Love You All

Okay, for once I want to do a post that isn't all about me. I need to thank about a trillion people to bare with as I name them all.

First of all I thank those of you who actually read my blog. It means a lot to me that you guys, however few, take the time to read the life of some boring teenager who just happens to have a billion random obsessions. Love you all :)

Next I have to thank all my friends (which are probably the only real readers, but I don't care) for putting up with my conflicting personality and my need to put everthing into chaos when something gets a little too boring. I'm so sorry about all of that too. I'm working on it; mostly because of how much I love you all, especially because we travel so much just to get a little glimse of each other :) Thank you. :) Thank you, thank you, thank you.

My family is next. Though I already consider a lot of my friends 'family' (there's a lot of cross-overs here...), I'm thanking you all for helping my hone my gifts and work on my faults and giving me so much; including a bright future. I wouldn't have any of this without you guys. I'm so lucky. Thanks :)

Okay, I think I got this all out...One post not about me. Only I think I fit too much 'me' in there while thanking everyone. Oh well. We'll try again next month xD

Love you all very very much,
Cassandra Bloom

Oo Oo! Cassancra=typo I made and I like it very mucho! I may have to use that one instead ^.^

Also, I haven't read any Phantom of the Opera today. Or yesterday, for that matter. I should do that after I make breakfast...

Team Erik/Phantom all the way!!!!!!!

P.S For those of you enjoying my cheery tone I typed this up a while back before recent happenings so it's sorta fake to be posting it but still.

Another Two Post-er. Oh Well...

You must go here; now. I don't know if you know of my current situation but if you'd just go visit Ashton's blog for me and make it super popular, I'd be extremely happy again. Maybe I'll start a contest of it...

First here's a picture of how awesome it is. I love you Keely. Please forgive my unhappiness. Please please...

And the link...

Ashton Pheonix Holt's Amazing Blog

Now be good, don't get into trouble, and make the best of life. I'm still miserable but I don't enjoy it, okay? I can't help it right now. I'll get better in a month when I can come back.

Done for the day,
C

I Hate My Life

I cannot stress that enough. I hate it, hate it, hate it. And for those of you who know me personally I am very sorry to say it because I know it'll break your heart to know I'm gonna cry myself to sleep every night for at least the week. After that, I don't know, I may find someone who'll play the part of my best friend at this new school, but even that would break my heart. I don't want a new best friend. I want Ashton and Scarlett and Burly and Stephan (believe it or not, Burly and Stephan are girls) and Mr. Cash back.

Now you probably don't get a word of that. Let me tell you from de beginning...

I've switched schools. Now I don't go to the beautiful place called Connections Academy, with everyone who could in essence truly be considered my family, but instead a regular public school with annoyingly stupid classes and students who bare the same qualities. I was ripped from my home and placed in the terrorous woods. And there is no way for me to go back. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

And everytime I go back to Connections Academy site just to revisit it I'll type in my login, and I'll start crying again when they won't let me in because I've been withdrawn from the site. No one knows how painful this is. No one knows how badly I hurt.

Also, I never thought I would be a new girl. Everyone has an eye on me and the teachers (yes, they do) are asking me all sorts of questions and the students are learning things--some I know and others I never was taught. But apparently I'm not enough to whip up any attention because no one talks to me--unless their curious or happen to be partnered with me. I want my HOME back.

But of course that's impossible. Mom won't let me go back. But this is horrible. Connections people are going to be learning and getting degrees and credits and everything and I'm going to be stuck rotting at this damned school. I hate it. I hate hiding the majority of my hate so I don't ruin everyone's mood any more than I have.

I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I don't expect you to feel sorry for me. I don't expect you to comfort or pity me. I just wanted to tell someone so maybe I could feel a little bit better.


Maybe someday.

P.S. There are no updates on Phantom of the Opera. My life is too much of a mess right now.

I'll see you all later.
C

I don't believe in two posts per day but...

I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH MISS SCARLETT YESTERDAY!!! We had (technically didn't have...) dinner at BK (original, right) and talked for a half hour, texting both after and before, and had a ton of fun. She was beautiful, by the way, and if she tries to tell you I'm prettier on her blog don't believe her--because she was WAY prettier. But she liked my eyes. That's good :)

Also, she liked me. SHE LIKED ME. The whole ride to BK I had every part of my crossed and I was chanting, "Please let her like me, Please let her like me . . ." I'm excited to see her again in a few months. I'm so glad to call her my best friend. I love her ^.^

But AGH I need to get my phone back. Currently I'm grounded for talking to people too much and not doing enough school work instead, so I haven't texting anyone in forever. And I love texting Scarlett and A' and K', and god do I miss it. AGH.

Next, I have to tell you that I'm getting kicked out of band class because of money and laws about dual enrollment. I'm pissed. My eyes are still dry from crying. And I'm a little annoyed at A' for not being there. But I don't care anymore. I'm just happy that my mom's fighting to get me back in band class :)

A Few Successful Love Stories--Part I

On Valentine's Day I introduced a challenge to my fellow NaNoWriMo-ers and For the last few days they have been working on that challenge, writing magnificent short stories themed with the hardships of Valentine's Day. They all gave me permission to post them here, and they are my friends' own work so please don't take one of these and try to pass it off as your own.

Also, due to the amount of submissions and lengths of them I will be posting three every Saturday morning at 6AM in a single post until I run out of stories to post. Enjoy!

First up is C--I mean Douglas Cash ;) (blog I hope for your sake his little symbols work here...)

