The Sport of Swimming

So, right now, my computer is entirely in Dutch. It is a bright, sunny afternoon in Brussels, and I have just attempted to read a lab write-up about baseball. I have ten minutes before my family runs away without me, so I'll make it as quick as I can.

I have read somewhere that swimming is too boring to write about. Hmm...A sport treasured by millions of diverse humans across the globe, a sport honored to such a degree that it is in the Olympics, and a sport loved so much that men are willing to wear tiny Speedos into the great lake that is the pool, is, in my humble opinion, at least somewhat worthy to write about.

Swimming has ancient roots in the history of the world's creation. When the world was made, what were the first things in it? Bacteria. And where were the bacteria, the small unseeable things that would eventually evolve into you, you clump of flesh and blood and brain?

That's right.

Bacteria were swimming around in water. 

So if tiny bacteria can do it, why can't you?

Notwithstanding that, swimming has several benefits. 

First off, it feels good to be in the water after a hot day.

Second, swimmers are able to eat as much as they want because of the calories they lose in the pool.

Third, people who swim get free showers in the pool.

Lastly, and definitely not leastly, swimmers develop a toned muscular body.

You know what scientists say about V shaped bodies attracting the other gender? Swimming gives you that V-shaped body. Why else would girls craze about 15 year old British diver Tom Daley, or Michael Phelps, or Ryan Lochte? No one would care if they didn't swim.

I submit to you that swimming is an amazing, fun-filled sport that I have barely scratched the surface of. Whoever wrote that swimming is too boring must be some overstressed kid who takes too many AP's. 

T_L

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Birthday Problem

Birthdays are special occasions meant to celebrate the fact that," Hey, you're still alive. You're one year older. Let's throw a party before you die!"

That being said, birthday invitees are expected to bring thoughtful, expensive presents for the birthday person, so the person may use and have those presents, ostensibly, before they die. Invitees will know whether or not their gift passes the birthday person's criterion for gifts when they hear either,"Oh wow! Look at that! So nice of you to get that for me! I love it! Thank you!" or "WOOHOO! YEAAAA!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!!! THIS IS AMAZING! HOW DID YOU KNOW THIS WAS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED?!!!!!!"

The latter response indicates that you met the birthday person's requirements.

But either way, invitees will always hold a special place in the birthday person's heart. The ones with cool gifts will have a better place, but those without gift will have a place nevertheless.

Which brings me to my concern. I have a birthday party for a good friend of mine, and I...completely forgot about it. However, being someone who always focuses 90% of the time on solutions and only 10% on the problem,  I am working out a solution to my crisis. At the current time, I have only three scenarios that I can think. 

I either come with a present, come without a present, or run away to Mexico.

But my friend's party is always a great time and I just can't not go. So I guess Mexico is out of the answer. 

The last time I came without a present my friend kicked me out, too... and the last time I brought just a gift card or a bad present, I faced the guilt and sadness of not caring enough about my friend.

So it seems that I must think of some suitable gift. One that'll inspire that "WOOHOO! YEAAAA!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!!! THIS IS AMAZING! HOW DID YOU KNOW THIS WAS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED?!!!!!!" response.

(Thinking Time)...

Got it. Of course. It's incredibly simple. My friend loves chocolate. I'll just buy a whole bunch of chocolate, and maybe a little gold statue that says,"Best Friend" and she'll be to busy eating to care about the present! Of course! 

Rule of Thumb for Birthdays: Distract the birthday host for as long as the party goes, party hard so they forget about any gift, and enjoy the experience of being with friends.

T_L

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CLICK (A Drama) CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

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Geoffrey POV

“You’re sleeping in your cereal bowl agaaaaiin” sang Kent. He really did sing when he said that. He sounded like a bird. A bird getting tarred, that is.

For someone so smart like Kent, he could be really oblivious at times. He did find me sleeping out on the street, slumped against a mailbox. (He took pictures and posted them on Facebook. Idiot) Of course I was going to fall asleep at this ungodly hour! It was only 11:45 in the morning!

I looked blearily at Kent. “It tastes better this way,” and I dunked my face back into my Cheerios. Kent sighed and said, “You have a party to go to, you know. You were mumbling about it to me on the walk home from the mailbox. Maybe you should start getting ready?”

“Do I look like a girl? Who gets ready at 12:00 to go to a party like nine hours before?!” “Me. That’s why I’m so good looking and you’re not, my little cabbage!” Kent was squealing. I swear, he really was a girl. He even gave me a back hug before hopping away.

Alas, my peace and quiet was short lived, because Kent came back into the kitchen holding up two pairs of jeans.
“Jeffy jeff! Which pair of jeanie-jeans?! The slim fit black ones would look really good on your figure, but super tight blue skinny jeans are so cute right now! And they pretty much go with anything, so no worries about matching there. But if you do chose the black ones, make sure to wear it with a black v-neck or something, girls LOVE it. But I can also really picture you with a trenchcoat with the blue jeans, I’m not sure-”

I cut him off right there. No need to let him get into his inner diva zone. God forbid that. I put my cereal bowl in the sink and grabbed the black jeans and made a beeline for the bedroom.

...But of course Kent followed me in and flopped on the bed. “We’re gonna have to do something about your hair, and maybe even some waxing! And then we could go shopping and get some lunch together, and-” 

“OKAY KENT THAT’S FINE,” I yelled at him. Didn’t want the poor guy to have a spazz attack-he gets uh, excited easily.I pulled on a shirt after getting on the jeans. I didn’t brush my hair, which upset Kent. But at least I brushed my teeth. 

We hopped into Kent’s car-I owned only a bike- but he let me drive. Actually, I made him let me. The guy really could not drive for his life. Last time he drove, I think he managed to drive through one of our neighbour’s house...and land on the roof. Don’t ask me how, I haven’t quite figured it out myself. Idiot. TOTALLY helpless.

Suddenly, Kent squished his face against the car window slammed his palms onto the pane and screamed, “GEOOOOFFREEEYYY! BLOW OUT SALE! OH MY GOD WE JUST-WE HAVE TO, OKAY?!”

“No. Oh my god, no.”
“Oh, you are so unfun. Fine. Drive me over to Wendy’s, will you?”
“Excuse me? WHO IS WENDY?"

Kent looked at me, annoyed. “She’s my girlfriend, stupid!”
“YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND SINCE WHEN-”
“Since the last couple of mo~oooonths....” he sighed.

I rolled my eyes, but I drove him over anyway. Poor Wendy.

After I dropped Kent off, I looked for something to do. I still had about 5 hours to kill, and that was after eating some lunch. The library, I guess?... There was a really big one near where I was. Kent said it was “awesome”. Apparently the library attracts some “really cute squirrels”. Whatever.

