Bury My Lovely

 

Chapter 8

 

 

 

 

Chris woke up, feeling very strange. His bedroom window stood wide open and the rising sun shone into his eyes. He squinted.

 

“Wow, how long have I been asleep?”

 

He yawned, stretched and got out of bed. He changed his wrinkled clothes and went out of his bedroom.

 

He met Will and Guy as they walked out of Guy’s room. Chris raised his eyebrows.

 

“Erm, what have you been up to?” He nodded to Guy’s sleep tousled mop of hair.

 

“Nothing!” Guy quickly protested.

 

Will just rolled his eyes. “Really, Guy.”

 

“Will was scared.”

 

“So what if I was, it’s an eerie house!”

 

They all went down to the kitchen, sighing at the mess they had left behind the morning before. They quickly cleaned up and sat down with freshly made toast and cups of tea.

 

“Guys?” Chris broke the comfortable silence.

 

“Hm?” Will answered, mouth full of toast.

 

“Do you feel... I don’t know… Weird?”

 

“What do you mean ‘weird’?”

 

Chris shrugged. “I don’t know.”

 

Will put his hand on Chris’ forehead. “Well, you don’t have a temperature.”

 

“No, I don’t feel sick… It feels like there’s something missing.”

 

“Like what?” Guy asked, looking concerned. He put down his cup.

 

“I just can’t put my finger on it.” He sighed and finished off his tea. “I think I’m going to take a walk.”

 

Will nodded. “Sure. Go ahead, we’ll clean up.”

 

“Thanks, man.”

 

Chris excused himself and went outside, feeling marginally better with the sun shining on his face. He smiled to himself.

The hills surrounding the estate were emerald green and Chris felt his heart jump in his chest at the beauty of it all.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and frowned as his left hand met a piece of paper.

 

“What the… I’ve never worn these before.” He pulled the paper out, thinking it was the receipt. He quizzically tilted his head when it wasn’t.

 

“A picture worth a thousand lies. Bury my lovely.

Hide in your room. Bury my lovely.

Forget me soon. Forget me

Forget me now. Forget me not.” He read aloud to himself.

 

A cool breeze blew across the plains and he shivered. Chris looked back at the manor and bit his lip. His heart pounded in his chest and his stomach fluttered. He looked from the piece of paper to the manor. His eyes widened and he ran, taking long strides, and almost bumped into Guy as he stepped out from the house, pulling up his lighter to light a cigarette.

 

“Watch it!” Guy said.

 

“Sorry, man, it’s just… I think I know what’s missing!”

 

“What?”

 

“WILL?!” Chris hollered into the house. “Could you come out here?”

 

Will soon appeared in the doorway.

“Yes, Chris? What’s up?”

 

“I know what’s missing.”

 

“Just tell us already!” Guy sighed loudly.

 

“One of us!”

 

Will and Guy wore matching frowns.

“No-o…” Will let out. “We’re all here.”

 

“I know we all think that we’re all here… But I think this house is doing something to us. I Think we’re supposed to be one more.”

 

Will laid a hand on Chris’ shoulder.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“No, I’m not! There’s something on… I don’t know… The edge of my subconscious that’s telling me that we’re not all here.”

 

“Chris.” Guy said, flicking away his cigarette stub.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I think you need to drink some water or something, you’re delirious.”

 

“I’m not delirious!” He protested and looked into the house, up the stairs. “And I’ll show you!”

Guy and Will followed Chris into the house. They watched as he swung open the door to the room closest to the stairs. He gasped.

 

“I don’t understand…” He said dumbly. The room was empty. He ran through the hallway, opening all the doors, the only rooms that had been used were the ones that the three men had occupied. He kicked at the locked door.

 

“Would you like to go into town, Chris?” Will said from behind him. “Maybe we could see a doctor or something?”

 

Chris sighed and nodded. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

 

Soon they were all packed into the car, windows rolled down, and Chris closed his eyes as he felt the breeze blow through his hair.

 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Chris.” Will said from the driver’s seat.

 

Chris nodded.

 

“Here, drink some more water.” Guy said and passed Chris a bottle.

Chris took it without protest and gulped down the liquid.

 

“I’m so sorry for ruining our vacation, guys.” He mumbled-staring out on the passing landscape.

 

“Aw, come on, Chris.” Guy said and peered back at Chris in the backseat. The singer was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

 

Chris nodded and closed his eyes. He was asleep within seconds.

