Fiction Fridays || The Journal || 3

More Fiction Friday Posts
Part 1 Part 2

THE JOURNAL // 3

"Well, Andrew Connor Malone,” I whispered to myself, “Let’s find out who you are. I placed the book squarely in front of me and opened the book, 

September 19

My English Literature teacher suggested I write a journal, he said I was a good writer; Iam just “in want of practice,” he told me in his stuffy British accent. I said “okay Mr. Whitewood.” and went home. I totally forgot about it until today when he said, “How is the journal coming along, Andrew?” as I was packing my books. “Uh.. journal. It's fine,” I mumbled, he smiled thinly and pulled a package out of his desk and handed it to me. “You know,” he said as I opened it, “journaling is not only for girls. Most famous writers kept one some time. As do I. It helps me think.” He said, tapping his forehead. “Try it.” He told me, “If only for a few days.”

So here I am. Trying it. This is my first entry in my uneventful life. Nothing spectacular happened today (SURPRISE!) so this is where this entry ends. We’ll see how this goes.  -A  

 September 21

Dad insisted I come to a business meeting with him today, although it was a Saturday and I kind of had some plans. He said it was to “prepare me for things to come.” I still can’t manage to make him realize I do not want to go to business, or law, or engineering school. The problem is I can’t find a reasonable solution. I can say, “I don’t want to go do that”  all day long. But dad wants to know what it is that I do want to do. Me too. I dislike sports, even though I’m pretty good at all of them, hate politics, would really rather die before I become the CEO of some money loving business. If my mom was still alive, she’d agree with me. Dad would listen to her. I guess since I only have 1 1/2 years until I have to find my ambition, I had better hurry up. Until I do, I’m just going to focus on school and writing. I guess.
Enough of that now, it’s almost midnight. -A

 September 23

Last night I had a dream. “Wow, that’s amazing Andy, I’m so glad you are here to write about the important on goings of your dream state...” (I guess I should mention that no one EVER calls me Andy, only my annoying and abusive alter ego. Say hello abusive alter ego.) Anyway, yes I had a dream, in this dream my father stepped down and I became president/owner or what ever it’s called of Malone banks. I was in charge of millions, lived in a “posh” upper-class mansion, never had to do a day of hard work and I hated it. All around me people expected perfection, they wanted facts, figures, and I had no idea what was going on. I went from day to day without any hope of freedom. I was trapped like a bird in a cage. I woke in a cold sweat. Weird the things that haunt my nightmares. I know people expect rich kids to love being pampered and looked after, free from the normal things of life. But the fact is all I really want to do is be normal. Well, as normal as any human 16 and a half year old guy can be. And maybe I don’t even want that, I’m not looking for the kind of stuff guys my age think they want, a girlfriend, popularity, things that make your otherwise perfectly sound brain useless. But I guess I just want people, my dad, to appreciate me for who I am, what I want to do, my interests. Is it really too much to ask? I don’t know; it seems fairly reasonable to my thinking. Oh well, enough of that, I need to stop writing about how terrible my life is, because really it’s not! Dad isn’t even hard to live with, I love him more than anything else, so I guess I should write like it. I don’t want to look back on this book and have it be a big downer. Something I’ll look back on with a kind of regret. So I’ll have to find something else to write about.
Gosh, I just realized how weird it would be if someone read my journal... I need to do something about that. Okay, I just inscribed my name on the title page and wrote beside it, “READ NO FURTHER” people always obey signs, right? RIGHT? I sure hope so because now I’m paranoid. Hm. Anyway, dad just got home and I should go greet him.  -A

“Elly! Turn your light out and go to bed!” My mother said as she opened my door, startling me into thrusting the book onto the floor. She walked over and picked it up, “Where did you get this?” She asked, fingering the leather and flipping through the first pages. “I found it today in one of the houses.” I said, she raised her eyebrow and handed it back to me. “This is someone’s private property, you know. They probably wouldn’t want you reading it.” I said, “I know, I just... can we put an add out in the paper for it in the morning?” She smiled, her nose wrinkling up as she did, “I think that would be best, don’t you? Whose is it, by the way? I didn’t read the inscription.” “Malone.” She looked surprised. “Now, that should be interesting. Too bad we shouldn’t read it.” I giggled, “Oh come on, mom. Just a little bit?” I put two fingers together to show her how little we would read, then squinted to make my point clear. She laughed and kissed the top of my head, “Do what’s right.” She said, then walked out of the room and closed the door. “Go to sleep!” She said. I smiled to myself and reopened the book, I smoothed the page that was crinkled when it fell, “What’s right...” I whispered, sighed and closed the book. “I sleep on it.” I said out loud, then set the book on my shelf, pulled my covers up around my arms and turned off my light.