After the encounter with Anjali this morning, I really felt like I knew her. If I were in a movie, I probably would know her. She would probably be my long lost fiance or something and then we both got amnesia and we had some “~thwarted love~” and blah blah blah. But I mean, this wasn’t a movie. This was real life. But what if?...Weird. Well, libraries were for research, right? It wouldn’t hurt just to humor the thought.

...Aaaaand, as soon as I got there, I felt like an idiot. What was a silly idea like mine doing in such a serious, somber place? The library was absolutelyly massive. It wasn’t all new and shiny and sparkly. Haha, nooo. It was gloomy. It was stuffy. It was dark. And I loved it. It had this grandiose feeling and it was so...old fashioned. Sure, you could almost smell the denture cream and prunes, but I don’t think anyone had died there. Yet.

I walked up to the front desk. Alas, there was no stern, butthurt old woman. But there was a highly obnoxious looking teenager. She had stringy light brown hair and rectangular, bright red glasses. Which didn’t necessarily make her obnoxious seeming. But the loud laughing and texting sure did.

“Hi...could you tell me if you keep records of the paper here?”

Surprisingly, she was nice. “Hm? Oh yeah, we do! How far back are you looking for though? We only have back up to the last ten years, the rest got eaten by moths or something. Sorry!”  

I shrugged. Ten years, yeah I could start there. “May I have a look at them please?”

“Mhm, no prob! Follow me,” she said, flouncing away.

The girl led me to a thick door behind the front desk, into a hallway (which, unlike the rest of the library, was white with some faint tinges of blue green from the lights. It almost had a ..detached, clinical feel to it) and stopped in front of a door on the left.She swung inside and a moment later reappeared with about three boxes of (presumably) newspapers.

“Oh geez, you’re gonna fall over let me help you with that,” I said, stooping down to pick up the boxes.

“Nah, it’s fine I got thi-NOPE NOPE NOPE MAN GOING DOWN MAN GOING DOWNNNNNNN!” and she toppled over. Sigh. There were a lot of newspapers to put back in order...I picked some up and shuffled them back in order, placing them back in the boxes.

“Geez, I’m so clumsy, I’m sorry. Like I trip a lot and stuff it’s sooo embarrassing. Aaaah!” she cringed, laughing.

I wasn’t really listening. “Right,”

It took awhile, but finally, all the papers were stuffed back into storage. The girl brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“So uhm...thanks for helping me-?”

“Oh. It’s Geoffrey.”

“Well, thanks Geoffrey! It’s nice to meet you. My name’s Jessica. Any chance I could maybe see you again?”

I blinked and stared. After clearing my throat I said, “I-I don’t think that’s legal.” And I rushed off, leaving her with the boxes. Maybe not the smoothest parting, but I was not expecting that. I felt a bit bad. Poor kid.

I checked my watch. Only half an hour had gone by. And I was still perplexed (and maybe frustrated) because I couldn't figure out how exactly I felt like I knew Anjali

Maybe I should ask a doctor to check out my head? Meh. Nah. Too expensive. 
Well, looks like I’ll be paying Anj a visit.
It wasn’t until I got back into the car that it occurred to me that I had no idea where she lived. And I already came off as a stalker, why keep the impression?
...But ooh, this was gonna be good. I could almost picture what her face would look like when I showed up unannounced. Come to think of it, I could probably find her address via the workplace. Yeah, the boss sent out a text message with everyone’s phone number, email, and address.
Everyone’s, that is, except Anjali’s. Figures. I sighed. I would just have to see her at the party. 
So I found myself in the park, feeding pidgeons. I bought some bread from the grocery store a block down from the library. It was on sale because it was stale. The city has such a nice park. They’re all old; the newest one was built at least twenty years ago. Some of them are cleaner than others. But I love them all the same. They all seem to have a background. Cryptic carvings on trees, old park benches, cracked sidewalks...I love it. And that’s how I spent the rest of the afternoon. Feeding pigeons. The sky wasn’t blue (it was more like a white gray) it was a bit damp (whatever) and the park was a bit more depressed looking than usual. All the same. All the same...

“GEOFFREY! KAT, KAT! LOOK WHO’S HERE!” 

The face of Callie Whitworth turned about three shades redder. 
“Um, I mean, hi! Come in! Do you want something to drink?”
“Uhmm...”
I glanced behind the door left ajar. The party wasn’t like one of those super loud ones in the movies, where everyone gets drunk or is getting laid in the weirdest, most uncomfortable spots. It was...an Asian party. And I wasn’t Asian...
I think I saw some people playing DDR. And then there was a clique of some really gossipy girls, and uhm...some really nerdy guys. They were all crowded around a computer playing Starcraft.
“Nice, uh, party,” I said lamely, gesticulating behind her. 
“Hm? Oh yeah, thanks! Hurry up, get in, you’re gonna get cold!”
“Right.” I stepped in. Anj popped up.
“Hey, Cal, there’s a bunch of guys on the phone insisting that you stole their boxers,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.
“WHAT?! That is just CREEPY! HOW?! That was sooo not me, it was all Francesca’s idea!” Cal whined, exasperated. She went off to answer the phone. Girls are so weird...
“Yeah, too many admirers Cal,” Anjali grinned. “Hey Geoffrey!”
Hm? “Oh. Hey Anj.” 
“How are you?”
I shrugged. “Tired.”
“Yeah? Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“Oh, sure, I guess.”
“Seriously! You look awful!”
Before I could say anything, some girl walked into the room. She had long hair, but it was pulled up in a braid (I think girls call it a fishtail- I see no resemblance whatsoever). She was obviously pretty. Long, skinny legs, big wide-set eyes... all that jazz and more. She looked at me scrutinizingly, but brushed it off in a smile. What was her name?..Oh yes. That was right. Kat, I presumed (I had heard about her from work-Cal was very loud).  
Not sure what to say, I looked at Anj for a few pointers, but she simply had her jaw squared and looked akin to a grumpy garden gnome. 
“Uhm, hullo!” I gulped.
She whipped around. 
“Can I help you?” I asked
“Oh...oh yeah! Have you seen someone named Aiden? Kinda looks like a neanderthal?”
Anj snorted. I laughed nervously.
“Wow. He your ex?”
“Oh he’s more than just an ex. He’s dead...AS SOON AS I FIND HIM!” Evidently, she had found him, because she ran off in the direction of a guy who was unsuccessfully hiding behind a potted plant half his size. Almost felt bad for him. 
“Wow. She’s, huh, feisty,” I said, half laughing.