A PureCIA Love Story

By Douglas Cash

            The room was dim.  Candles lit the rented apartment with a soft light.  Hours before, Jordan Yates had closed the shutters in preparation for what may soon become the night of his twenty-year-old life.  He nervously ran his fingers through his dark blond hair and let out a long, shaky breath of air.  Twenty-four minutes left, he noted as he glanced at the clock.

            Jordan smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in his brand new tuxedo.  He straightened his tie.  Tensely, he checked his watch.  Twenty-three minutes left.

            The date was February 14, 2013, and his date was also at 8:00pm.  He had just finished his second and final year in college.  The young man's smarts had enabled him to whip through his courses and graduate with a Master's degree.  Soon he would be off to serve full-time in the CIA, but first tonight had to happen.  It was slightly daunting, thinking about all the possibilities that could happen.

            A knock suddenly sounded at the door.  Jordan jumped violently in his chair and came very close to knocking it over, with him in it.  He licked his fingers and tried to plaster his persistent hair down as well as he could.

            Whoever it was seemed very impatient, because they leaned on the doorbell.

            “Alright, alright, I’m coming,” he grumbled good-naturedly.  That was a major improvement on his usual temperament.  He tended to fly off the handle too quickly, and with the Lord’s help he was slowly getting better.  “One day at a time,” he muttered, standing and walking to the door.

            He stopped, his hands upon the knob.  He took yet another large breath and let it out again.  Then he quickly opened the door, a huge smile plastered on his face.  The sixty-year-old apartment postman stood before him, staring at him with an odd expression.  He held a package in his outstretched hands.  Jordan laughed as he inwardly struggled to control his temper.  He’d forgotten that the private apartment postman (one of the benefits of living here) came at this hour, as he did for all other occupants of the lofty building.

            The postman turned to go, gave him one last, long look, and said, “By the way, the sender of that package said to hurry.”

            Jordan gave him a blank look.  The postman shrugged and walked away.

            His fingers hurriedly fumbling with the brown paper, the blond man finally managed to get it open.  A big white box lay in his lap, which he tore the top off of.  A huge wad of packing paper stared into his face.  He rummaged through it, making sure not to let any hit the perfect floor.  Jordan suddenly sat back, totally stumped.

            The box contained a key, an oddly shaped square box, and an envelope.  He picked up the envelope, slit it open, and drew out a piece of pink stationary.  Great.  It looked like things were about to get ugly.  If this was from a secret admirer, he was sunk.

            He begrudgingly read the note, and his eyes widened.  It looked to be from a close friend.  Here’s what it read:

            Dearest Jordan,

          Enclosed in this box are your tools to finding out who I am.  A key to my location, a treasure not to be opened until the time is right, and this letter.  I’ll give you a little hint as to my identity—it’s a cow.

          Now, here’s where you must go: A steeple reaches high, and we can be born again.  Where you and I, and countless more, all fellowship with Him.

          See you soon, darling!

          Much love,

          ~XXXOOO

            Hmm.  Jordan thought hard.  That cow hint had certainly narrowed it down.  Back when PureNRG still existed as a band (wow, this had to have been five-and-a-half years ago, at least) they’d been driving (slowly, that is; there was some kind of accident up ahead) from Topeka, Kansas to Denver, Colorado, both concert destinations.  They were almost past the Kansas border when brunette Carolyne Myers had shouted, “Hey, it’s a cow!”

            Being the weird kids they’d been back then, Jordan and Caroline Williams, a blond girl, had both clamored for the window in the tour bus, and so had everybody else.  Incidentally, they were traveling with Jump5 at that point, another Christian band such as themselves that, now that he thought about it, Jordan had no idea what had happened to.  But it could be one of them.  There were like four kids in that band, half of them girls.

            Ashamed, he realized he’d forgotten their names.  Now what would happen if he showed up to find one of them, and didn’t even remember what their name was?  They’d be heartbroken.  On Valentine’s Day, of all days.  But on the other hand, if it was who he’d been waiting for (a very possible chance, he realized; she was very smart) he would just be sitting here for nothing.  All his work would be wasted.  It would actually all be wasted anyway, if he went, which at the moment he knew he had to do.

            Anyway, he’d instantly noted that the horns were kind of long.

            “No, it’s a bull!” he replied, grinning.

            “Uh, no, that’s a cow,” Caroline had laughed.

            Everyone had quickly taken sides, and it turned into chaos, which lasted pretty much all the way to Denver.

            He glanced up at the clock.  It was nineteen minutes till.  He had plenty of time, as long as he managed to figure out where he was going.  Let’s see.  It sounded like a church.  But which one?  There were dozens in Nashville, Tennessee.  His search would take all night, much less nineteen minutes.  And there was the chance that he would get picked up by the police for suspicious activity.  That was something he didn’t need.  He’d just have to take an educated guess.

            Suddenly he snapped his fingers.  It had to be either Carolyne or Caroline.  They’d both said it was a cow.  He had invited the latter for tonight, but Carolyne knew nothing about it.  Could she have a secret crush on him?  If that was true, things could get really ugly.

            He stood, blew strands of hair out of his handsome face, and made for the door.  If he had to do this, and if it was Carolyne, he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

♥     ♀    ♥     ♂    ♥

            As the author, I feel I have to tell you some things that you probably would not know on your own.  Carolyne Myers, sixteen years old in this story, really exists.  As does Caroline Williams, seventeen.  They and Jordan, another flesh-and-blood person, really were a band called PureNRG that lasted for six years.  These are true pieces of knowledge, unlike nearly the entirety of this story.  So I think you can see now how bad of a tangle Jordan has found himself tied in.  I’m sorry about this being smack in the middle of this short story.  I wish I could have put it in an author’s note, but then you probably would have gotten to this point of the story and said, “I have absolutely no idea who in the world these people are.  They probably aren’t even real.  Besides, this makes absolutely no sense.  I’m going to stop reading.”  I don’t want you saying that.  So again, I’m sorry for interrupting your reading.  Oh, and one last thing.  If you don’t believe the last paragraph, that’s your problem.  Reverting to fiction mode . . .

