Chapter 3

...and as I gazed into those familiar eyes I felt myself walk to the water's edge and I lifted my foot to the ocean's surface......... and took a step. Then another. And another. My feet were carrying me to the mirror of the moon that was set upon the placid saltiness of the ocean. Not one ripple stirred, not one footprint left behind. With each step I took I glimpsed the shadow of a whale swimming majestically beneath me. Glimmers of schools of fish shimmered under the water beside my left leg, the impossible beauty of jellyfish the size of elephants glowed under the water beside my right leg, and squids built so gracefully intricate trailed behind me. Above me, there flew the owl, never breaking its gaze with mine and never flapping its wings to hold aloft. It's blue eyes gleamed with tears and a tired worry so deeply ingrained, it became a part of me. As I walked further on and got close to the moon's reflection, the owls' tears became bigger and heavier. And then there was song.

I should never think
What's in your heart
What's in our home
So I won't

You'll learn to hate me
But still call me baby
Oh Love
So call me by my name

And oh, save your soul
save your soul
Before you're too far gone
Before nothing can be done

I'll try to decide when
She'll lie in the end
I ain't got no fight in me
In this whole damn world
To tell you to hold off
You choose to hold on
It's the one thing that I've known

Once I put my coat on
I'm coming out of this all wrong
She's standing outside holding me
Saying oh please
I'm in love
I'm in love

Girl save your soul
Save your soul
Before you're too far gone
And before nothing can be done

'Cause without me
You got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Hold on

... and then I stopped walking. The mirror of the moon shone right in front of me. The song's final words drifted into a soft wind as the reflection of the moon began to glitter in the most beautiful color of pearl white that I'd ever seen. I looked up to see the reason for the glittering ripples and I saw him. The white owl began descending in front of me and there, mid-air, transformed the old man in the yellow, rubber overalls. His hair was now a bright white rather than a dull gray and his skin was clear of wrinkles. His black boots were a polished silver color and his flannel was now a stunning collared, white-silk, shirt. His overalls were, of course, still bright yellow with a freshly-polished gleam. His eyes..... those bright blue-gray eyes.... remained the same.

His hand reached out to me as he beckoned and said with a soft, kind, voice:

"Come, Keena, daughter of the Sea. It is time for me to show you what your future holds."

To be continued until my next midnight inditement...

Chapter 2

After the bombardment of sirens and unnecessary amount of policemen had dispersed, I realized that I was still sitting on the bus bench... now very alone and drowning once again in a puddle of sorrow; a puddle this time not filled with sadness for myself, but for a man I knew for about 2 minutes of my life.

"He died on impact."

It was the statement of the day. People walked around the accident and yellow tapes and police perimeters and all of them said the same thing with utter confidence, like they were all medical doctors with eyes on the backs of their heads. I didn't see one person look aggrieved. Not one sad face, not one care.

Instead, they said, "He died on impact."... and hung around to be nosy and watch my friend get pulled out from under the passenger door of the upturned cement truck and put onto a stretcher and wheeled off into nothingness. I could still see a glimpse of the yellow rubber overalls from under the white sheet before the old man had been carried away.

Because of the accident the bus routes were temporarily re-routed. I traversed the remainder of my journey home on foot. It wasn't until I tasted something salty in my mouth that I realized my vision was blurred and my cheeks were cold with wetness. The stars had finally appeared; or perhaps they had been out for a while and I didn't notice. With my blurry vision the stars looked like a giant firefly. It was pretty, seeing the stars that way. I decided to follow the outline of the firefly's shimmering body and stopped when my shoes made an odd, crunching sound. I looked down and saw sand. My feet had taken me to the tiny, almost-hidden path that led to a stretch of beach that was hardly ever used due to the rocky coral that lurked beneath the shallow ripples of the ocean's glimmering face.

I walked down the path brushing vines to the side and arrived into a clear, peaceful night. I sat down and held my knees to my chest as I looked out over the water. A soft breeze played with my hair and transformed my tears into salty diamonds. Just as I thought my exhaustion from today's emotions would overcome me, I heard a strange whistle in the night. I looked up and saw a white owl swoop overhead catching a thermal up into the midnight sky. It danced with the giant firefly and hummed songs that reminded me of my childhood. It played with the wind and blew kisses to the wispy clouds that had taken refuge over my head. It comforted me, held me tight with its gaze.........

a gaze that seemed oddly familiar.........

a gaze that held a tired worry........

a gaze that numbed my sorrow with gray-blue eyes.......