Anjali huffed angrily.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sensing some bad blood between you two...” 
Anjali didn't have any time to answer this either, because Kat came huffing back. 
“Hey..guys...whew! Well that scared him away real good! Good thing I always keep a gun or two handy. Yep. That jerkwad was a lying, cheating, hor-” and then she burst into tears. I offered her a tissue (the box, conveniently, was placed right behind me on a little stand). Kat didn’t even want the tissue. She ended up shredding it to pieces and tossing it to the floor and sobbing even harder.
“I-I’m sorry,” she sniffed, trying to regain a bit of her composure. 
“No problem!” Anj chirped, who was definitely enjoying this. I looked at her. She gave a little shrug and a “I am so not passing up this opportunity” look. All the same, I felt sort of bad for Kat, so I awkwardly patted her back.
“There...there...”
Anj snorted derisively. Kat didn’t notice. 
“I just- I thought we were gonna have it all and- BUT WHATEVER I DON’T CARE ABOUT DIRTY PIGS LIKE HIM! I AM A STRONG, INDEPENDENT, BLACK WOMAN!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Anj silently mouthing “black woman?”, shaking her head. 
“Right!” I chirped as cheerfully as possible. What the heck was I supposed to say now?! 
“Awww, Kat, don’t cry! Me and Wendy’ll cheer you up!! Let’s go raid the kitchen because I smell some COOOKIIEESSS!” 
I stumbled back. Ah of course, the person who had perfected his skill for bad timing. What the heck, WHO INVITED KENT?!
“GOD KENT! I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK SOME ANNOUNCEMENT BEFORE YOU POUNCE PLEASE!” 
By now Anjali was shaking, unsuccessfully trying to stifle her laughter. Buttwipe. 
“Sorry Geoff, thought you knew I was here,” without so much as glancing at me, he grabbed a wrecked Kat and his equally bizarre girlfriend, and sped off to the kitchen, calling back, “Toodles, Jeff Jeff!” Ugh. Was he even a man? I glanced at Anjali. She smiled. Huh. That smile- it seemed familiar. Like I had seen it, before, a lot. Everyday maybe. Which reminded me, I wanted to ask her something...
“Sorry. Er, Anj, not to be a prude, but you don’t remember me? At all?”
“Should I?” she looked at me quizzically.
I chuckled. “Really, though. Do you remember me?"

Unconsciously, I found myself staring down at her, closer then I had been a minute ago.A tad too close. She looked up, probably thinking I was some creeper. Well, I am a creeper. So there. What was this anyway, a cheesy romance movie? Was there someone up in the clouds, playing puppeteer?

“Boop.”

Startled (I was spacing out), I looked down at Anjali. She had a finger poking me away.

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Uhm...”

She laughed and I backed away.

“Oh well, you know, maybe you don’t. It was almost a year ago anyway, and you were really drunk. I just came back to tell you I have a kid and it’s yours.”

She waved her hand offhandedly, not missing a beat. “Oh well, it’s not the first time it happened. You all just blend together.”

Anj bit her lip, tapping her fingers. Her face grew darker, and she looked like she was debating whether to tell me something. All right, she definitely had some answers.

“Go on,” I encouraged her, trying my best to look as open and innocent as possible.

“Well...” she started, “don’t laugh. Promise not to laugh? Okay good. Um. Well I’ve been having these dreams. Well, they feel more like memories than dreams really, but that can’t be right, I mean this stuff doesn’t even happen in real life, I’ve got a hyperactive imagination anyway and I really maybe too much coffee I dunno but you were in uhm it and you er well you shot me you see maybe it’s all just crazy but if that’s the answer you were looking for-”

I froze. Shot her? Suddenly, I felt very aware of everything that was going on. Anjali was still talking away, the DDR game had some 8-bit 70’s music playing, there was the sound of people talking and glasses clinking and people yelling at the computer angry because of something Starcraft related and someone was having a fight and another person had knocked over a glass dish and it was so hot and yet so cold at the same time and the lights were so bright and-

I had to get out of there. Slowly, I turned away from Anjali and walked away. When I heard her trying to catch up to me, I broke into a jog, then a run. I was already out the door and three flights of stairs down from Cal’s dorm when she gave up chasing after me. Man, I was so gone. I exited via the side door and ran off into the muggy night. Forget the car. Geez, what idiot thought to put so many street lights out here? I mean, the whole place was orange from all of the streetlights! Ugh, no. There was a deserted little alley not too far from where I was. Well, now, wasn’t that just perfect. A dark little corner where I could be by myself and most probably get brutally murdered. All fine by me.

Actually, there wasn’t so much of a creepy psycho lurking on the side as there was a creepy couple making out. Like honestly, really going at it.

“There’s always tomorrow kids! And don’t forget to use protection!” I yelled, walking past them and moving further down the constricted path. They gave me a brief glare and walked off somewhere else. Now I was all alone...and I liked it. I could revel in the darkness. No one could see me, no one knew me, and I liked that too. Most of all, and most importantly, I couldn’t see anyone. I sniffled and wiped my nose, because even if it was hot and humid out here, I was still cold. My mind was still buzzing and numb. I stood there for a while, not thinking, not hearing, not listening. Just standing.

“Hullo,” a person to my left murmured. I hadn’t noticed him. Wow. He was pretty quiet. Was I supposed to be scared? Probably. Whatever.

“Hey.” I answered gruffly.

“What’s up.”

I looked at him. I couldn’t really see his face.

“Dunno.” Didn’t feel like answering him. He walked ahead two paces, so that his back was turned to me. He swiveled around.

He smiled in a sort of knowing manner, looking at his shoes. Then he looked back up at me.

“Should I, ah, put you out of your misery?”What? What was that supposed to-

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” I choked, too scared to scream. The guy-HE HAD A KNIFE! A FLIPPING KNIFE! God oh god oh god geez-

I was pinned to the wall in half a heartbeat, like a shot rabbit in its death throes. His hands gripped my hair and tilted my head back. The psychpath grinned insidiously, slowly cutting a thin line under my throat. I struggled to breathe, I was too scared too feel anything yet, I was going to get-

“Don’t worry, I won’t make this...too long,” he chuckled, pressing just the smallest fraction of an inch harder.

“Oh god,” I said, groaning, “God. What do you want? I don’t have any cash, any thing of any value-I don’t have anything! There’s no one you could get a ransom from-”

“Oh, stop complaining! I don’t want any money! I just wanna see you squeal!” he licked his teeth, pausing over each grime coated yellow nub. Oh, where was the justice in such a cruel world?

By now, I was cursing creatively in my head (couldn’t risk moving my throat and getting cut any deeper) and my heart palpitations were no more than fluttery beats inside my chest, even though I had enough adrenaline to keep me going for days (good use that went to though, I was too scared to do anything). The guy was twice my size too. Oh god. This was how I was going to die. I was going to die I was going to die I was going to die-

I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it would be over quickly. But suddenly...something clicked in my brain. I kneed him and although he didn’t double over, he let go of his grip on my hair and neck, giving me enough time to punch his head and his stomach, which did (in fact) make him double over. I snapped into position behind him and grabbed his wrists, twisting them so he dropped the knife onto my shoe. I kicked it back up into my hands and shoved him to floor, placing a foot on his chest. Slowly, I leaned in and said, “Any last words?” and slit his throat before he could let out a sniveling mew.