♥    ♀   ♥    ♂   ♥

            Jordan slammed the door of the pure-black Lamborghini the CIA had given him and stared at the front doors of the church where he’d spent his childhood years.  They stared back at him.

            He quickly noticed another car sitting outside.  It didn’t look like it belonged to one of the elders, pastors, deacons, or anybody like that.  In fact . . . he crept closer, almost like it was going to bite him.  Jordan smirked.  It was another Lamborghini.  Just like his, except purple, a fact not easy to see in the twilight.  But both Carolyne and Caroline got purple cars.  So there went that so-called clue.  All it did was confirm that it was one of the two.  And it made his heart beat all the faster.

            In his pockets lay the key, the small box, and the letter.  He reached for the metal key and stopped.  Now that he thought about it, he wondered where Carolyne or Caroline had managed to beg two keys.  Could one of the church officials be in on it?  Gulping, he drew the key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock, twisted, and entered the building.

            Like his apartment, it was dark.  Although it was a much larger space, and there was hardly any light.  He quickly removed the key and stumbled into the sanctuary, and suddenly remembered the handy flashlight he had on his utility belt, which he wore almost everywhere.  The belt wasn’t heavy, but contained some very essential things.  Like a flashlight.

            He reached for it, slipped it out, and pressed the button to turn it on.  It shone a piercing beam that covered a lot of ground and a large area too.  It picked up nothing for a while, as Jordan searched back and forth.  Then, just as he was about to check the rest of the church building, the beam caught a piece of paper on the pulpit.  He leaped onto the stage and held his beam over it.  He promptly sat down on the floor, quite unexpectedly.

            Laying there was a poster advertising a PureNRG show.  Their very, very first.  It brought back a blast from the past like you wouldn’t believe.  His head was swimming as he held the large, colorful piece of paper.  Memories filled his head that had been long suppressed by his present life.  Memories he’d sworn he’d never forget.  Memories he’d shared with the person he now loved more than any other.

            He sighed, and realized there was an arrow pasted on the back.  He took note of the direction it pointed, and set it down in the position the poster had been in.  The arrow pointed backstage, to the right wing.  That was odd.  The only place he could think of that was back there was . . . the steeple.  In the letter, the steeple had been mentioned.  There were probably papers like this all over the church in case he found them first.  And they probably all led here.

            Jordan quickly checked his watch.  Ten minutes had passed.  He had nine minutes left.  Keeping that in the back of his mind, he ducked through the door that led to the wing.

            He soon found another paper, and another, and another, and another.  There were dozens and dozens scattered all over the place.  Performance advertisements, pictures of the logo, mementos of the Mexico mission trip.  Stuff that only a member of PureNRG would have on-hand.

            He suddenly stopped cold.  A female figure had appeared in front of him, dressed in jeans, a blue sweatshirt, and white tennis shoes.  Her chocolate-brown hair flowed and tumbled over her face and shoulders, and her big brown eyes smiled as she looked at him.

            "C-Carolyne?" Jordan gulped.  He stumbled towards her.  "I—"

            She placed one suppressing finger on his lips.  "Shh," she said gently.  "It isn't me."

            He became visibly relieved, and almost fainted.  But one thought kept him awake.  Caroline had done all this.  Caroline had prepared it all.  Caroline loved him too.

            He ripped off his watch and shoved it into the same pocket as the objects from the package, fully aware now that there was no need to move quickly.  Jordan Yates wanted to savor this moment.

♥    ♀   ♥    ♂   ♥

            Carolyne hooked him by the arm and half-dragged, half-led him down the hall.  Inside his pocket, his watch said four minutes to eight.

            The brunette girl steered him into the elevator that led to the top of the steeple and saved at least ten minutes of climbing.

            "So, what're you thinking?" she asked eagerly.

            "I can't think.  I'm too stunned," he joked.  "Man, I've been waiting for this for a long, long time."

            "You know, I suspected something way back in the day," the sixteen-year-old girl said, her eyes dancing with delight.  "I suspected there was some kind of bond.  And now it's finally being strengthened and established.  This'll be the most romantic proposal ever!"  She grinned.

            Jordan suddenly felt his heart beat faster.  He'd forgotten something.  The proposal.  What was he going to say?  His words had been carefully prepared for days, but that was for his environment, his terms.  He'd been so busy thinking about this new situation that he hadn't devoted any time to the outcome.  Which was a problem.  So much for carefully crafted sentences.

            "C'mon, we're here," Carolyne said as the elevator stopped.  She grabbed his elbow again and hauled him into the huge room.

            Jordan hadn't seen it yet.  He was absorbed in yet a new thought.  How often did a man get accompanied to his own proposal?  An odd situation, if he'd ever seen one.  He laughed, and then abruptly stopped.  Carolyne had decided he was better off being propelled by his own power, and let him go, upon which he staggered and almost fell.

           The loft of the steeple was literally plastered with PureNRG memorabilia.  There wasn't an inch of wall, ceiling, or floor to be seen.  An abnormal wallpaper covered it all.  There were even hundreds of their CDs hanging from the ceiling by string.

            Light streamed in from the overhead windows, and the reflection off the bell (and the compact discs) cast a golden-toned glow down on—Caroline Williams.  Jordan stared.

