Drum Roll, Please…

I’m sure you thought that Monday’s post was the only thing I was going to do for the big anniversary, didn’t you?  Well, surprise!


(Why do I keep using this face first?????)

I know, I know.  I don’t have to do anything.  I want to though.  Here’s the secret.


I am going to begin posting a short story series on here once a week!


And, just to show you how serious I am about this, I won’t use any emoticons in the story segments!

I know, I know.  You’ll believe it when you see it.  Me too.

And now you’re all wondering about one very important detail.  What is the title?

I haven’t decided yet, although I’ve gotten it down to two choices: “To be Continued” and “To be Announced.”

Please comment with your choice, or any other title you might have in mind.  At any time during the series, I may finally, hopefully with your help, decide on an official title and that will be that, but for now I need something, and I actually really like my two ideas.  Well, that’s enough of me talking about me.  I’ll throw in the first part.  The rest will probably be longer, but I thought I’d start simple.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, allow me to introduce the first segment in a series which is yet to be named!  (You guessed it…



We were just friends.  No, really.  We were sort of good friends, on my part at least.  I never realized that he hardly even noticed me until that one day when he wasn’t there, and only my friend knew where he’d gone.  He’d moved away.  Far away.  Texas, Colorado, what did it matter?  Why did they have to argue over which state he’d moved to?  Why couldn’t we discuss something more important, like why he left, when he left, and why he  never said goodbye?  That’s when I wondered if I wanted to know the truth, and a cold fear came over me as I pondered what it might mean if the honest answer were “no.”

It took a little while to reconcile to the fact that he was really gone, but we finally did.  It was right around the same time I met the guy down the street.  I’d seen him skateboarding from my window, but I’d never actually met him.  I didn’t even know his name.  All I knew was that he was going to the high school I’d be going to next year for the first time, which made him the most logical person to beg for information on what it was really like.  Going to high school, that it.

“Now, don’t get any ideas.  I am not, and never will be attracted to this guy.  Like I said, I don’t even know his name.  That will change tomorrow, though.  I’m going to go outside around 2:35 since his bus gets to the stop at 2:43 every afternoon.  Tomorrow is the third Friday of the month, so he’ll be wearing the Tarheels hat.  And tomorrow is supposed to actually feel like a day late in November should, so he’ll be wearing a jacket.  He wore the tan one today, so he’ll probably wear his black jacket.

And I’ m not a creep.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Just chill, okay?  I’m just going to talk to him!”  I have to apologize for the strange conversations I will almost definitely have with my subconscious.  I just do that.  After that interesting exchange, I barely stepped away from the window I’d been looking out of and flopped on my bed wishing I had someone to call and beg for advice, but I knew that I wouldn’t follow it anyway.

*NOTE:  All characters and events portrayed in this story are purely fiction.  Any resemblance to actual people or events is accidental.*


Next part next Friday!  Title suggestions, names for various characters, or other questions or comments can be left below, or you can e-mail me at the address on my contact page.


If you really love my work, vote for one of my poems on TeenInk!  Every little bit helps!


1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s