© Johanna Grace

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Hello. I am now 16 years old you guys! Thank you all so much for the kind and encouraging notes on my last post! They meant so much to me, you made my day!
You've most likely realized that we only have a tiny bit of time left in the month of June and that Sunday is the 1st of July. GUYS. JULY! This means the launch of the new design and all the fancy stuff I have planned... Excited I am. I most likely will not have it up until the second week of July however because I'm spending the week at my grandparents, so I'm going to be MIA. Maybe, I know for sure that I will not have the design up because everything is on my home computer. I really could use a laptop right about now. But I will get it up! And it is going to be so amazing... For real you guys. Super fantastic stuff!


xoxo Johanna

Birthday Thoughts and Ramblings

Tomorrow is my 16th birthday, folks. And I must say that I'm purty darn excited about this new year, and terrified at the same time. Terrified, yes. Why? Well, I guess it's the prospect of only having roughly 2 years left of school that scares me a little bit, leaving home eventually and living life as my own person. Out in the big 'ol crewel world, that place I've only really read about in books and talked about with people who have been there. It sounds fascinating and horrible.    It's daunting to be sure. But with lots of prayer, Nutella, and hugs I should get through it just fine. Through these last years of school, at least.  (Interruption: I just walked into the kitchen to make myself a peanut butter sandwich and I accidentally knocked my bread off the counter top. But, instead of landing creamy smooth side down, it landed peanut butter side UP! Felt so happy I whooped and made a fist pump. Back to the post now.)
16 has always been that coming of age number, that age where you have finally grown out of being a child, and are almost considered to be an adult, (almost). You can have your drivers leaning permit, you can get a job easier, lots of pretty shnazzy stuff. So, I'm excited about it, and terrified, but that's okay. Because most things in life scare the bejeebers out me, but I move on and read a book. Yup. Or make some fettuccine alfredo. Expanding waist lines make you forget about the scariness of life.

ANYWAY. I'm rambling about things, I don't have much to say, and I need to go wrap my presents to myself. Kidding. I almost did the thing like Mr. Bean, you know the one where he sends himself a dozen identical Christmas cards because no one else did? Cracks me up all the time, I tried to find it on Youtube for you guys but I got carried away and started watching THIS instead. You're welcome.

And I'm gone! Off to the swimming pool with some friends, because it's like 100 degrees today. Icky sticky.
xoxo Johanna

Fiction Fridays || The Journal || 2

More Fiction Friday Posts

Part 1

The Journal // 2

The sun had sunken in the sky by now, a few stars dotted the cool misty sky. It was deathly still, no sounds of birds or people. Far off in the distance I could hear the sounds of cars on the interstate, but that was all. I gripped a little more tightly onto the end of the leash and pulled Don along with me as I walked briskly down the abandoned street. The few street lamps blinked on casting a orange glare on the blackened houses lining the road. The official Police report on the fire is that it started in someone's basement, overheated dryer or something. The fire department didn’t make it in time, everyone managed to get out all right, but the damage had been done. This was the better part of town, you can’t really tell now though. At least on this street. A few AWOL dogs and cats live around here, but that’s it. Like I mentioned before, creepy.  I ran back to the fence and slipped my small frame through a nearly invisible hole near the base of a tree, Don followed willingly. I guess he finally realized he was hungry and it was dark and getting cold. Me too, buddy. Me too.