It all had happened in a matter of seconds.

Justice had been served.

…I had killed a person.

Moreover, I had killed Anjali. Read chapter four here! -->

http://www.tellury.com/2012/10/anjali-pov-bam-i-yelped-as-i-felt.html

:) 

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CLICK (A Drama) CHAPTER THREE

Aaaaaannd chapter three is up my lovely little lambs! Dig in! 

CLICK (A Drama) CHAPTER THREE

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Anjali POV

I sat at Cal’s tiny dining table, staring down at my coffee mug. I absentmindedly sipped from the empty cup. What was going on? Why was I having these dreams? And more importantly, why did the “Angel” shoot me? WHY WAS I EVEN DREAMING ABOUT HIM???

“So, Anj, what’s wrong?” I looked up as Cal took a seat by me.

“Uh...well....I keep having these nightmares. They just keep getting worse. And-and-and I’m just really scared! And I keep thinking about my parents and how I wish they were here and my house is so big its like living in a haunted house and every time I see red I feel like hurling and my dreams should belong to some sadistic loser, not to me and I just----” Cal cut off my blubbering rant.

“Woah woah woah! Calm down! Shhhhh! It’s okay, Anj, everything will be okay. Just tell me what you dreamed of.” I stared at her, knowing she would laugh. After staying silent for a whole minute, I told her.

“...The guy from work shot me...” However, instead of laughing, she leaned over very seriously and asked me if I was drunk. Before I could protest, light footsteps in the hall distracted me. A petite girl emerged from the shadows. Her dark hair was messily pulled into a bun, and she rubbed her eyes with one hand.

“Cal?” Cal jumped up.

“Awww, Katrina, did we wake you up?” While saying this, Cal shot me a dirty look. What happened to sympathizing me 5 seconds ago? The girl smiled and shook her head. I stood up and introduced myself.

“Woah! I’ve heard of you! Aren’t you the girl that graduated from college like...when you were 20?”

“Haha yeah. That’s me.” I was surprised she knew me.

The three of us sat down at the dining table. After a short conversation, I discovered that she was 20, was sickeningly sweet, and a bit annoying. Or at least, that’s what I thought. Cal began to speak again, and I immediately felt sick.

“So, I told you about Geoffrey, right? Haha, he’s like, soooo gorgeous. Oh, Kat, guess what? Anjali here had a dream that he shot her. Hahaha!” Both the girls laughed. Suddenly I wanted to get out. I stood up and asked to be excused. Without even looking at me, Cal and Katrina nodded and began talking about what to wear to their party. I quietly let myself out, and made a run for it.

My endless running landed me on the pavement in front of a shabby apartment complex. By now it was early morning. I collapsed on the floor, stared at the ground, and let my tears slip. It really hurt. I was a strange girl, and life was already difficult for me. I didn’t need it to be worse. I had already been diagnosed with a strange memory loss disorder, seeing as i couldn’t remember anything before my 17th birthday. And the funny thing was, when I sat at the police station waiting to be identified like a stray dog, no one came to claim me. The only thing the police could find was an abandoned house with vast arrays of photographs. There was a picture of me, and that was how they found my “family”. A bunch of pictures. On top of that, for the past three months, I keep having these strange dreams of people I’ve never seen in my entire life. I keep hearing the name “Daphne”, but I seriously have no idea who she is! And, the dream I had last night was just creepy. Geoffrey’s features were unnaturally clear, and unlike any other dream I've ever had. Almost like it was real. But it wasn't. I knew it wasn't.

I heard someone behind me. Not bothering to turn around, I burrowed myself deeper into my arms, and emerged only when I heard a small cough. I looked up, and was surprised to see Geoffrey standing there. At first he looked a bit pissed, but after taking in my current state, his features softened.

“Uhm, are you okay?” He sat down by me on the floor. I slowly nodded my head, wiping away my tears.

“Ha! That’s...that’s good. I can’t have anymore crying girls on my watch...heh.” He looked awkwardly around. What a weirdo. Oh well, since Cal wouldn't listen, I might as well rant to this stranger.

“Life’s just hard, y’know? It just feels like everything is unfair.” He looked away and muttered a few words.

“Like you would know.” I was taken aback. His voice dripped with contempt.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who asked me if I was okay,” I accused.

“Uhm. Sorry. That just uh, just came out. Sorry. I’ve been uhm a bit tired lately so excuse my er...eccentricities...”

I looked skeptically at him. He was hiding something. I could feel it. But it wasn’t in my place to ask him.

He looked at me, then smiled sardonically, “I’m not lying Anj.” He laughed. I stared at him with wide eyes.

“How-how do you know my name?” Oh my goodness. Was he some sort of creeper? I inched further away.
“Er. We have name badges..on our shirts at work...you do know that, right?” 
“But...when I met you a couple of days ago I didn’t have my badge...”
“OH. You uhm, you didn’t? Well...well. Look who’s a good gueessserrr!” I was getting more and more creeped out by the second. Hmm, maybe Cal told him...and he just....remembered it? I glanced down at my watch. It was already 5 am. 
“Truth is, I feel like I’ve seen you before?... But then again, I don’t really get much sleep these days, so uhm..yeah.” Either this was the cheesiest pickup line of all time, or he really was a stalker. I nearly told him about my dream, and how I felt like I’d seen him before as well, but decided against it. I abruptly stood up and dusted my pajama pants. He looked up.
“Uh...well, thanks for talking to me. So, uh, I guess I’ll now. I’ll see you at work?”
“Er...yeah...Yeah sure. ” I nodded and took off jogging in the other  direction.
“WAIT!” he yelled back. “IT’S THE WEEKEND! TODAY’S SATURDAY!”
I cringed, and looked around sheepishly. “Right....I guess I’ll see you at Cal’s party?”
“HAHAAAAAAAA! And oh fugglebutts, it’s TODAY?! Sh- Yap alrighty tighty. SEE YOU THEN! I nodded again, and resumed jogging. After 5 minutes, I realized I’d left my car at Cal’s. I retraced my steps, passing the apartment complex. I noticed Geoffrey sleeping with his head on a mailbox. I nearly woke him up, but instead let him sleep. He really did look like an angel.

Read Chapter Four Here! -->http://www.tellury.com/2012/10/click-drama-chapter-four.html

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CLICK (A Drama) CHAPTER TWO

Hey guys! Episode Two is up; enjoy!

CHAPTER TWO

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Geoffrey's Point of View 

           "NO!" My scream echoed against the walls of the empty room. The sheets of my bed were entangled, drenched. I was slumped against the bedpost, breathing heavily, but I couldn’t remember why. I don’t know why I woke up. There were fleeting feelings of anger, frustration, betrayal, emptiness, despair...and something else. I couldn’t remember. They slowly dissolved into the dark, leaving me with nothing but a wisp of unease... I swept away a few damp strands of my hair with a clammy hand. The room was silent save for the creaks of the crummy house and the ticking of a clock. A triangle of street light fell across the room from the window, but everything else was dark.