To be continued until my next midnight inditement...

The Yellow Rubber Overalls

Time for another blog post! I have finally thought of an idea for my blog! I wanted to do something that would help me get my creative juices flowing and to show some people out there what my brain thinks about on a daily basis. I seriously have constant stories in my head playing like a reel of film almost the full 24 hours of every day. So, I thought I would share some of them on my blog! From now on when I have a story in my head, I'll write it here on my blog and continue with the same story for a few weeks. Sort of like a... "TV Series" type of project. You know, like a TV show that runs continuously season after season with the same story? Like "Lost", "Heroes", "Chuck", etc. except my "show" is a more like a book that continues on new blog posts. Kind of fun, huh? Maybe not, but we'll see how it goes. =)
I give to you, story number 1:

There once was a man who told me he could fly. I didn't believe him. I merely gave him a half-hearted smile that didn't touch my eyes and continued to wallow in a state of self-pity that was the result of my very dull, ill-fated life that I was sad to call mine. While I was sitting there in the fast-growing puddle of sorrow, I heard the old man tell me the same thing again.

"I can fly."

This time I turned all the way around to face him and noticed that he had a sort of tired worry about his face. A kind face, he had. But it was filled with that strange, tired, worry. The kind that immediately makes your heart go out to whoever wears it.

I didn't say anything in response this time either. I just looked at him. His eyes were a clear, blue-gray, and he had a scrubby, gray beard and mustache. He was clad in a dark blue, long-sleeved flannel shirt and he had on one of those yellow, rubber, fisherman overall's on. His black swamp boots looked shiny and unscuffed, his dark gray hair atop his head an array of untidy curls. His skin had the appearance of an old, leather book that had been used so much, the texture looked smooth and shiny with sun-caused wrinkles in his deep-tanned skin. I wondered for a moment if he was a boatman, but that thought quickly slipped away once I realized he had no arms to fill out the flannel sleeves that hung limply at his sides.

"Young lady, I said I can fly."

The sound of his voice made me jump, for I had just noticed that he now probably thought that I was one of those rude, staring people you might see outside a shopping mall examining the people who walk by with hollister bags in their hands and shop-happy grins plastered on their faces. I immediately felt embarrassed at my oblivious rudeness, and tried to warm up my face into a genuine smile.

"Really?" was all I said.

"Yes." said the old man.

I can fly and so can you."

I again went into staring mode. Don't ask me why. I just did. The old man just... looking at him calmed me. i felt... numb to the feelings that I had been drowning in not one minute ago. Maybe two.

"Sir," I said, after snapping out of my reverie. "That is a truly impossible gift that unfortunately no one is destined to have. It would be nice though. To fly, I mean."

I gestured with my hand up into the sky and my eyes followed it, settling on the bright blue sky above me and my new friend, the old man in yellow rubber overalls.

"Ahhhhhh, you're right." he whispered. "It is nice. To fly, I mean." he added with a wink.

I couldn't help but smile even brighter at his reply, and not just a moment later is when it happened:

My new friend, the old man in yellow rubber overalls, got up off the bus bench, a kind, crooked smile lighting up his face, walked backwards to hold his gaze with mine and stepped out onto the street just as a cement truck came from the left side of my vision and slammed my mind back into reality.

To be continued until my next midnight inditement...

River of Dreams

Hello. My name is Kailee, pronounced (ky-lee). This blog was made to help me get along on the progressions of my life. I'm an aspiring writer, which may seem a bit cliche' for an almost-20-year-old female trying to get her dreams to come alive so she can quit school, but I can't help it. I like to live just outside the borders of "mainstream". You see, lately I've come across a great and grand epiphany. It's as follows:

We're born into a world full of rules and obligations. We are then required to attend "educational classes" during the parts of our lives in which we are the most insecure about ourselves. Subsequently, the majority of us are shoved on to continue being walled up in a "higher education" world of lies, discrimination, and false trust... a.k.a.- college. Moreover, throughout all this, we're supposed know what we want to do by the time we reach 19 years of age? It's all a vast load of waffle, if you ask me, and I think that a lot of people are finally starting to realize that. Maybe not. But I have. Sure, it may sound a bit pessimistic and again, cliche for the average below-average (grade-wise) college student. But this great and grand epiphany has cracked the door of wordly obligations open just enough for me to see the beautiful and wonderful light that shines from beyond the wooden frame.