His fingers danced along the strings. Each note louder than the last. The notes seemed to hang in the air, as if it were my choice to listen. They did not demand that I hear them, or that I even listen at all. They drew me in. Hanging in the air like fresh fruit begging to be picked. To my surprise, it was he who had been creating this music. 

I never would have guessed that he played violin. Or even began to imagine he was this good. It had only been a few months that we had shared the apartment, and even so I was rarely here. How could I know so little about my roommate? 

When I had first put the ad out, I got lots of weirdos. An odd and bouncy girl who smelled like yoga and kombucha, a girl I can only describe as ‘emo,’ a buff dude who asked me nearly eight times if he could put his weights in the living room. But then there was Charlie. He seemed normal. Quiet and stoic, but normal.

My mother pulled my blanket up to my chin and grabbed a book from the shelf. She sat on the end of my bed reciting the poem, printed on the pages. My eyes felt heavy and they slowly closed. After she finished, she kissed my forehead, turned off the lights, and just before she left my room, she whispered.

Two hands behind my head

Not a single weapon near me except the one you held.

I was being robbed of my sanity

Not only my store, my life, but my sanity

I didn’t move

I dare not move or else I could get shot

I wish I could tell you what happened but I can’t

You’ll shoot

I wish I could tell you how I had a family but

You’ll shoot

I dare not speak a word because

You’ll shoot

I was the manager of a store

I went to college

I married the love of my life

I had beautiful kids

And yet the only thing I could think of was you

I heard another man yelling at my employee

Asking him where security tapes were

I dare not move

You’ll shoot

I heard the rumble of the tapes starting up

The policeman's eyes glued to the tape

Grief stood alone, The music was loud, to loud. He felt a soft familiar hand slide onto his shoulders. “Hello.” whispered Denial. Grief didn’t answer. He knew whatever he said she would deny.

“Hello, Denial.”

“Hello, Grief.”

“Nice Party.”

“Can't say the same.” Then she slipped away, leaving Grief alone once again. Grief saw Anger coming over. Anger was mean. He didn’t have any sort of filter and words simply slipped right out of his mouth. Anger pushed others aside and stormed up to Grief.

“You ok?” Asked Grief in a particularly calm tone, not moving his eyes from the floor which they were placed.

“NO!” Anger balled his fisted up and ran off. Leaving lonely Grief to his thoughts, quickly accompanied by Manipulation. Grief hated Manipulation. She always got what she wanted and gave more than she had. “Hello, Manipulation.” Grief gave a quick unwelcoming smile.

What does it mean to be a girl?

Imagine you have the ability to walk on clouds -- and not fall through. What do you do with this newfound power?


I sat in my class bored as could be 
And I saw the clouds staring down at me
My eyes started closing 
And I started dozing
My head started dreaming 
•••
My heart, it raced as I floated higher
My eyes started drooping and I got tired
I layed down on a pillow of cloud 
I drew out a yawn right aloud 
The Angels sung 
A song for the young 
SMACK
A ruler in hand 
A teacher stood standing quite a demand
She smacked my table
My mind disabled 
She looked into my eyes
Disappointment in hers
Don't sleep in class
A message transfers. 

Love:

“Hello folks and welcome to the very first, Spinny chair competition!!” the crowd whooed  with excitement. Here I was about to face the hardest race in human history. The spinnychair races. I approached my chair. It was a golden reddish color. Beautiful. I sat on the most comfortable fluffy seat I had ever sat in. I saw another racer go sit in their chair, I did a small spin and approached the line. I could see the long line of tile, 30 miles of tile. I placed my feet on the ground and did a couple spins, it is a spinny chair. I could see the contestants line up next to me. My hair blew in my face but I ignored it. No distractions. I could see the ref walk up to the starting line, “Alright, I want a nice clean race.” he looked up at all of us. I closed my eyes and counted down. breath in. One. Breathe Out. Two. breath in. THREE! The boom from the starting gun, and my eyes flew open, and I pushed off. The tile was smooth and polished and made it easy to push.

Race day. I could see my bright red car from where I was standing. My body tensed and I could feel my heart racing faster. A thousand maybes and what-ifs flashed through my head. Cars. I loved cars. I was a girl. Nobody understood. I’ve lost so many races because of my gender. I cut my hair short and wore boyish clothing. There was no acceptance for a girl who loved cars.

I walked passed the reporters and loving fans, to my car. Her wheels were fresh and her red paint was so shiny I could see my own reflection in it. I ran my hands through my hair and put my helmet on. I felt the soft padding clamp around my neck and the spotless shell weighed down my head. I climbed into the car and immediately checked my controls and connection with Jerry, my partner.

“You ready J?” His voice so distinctive, made my body numb.

“I’m ready,” my voice emotionless.