We jogged up to the main road, cars were few and far in between so we crossed right there. My phone started playing playing some unrecognizable diddy, I opened it and looked at the name, “Hey dad,” I said in between breaths “Where are you? I’m going to come pick you up.” He said, voiced laced with worry. “I just crossed the highway in front of Sunny Fields.” I spoke, a sharp intake of air on the other line, “What are you doing there?" He said, "Never mind, I’ll be there in five minutes, we'll talk then. Stay put!” I clapped my phone shut and walked over to a streetlight and sat down, Don put his head in my lap, I petted it while we waited. True to his word, dad pulled up in exactly four minutes and fifty nine seconds. He must have been doing 85 down the road, if he would have had sirens - they would be wailing. The car pulled up beside me and I opened the passenger door and got in. “Hi.” I said softly after I fastened my belt and he drove out. “Hi. Do you mind telling me where you’ve been for the last couple hours?” He questioned me, I shook my head, “No, I don’t mind thanks for asking.” I bite my tongue. “Sorry, that was rude.” I mumble before he said anything. “I was only walking Don before dinner, when he bit through the leash and chased after a cat. We ended up here, I only just found him.” I explained. He shook his head, “Why didn’t you call us? You know how dangerous it is out here!” The words were clipped; I know he was having a hard time keeping his cool. “I know; I should have. I forgot I had my phone with me until mom texted...” I stare out the window. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I whisper, he sighs and reaches for my hand in his free one. “I’m not mad at you, honey. You just scared me that’s all,” he pats my hand comfortingly, “But, since you are fine, let’s drop it. Alright?” I nod my head in agreement. “I am sorry-” I start, he holds up his hand. “Not another word. Let’s go get some ice-cream.”

That’s the way my dad is, quick to get scared, quick to forgive, and quicker to go get a treat. Which I guess is why everyone loves him. Myself included. I smile, “Okay. Are we getting some for everyone?” He laughs, “What do you think?” I scrunch up my face like I’m really trying to

think. “Um…Yes?” “Or would you rather a double scoop of French vanilla in a waffle cone?” He knows me too well, I think. “Well, to be perfectly honest, that would be great. But, the fact that our family back home is so good at sniffing out whether someone has had a treat may make that a little bit difficult. So, to be far, we should probably bring home a tub of ice cream.” He nods, “Good sound reason. I think I’ll follow your advice.” Even though his voice lacks any emotion, I see the corner of his lips turning up, his eyes crinkled at the edges. Hardly noticeable. But I see it. “Are you laughing at me?” I try to sound afflicted, but I end up in a giggle. So does he.

“I wasn’t before.” He tells me,

“So you are now?” I ask him.

“Yes.” A weird strangled sound comes out of my mouth, and I punch him on the shoulder. It’s a joke between us. Him laughing at me. Me yelling and slapping him in return. When I was around seven years old, I was always trying to tell a joke. Except, I’m not sure what I was trying to achieve, because anytime someone would laugh, I melted into a pile of uncontrollable tears. Pretty silly now, but back then I was positive the whole world was making fun of me. Dad was always very careful about laughing around me until I was out of the phase, then the teasing started. It was always subtle and dry, but I could detect it. He knew it didn’t really bother me though; no one knows me better than dad. Not even my mom. So he teased me and I teased him back. In some ways it brought us closer together.

We went home directly after the snack, we just wound up getting a cone because my dad said everyone went to bed already; I tried my best to explain what happened to my mom without drama, I knew my dad would tell her everything later. She had already cleaned up from dinner and put my little brothers in bed, all that was left for me to do was eat my slice of lasagna, kiss my parents and go to bed. Good. Because I was exhausted. I closed my door quietly, and carefully pulled the journal out from under my shirt. It wasn’t as old looking as I first thought it. I resisted the urge to open it right then and quickly slipped out of my grungy ash covered clothes and stepped into the shower. It was probably the quickest shower ever taken. I might have made it into Guinness had I counted the seconds. I brushed my teeth hurriedly but took enough time to blow dry my hair. My long wet hair stuck to my face doesn’t put me in a good mood. That done I changed into a comfy and completely ugly pair of sweat pants and tank top, switched on my lamp and sat cross legged on the bed. “Well, Andrew Connor Malone,” I whispered to myself, “Let’s find out who you are. I placed the book squarely in front of me and opened the book.