I looked at my alarm clock. 2:32. Three hours of sleep. More than usual. Lately, I couldn’t sleep at all. Everything was exhausting. Breathing was exhausting. Falling asleep was exhausting. Thinking was exhausting. I figured I had a perpetual glazed look in my eyes. The world seemed so surreal. Like it didn’t even exist. Like everything was going on in my head. Like if I closed my eyes, everything would change if I wanted it to. Like it was one big dream...

There was always something on the back of my mind these days. And there was Anjali! I’m a bit surprised that I didn’t have a massive heart attack when I recognized her. But then again, I guess nothing fazes me. And besides, she had grown up.

Mother of god. Anjali. Geez... God! Anjali! I still didn’t trust her, after what she did to me. God. What an idiot. I hated her. I hate her.

We’re not ex’s or anything. Oh god no. Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not even her type. We’ve never liked each other. It’s what she did to...to...GOD. GOD. I don’t know. I know it was something bad. I can’t remember. I can’t remember! Every time I think about what she did, I can’t seem to remember what it was that makes me hate her so much. It’s like trying to push away years of accumulated grime- years of useless information that’s just sitting in my head. I can’t think clearly. I CAN’T THINK. I don’t know why! I’m so tired, so..weak! Just when I think I’ve recalled something, the memory of it spills into the cracks of my brain...like blood ebbing out of a lifeless body...

While I was still up, I might as well go pee. Honest,  I really had to go. Dragging my legs out of bed, I placed my feet on the cold wood.

  I groggily flipped on the bathroom light switch, only to find Kent squatting on the toilet. WOAH. I stumbled back, rubbing my eyes, and looked at him more carefully.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

Poor Kent. He looked like a rabbit in the headlights. He just sat there, like he wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Ah. No need to answer. I know exactly what you’re doing. Goodbye.” And I closed the bathroom door in his face. Now to go find a potted plant...

Unfortunately, there were none to be had. All right, I would just have to go outside and find a bush. I fumbled with the lock a bit in the dark, but I got outside okay. Aaaaannd...we had no bushes. Great. Whatever. Pissing in the grass was fine by me. Dropping my boxers to my ankles, I let out a sigh of relief. Ahh.

That was much better. Hopefully no one was looking out there windows right now. But they probably wouldn’t have minded anyway; my neighbors are kind of anti-social.Maybe I could just drop by the local drug store and buy some food. Food was always good. Hopefully they let in customers without shirts or shoes.

The streets were so quiet. Well, it wasn't like we lived in the city...nah. We were right up against the beach. You could hear the waves crashing against the shore. But a little further inland, only about a mile or two away..BAM. There were people everywhere. It’s a pretty big city, you may have heard of it. Hallows City? Yeah, I live right on the outskirts. A few lampposts lit up the old trees in the neighborhood. Geez, those trees were old. Their roots were gnarled and cracked the pavement. It was a bit cold outside, but the walk was fine anyway. When I walked into the liquor store, it was as bright as heck. Sort of surprised me.

I was checking out at the cashier, when all of the sudden, I heard heavy breathing right behind me. I reflexively (wait, reflexively??) whipped around, and there was this weird girl staring at me. She had very shiny, very sleek long red hair and set of green eyes.  

“Uhm, can I help you?” I asked.

 She started making these little squeaking noises, and fanned herself a little.

“H-hi, I’m uh, I’m uhm...Callie Whitworth? I work, er, work at the same place as you!” she squealed nerously. She looked like she had a hyperactivity disorder.

“Oh. Is that so? I-I never knew,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. Really, I didn’t. Like I said, I don’t like my coworkers.

“WOULDYOULIKETOGOTOAPARTYOFMINE??” She said this very fast, in one gigantic breath. Wow. She really cut to the chase. Sort of creepy, really.

Well. I didn’t have anything better to do; why not? “Yeah, sure. Where at?”

She rambled on about something, wrote it down on some paper, and left (Oh thank god I swear I would never buy junk food at three in the morning again if it meant I wouldn’t have to run into her again). I kissed my bag of chips and other assorted goodies and left. Walking back was pretty much the same as walking to the store, but right before I reached the house, some person stumbled in front of me.

  “Ahhh...are you all right?”

She turned around and looked at me. “Does it look like I’m all right? My boyfriend just broke up with me! OF COURSE I’M NOT ALL RIGHT!”

I held up my hands and slowly backed away. Geez. Why did some girls think they could treat other people like crud and get away with it?
“I’m sorry I asked, “ I said, shaking my head.
“BLOODY RIGHT YOU BETTER BE SORRY, BUTT WIPE!” and she strutted off. I watched her get into a shabby looking BMW, careening away. Well.
I stood there. Why was it that some girls thought they could be rude and get away with it? I’d like to believe that there was some other-wordly force involved with dishing out justice...haha. Who would believe in that crap? Bad things happen to good people. It never seems like the other way around. Depressing, wasn’t it? I just had to plop down on the sidewalk right there and then. I didn’t feel like going back home anymore. I opened up my packages of food. What was I even eating?

  Gah, I didn’t know. Some fried, buttery, salty, fat, sweet goodness straight from heaven. I inhaled deeply. I was about to shove a fistful of the stuff into my face, when I stopped. I took a good look at what was in my hand.

Smashed pink cupcakes, potato chips, and what was that, a squished-up maple syrup bacon doughnut? My throat constricted. This...this was just sad. It was like 4 in the morning, and here I was, smushing my face into a pile of food. Melted frosting dripped off my fingers, already oily from the chips. The doughnut was just mash thickly coating my whole hand. I think I even spotted a couple of Twinkie’s bits and ...when the heck did I buy that pint of Ben and Jerry’s? Ugh.

  I chucked the stuff as far away from as I could. Gross. Gross! I was disgusting! I was horrified by myself! What was wrong with me? I tried my best to wipe off the grungy filth, but man, that stuff sticks. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes, my cheeks, my face...I rested my head in my palms. What was wrong with me...what was wrong with me. I really needed to be...to be different. 

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Anjali's Point of View

“AAAAAAAHHHH!!!”
I awoke shrieking, beads of sweat coating my neck. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I had the weirdest dreams. This time, I was in some sort of room, and there was this young girl and believe it or not, the “Angel” was there, too. You know, the one that broke my nose? The girl was lying on my lap, and I was crying. The “Angel” was crying too. And then he fired a gun, and I fell, surrounded by darkness. Suffocation throttled me, and I woke up.
Not wishing to stay alone in the dark house, I grabbed a jacket, raked a comb through the bird’s nest on my head, and drove away to Cal’s dorm.I punched Cal's door and nearly broke it down, much like Hagrid in the 1st Harry Potter book. The door opened to Cal’s sleepy face. She rubbed one eye, and then widened both as she saw my state.“Woah, kid, what’s wrong? Why are you up at THIS UNGODLY HOUR? It’s like, 2 in the morning broooo.”“It’s 3, Cal. And, uh, I just couldn’t stay alone. I keep having nightmares.”She shook her head and opened the door wider, shooing me inside.
“You’ll need to be quiet. I think my roomie’s still asleep.” I nodded, and then asked her who her roommate was.
“Oh, just a student. Her name’s Katrina Han.”