 

The next thing he knew was the car stopping and two doors slamming as his band mates got out of the car. He drowsily looked up as Will opened his door.

 

“I dreamt of fire and smoke… And winding hallways. And locks.” He mumbled to Will. “And there was dirt and a big mirror.”

 

“It was just a dream, Chris. We’re here now.”

 

Chris, finally fully woken up, got out of the car and followed his friends into the big white building the waiting room was empty, save for an elderly lady asleep in a corner. Guy and Chris sat down.

Will, ever the dad, walked up to the reception.

 

“Hello. We’d like to see a doctor.”

 

The nurse smiled and handed him a clipboard. “Please take a seat and fill this out.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He sat down with Guy and Chris.

 

“Do you feel nauseas?” Chris shook his head.

 

“Dizzy?” Chris shrugged.

 

“So a little bit dizzy?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Alright, let’s put it this way… Are you feeling ill in any way?”

 

“No.”

 

“Ok. Good.”

 

He walked back to the receptionist.

 

“Hello again. We couldn’t really fill this out properly.”

 

“Oh? Why is that?”

 

“My friend over there. Yes, the lanky one with a lot of hair… Well, he’s been a bit delirious. We think it might be dehydration or something.”

 

“Well, it has been very hot these past few days… Just a minute.” She picked up the phone on the desk.

 

“Dr. Weiss? Are you available? We have a young man who might be dehydrated.” She smiled.

 

“Thank you.” She turned to Will. “The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

 

True to his word, Dr. Weiss appeared in the doorway a few minutes later. He briskly walked over to the boys.

 

“Hello. I’m Dr.Weiss.” He shook their hands. “Who can I help today?”

 

“Well, that would be me.” Chris said and stood up.

 

“Very well, come with me, please.”

 

Chris obediently followed the older man into an adjacent room and sat down in a chair opposite the doctor’s desk.

 

“So, what’s your name, lad?”

 

“Chris. Chris Martin. Or, it’s Christopher. But I’d rather you’d call me Chris.”

 

“Very well, Chris. You and your friends must be new in town?”

 

“Not really. We’re just on a bit of vacation.”

 

“Staying at the inn, then?” The doctor asked, writing down Chris’ information in a file.

 

“No… At Rosehill Manor.”

 

Dr. Weiss dropped the pen he was holding.

 

“You are?”

 

Chris nodded and the doctor studied him intently.

 

“Why are you here today, Chris?”

 

“My friends think I’m delirious.”

 

“And why is that?”

 

“Because… Please don’t put me away for this. I don't want to be admitted.”

 

“Please, continue.”

 

“I think there used to be four of us. I think there’s one of us missing. But I can't find any proof of it anywhere.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“Just this feeling that I have.”

 

Dr Weiss hesitated. “I need to tell you something, Chris. Something of great importance.”

 

Chris nodded. “Go ahead.”

 

 

EVERYDAY LIFE

A Rachel-Hahna Collaboration

 

 

 

It was normal day in Coldplayland, and Chris and Jonny were sitting on their front lawn, watching the bloody feral neighbourhood kids running on their precious grass.

 

Chris was about to lean in and kiss Jonny when his phone rang. Chris awkwardly removed the mobile from his back pocket while untangling himself from Jonny's grip.

 

Jonny groaned, frustrated by the one who interupted their love session. Chris shooshed him, though, and answered the call to hear Guy's voice on the other end. Jonny stood up and mouthed to Chris that he was going for a walk.

 

"Hello?" Guy asked, impatient. "Are you there?"

 

"Yes, Guy, I'm here. What did you want?"

 

"Well...well... Chris, you need to get out more; know more people... So you're throwing a party tonight!"

 

"I am? Since when? Who's coming? Guy? Why aren't you answering? WHO'S COMING?!"

 

Guy laughed. "Calm down, Chris, just a few people I know...it's nothing huge." Chris was still worried, though, and he flipped his phone down in a haste.

 

Chris thought to himself: A few people? A few people GUY knows. Oh noes! Chris knew that in Guy's mind, a few people meant a hundred people who were going to bring even more people. He knew this would be a catastrophe.

 

Chris set off, still paranoid, to find his lover. He wandered through the streets. "Jonny! Jonnnnyyyy! Where is you?!"