© Johanna Grace

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Few quick things before I go; I deleted my pinterest, and formspring, and twitter is next on the list for elimination. So, if you really want to ask me a question you can always email me or if you want you can follow me on Tumblr. The reason I'm doing this is I have oh so many to many things to do online. I made a list in my journal last night... it took up an entire page. Yikes. I like life to feel light and simple, it isn't, but it's nice to think that it is sometimes. Right? So I'm getting rid of the junk, unnecessary things are going bye-bye now.

And that's all I have to say, now I need to go write up some fake journal entries.

xoxo Johanna

p.s. I'm glad you guys are as excited about the new stuff coming up in the next months... you can't believe how much I want to put everything up right now. Also, the picture at the top? It's a clue. Sort of.

Changes are 'acoming

Well folks, I've been busy today/this week. Shocking, yes I know. But really I have. I have been working quite diligently on all the big new changes coming to this little blog during the next couple months, nothing major, just the basics of a TOTALLY NEW BRAND! Gah. I'm excited. Seriously, I'm in love with the colors and fonts and words and all over style I've been working on. The blog will also become my website for artistic/business reasons and personal. Here are a few things that are going to change;

• Design. I'm going back to basics, a very clean, simple style. And totally fabulous, I might mention.
• The colors, however, will not be simple or quiet. No... think.... yellow. Bright sunshine yellow. And orange. And turquoise. And black. You'll like it, don't worry.
• It will have a main page with words and stuff on it. 
• There will be a few less pictures of my face every where. You may now breathe a sigh of relief.
• ..... and some other secret stuff that I'm not quite certain of. Here's a hint though: I really enjoy photography. And my birthday is soon. Make of that what you will. It's cool stuff, friends. 

I have been thinking a lot about my future lately, I always have but lately it's been really big on my mind. Guys, I only have two years until I graduate, a few months until I get my drivers permit, and my 16th birthday is on the 27th. It's time to think seriously about things. People are always asking if I'm going to college, why I don't want to go to college, am I going to get married early, will I have a bunch of kids. You know, the usual stuff adults want to know. And my honest answer to all of the above? I don't know. I do know for a fact that I don't want to spend 4+ years in a college, there is nothing that I want to do that requires a degree. So that's one question answered. That question is always followed with "well, what do you want to do with your life?" and again, I don't know. There are so many things I would love to accomplish, but really what is important? Is it important to make a bunch of money in a job that you hate, but need because you have to pay bills? I'm coming to the conclusion that the most important thing in my life right now is growing in my relationship with God. Yes, there study is good, in fact I am of the opinion that it glorifies Him, but really! College is not that important. At least for me. 

 People automatically assume that because I am not planing to go to college now, that I just want to find myself a husband and have a bunch of miniature little people together and live happily ever after. The End. Truthfully guys, no, that's not what I want. Yeah I would love to marry one day, but at 15 almost 16.... um. Yeah, get my meaning? I guess what I'm trying to say is that yes, I've been seriously thinking about my future, and I know that I'm most likely not going to college. I know what ever I do I want God to be first, and my family right up there on top. 

Like I said up there somewhere, lots of happy things I'm thinking about for the next few months. I'm excited to see what happens! 

xoxo Johanna

Fiction Fridays || The Journal || 1

'Ello everyone. It's that lovely time of the week again, fiction Fridays! Man, it seems like that's all I do these days, tell me; do you miss my regular posts? Because I think I need to try harder to post more than twice a week. Agreed? Let me know! Here's a little bit about this story you are about to read: I hardly know where I'm going with it. I've only written the first two chapters. It's about a person reading another persons journal. But I'm not certain what happens after that. So it's going to be just exciting for me to write as it will be for you to read. Well, if it is exciting to read, that is. It might be totally boring. Hm. I hope not. Anyway, here is chapter one!

