Your Falling

Feel the cold breeze in your hair.
Feel the cold breeze on your face.
Hear its howling screams.
You can feel the presence of a dark spirit washing over the land.
It affects you.  
This is your first autumn.
Your spirit is the howling wind.
Its screams are screams of terror.
Halloween is near.
It crawls out of its grave every year.
You can't stand the smell of all this life dying.
Everything is starting to hide.
Then its happens you fall.
You to succumb to its spell it grabs you it flings you through the air.
You are just a mere seed.  
You are torn away from your home.
You are placed in a new land.
Everything looks different.
Then a squirrel picks you up and buries you near its home.
You think it's all over.
When it's just the beginning of your life.

You thought you would be there forever.

What makes me, me?
    I have short light brown hair. I wear pretty normal clothes. My face could easily get lost in a crowd. That begs the question; what makes me, me? My height used to set me apart from the crowd, now I’m average. Maybe my like for depressing things makes me stand out. Or maybe my bad posture? My big nose perhaps? Is it the way I trust too quickly? Maybe I’m set apart from the crowd because I’m too quiet, or too obnoxious. I think it’s due to the fact that I’m too much to handle. I’m either all in or all out. My mood can change from happy to insane in a span of minutes. I haven’t always been this way. It just kind of happened. There is no off switch, I’ve found. Maybe I’m different because I have no off switch… Or maybe because I speculate too much, this being solid proof.
 

My older brother, my rock. The athletic one, the businessman, the strong, and smart one. Tall and skinny, an envy to many, he walks through life with the just the right amount of confidence. In many ways, I have looked up to him for my whole life. He is witty, a people person. A magician with words. He pulls ideas out of his head and spins them like a web. He works his way around a mess with such ease and grace, you’d think that he's a dancer. He lives in the eye of a hurricane. Disaster and chaos twirling around him, but where he goes, a calmness follows. When he leaves, and before he arrives, is when the rain hits, the wind starts beating against your skin, bringing tears to your face with the harshness of the truth when he reveals it to you. He is a closed book, lock thrown away, and not to be searched for. With questions, come no answers when he is involved. I see my mother's hair turning grey, and her eyes growing old as she sits, waits, tries to be a part of his life.

This adult is a hardworker. Hes 5'10" and has been working in the same printing company for over twenty years. Without a college degree he worked his way up the ranks to the highest position he could obtain. He's got mostly white hair but you can tell he has brown hair. He's got the stereotypical dad body and the worst dad jokes you could imagine. He's pretty introverted and his mind is always on work. He lives for work. If he's not at his job he's finding something to do around the house. He used to play many sports as a kid. If he didn't he'd definitely have a stomach on him today. His favorite was soccer. He was one of the best defenders on his team. He was working since he was fourteen and doesn't plan to stop anytime soon.

My sister is very quiet at school. At home she talks a lot. She has long, straight, dirty blonde hair. She has steely blue eyes that sometimes turns grey. She has our fathers nose and she has little to no freckles. At home she is not afraid to voice her opinion or yell. She yells a lot in fact. She gets very irritated at my younger brother or at anybody if they don’t do what she asks, (or demands if you ask me). Out in public she never talks unless it’s to her family or one of my best friends. She never yells at public places but she loves to annoy me by following me around and getting in my personal space. She loves to annoy everyone she knows and are close to her. Like Lilly, or my brother or grandfather. She likes to do things by herself but wants someone around her in every room. She likes almost everything I like, though she doesn’t like most vegetables. When she was younger she used to throw loud tantrums over every little thing.

There she goes in the back of the pack. She has blonde hair that falls to just below her shoulders and has a face full of freckles. Her hair is blonde not bleach blonde but blonde with little curls that form around her ears when it gets humid out. Her hair is thick and frizzy. The freckles are all over her face and look like a dot to dot game. She has blue eyes with eyebrows that you can barely see because they are blonde. And her eyelashes are long and thin. Her shoulders are an average size. She walks with a smile and when there isn’t a smile on her face then something is wrong which is rarely.

He looks up at the ceiling fan and is now in a trance, his big blue eyes watching the blades turn. His arms and legs flail with happiness, soft legs kick my arms, while his chubby little hand is holding my thumb. His small head resting against me, just the slightest dusting of hair on the back of it. He finally looks at me, and the biggest smile appears on his face. 10 seconds later he is pouty, his eyebrows furrowed, and begins to cry.

He likes to grab onto hair, and be held by anyone that is willing to hold him. He likes a cat named Mittens, and he doesn't seem to be too in love with dogs. He has a big brother that makes him laugh daily, and a father and mother who love him more than words.  He's four months old and drools all the time. He hates going in the car, but he like his car seat. He likes being at my house though, so he can stare at the ceiling fan and start the whole story over again...
 

There was that girl again. She stood there staring at me while I was at her.
The girl was different from the others. She was short but fairly thin.
Maybe it was normal or maybe she was sucking in to fit standers.
She had curves but hid them under baggy clothing to hide her insecurities.
She had small hands that clutched together to keep calm.
Her hair was a dark honey color with sunshine highlights pulled back into a loose braid,
with wavy strands falling out everywhere.
Her face was pale with light brown freckles caressing her small round nose and rosy cheeks.
Her smile was small and forced trying to fool everyone that she was happy.
You could tell she had a million things she wanted to say, but couldn’t.
Her eyes were golden with light green fading in.
But as you look closer you can see they are dull.
You can see the pain in her eyes, you can see hurt and fear.

Monica is the coolest person ever. She is so nice and thoughtful. She has very thick brown hair with a little red. She is 5’ 4” and stocky. Her hair is quite frizzy. She has brown eyes. She can look tough and then look really funny. She has a nice smile. This is my sister Monica.