 

"I is heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!" a voice yelled. Chris stepped onto the pavement, where he saw Jonny hopping along like a rabbit.

 

"Oh Jonny, my sweet honey bear! I found you!" Chris swooned and ran to hug Jonny.

 

Jonny was aware this was Chris's normal behaviour, but something about his actions didn't seem right. It seemed...odd. "Are you okay, Chris?"

 

"Oh of course JJ, why wouldn't I be?" But deep inside Chris was scared. How would he tell Jonny about the party?

 

"Guy's making me throw a party." Chris's explanation was blunt but necessary. He didn't want his dear Jon to be worried and anxious.

 

"Well that's not too bad. I mean it's Guy he's responsi- I can't let this party happen... Someone might die! Guy will party! And parties have drinks. And Guy likes drinks. And when Guy drinks..." Jonny shuddered, recalling New Years Eve of last year. "Under no circumstances will you let Will dress up as a real-life Barbie doll again," Jonny demanded. "But beside from all of that, this could be a lot of fun. We'll meet new people, and...meet other new people..." Jonny paused. "It'll be great."

 

"Maybe some new people like us?" Chris said dreamily. "We can enjoy ourselves. I think. Stay with me through the party, okay, Jonny-boy?"

 

Jon opened his mouth to answer, but Chris interjected before he could get a word out. "WE HAVE TO HAVE A PIZZA PARTY! A PIZZA PARTY! WE NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED TO HAVE A PIZZA PARTY!"

 

"We do? But we had one last night! You remember right? With the hotel and the ice room?"

 

"Yeah, but we've never had one with...Fred, have we?" Chris retorted.

 

"We don't know a Fred."

 

"We will tonight!" Chris smiled.

 

Jonny sighed. "Whatever, a pizza party it is, then!"

 

"PIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZA PARTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" Chris danced all over the place with excitement.

 

Jonny placed his face in his palms and thought about why he fell in love with this man.

 

 

 

 

:awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome: :awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome: :awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome: :awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome: :awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome::awesome:

 

 

 

 

Chris was gaping at the sight before him; it was an absolute miracle that he could open his eyes after hours of unconsciousness and see Jonny laying so close. He could probably count every single bit of stubble on Jonny's beautiful face if he really wanted to, and he almost considered doing it. He decided against it when he realized that he would probably either lose track or get bored halfway through. But he did spend another hour or so staring before Jonny even so much as stirred. When Jonny did finally wake up, he looked at Chris and smiled.

 

“Good morning,” he quietly said. Chris returned the smile and leaned in.

 

“Good morning.” He lifted his hand and gently stroked Jonny's cheek. “Jonny, isn't it amazing? We get to do this every morning from now on.”

 

“Yeah. And I get to do this every morning-” Jonny brushed his lips against Chris's, lightly yet forcefully, which he knew would drive Chris crazy.

 

“Oh, if you get to do that,” Chris began, slowly sliding his hand down Jonny's side, “then I get to do this.” Chris leaned over and starting kissing Jonny's neck at precisely the same moment that his hand wandered past the waistband of Jonny's pants. Jonny let out a deep gasp, reached over Chris's shoulder, and buried his hand in Chris's mop of hair.

 

“Chris, if this is what it's gonna be like, then we better not ever make any plans for morning-time or we're always gonna be late.” Chris laughed, and kept his hand busy as he moved his mouth more towards Jonny's.

 

“We actually do have plans this morning, remember?”

 

“Oh, yeah, we're supposed to-” Jonny had to pause so the moan inside of him could make its way out, “-be meeting Guy and Will, huh?”

 

“Mm-hmm. I think they can wait, though.”

 

“Yeah,” Jonny agreed with a shaky voice. “They can wait.”

 

 

 

Guy looked up from his bass at the spot where the noise of the door opening had originated. Chris quickly entered through the doorway, immediately followed by Jonny.

 

“Oh, look who finally decided to show!” Guy sarcastically exclaimed. Chris rolled his eyes as Guy continued, “Why do you look so... embarrassed, Jonny?”

 

“Huh, do I look embarrassed?” Jonny fretfully replied. He self-consciously patted down some of the hair at the back of his head, which he then realized was an incredibly silly thing to do.

 

“Where's Will?” Chris interrupted, rubbing his hands together. “We've got news.”