Read Chapter Three Here! --->http://www.tellury.com/2012/10/click-drama-chapter-three.html

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The Telling

In the beginning, there was the Word...(John 1:1)  and then there was Word 2011. Seven blooming middle schoolers had a spark of creativity to light the passionate fires of literature inside all of us. We began as a simple school newspaper, working day and night to become school sanctioned. We went paper-free and online. We typed furiously at our computers, desperately trying to make enough articles for our beloved school. And we even gave away our writing powers to school officials, emailing our articles so as to be censored before published...But that was one step too far.

Our freedom gone, the independence lost, and the power of free press relinquished, the writers for our original tribal newspaper, On the Wing, had the writing fire inside of them drowned by the stifling effects of bureaucracy and school officiating. No longer did writing come easily to them, like the bee to the flower; no, each word was a burden on our Word processor, a burden on our creativity and innovation, choking the life out of each article. Our school newspaper dreams were squashed, and remained that way for the rest of our middle school career. But somehow, in the remains of our broken vision, was the idea that we maybe, could just maybe, make a newspaper for our selves. School free. Censorship free. Burden free. And independent. Like America separating from Britain.

We made our own Constitution, like the founding fathers, and listed our goals for this future newspaper. And like the founders, we argued incessantly about what we were to do, or what we would be called. For weeks no compromise could be reached. Decision, then indecision, wracked each meeting. Even a focused conference at Edwards Cinema, after relaxing with an amazing movie, led to no agreement. Finally, rising out of the ashes of our burnt out arguments, a bright young man, named of Gokul, discovered a name no one could deride, dispute, or even discuss, because no one but Gokul could understand it. The newspaper would be named, The Tellury.  

To be continued...

The King

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CLICK (A drama)

Hey guys! The following paragraphs are part of our newest installment here on the Tellury- A weekly drama! Each week we'll have a new chapter up :) Feel free to leave suggestions for the plot, or alternatively, diss our horribly incompetent storytelling and write it off as trash (but we know that you'll keep reading it to see how bad it getsss!...or at least we hope you will) There are four main characters in this story and we hope you'll come to (at least) have a slight inclination/liking toward them (and if not that, then perhaps muted/watered down dislike). Each POV (point of view) is written by a different staff writer in the music section: Ahana, Aki, Sangeeta, and me (Roobeccaaa ;)) So happy reading, my little lambs, we hope you like it!

CHAPTER ONE 

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Geoffrey's Point of View

“Who’s Daphne?”
I started. Lifting my head out of the cereal, I stared groggily at my roommate, Kent.
“Who?”

“That’s what I was asking you. Who’s Daphne?” he inquired, picking at his toast. He looked up at me again.

What an idiot. How would I know? I’ve never heard of her. And for God’s sake, he was discussing this at breakfast. He knows I’m not a morning person. Couldn’t he see I had bits of frosted flakes or whatever the heck it was all over my face?

“Well Kenneth,” I started out slowly, “she was my great Aunt Jane who happened to be a CIA agent, thus adopting the alias ‘Daphne’. It was a great pity when she was killed by a mob of genetically mutated chickens gone wild, because she was such a kind old lady who gave out free cookies.” I smiled at him sweetly.

He frowned at me. “Oh? That’s funny. Because I heard you talking to her last night in your sleep; and you were saying ‘Daphne...Daphne... ’ over and over again, and  some other gag-worthy mush. Unless of course you secretly have some sort of creepy crush on your dead Great Aunt Gertie -whatever her name was- that’s like, necrophilia and incest all mixed together!” He mimed a puking motion.
I raised my eyebrows, nonchalantly staring at my cereal bowl. Ugh. It was Cheerios. I swore I would never let Kent go grocery shopping again without me to supervise.
“Is that so? Weird as it may be, I find it stranger that you watch me while I sleep.”
He choked, spewing toast crumbs all over the table (and me). I got up and left the kitchen, while he yelled, “- I - REALLY, I - oh god - IT’S NOT WHAT IT SEEMS LIKE!”
Honestly, though...I really had no idea who Daphne was. How does anyone even talk about a person they don’t know in their sleep? I mused over this, shaving. Weird. The way Kent was talking about her, I felt like I probably should know her. But where from? Come to think of it, this Daphne person...I had a good feeling about her. What, did I like her in my past life? I almost laughed at that. If I did have some sort of weird past life experience, I would have  probably been something dull or weird, like a pigeon. (Not that I would object to that. Pooping on people...definitely a fun thing.) I smirked.
“Ow!”
I lifted a hand to my cheek. Cut myself. Hm.
Within the hour, I was out the door on my way to work. I don’t even know what my job is. As soon as I walk into the place, I try to get out. It’s so dull; I work in a cubicle. Everything is gray. The people are gray. The job is gray. And it’s utterly, horribly, depressing. It could make any sane, happy person cry. God, I just want to buy a bunch of yellow paints, any type of colored paint, and drench the place until it was soaking wet in color. But I put on a drab face like everybody else. Maybe that’s what it is-I get paid to look like a fish; a cold, disgusting fish.
I pushed open the chrome double doors into the world of much-needed Prozac.
“OH SWEEB JESUBS- OW! OH BY GOD, I DINK MY DOSE IS BROKEB!”
Startled, I looked to the source of the noise. Some sort of...Asian girl. Chinese? Or Thai? She looked a bit Indian. Or Filipino, I can never get them right. She might have been pretty...I can never tell. By society's standards though, she was a knock-out. Anyway, she looked like she was bleeding pretty badly. Even though she had two long fingers pinched around her nose, a good deal of blood was seeping through. I watched as a drop splattered across the gray ground. That one drop..it just sort of..splashed out..when it hit the ground...you could see a bit of it..I dunno. I could hear it splash. The tiny little reflected shadows..and the glimmers of light...it was so...so bright. It’s own little pool of fluid, viscous red...

“Hey Bister, are you gobbna helb be out orb bot?” the girl asked, laughing. I quickly looked away from the droplet. What a charming little laugh. Charming indeed...

I was a bit flustered. She was new here. Nobody laughed in this building, unless someone’s dog had died or something. (Yeah, these people laughed at dead dogs.)  “Oh..! Ahh, here take this tissue,” I said. I pulled a wad of something (I dunno, was it a napkin or a ticket stub?) out of my pocket and handed it to her. I think she was about to say thanks, but I was already gone.
I didn’t pay much attention to the girl. But I did see that she had curved eyes...tan skin...average height... oh my god. OH MY GOD. I-I knew her!