The Journal

I don’t normally snoop around abandoned neighborhoods like I did that day; I’m far too skittish. One creak or a branch or sound of tires hitting the pavement and I’m gone. I might be at home helping mom get dinner on the table right now if my dumb dog wouldn’t have snapped the leash again and chased through the street barking after a cat. Don just had to go there and wake the neighborhood ghosts while he’s at it. I named him after the famous fictional Knight, Don Quixote, for a good reason. From the day dad brought home the tiny pup he’s been the most comical animal I’ve ever laid eyes on. When he was six months old he tried to pick a fight with a Great Dane in the park, you can just imagine how that one turned out. The sight of a young Beagle yipping at the heels of a dog three times his height was pretty funny; I guess the Dane thought so too, because he didn’t eat Don. So that was nice. Donny-Q just begged for his name; he deserved it. Now he’s tearing through the freakiest part of our community, the burned up, condemned area of the neighborhood. I whispered his name nervously; I wasn’t supposed to be here. There was police caution tape strung up everywhere. Maybe I should just leave him, he’ll come home. Probably.

He stopped barking suddenly, I froze and listened to the whistling of the wind. After a minute I heard him whining from inside of one of the houses, crying like he was hurt. I called him louder and went after the sound of his whimpering. It came from inside one of the less burned houses on the block, “less” meaning it hadn’t burned down to the ground, a few walls still stood, and the bright orange double front doors were locked in their place. Just like they would any normal day at five-o’clock in the afternoon. I slipped through one of the broken French doors around back, my boots crunched on the leaf and glass strewn floor. I glanced nervously around; the police probably have cameras rigged up all around the place. I don’t want to be caught breaking and entering, or whatever it’s called, I just want my dog back. “Donny?” My breath came out in a hushed squeak. He barked and scratching came from upstairs. Upstairs. Meaning he went up steps, stairs in a burned house is bad. I’ve watched enough movies to know that. Fire weakens wood, wood breaks when it’s weak. I was almost ready to go home when I heard him whine pitifully from that door at the top, “He is hurt,” I thought and headed towards the rickety stairway. The house was empty, the furniture that burned in the fire had been removed, and the floor was a mess of ashes and garbage from bums and teens fooling around. I stepped carefully and slowly, watching where each foot fell. Empty picture frames sat next to the walls, vases lay smashed in the corners. It was all together very disconcerting. My heart was beating hard, working itself into my throat as I mounted the first step of the winding death trap. I let out a big breath, no squeaks of movements. So far so good. I walked tentatively up the remaining twenty or so steps. 

I didn’t die. I’m happy about that.

“Donny!” I called him, he barked in response. I walked over to the half closed door and slowly pushed it open. I half expected someone to jump out at me, but no thankfully it was only my dog. The floorboards in this room were burned badly, some of them had collapsed. Which is where his was, his paw was stuck fast in a large crack, and he wagged his tail when I admonished him. “You’re a bad dog. You know that?” He licked my face. I sighed, “Let’s see about your foot, huh?” Testing the floor with my foot, I walked gingerly around to his back leg. The wood was cutting deep into his paw, it didn’t help that the more he pulled the tighter it got. “Shh! It’s ok, boy. Calm down,” I pat his head to settle him down and eased his foot out of the slit. He whined and sat down on the floor to lick his wounds, “All better?” I asked him with a laugh after he yipped and starting jumping up on my legs. He stuck his nose under the floorboard and barked excitedly, “You had better scare a rat out of there or something!" I nudged him with my toe, "Come on. Mom’s going to be looking for us.” I started walking out the door. He ran in front of me and stood rigidly, “What’s the matter with you? Move!” I pushed him aside, he growled. Surprised I pulled back, “Don’t growl at me! Fine, what is it?” He ran back over to the hole in the floor and stuck his nose back in. I got down on my knees and looked in for a minute, “I don’t see anything spectacular,” I started to stand again, he barked sharply, I put my hands up in submission, “Okay! Fine, I’ll look!” I pulled my keys out of my pocket and turned on the miniature pink flashlight grandma gave me as a stocking stuffer last Christmas.