            Her shapely curves perfectly accentuated her curly hair, loosely-flowing blond hair.  The dress she wore shone; it was made out of a silver, sequined material.  She looked at him with milky brown eyes.

            Jordan, after staring for several seconds, almost sat down again.  This was it.  The moment he'd been awaiting for such an unbelievably long time was finally here.  And now that it was happening, he wasn't entirely confident about it any longer.  He wished it would slow down, get easier, anything but right here, right now.  And yet—the show must go on, he thought, inwardly shivering.

           "C-Caroline?"  He didn't know why he said something as totally non-witty as that.  He knew it was her.  She knew he knew it was her.  So the reason that was the first thing out of his mouth was clear.  He was stalling.  "I—"

            She suddenly performed a forward handspring, landing perfectly in front of his body and covering the distance between them rapidly.

            "Shh . . ." she said softly in her melodious voice.  Jordan about fainted at the way it was making his heart thump.  She swiftly put a finger on his lips, just as the younger Carolyne had done to him earlier.

            "Whatever happened is done with.  What's happening now shall be soon.  And what will be happening . . . well, that's to be discovered."  She smiled, and Jordan did too.  He tilted her head up, and they softly kissed.  At that instant, the clock began to strike nine.

            They were still kissing when Carolyne, realizing she had no further business with them, turned and tiptoed down the stairs.

            "I wonder if they've taken a breath yet," she said jokingly.  As might have been expected, she was not bitter that they had seemingly excluded her.  They had, in fact, not done so.  Only one of them, if either, was destined to have Jordan.  She knew he was more suited for Caroline.

            "It'll be no small feat for my future husband to top what's transpired tonight," she giggled, still descending.

♥    ♀   ♥    ♂   ♥

            She learned only later the rest of what had happened that night.  Nothing inappropriate had occurred—after all, both of them were Christians and had no reason to sin.  They'd be married soon anyhow.

            A long time after Carolyne had left (they spent that time kissing and talking) they had, according to Caroline, begun to dance.  Slowly at first, but the moves had steadily increased in tempo and complexity until both of them were regular whirligigs, spinning, somersaulting, hand-springing, cart-wheeling.

            Soon they'd been out of breath, and they both had had to sit down.

            "Now, I figured out what the key was for, and the letter led me here," Jordan said, his right hand clasping Caroline's left tightly, "but what's the little box I wasn't supposed to open?"

            "You can open it now," she had said sweetly.  He'd taken it from the pocket, dug a finger under one crease, and pulled.  The paper had come off quite easily, and underneath was a tiny, blue box with a hinge on one side.

            Curiously, Jordan had opened it, and a beautiful ring sat there, half of it encased in a layer of cotton.  It was thicker than the average ring, and it was inscribed with something that had almost made him cry.  “PureNRG Forever” it said.  The letters were filled with many, many kinds of jewels.  But the ones that stuck out were the ones that made up the letters of “Forever”.  Half of the word was made of Turquoise, which was, to some people, the December birthstone.  Caroline said that it tended to vary from person to person, Internet page to baby book, so she’d picked the more likely one, based on how many instances of it she’d seen while searching compared to how many of the alternative choices.  The other half was Garnet, the January birthstone.  Both stones coincided with their birthdays; Jordan’s in December, Caroline’s in January.

            “I had two more made; one for myself and one for Carolyne,” the blond beauty said.  “Hers doesn’t have the special birthstone addition, though.  And I don’t have to use mine as the wedding ring if you don’t want me to,” she added graciously.  “I would adore wearing yours, because you spent time and money to acquire it.”

            He shook his head.  “Use it.  Mine was nothing compared to this, anyway.”

            That was all Carolyne knew.  She suspected there was more, romantic stuff, but knew that was private.  And they’d come out of the church all smiles, or at least from what she could see in Caroline’s car’s headlights, which she’d switched on.

            Funnily enough, the two lovebirds had driven off in Jordan’s car, leaving the other car at Carolyne’s disposal.  She decided to drive it back to Caroline’s house, because she suspected that her friends wouldn’t go there, at least not first.  She’d make her way home using her motor-scooter, which was how she’d gotten to Caroline’s house earlier in the day.

            It was fitting for the both of them, she knew.  They’d be spending the rest of their life together and using their God-given talents to change the world in a positive way.  And she—well, she’d be doing the same thing, just with a different man.

            Ten minutes later she reached her parent’s house, where she still lived, being only sixteen.  She wasted no time in getting ready for bed, and was just about to crawl under the covers when she noticed a rectangular shape in the window.

            Her natural curiosity kicking in, she stealthily crept to the window and discovered it was taped to the outside.  Wonderful.

            After a long, stretched-out period of acrobatics that finally ended up with the envelope in her hand, but her entire upper body hanging in midair, she managed to get completely back into her room.

             “To my beautiful Carolyne” it read on the front.  She grinned.  It appeared that Valentine’s Day was not over.  Another PureNRG Love Story had only begun . . .

By Ashton Pheonix Holt (my bestie ^.^)
I choked on my tears as I wiped away the last ones replacements. A shredded bouquet of pink roses lay on the floor beside my bed, along with half a box of kleen-ex and a dozen smashed chocolates. People say that there is nothing worse than being alone on valentines day. I disagree. What's worse, is finding out the week before that your boyfriend of 2 years has been cheating on you for several months on end with your once thought to be, best friend. My body shuddered as I choked out another sob. Tyler had sent the sweets and flowers, along with several notes:

'babe, please forgive me'
'don't do this Exie' ect.