====================================================================

Anjali's Point of View

“Bye Mom, bye Dad.” I said to the photographs staring blankly up at me. Of course they wouldn’t answer, but I had to keep up my positive image. Even when I was the only one there to see it.

I exited my big mansion. I hated it. I was always so lonely; no neighbors, and my parents hadn’t left me any siblings, just an unoccupied home. But sad thoughts aside, the day was young. The sun glistened on top of the royal pond, and the wind sang with the birds. I was on my way to pick up my best friend from her dorm so we could go to our absolutely dreary job.

Once at work, I realized that I had left my ID card in my Maeserati. Silly me. I left my dull cubicle and walked to the double doors. I reached my hand out to pull it open when--- BAM!

Warm blood oozed down my face. Crude globs of it coated my hand when I pinched my nose, trying to stench the flow.

Bam! Bam! The sound of two bullets finding their mark resonated through the dark room. A figure dropped to the floor, followed by another, a red puddle slowly forming underneath them. Two shadows moved outside. A little 6-year-old girl with a mop of brown hair ran over to the couple.

“Ma! Chichi! Wake up! Wake up!” Her mother made no movement, but her father, hand shaking, held her arm and looked her square in the eyes.

“Don’t look back Anjali. Don’t look back. Run, baby, run!” He gasped the last word out, and then his hand fell to the floor. Red filled her vision.

A drop of blood landed on the floor, and I found myself in the cold future once again. Where had that memory come from? Shaking, I looked up to see a tall, business suit-cladded guy with wide eyes, dazed at what was probably a waterfall of red coming from my nostrils. He had frown lines around his lips, and slicked brown hair. His eyes scared me; a glowing gray blue, almost dreamy. Wait...he just broke my nose. What am I thinking? Slapping on a smile, I laughed at him.

“Hey Bister, are you gobbna helb be out orb bot?” He jerked back to reality and fumbled through his pocket. He handed me a tissue, or something else, and quickly left. I yelled back a thanks.

After fetching more tissues and my ID, I walked back to my cubicle. Sliding into the swivel chair, (which by the way, is a great thing to sit on) I looked down at the immense amount of paperwork piled upon my desk. Funnily enough, they were all titled with my best friend’s name. Sighing, I got up and peered over the wall, into the cubicle of Cally Witworth.

“Cal....really?” She glanced up, startled, and then grinned when she noticed my face. Her thick glasses slipped down her nose, and she blew a strand of untidy red hair out of her limpid green eyes.

“This is work, not school. Why’d you leave all your stuff on my desk?!” Cal shrugged. Honestly, she was so immature for a girl who was 5 years older than me.

“It’s a lot of stuff.....and I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Staring at the uber cute guy over there! Duh!”

I looked around. Hmmm, an old man, a brunette who was trying to staple her shirt, and a three-year-old sitting in what I presumed was his parents’ cubicle. Unless Cal was a pedophile, there were no visible cuties around. Cal nudged me, pointing to her computer.

“Not there silly. I installed a spy cam in a guy’s cubicle. Look, he’s so hot.”

My jaw dropped. A spy cam? Skeptical thoughts on my choice of friends put aside, I looked down at the screen. Hmm, I guess he was---wait---hang on a second.

“He broke my nose!” Cal looked up at me, startled.

“Him? Nah. Not possible. He’s an angel!” Eyebrows raised, my eyes trailed back down to his back. He looked around, almost furtively, before heading out. Hmph, angel my butt.

After work ended at 4, Cal and I trudged down to the parking lot. On my way to the driver side, I spotted the “Angel”. We locked eyes. Seriously, his eyes were demonic. They sent shivers down my spine. But rather than backing down, I smiled and waved. He curved his head, as if studying me, and then slowly waved back. Cal squealed.

“Oh my God! Did you see that? He waved at me!!!” She must not have seen my arm. Whatever. I sighed.

“Right then. Get in the car."


====================================================================

Katrina's Point of View

“And there’s this really, really cute guy! Oh my gosh! You know Anjali?”
I nodded my head. Well, not really. But I’ve heard of her. She graduated from the same college just last year. Pretty popular with the boys too, from what I’ve heard.
“Well yeah, so me and her are working together at this Bio-med company, where we design products to help with like immunity problems or whatever. Anyway, there’s this super cute guy there! He’s just so yummmm! Anjali thinks he’s creepy, but oh my gosh, I dunno what’s wrong with her. I wish we could go outttt!” she squealed.
I laughed. “Cal, you’re going to have to introduce me to this guy. I am sooo not letting you date without my permission.”
“Omg yes! Kat, there’s gonna be this party at this guy’s house on Friday, and you’re definitely coming with me, okay? And then maybe I can get Geoffrey to come too!”
“Geoffrey? Is that his name? Gross, it sounds super unattractive.” I made a face.
“OMG NOOO! Kat, this boy is delicious. DELICIOUS.”
Delicious? Yeah right. She called every guy delicious! Whatever. I had nothing else to do over the weekend, except homework. Bleargh. Homework. Honestly, college is fun though. But being poor sucks. The textbooks, the tuition...oh lord. The bills just never end. Sometimes I would have to just scrap by on a pudding cup I found in the cafeteria. I don’t tell that to Mom and Dad though, they’d freak out. They’re already paying so much for me to be here. Vonde University was definitely not a cheap college.
“Kat? KAT? Gurrrl, snap out of it!”
I spazzed out and blinked a couple of times. “Oh, what? Sorry I wasn’t uh listening..”
Cal shook her head and poked me. “Tsk tsk. You’re really out of it sometimes. Hey, anyway, I was thinking we could go get some Starbucks before our next lecture? Pleeaaasse?” she smiled widely. I sighed. I knew I couldn’t afford anything, much less Starbucks, but you know...I’m just a nice kid.
When we arrived at Starbucks, the place was bustling with people. Cal and I chose a spot in the corner, and she ran off to order us some coffee, proclaiming that it was on the house. I looked around. I hadn’t really been out that much, so everyone looked strange to me. What caught my eye, however, was the little kid holding a hat, pouting at some lady. My eyes were quick to notice that his hands carefully pressed the hat to his chest, almost as if he was trying to keep something from falling out of it.
I continued to watch, and the lady gave the little boy a push and walked off. The boy stayed staring at the ground, before looking up and smiling, a wallet suddenly appearing in his hand. He abruptly stiffened then looked in my direction.
Our eyes met. I knew I had just witnessed thievery, and by a little boy nonetheless. But I couldn’t bring myself to turn him in. His serious green eyes, strangely more precocious than they should be at his age (geez, it was almost scary), bore into my own brown ones. There was a cold calculating look in his eyes that gave me chills. Which, honestly, should be happening the other way around. This little lunkhead stole from someone! 
Still, I couldn’t help but feel like I was a bit of a squashed bug he might have found on the bottom of his Hot Wheels car. He gave me a smug smirk that made me want to run across the street and tie his underwear to a flagpole, right there, right then. Rage flashed across my face, and I quickly looked down and tried to calm myself. When I glanced back up, he had disappeared.