“I still don’t see anything,” I started but ended in an awed “--oh...” A paper wrapped package was pushed up against one of the braces deep in the hole. After a moment of hesitation, I reached in and fumbled for it; I could just reach the corner of the cool leather with my fingertips, I lay down on the floor, cheek pressed up against the sooty floor. I grasped the end and pulled it slowly towards myself. I untied the string of leather wrapped around it and opened the pages. Simple, slightly sprawling, handwriting covered the pages. A hastily written date settled snugly in the right corner of each page. I flipped through it quickly, my hands shaking slightly- it’s not everyday I find something as exciting as a journal. I opened it to the flyleaf in the front of the book written in the same simple handwriting was this inscription:

This Journal Belongs to

Andrew Connor Malone - Read no further!

Malone, I knew that name. My mind searched through the dusty unimportant files that collected   in my brain over the past years. Bingo. Malone; the family who lived here before the fire. Malone Banks. Malone; the respectable, blue blood family, who lost their wealth in the market breakdown last autumn and caused quite a stir when their business crashed. Oh, that Malone. My phone chirped with a new text and I fumbled with it, Where are you? It’s dark out. Do I need to call the cops? - Mom. I sighed and tucked the journal under my sweatshirt, Sry, I texted back, Don ran off, just caught him. Be back soon. “Come on boy, we need to get home.” I tied the broken leash around his collar and head out the door, holding holding the book tightly against my body so it would not fall onto the ashy street and walked out to the curb.

© Johanna Grace

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-Johanna 

Picking Blueberries

 

Last week we went blueberry picking, you'll know that if you follow my Tumblr or are my friend on Facebook. You'll also know that my family picked over 42 pounds of the things. And those were not big people picking, nah, four of them were under the age of 10. Yes. Wow. Amen.

Anyway, it was extremely fun, we woke at 5:30am, were out of the house by 7:00, and we were done by 11:30am. When I came home I napped until 6:30pm. I kid you not. I'm not used to that kind of labor, give me a bucket and some scoops of chicken feed, please! But although it was very tedious, (picking hundreds of tiny matching berries? My brain went to sleep) I actually enjoyed it. Or maybe it was because then repeated rhythm of pick, pick, pick, place. Pick, pick, pick, place. Pick, pick, pick, place. Eventually put me into a trance. Perhaps I'm still in a trance? Maybe I'm dreaming that I'm writing this but I'm really still out under those trees with my hair stuck to branches picking berries? Now my brain hurts a little bit. Ummm... I shall stop thinking about that now. Moving on to another subject now.

Another subject. Oh, here's another subject! My long lost sister is home finally. Yup. She came home and is home now. Back in her home. I'm so relieved! We ran around most of the day spouting out randomness that made our family seriously wonder about our collective mental health. We sang all the songs from Les Miserables at the top of our lungs, because she bought the DVD (!!) we watched Titanic late last night because it was on tv and she's never seen it. And we laughed and turned it off at the appropriate times. And we yelled about books. And cried about Sherlock, (fine, I cried, she just looked at me funny.) We screamed with laughter at THIS and THIS And then chatted about Doctor Who for the rest of the time. I think our family wants to send us outside for a while. We're pretty annoying. But I have my sister back, that's all I particularly care about. So she was only gone a week, it was a long week. And I'm sticking to that. That's a fact, Jack.

I have to go set the table for dinner now, (yes, it's almost 8o'clock and we're just now eating. Busy life guys.) So I'm going to end this utterly ridiculous post.

Johanna
p.s. Road trip tomorrow with my daddy. Road trip tomorrow. So excited.

Fiction Fridays || Balloon with the Basket || 3

Our alarm went off at five o’clock am.  It was the only thing modern in our house, the only thing, except the commode and the welding machine, we owned that required batteries.  It was a giant of a clock, complete with two different settings and AM Radio.  Its sharp buzz woke me with a start, I rolled over and hit it sleepily with my fist, which heaved it off my nightstand and threw it under the bed.  I groaned and pulled the blankets over my head, hoping somehow the thing would shut itself off. When my prayers went unanswered, I grudgingly threw off my warm blankets and groped in the dark for the offender. By now I was wide-awake, so I lit a match a set the candle ablaze.  By the dim light, I could see slightly in the gloomy room, her side of the bed was made perfectly. She was no longer in it.