I glared at the dismembered flowers, wondering idly if I would have gotten more satisfaction about their deaths if I had stuck them in a vase of rubbing alcohol. I heard the soft tap of a finger nail on glass and I shuddered, pulling my blankets over my head. I didn't want to see his face. No, I couldn't stand his reckless green eyes or overly shaggy blonde hair. I couldn't do this any more. Suddenly, I felt a hand pulling back my covers, and my body stiffened. A face, I was not expecting looking down at me, his eyes stressed with worry.
"Exie?" his accented voice asked.
"Lucius go away. I'm still in 'my-heart-is-being-ripped-out' mode." I grumbled, trying to yank my covers back up to conceal my old sweats I was wearing, but his dark hands held them still.
"You can't keep on like this." he lectured, his chin length brown hair tumbling over one side of his face.
"I can too. Now stop sneaking in my window. It freaks me out." I said, as he sat on the spot beside me.
He dropped his chin in to his hand and frowned, studying me. We were silent for a moment and I was beginning to think he was thinking of another entry route in to my room, when his mouth moved.
"Your better than this you know. Than him." he said.
Immediately I felt my eyes tear up, and I pulled my hood up to conceal my face as I turned on to my stomach, to hide myself in my pillow. He pulled my hood back, and smoothed a hand over my long wavy red hair.
"I mean it, Ex." he said.
Lucius was an old family friend that had lived next door since I was born--he being two years older than me.
"I-I know you do." I choked, not realizing I was crying till I had sat up and wiped my eyes on my green sweat shirt sleeve.
"That's why it h-hurts s-so much." I sobbed "everyone thinks that. Everyone except the one person who m-matters and I c-can't do it." I shook my head "I want to get over him but I can't. It hurts s-so much." I tried to explain, knitting my fingers in to the fabric that shrouded my heart. I looked back up at his dark face, and realized he looked like he was in more pain than I was. I frowned, trying to understand his dilemma, and was about to ask him to explain when he took my hands in his large ones, looked me strait in the eye and spoke.
"He isn't worth it. The guy that makes you cry isn't meant to be. The one that won't, is when you know you found who you were meant to have. Imagine,"--I could feel a mini rant coming on--"you liked someone. A lot. You might even go so far as to love them, but you are just you. Just that friend next door waiting all your life, praying for the moment that you get your chance to have that person. Imagine the pain that would cause..." he paused to tuck a wild red strand behind my ear, and trail his hand down my cheek "when you had to watch them die inside, when you know, you could do so much better." he breathed.
My heart beat a wild tattoo against my chest. Lucius... All this time. He had waited. For me. Some stupid idiotic girl who used his shoulder to cry on every time she got her heart broken. I realized suddenly that my tears had stopped and my mouth felt thick. I had never noticed. I had never cared. I winced at all of the pain I must have caused him, and yet, here he sat. Waiting for me to tell him that I was sorry, that I'd never do it again. And more than anything in the world I wanted to reassure him. So that, is what I did.
"Lucius I... I'm sorry." I dropped my eyes shamefully so I wouldn't have to look at his adoring face any more. "I didn't know."
"You do now." he replied in a husky tone. "So what'll it be Ex?" he asked.
I realized when I looked up again that he had leaned in--closer.
"I don't know..."
"Do you love me?"
"What?!"
"Do you love me Exie?" he asked just as calmly as before.
My mind buzzed, and my cheeks grew red.
"I... I think I do." I said, but it came out less like an uncertainty, and more like a realization. Well, that and the last word was muffled as his lips attacked mine. I felt a fire kindle inside of me--one I hadn't felt in a very long time, as I fisted my hands in his hair. He reached in to the inside pocket of his leather jacket, and pulled out a deep purple peony, and laid it across my lap.
"My favorite." I half smiled, picking it up, and inhaling deeply.
"I know." he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "Happy Valentines day."

By Jasmine, a very talented writer :)
The sun was setting, its warm glow fading behind the snow-covered mountains off in the faraway distance. The warm sand was wrapping itself around my toes, and every step I took left perfect footprints behind me. I wondered if anyone would do what I used to do as a little kid and follow my footsteps.

I looked down at my hand and smiled at the way that he was holding it; his fingers wrapped around mine like a spider’s web, and his small tattoo on his right wrist flashed itself every time he turned our hands over to swing them around.

“What does you tattoo mean?” I asked quietly as I looked down at the writing that I assumed to be Chinese. Their language was so artistic…like a painter that sat and made beautiful strokes across a paper, making them come alive and speak, every syllable rolling off the tongue like a waterfall rolls off the edge of the height.

He turned his wrist over and examined his tattoo as if just realizing it was there. “It means to be forgotten,” he said softly.

I pressed my finger to his wrist and ran my fingertips along the tattoo. “What does it stand for? What’s the meaning behind it?”

His eyes looked straight ahead. “That’s a story for another time.”

“That’s what you always say when I ask you questions,” I objected. I saw him glance at me from the corner of his eyes.

“I told you my name,” he smirked.

“You told me a fake name so I didn’t have to keep calling you ‘boy’ and ‘sir’ and ‘mister’.”

“And? It was still an answer.”

I exhaled loudly. “No, it’s an excuse to not give an answer. I don’t want to call you Marley….that’s a weird name. You couldn’t make up a better name than that?”

Off in the distance, the sound of a child’s laughter filled the air and carried on through the wind. I heard a woman demanding her dog return to her, and a man instructing (whom I assume to be) his children to get out of the water….it was getting late, and they needed to get back home and check on their grandma.

I turned my attention back to him and sped up our walking speed a little bit. “I love you,” I whispered.

