was for an orchestra, but alone he was twice as good. He could bring tears to my eyes and make me want to dance around like a happy idiot.(Which, thankfully I never did) What he could do with his violin, and guitar was better than anything on earth, to me. Never any mistakes, always…wow. If you could hear him play, hear him sing. He belonged in Julliard or some other music school like that, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t even in an orchestra outside school.           

 “Why don’t you play like this in public?” I asked quietly one night after he had finished a new song. It was near Christmas and basically the only light was coming from the bright Christmas tree lights outside his window.            

“I can’t. I don’t now why. They don’t seem to understand why I do this…write songs I mean.” His eyes flashed in the dim light. His red guitar gave off a soft light almost, sometimes sending bight flashes onto the ceiling.            

“ Do you realize how amazing your music is, J? I can’t describe it to you. Sometimes it’s so beautiful I could cry. And then sometimes it makes me so happy I could jump up and scream. Magical.” I paused. “Who else has heard you play your pieces?”             

“Only you.” He looked down shyly.           

 “You can’t let these go to waste on me. Show the world. Teach them what music really is. Or at least show the twins.”           

 “Nothing is wasted on you.” He assured. “Everything I play for you was written for your ears only. At least for now.” he paused. “It sounds like you.” He smiled. “It sounds beautiful. Well, from what you tell me” He added quietly, looking down shyly again. I felt myself smile. I couldn’t look at him right then. I felt the color rise in my cheeks.            

“Thanks,” I whispered.            

“Don’t,” he whispered back. “It’s true.”            “

You’re too….” I whisper. “This is all good to be true. You are too… kind and ingenious. It’s unreal. ”            “Maybe,” Jacob smiled and put his guitar in a corner of his room.

“ But, if it’s any consolation, I would never lie to you.  Never have. And I think I’m quite content with myself. Content with my life. Amazed beyond belief by you. You don’t seem to understand how many lives you’ve changed.”            

I searched for something to say. Finally I quit attempting, though. He walked back across the room and sat in front of me. We were just sitting there, facing each other. That’s when he kissed me. Actually kissed me, right there in his room.

He was so perfect. So beautifully flawed, with the scar on his neck the he got from sticking his head out a car window and the bruises he got from when he and Michael acted like the idiots they happened to be in the other’s presence. It was like a flood of memories breached my mind just then. Every memory of him and me over two short moths flooded back to me at that contact. I’d never felt like that before. Ever. It was hard to describe, well, hard to describe to those who had never felt it.

Those who have know exactly what it was like. It was love.  It was utterly terrifying, but was still completely brilliant, like the sun, you could say. I wasn’t sure what to say when we pulled apart. Apparently neither was he. There was only silence and far off “Silent Night” was playing. The silence was ok though. I guess we didn’t need words. It was a scene worthy of any sappy love movie that all the girls in my class were crazy about(Including Amy). Only this was real life. My life. To describe what it feels like you have to have experienced it. If you haven’t, just wait. And if you never do, I pity you.             

After that, we were practically inseparable. People no longer referred to us as two separate people, but as Jules and Jacob.           

God, how I wish it was still like that. There are so many things I learned about him back then that I still cherish.            

Like how he was terrified beyond all reason of water. He purposefully got wrong answers on tests so no one knew how smart he really was. He could sit alone for hours upon hours in his room with the lights turned off, just to think. Compose. Dream. How he never had finished a book in his life. He always forgot about them. His bookshelf was lined with dog-eared pages.           

It was a very normal day. A Tuesday to be exact. I remember far better than I ever would have wanted to.           

Jacob had gotten his license two months before. We were driving down the highway to get to this small town a couple hours away that had the best malts in the state.            

The highway outside our town went past this canyon kind of place. It was basically a tourist site, but it was like a mini-grand canyon. So we were driving past, going around eighty, when all of the sudden there was this truck. A red Chevy.  It was turning out of the Canyon parking lot, right as we were driving past.            

Jacob swerved last second to the right. Unfortunately, to the right was a wooden fence blocking off the canyon(A fucking wooden fence, people. How is that safe??). I was screaming as we went over.           

 It was the most terrifying thing I think I’d ever experience was falling like that, seeing Jacob one last time. I latched onto his amr like a life preserver. Then we hit the bottom. Everything went black.           

I woke up three days later in a hospital bed. There were flowers and “Get Well soon!” balloons everywhere (Also a balloon that read “Don’t Die!, most liekly from Amy ) . I had almost no idea what happened. Then I started to remember.

God, where was Jacob?

The nurse came in and smiled warmly. “Hello, hon.” She said. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You remember the accident?” I nodded dumbly. “Well, you have a few broken bones and suffered a minor concussion, but other than that you’ll be fine.”

“What about Jacob?” I said quickly. “The boy in the car with me? Is he ok?” The nurses smile faded. I felt my heartbeat quicken. That was never a good sign.“Well, hon.” She said “Your friend, Jacob, suffered some major injuries and I’m afraid.” She paused to sigh, and I felt the tears build up behind my eyes. “I’m afraid your friend passed away before he arrived here.”  

Everything slowed down. It was like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. My mouth felt dry and tears spilled silently down my cheeks. Soon I was sobbing into my hands. I prayed to god that it was it just some twisted nightmare.

Then I was screaming. A lot. And I remember throwing a vase full of flowers against the wall. They had to give me sedative.

Jacob couldn’t die. He wasn’t dead. He was sitting in his room, notebook in hand, scribbling down notes and dynamics and time changes. He was singing and performing. He had to be alive. Blue-eyed black haired Jacob O’Riley, love of my teenage life, couldn’t be dead.

God couldn’t be so cruel to me.

Everything was a blur. I left the hospital. I attended his funeral. I lost it. I would never see him again. Ever. All I had was a few pictures and memories. I would never hear him sing again. Never hear anyone’s life played out in music.

I would never. Hear. Him. Sing. Never again would I see him smile or see him playing with a hacky-sack in the Twin’s backyard.

Having a broken heart actually hurts, you know, like a constant ache in you chest. A constant scream in the back of your mind. All you ever want is for it to go away. But it never does and I kills you, inside out. I can’t say a word to anyone. I’ve tried. Whenever I open my mouth, it’s like there’s no point in saying anything if the one person I want to hear it isn’t there and never again will be. I feel like I’m the one who died.            

And I might as well have been. So I’m standing here, here where our car went over and we died. And I’m clutching his notebook.           

 And I’m falling.           

 And I for the first time in months, there is light.   

Ok, quick bio kinda thing.

I used to live in Tornado alley, but now I live in the equality state, I’ve been here 8 years, I have the most amazing friends and a great BF, music is my life, along with my writings.

In my English class I usually win the fiction awards, on our PAWS test, I get at least one 4 on the 11th grade level, I’m very self-consious of my writings sometimes ’cause I use them to communicate things towards people as all writers should.

I LOVE Harry Potter, and I write the off-on fanfiction, ~LE/JP, SB/RL 4 eva!!~ I have several blogs, including one that I use to be a chick from Canada, one of my best friends is ay, I like cookies…yeah. That’s about it.

If you have any questions about my stories or whatever, drop me a line, I’ll prolly reply.