I threw on my overcoat and the slippers she made me, and shuffled into the kitchen.  A strange humming noise was irritating my already weak nerves, it sounded like the generator. The generator! I fumbled with the door handle, which always seems to spin when you’re in a hurry.  Finally it opened, and I ran out into the garden. There it was. It rose high in the air, the only thing keeping earthbound was the rope tied to the edge of the basket. Her leg hung over the side as she threw a bag of something in.  “What are you doing?”  I screamed over the roar of the generator.  She jumped when she heard my desperate voice, and turning wildly she shouted.  “I’m leaving!”  Someone hit me in the gut with a baseball bat. That’s what it felt like. The first time in many years; I started to cry.  I broke down, right there. Right there in front of that big bright balloon. I cried while she stood, half on the ground, and half in the sky.  She must have been shocked to see me the way I was, because she came down and walked to me.  I only knew she did, because I saw her bare feet peeking out from under her long dress, and I felt the kiss she planted on my ignoble brow. 

“You know, the wind is just perfect today.” She whispered.  I reached up to grab her hand. “Don’t go.”  I said, a pathetic attempt of being forceful.  She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and laughed her dainty bell like laugh. “Don’t go?  My dear, you are full of surprises.”  She leaned forward, until her lips were only breaths away from my ear. “Please, do not ever tell me “don’t” again.” She said cruelly. I tried to pull myself together, and steady my shaking voice.  “Why are you leaving me alone? I thought you loved me.”  I said this to her, but mostly to myself, as if trying to convince my heart that she had.  “Once.” Was all she said, in response. “You could come with me, if you think you need me so badly.”  A careless shrug followed this statement. I realized she really didn't care. The wind picked up just then.  The great balloon sprang to life; you could see it calling to her. I suddenly knew she wasn’t mine any longer: I knew what I had to do.  “Well...?” She said impatiently.  “If you’re coming you had better hurry, I don’t really want to adjust the weights.  So if you don’t hurry and make your decision you are staying.”  

I breathed a deep sigh; it felt as if it came from beyond my own soul. I stood up from my prostrate position and looked her strongly in the eye. I wanted her to know how much she hurt me.  “Well?” She began to tap her foot. I cleared my throat. “My dear, you were always a special sort of bird, flightless, but perfect in every way. You were my first and only love. I have loved, and always will love only you.  You loved me once before, too.  Not that long ago, but this was your first love.” I gestured towards her quivering friend. “Now you have the chance to gain the only thing you thought you lacked; your wings. I only hope someday you’ll find your way back home.  A beautiful bird needs her wings. Be free.” I finished lamely and kissed her gently on the forehead, the way I always have.  It was the last time I would have the chance. 

“You know,” She whispered. “I think I’m going to miss you.”  I nodded; I could feel a sob constricting my throat again.  “I know I’ll miss you.”  I responded solemnly.  She didn’t say another word, but I swear I saw a single tear sliding down her cheek. I boosted her into her little basket made of twine and cut the only thing keeping her down.  She slowly rose into the gray sky; the sun was just starting to show its happy face. She rose as the sky turned blue and then I saw her no more.

My neck started to ache from gazing up at the sky and since there was really nothing else to see; I went home.  The greenhouse door stood open, she hated the doors being left open. They exposed her secrets.  I went to close them on my way make to the house. A piece of paper was taped to one of the large double doors, my name was carefully written on it. I took it down and kissed the beautiful penmanship left there by my love.  I opened the smooth white envelope.

I made my way slowly up the soil path; I passed the old rotting stump we sat on last night, as we counted the stars together.  Remembering the dishes, I turned back to retrieve them, they were laying on the ground, midst a pile of rotten wood. Somehow during the night, the stump I had worked so hard to remove from her garden for so many years, the one I deemed impossible to eradicate. Lay broken on the ground, the remains of its roots torn up from the earth and lying beside it. Leaving deeps holes into the abyss of the earth.  I stared in wonderment for a moment, then silently picked up the forgotten utensils and trudged into the house.

My love [I read],  

I know you loved me more than I deserved. So I knew you’d find this note. Perhaps one day I’ll come back to you. I know I’ll come to love you again, love you as I once did. Until then, I think you have a plane to catch.