He stopped in his tracks and turned towards me… his dark brown eyes searching mine, looking for any traces of lies. For any traces of downfall. “I love you too,” he replied gently.

“Then why can’t I know anything about you?” I demanded impatiently. His expression changed into that of a look of pure hurt, only I couldn’t quite determine what the hurt was from.

“Ruby,” he mumbled, touching my curly hair and tucking it behind my ears. “I am keeping all of this from you because I love you. Please, just trust me.”

I looked down at my feet and wiggled my toes in the sand….my bright orange-papaya colored toenails peeking out from below the sand and reflecting their neon color against the low key brightness of the sunset. I took a deep breath slowly, ignoring his look of urgency that was resting on me.

“I need you to realize why I can’t tell you,” he continued. “I don’t expect you to like it….you know nothing about my history, or my future, or even my present. I know that’s hard, okay? But you have no idea how hard it is for me, too. I cannot tell you these things, or else I would. If it were up to me…..” His voice trailed off as he reconnected our hands. “If it were up to me, I’d tell you every detail about me, down to my favorite color. I’d give you everything you wanted and I’d run away with you and never look back….I wouldn’t even say goodbye to anyone. I wouldn’t miss them, because I’d have you.”

Not one word or sound could escape from my lips as I made our eyes meet….his beaming down on me with an intensity that made my heart leap dramatically. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire.

He kept his eyes locked on mine and continued. “Ruby, I love you. We have spent these two weeks together….I know that seems like a short amount of time, but for me, it feels like I’ve known you forever and yet I can’t wait to know you even longer…..every time I’m with you, my whole life just seems so…perfect. Like happiness really exists; like love really exists. You make me believe in love, Ruby.”

I felt a single tear roll down my cheek, and it seemed as though time itself had stopped completely….like every bird in the sky froze, like every sound went quiet, like every movement stood still….except the two of us, right here…right now.

“Then let’s run away, let’s never look back. Let’s run far away from this place and never say goodbye to anyone!” I couldn’t hide the hopeful excitement from my voice, and I even allowed a small squeal to escape. Yet despite the fact that I felt excited to hear him say these words to me, Marley (or so he called himself) seemed almost…depressed about it. I tilted my head to the side, searching his eyes for unspoken answers. “Is there something I’m missing?” I asked.

His gaze fell away from mine and dropped to the sand. “We can’t be together,” he whispered.

“Why not?” My voice came across impatient and sharp, and I resented it.

“Ruby, stop asking me all of these freaking questions!” He yelled.

I took a step back but didn’t surrender. “What could possibly be keeping you this secretive? What could possibly be binding you so tightly at the age of eighteen? You’re eighteen, Marley. Or whatever your name is. Eighteen……so young!”

“Says the seventeen year old,” he said sarcastically.

I sighed loudly and shook my head, detangling our intertwined fingers. “If you can’t tell me who you are, I am leaving.”

“Ruby-” he began, reaching towards my hand. I pulled away.

“No, don’t touch me. If I can’t know you, then why even bother with me? If we can’t be together, why bother?”

He hesitated before opening his lips to speak. “I just wanted to have a perfect valentine’s day with you.”

“Well it’s too late!” I snapped, pulling even farther away from him. “Valentine’s day is a day to celebrate being in love and being together, spending the rest of your life with that person!”

“Just because we cannot spend the rest of our lives together does not mean we are not in love, Ruby.” His eyes penetrated down on me. “I love you, Ruby. Please, please spend the rest of this day with me, please.”

“Why, so you can leave tomorrow?”

His face fell and his eyes dropped from mine. His voice came out quiet and ragged. “Fine, if you’re not going to listen to me, if you are not going to believe that I cannot tell you, then fine. Goodbye.”

“Good…..goodbye?” I stuttered. “I don’t want to say goodbye. I want to be with you, Marley.”

“You were right Ruby, if we can’t be together then what’s the point?”

I felt my blood rise with anger, my heart dropping at every minute this conversation extended. “See? That’s what I don’t get. We could be together, but you don’t want to give up a past life. You don’t want to make the commitment. You don’t even really care about me, do you?!” my hands were clenched into fists and my knuckles were a pale white. I felt a tear stream down my red face.

Marley shook his head and sighed, trying desperately to hang on to his calm without letting the hurt and rage that was boiling inside of him. He took a step back, avoiding my eye contact. His body was shaking. “Goodbye, Ruby,” he mumbled, balling his hands into fists. “I love you. I really do.” He bent over and kissed me on the cheek, then wiped my tears away with the back of his fingers.

 I looked up at him and noticed that he, too, had a tear rolling down his cheek. I took my hand and wiped it away as I reached up to kiss his cheek. His lips formed a tiny smile; a smile that showed the sadness that was hiding behind it.

“Goodbye,” he repeated, walking backwards away from me. When he realized I had no answer to his goodbye, no last words, he turned around fully and sprinted away into a direction that showed no promise.

I looked after him, watching his body become smaller and smaller as he descended into the distance. He became a small black dot…. A small black dot that finally completely disappeared, taking my heart, emotions, and happiness with him.

Two years later

“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting across Officer Temples in a dim room. My manicured nails tapped profusely against the cheap fake wood, and I feared that my Gucci formal work suit was getting dirty against these dusty plastic chairs.

“It’ll be just one moment,” Temples said, leaning back in his chair as he organized a stack of official-looking papers.

The door behind him swung open, and in walked a female in a suit with a long trench coat. Her hair was slicked down in a neat bun, and her big immensely green eyes landed on me. She closed the door behind her and took a seat next to Temples.

