I am trailing my fingers along the wall, tired, going home I am sucking my on finger, the scratch made from a loose brick, sticking out from the wall I am rememerbing all of the novels I've read, with the ladies who hide notes to their lovers behind crumbling, loose bricks I am pulling the brick out, watching a piece of paper no bigger that a post-it fluttering to the ground I am picking it up, unfolding it, smoothing it out I am reading it I am dropping the note, running home I am reading the words. over and over again in my head Go away, Natasha. You and your fantasy books, your swirling desires. I never loved you, Natasha Greene, and I know that you loved me, you sad pathetic excuse for a lover. I am walking up to my house, The house that has Greene written on it in swirling calgiraphy over the front door I am getting my key out, door opening already I am hugging, being hugged
I run, the wind stinging my face. I want t get home fast because today my best friend from preschool is coming home. We haven’t seen each other for 2 years since 5th grade. I run down the alley in between two walls of bricks. I notice something as I am running so I slow down. I notice that there is a brick missing from the wall in its place is a piece of paper rolled so tightly you wouldn’t see it if it weren’t for the little edge sticking out. I pulled it out and read it. It said: Up in a tree
Captured by he Stuck all alone
Never came home Hope is lost
But not quite forgot I took the note home to read again later and hurried on my way. It was strange how I had found the note the day my friend was coming home. I later realized that it wasn’t the day that she came home, it was the day she didn’t. March 19, 1934
I walk alone with the sun in my eyes and a drop of sweat rolling down my cheek. I look to my right at the old factory wall. They reddish brown bricks slowly fading to grey. I look up wale still walking to see hundreds of bricks all different towering up to the rusty third story balcony. I trip over a small stump that was cut down to make a path. I get up with a small scratch and look about a few feet in front of me to see a brick much older then the others with weak plaster holding it in place. I walk over to it and try to grip onto it. I can't get a good hold but for some reason I want to get it out. I reach down and pick up a rock a little bit bigger than my palm. I chip at the plaster until I can slip my fingers in and pull out the brick. A small piece of paper drifts down from the now empty space. It reads
To whoever is reading this is the future,
The date is 1909
My town has just imprisoned imprisoned me for murder
I was walking down from the store, with a two liter Dr Pepper and two bags of skittles. I kept walking until I saw this brick wall. This brick wall was about 6 ft tall, it was just one brick wall. Nothing to it. Like that brick wall was meant for me to see. I don't know why it caught my attention. Oh wait! There was loose brick that's what caught my attention. I walked up to the loose brick and tugged in it, as I tugged on it a piece of paper fell out. I picked up the piece of paper and looked at it, it was a picture of me walking down the street. I started to freak out and was looking around me.I dropped the note and, I bolted it, I was running, didn't even take a glance behind me. I ran in my house, locked the doors, shut the curtains, and ran into my room. I was hiding under the bed. I heard the door open. Creeek. I was thinking , I hope it's my parents I hope! I heard loud footsteps, the footsteps were getting louder and louder. Then the footsteps stop.
Today’s the day the Bubble Gum factory is going to be taken down, and that’s where I’m headed now. I heard that people have been taking out it’s loose bricks, as reminders of the great times we’ve all had. Just thinking about it makes a smile spread on my face. I’m excited. I walk by the side of the building and knock on the bricks. On my third knock, I hear a hollow echo. I grab the same brick that echoed and shimmy it out. It feels heavy in my hands. I run my fingers along the rectangular hole I just made and something yellow floats to the ground. I kneel onto the grass and pick it up, it looks like a old worn Chinese fortune. It reads, “You have the ability to touch the lives of many people.” Goosebumps roll across my entire body and a grin makes it way to my face. I already knew I had the ability, I just needed the sign to tell me when to start.
The yellowed old paper, folded in many haphazard ways, fluttered down to the concrete sidewalk that ran along the side of the building. I bent down, picking it up carefully just in case it was so old it would crumble to dust at my fingertips, inspecting it closely. After coming to the conclusion that the paper was sturdy enough to open it without obliterating it, I slowly unfolded the paper. Displayed on the paper was elegant cursive that flowed across the page. It read:
Dear Sam, I don’t know how to tell you this in any other way than to just come forth and explain myself; this is wrong and we cannot continue on with what we have. It’s wrong and if it was exposed we would break many hearts other than ours. This hurts me just as much as I know it will kill you. Know this is no easy feat, but it’s what’s best.
The sun’s rays were hot, but the breeze was cool. In the city there are many buildings. It’s all so new to me. It’s almost breathtaking to see the city, especially when you’ve lived in the country all your life. Don’t get me wrong, I love the dirt roads and the farm, Auntie May, Uncle Jerry, and our dog Bailey. Our life on the farm is almost picture perfect, but I long to be in the city. The cars and taxis zip by. The sidewalk is hot and cracked. I pass a brick building and I run my hand along it as I walk by. I admire it for a minute. It reminds me of the library in town back home. A loose brick catches my eye. And there’s a not sticking out of it. I unfold the note, but the wind blows it away before I could read it. It blows across the street and glides over the sidewalk on the other side. I move to a crosswalk and press the button rapidly. When it’s my turn I move swiftly, trying to catch up to the note, that is luckily still in sight.
To walk down the most scary street in the neighborhood is one thing. Living in the nicest house is another. Everyday of my life since kindergarten, I have had to always walk on the Mexican border. It isn’t really a street. It is more of an alleyway. This is because on one side of me, there is a barbwire fence. On the other side of me, there is a long, brick wall. This alleyway has always been a scare.
As I was walking down the alleyway, I was running my hand along the brick wall. As I
was halfway down it, something jagged stuck out of the brick wall. I stopped. The brick looked different than all the others. It was more yellow than red. Because of this, I grabbed it.
As I grabbed it, a note flew down from the brick. It looked super old. I unraveled the note. It said: Dear Americans,