====================================================================

Draedyn's Point of View

The glass clacked against the synthetic wood table as I set it down. I pulled my floppy hat lower, tilting it slightly so it cast my face into shadow, and glanced around at my busy surroundings. The cafe was filled with people, and nobody noticed little old me—well, actually it would be more accurate to say “young”, but hey, who am I to mess with expressions—hunched down in the corner where the wall connected with the glass that made up the entire front of the establishment.
I peered out the window with detached interest. The outside world was way too bright and cheery. The flashing of sun on metal as the cars inched along the road and the bright clothes of the harried looking people that walked past blinded my eyes. A door opened to my right, allowing the chaotic noise of the outside world to filter in. For a brief moment, the chirps of birds and the honks of angry car drivers filled the air before the door closed again and the low murmur of the café could be heard again.

A slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the spindly trees that were planted outside the café. The poor things looked like they were dying. I wonder what it’s like to be a tree. Would I get bored from just sitting there? Would it tickle when dogs pee-peed on me? What would losing my leaves feel like? Would it hurt like when old ladies yanked on my cheeks and cooed? I still had no idea why they had such an obsession with my cheeks. They were rather thin and un-squishy, so it really hurt when they stretched them.. 
I shook my head and mentally reprimanded myself for getting off track. Now what had I been thinking about again? I couldn’t quite remember. I glanced down at the half empty glass of apple juice and struggled to recall what I was thinking about. I struggled. And struggled. And struggled some more.
Staring at the glass vacantly I noticed how pretty it was. The sun shone down through it, casting an amber shadow on the table and causing the wet brim to sparkle. It really was very distracting. I tilted my head and giggled—scratch that, I am eleven years old now, and I do not giggle—I tilted my head and chuckled in an extremely manly, masculine, testosterone-filled way.

I idly swirled the bendy straw around, then took another sip of the drink. Exhaling in satisfaction, I began looking around the room again. Now, who would be a good “client”? A balding man sitting in the opposite corner, typing away at his computer? No, I didn’t feel in the mood for men today. A pretty college student, her hair tied up and her t-shirt proclaiming her to be a proud member of the “Vonde Association for Gifted Young Ladies”? Nah, I preferred older ones. How about the old granny smiling toothlessly at her husband, whom was sitting across from her? I shuddered and quickly dismissed her; she probably pinched hard too.

Finally, I settled on a middle aged lady that was seated four tables down from mine. She had on a wide-brimmed hat and carried the air of someone who drank tea and knitted with their sorority, whatever the heck a “sorority” was. As I watched, she smiled to the lady across from her and waved her hand airily. She began talking about her “dear little Jamie” and I knew she was perfect. 
I discreetly shrugged off my large trench coat and unbuttoned my old flannel shirt. See, I always wore several layers so I could look the part that I was playing. Since I was playing “proper little prince” I stripped down to my third layer, which was a vest over a buttoned white shirt. I stuffed my other layers into the trash bag I had beside me and took out a funny hat that, according to my blood brother Kiyo, made me look appropriately “dashing”.

Anyways, I got out some gel and a comb, and began attempting to comb my mop of hair, the straw colored strands tangling in the wide teeth of the comb. I sighed, and then added a few giant dollops of gel in an attempt to straighten out my curls. They were rather loose compared to the corkscrew curls I had when I was younger, but they still gave me a bunch of trouble. I eventually managed to get my hair in order, and then I plopped the hat down on my head, tilting it up to reveal my wide green eyes.

I waited for a long period of time until the lady bid goodbye to her friend and walked out. I drained the last of my apple juice and fixed a posh look on my face, then walked out after her. I tailed her for a bit, keeping track of her by watching her reflection on the windows of shops. I managed to corner her at the intersection between two busy roads. I tugged on the strap of her bag with my right hand, deftly slipping my hand into the purse for a brief moment. She halted and I immediately said the first thing that popped up.

“‘Scuse me, mam, really sorry to bother you, but my dear Gran’s ill and we’ve not enough money.” I withdrew my hand, careful to keep the palm facing down, and let it dangle at my side. I looked up at her as I told my story, the words flowing out smooth as butter. I mentally groaned, they were way too see-through for what I was attempting. Though compulsive lying (or lying automatically and on the spot) allowed me to lie effortlessly, I never thought ahead and sometimes my lies were too flimsy. I had managed to improve slightly-- I still shuddered when I remember the first time I compulsively lied and told a person that a dragon had abducted my rabid squirrel and that I needed money for a rabies shot-- but I still slipped up at times. Especially when I was under stress.

“Listen..kid,” the lady hesitated. I took off my hat with my left hand, momentarily blocking her view of my right, and then placed it against my chest, carefully holding it there with both hands.

“Please, mam, my Gran isn’t moving. S-she doesn’t play with me anymore. S-she c-can’t even raise her arm.” I felt myself tearing up. The lady, who was looking quite hassled, decided that she did not want to deal with a crying kid.

“Sorry, kid. I can’t help you. Now stop crying and get.” she gave me a firm push and then quickly strode away, ignoring my crestfallen expression.

I struggled to keep the smugness off my face as I stared down at the ground. When I had waited an appropriate amount of time, I looked up again and then snickered to myself. I stopped pressing my hat against my chat and looked down into it. Nestled inside was a wallet, no doubt filled with money.

I had nicked it when I first tugged on her purse strap, and then kept her distracted so she didn't notice my hand. I then put the wallet in my hat when I took it off my head. The only challenge had been to make my story just reasonable enough that she would think I had stopped her to ask, yet unreasonable enough to dissuade her from actually giving me money, which would cause her to realize that her wallet was missing. It was a very delicate balance and I had gotten away with it.

I quickly took out the money and placed it in a hidden pocket that was sown on the inside of my vest, and then placed the wallet in my back pocket. It was a good day. I smirked.

A tingling feeling suddenly crawled up my neck, giving me goosebumps. I was being watched. I had learned very early on in life that just being seen was a very bad thing, but to actually be watched..it did not bode well for me. I jerked around, meeting the eyes of a chinese girl sitting in an overcrowded Starbucks. She looked around 20 or so--most likely a college student. Her eyes showed a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and shock. I examined her for a second, before quickly dismissing her. She wouldn’t tell. I gave her a small smirk, relishing in her anger, and then walked away, whistling.

Read Chapter Two here! -->http://www.tellury.com/2012/09/click-drama-chapter-two.html

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