“Good afternoon Ms. Consuelas,” the lady said, extending her hand towards mine. I shook it firmly.

“Good afternoon,” I said softly.

“My name is detective Betty Sherman, but you can call me Betty. And this is Officer Dave Temples. Do you know why you’re here?”

I shook my head slowly. “Nope, not a clue. But I would like to say that it must be extremely necessary, seeing as it pulled me from my most important client right in the middle of our appointment.”

Betty smirked. “Do you know anyone by the name of Miguel Jesus Dontonio Guzman Alquinta?”

“No, that name sounds both unfamiliar and ridiculous.” My voice dripped with cynical sarcasm.

“Well,” Betty began, her face showing surprise at my response. “That’s strange; he seemed to have known you quite a bit.” She reached for the folder with the stack of papers Temples had been previously holding, and pushed it towards me.

I hesitated grabbing it and looked over at the two sitting across from me. “What is this? Am I being stalked?”

“Just open the folder, ma’am,” Temples instructed. I felt my body shake with fear and uncertainty as I opened the folder, flipping past the first few blank pages.

And there I was; pictures of me on page after page…. Me walking my puppy Brutus, me getting into my car, me sitting on a park bench with my best friend Natalia… the pictures kept piling up. I couldn’t hide the fear in my shaky voice. “What….what is this??” I demanded, looking up at Betty. She motioned for me to keep turning the pages.

I continued to keep flipping through them……me cooking at an outdoor barbeque party, me at the carnival with my little brother Trevontae…

Then it happened…it caught me off guard….there he was…it was….him.

Marley.

His picture was a mug shot, and a description. Under his mug shot read:

Name: Miguel Jesus Dontonio Guzman Alquinta

Crime: drugs, selling drugs, gang involvement, associated with Young Latino Bloodz Gang, sign #: 26, second degree murder (16 accounts), murder gang-related, shootings, stabbings, shoplifting, grand theft auto
Age: 20
Ethnicity: Mexican, Italian

I looked up at Betty and Temples, and they both looked back at me. A drifting silence filled the room and the air became unbearably thick with confused agony.

I flipped past the mug shot and one last page remained; a piece of paper with my name on it…a letter, for me.

Ruby Aniellie Consuelas,

The last time I saw you, we got into a big fight. We said our goodbyes. And I walked away. Because I was a boy back then. But I am a man now. And I wouldn’t say goodbye to you…I would say hello and never let you go. When I said I loved you back then, I meant it. But I was still a foolish boy and wouldn’t walk away from mis hermanos….my brothers in my gang. I’ve thought a lot about that day with you, and those weeks with you, and realized I had walked away from happiness….from love, from life, from being truly rejoiceful and happy. I know it is too late… I fell too deep in the gangs, and my life is up. I am counting the days until I get killed, someway, somehow. I tried to tell you 2 years ago….had we been together, and had I walked away from my gang, I would have been killed on sight. And you. And any baby we had brought into the world and any friend or family member we had ever talked to, passed in a hallway, or loved.

I am so sorry.

But Ruby….I love you. So much. You made my heart feel love….something I had never before felt.

Happy valentine’s day.

Love, Miguel
a.k.a. Marley

Tears rolled off of my cheek and dripped onto the paper, soiling the ink and causing letter to merge together. I felt the world stop; I felt every clock stop ticking and every bird stop flying…I felt every word hang on the tongues of people and not escape their mouths….I felt the wind stop blowing, I felt the oceans stop moving.

Betty came from around her side of the desk and hugged me, gripping me tightly to keep my body from shaking. I no longer cared about the Gucci suit or the expensive manicure that I was using to wipe tears from my eyes. I didn’t care about my makeup smearing or my hair getting messed up. I wanted to see Marley. Or Miguel. Or whoever he was.

“Take me to him,” I whispered. “Please.”

Betty gave a sad look to Temples, who returned the same facial expression with one of his own. He clearly disagreed. But Betty ignored it.

“Okay,” she said quietly, lifting me up from the chair and gathering the photos and papers back into the manila folder.

I followed her outside the room, outside the building and into her red Audi convertible car while my mind wandered and left the job up to my feet entirely to carry me from one place to the other. My heart was racing, and I didn’t know how long it took to get there or where we even were; until I stepped out of the car slowly and found myself in front of a grave yard.

“What’s going on? Does he work here?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. Betty shook her head and implied that I follow her, so I did.

We walked for a few minutes, curving around certain tombstones, until we stopped in front of one very small one, with a single bouquet of rotting flowers on top of it. His name was printed on the tombstone; Miguel Jesus Dontonio Guzman Alquinta, January 3^rd 1992- February 16^th 2012. R.I.P, La Eme.

I kneeled down and got close to the grave, touching the stone and observing the dead flowers. Not too long ago, he was alive….telling me he loved me, and that he wanted to be with me but couldn’t. Back then I had taken it for granted…I was so young and naïve.

I pulled out the note he had written me and tucked it right in front of his gravestone. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” I whispered. I stood back up slowly, and Betty wiped the tears from my eyes that I didn’t even realize were there.

“Ready to go?” she asked, holding out her hand for me to hold.

I nodded slowly. “Yes,” I said, taking her extended hand. He walked back towards her car as she went on about how we should grab some coffee, maybe a sandwich or a burger, too. But my heart wasn’t with her, or this conversation. I merely nodded and pretended to listen as she led me back to her fancy car. I looked back over my shoulder and watched as the gravestone became smaller and smaller… I looked back towards it, watching as we descended into the distance. It became a small black dot…. A small black dot that finally completely disappeared, taking my heart, emotions, and happiness with it.

fini

Randomness

Hey, guess what? On Friday, I get to go see my lovely best friend Miss Jessica Scarlett for the first time in real life. Don't worry about my safety--it's impossible to lie about your age on the site I met her on so I know she's really my age--but it will be awesome. The two of us are so excited.