Yours Forever

PS. I know you think Venice will not be the same without me, but I’m sure you’ll have a perfectly lovely time. Please go, if only for me.

An airplane ticket fell from the sleeve, and into my hand.  I glanced at my watch, four hours until boarding.  I carefully placed its contents back in the envelope and closed the great heavy doors of her greenhouse.

Once inside, I tided it from the bustle of the night before, washed all the dishes, dressed and blew out the candles.  On a last minute thought, I took up her luggage and unpacked every last little thing, I put them back into her drawers.  It didn’t seem right to leave them sitting there, so expectant, so ready for the adventure they had been promised. I stood and surveyed my work, picked up my single bag, the car keys, and headed out the door.  I have never said no to her before, I guessed now wouldn't be the best time to start.

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They never found what happened to her; some say she ran into a thunderstorm and the rain put out the flame.  Others think she put it out herself in an act of suicide. As for me, I am not quite sure what to think. Except for what seems to be fragments of her basket, she has simply disappeared.  If you really want to know the truth, I think it very possible she simply sprouted wings and flew away. Her basket was too small for her; she needed room to breathe. She probably lives in some quaint little treetop and sings with the Robins and Wrens.  But that’s only a thought. No one will ever know what happened to my little bird, only the balloon with the basket.

© Johanna Grace

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Thus concludes my strange little tale. Next week we are having a story about a lost journal. Dear lord please help me write it! 


I'm out picking blueberries right now, so this is scheduled. Anyway. Hope you guys liked Balloon with the Basket, I know I loved writing it!
Johanna

There be a gator in those there weeds.

 

 

 

You guys know I live in gator country, right? Okay, well I do. I'm in South-East Texas just north of Houston. Houston is swamp country, alligators like swamps. Get it?

I'm glad we've had this conversation.

This week we decided to go swimming for the first time this summer, well this year actually. So we packed up our noodles, our towels and bathing suits and skipped out to the van, eager to soak ourselves in the cool of the lake, because people, it was like 9,000 degrees outside. Whats that? I added too many zeros? Hm. Well, that's what it felt like anyway. Okay, fine remove those zeros and comma and put a five in there place. What do you have? 95. That's more realistic, but really- it was that hot. Where was I? Um... swimming. Yes. Well then, so we were eager to emerge our sweaty selves into the water and we did just that. Except when we arrive there were about 15,000 other people with the same idea as ours. Huh? Will you stop interrupting me! Fine, I exaggerated a little bit. A lot. But I'm introverted and I don't like loud people I've never met before swimming in MY lake! So there were only like 50 people there. It was still a lot for my brain to deal with.

The kids had no trouble at all, five seconds flat and they were out of the car, bags in hand, striping of clothing as they ran down the hill. Slathered some sunscreen on their noses and dove into the water with a collective sigh of relief. And I'm just muttering, "People, so many people. Why are there people? Shoo people!" much to my mothers amusement. I just forgot where I was headed with all that. Let me think.......

....

.....

.......

OH YES! So, we swam around for a while and splashed in the water and when I was tired of people I took pictures of them instead. Well, not strangers. That would be weird.  And then it was time to leave! So we got out, ate some crackers and cheese and then hello! There is an alligator right next to where Hannah was just playing! Lovely! I think we should come again and bring little snacks for it. And perhaps a bonnet. Alligators love to wear bonnets. We shall adopt it as our own little 'gator. We shall call it George no matter it's gender and OH MY GOODNESS! There is an alligator in the swimming area!  So minor chaos started and I ran down to take pictures of the pokey little dear and people were pointing, and whispering and video taping. And then we left. The end. And no body died! I guess I should mention that the beasty was only three feet long and it was pretty cute. But no matter! It was in the swimming area and it freaked me out a little bit. Plus I didn't have my sister Rachel with me because she abandoned me to go spend the week with our Grandparents in Houston (swamp country, remember?) I shall never forgive her. Well, I might after a little while. Possibly. Okay fine, I never didn't not forgive her. In fact, I talked to her this morning. And I emailed her. And chatted. And I almost wrote on her wall but then thought better of it. I MISS MY SISTER! *sob*

Case closed.
-Johanna