Also, in band we moved up from book 2 (intermediate level) to book 3 today, which is awesome. Lately we've been working quite a deal on technical things, like dynamtics, articulation and things like that because we need to up our skills in those areas, and this book covers all those pretty well, so it's quite fun.

I did a great deal of school work today as well. Math was a pain in the butt, but I only have two more assignments in that subject before I'm cuaght up, and Language Arts is going quite well too. Art, Social Studies, and Science left ;)

And Phantom of the Opera is going well too ;)

And here's a random picture, for fun, and to lengthen this a bit:

Symbolizing the Joker card of my large stack of anime pictures, a lot like me.
Well, I hope you have a nice day! (idk why I posted something so small and non-trivial...I think I wanted a small break ;) )
Cassandra Bloom/d <3

Mafia

I hate the game called mafia. I suck at everything but being a townsperson.

Don't know what mafia is? Here, let me explain the darned game to you . . .

First of all, it's a real life game you play with real people. Not online. Not a video game. Now that that's clear . . .

In our youth group version, there are two mafia and everyone else is townsfolk. Mafia, in a normal game, are the murderers who go out killing the people. Only you don't murder. But I'll get to that later.

You choose the mafia by putting the same amount of pieces of paper as there are people in a bowl/hat/ect, two wearing the title as 'mafia' and the rest saying 'T' for townspeople. Don't let show anyone show another what they are.

Once the mafia are 'chosen' then you all stand in a circle, with the lights on, and have everyone cover their eyes. No peaking or the game restarts. Anyways, someone yells, "Mafia awaken!" and the two mafia uncover their eyes and find the other so they know not to 'kill' (in youth group we put each other to sleep, but casera) each other, and then they cover their eyes again when someone yell, "Mafia go to sleep!" Then the lights go off (all of them) and the game starts.

The point of the mafia is to kill one of the other people, and not get caught, perhaps make it look like another was the killer, and the townspeople's purpose is to not die, and somewhat to caught the killer so no one else dies.

To 'kill' another member of the town, the mafia merely has to go up to the desired person and draw an 'X' on their back. Since we had a nice accident where we fractures one of out members' finger, we don't 'die' we just stand there with our arms suddenly crossed over our chest and our head down, but originally it was where you drop to the ground, 'dieing' as dramatically as you'd like, but you must not make a sound. None. Nada.

Anyways, the mafia may kill as many as they'd like until one of the dead are found by another townsperson. If someone besides the killer finds someone dead they must yell the designated key word; in our case it is, "BANANAS BANANAS!" Original, right?

Then you have a town meeting. Anyone dead may attend by they made not hint in any way, shape, or form to who did it, and they may not speak. People accuse who they think the killer is, the accused give alibi's, and then the townpeople vote on who they think did it. That person is hung for their supposed crimes.

After the person dies, they say whether or not s/he was a mafia or not. You continue this until both mafia are killed and long dead for what they have done. Also, there is no reinfestation, so no one dead can come back to life. Sorry, you're ghosts.

And I suck at this game. It sucks. I mean, I do alright as a townperson, I just stand there and stare darkly around the room, maybe scare Brandon (a friend of mine) a little bit, but that's that. If I'm mafia I suck. I always get caught and if I don't I take too long and am found out. So yeah. I hate it.

Update on Phantom of the Opera:
I have read 15% of the book now! All the songs from the soundtrack are memorized as well :) And I've started earning money for the play. It will be *amazing*.

Adios!
Cassandra Bloom

P.S. I've been thinking of making the last name of my pen name 'Blood'. What do you think?

The Good News

So my family and I, since discovering my new obsession and learning that Las Vegas will no longer be showing The Phantom of the Opera at the Venetian in play format after September 2, 2012, that I may be able to go if I pay for most of the trip. It. Shall. Be. Brilliant. I am. So. Excited. And. So. Lucky. I cannot stress that enough. *squeals* Omg omg omg omg.

But I did not come on here to gush about this. *shakes self* Well, it was part of it but of course I have more.

Some of you are probably wondering how far my obsession extends in Phantom of the Opera. Well, here is a small list of things I have done in honor of my love for even just those four words, in order from the earliest things to latest:

1. I have played a POTO song in band class on my Alto Saxophone. Greatest song ever. Well, Angel of Music may beat it actually. And all the originals on the soundtrack to the movie I can actually sing to.
2. I begged my mother for the movie, and I got it. Love. It.
3. I bought the book and will soon get a spin-off sequel. Haven't read more than 5% on the first, though. I'm too busy right now. (If you were wondering, yes, that is how busy I am. I am so busy I cannot even find the time to read my next favorite book. Should I be doing that now instead of posting? No, I can't, I'm doing school).
4. I made a screen saver set for myself on my computer made from various hot snapshots from the Andrew Lloyd Webber version. LOVE it. And of course there are none of that brat Raoul. My favorite picture? At the bottom of this post :)
5. I am getting front row tickets to one of the last three plays going on in Las Vegas for Phantom. And I'm paying for three, one for me and each of my parents. PAYING MYSELF. Talented, aren't I?
6. I have now bought the soundtrack. It is amazing as well. Love each song.

Now, isn't that a lot? I'm obsessed. But it's a good thing. Good good head noise...

He just seems so gentle, and yet so strong here. And trust me, it was hard to pick a favorite.