 

“Did you write another song again?” Guy laughed. “He should be back in, like, two seconds. He just went to the bathroom or something.”

 

“Who went to the bathroom?” Will was suddenly among the men, standing as though he'd been there the whole time. “Oh, right. Me.”

 

“What's your news, then?” Guy asked Chris. Chris turned to Jonny, who smiled and nodded in approval, then faced Guy and Will once more.

 

“Jonny and I are moving in together.” He held out his hands, as if to say that the information was out now, and they were free to do with it whatever they wanted. But at first, none of them wanted to do anything with it, so Chris pressed on. “Well?”

 

“Well...” Will began, pausing to think for another moment. “Why, exactly?”

 

“Jonny, would you like to...” Chris trailed off.

 

Jonny took a deep breath and a step forward. Then, wrapping his arm around Chris, he said, “We're moving in together, because... because we're in love. With each other.” Jonny cringed a little at his excessive explanation, but Guy and Will were still stuck on the end of the first sentence.

 

“OK,” Will finally said. Chris was a little surprised by his response.

 

“Really, you guys are OK with it?” Even though he hadn't originally answered, Guy nodded his head along with Will.

 

“Oh, wait.” Guy scrunched up his nose distastefully. “Ew, you guys didn't... you know. That's not why you look embarrassed, is it?”

 

“I-I don't think that that's really any of your business,” Jonny quickly stammered, completely flustered. Guy took this as an affirmative answer, though, and he increased the disgust in his look.

 

“Ew.”

 

 

 

Chris and Jonny shared the piano bench, playing music while they waited for Guy and Will to return from getting lunch. Jonny was focusing on playing a new riff for Chris, who was listening intently.

 

“Jonny, this is beautiful,” Chris said with mystified eyes. Jonny smiled a little, blushed, but kept his head down and his gaze on the guitar. Chris watched him for a few moments, then turned to the piano and started to play.

 

For another few minutes they continued to make their beautiful music, and once it was done, Chris and Jonny looked up at each other.

 

“Yay!” Chris squealed, which Jonny just laughed and smiled at. “Jonny, we are the perfect team.”

 

“Yeah, we don't even need Guy and Will,” Jonny jested. Chris giggled, wrapped his arms around Jonny's neck and kissed him on the cheek.

 

“I'm glad they don't hate us or anything.”

 

“Yeah, that could have gone terribly wrong. But this is great now, we don't have to hide.” Chris beamed and kissed Jonny square on the mouth. At that same moment, Guy and Will reentered the room.

 

“Oh, God,” Guy droned. He set down the bag he was holding and held up his hands. “Please don't tell me you guys are gonna be doing that all the time now.”

 

“Chill out, Guy, it's not like we-” Jonny began.

 

“No, you know what? Two can play this game!” The other three men in the room were a little confused by what he meant, but it became clearer once backed up to the door, opened it, then spun around and left. Jonny, Chris, and Will all looked at each other questioningly.

 

“I don't really see how that was 'playing this game',” Jonny said, and Chris nodded.

 

“Yeah, and,” he added, gesturing between Jonny and himself, “we're already two.”

 

 

 

 

“Well, you're up early,” Chris said as he walked into the kitchen that he and Jonny now shared. He had woken up only a few minutes earlier to find the bed empty aside from his own body, which had confused him a little. He thought he had heard the sound of Jonny moving around somewhere in the apartment, though, and he soon found out that he was right.

 

“Yeah. I made breakfast,” Jonny gestured to the counter, where several pieces of toast and some eggs were resting on a plate for Chris. Chris moved towards it as Jonny sat down at the table.

 

“That was very thoughtful of you.” Chris sat down opposite Jonny and began to eat. After a few minutes of silence, except for the noise of Chris chewing, Chris stopped eating and looked up at Jonny. Jonny was staring across the room, a blank expression painted across his eyes. “What's wrong?”

 

“Huh? Oh...” Jonny began. He clasped his hands together on the table and watched them for a while. “It's just that thing yesterday, with Guy... I just don't want there to be any...” He paused, searching for the appropriate wording, and finally settled on, “negativity in the group, you know?”

“Yeah,” Chris nodded, “I know what you mean. But, listen-” Chris reached across the table and grabbed Jonny's hand, “I'm sure he'll come around soon enough. He has to, right? He's one of our best friends, he can't just bail like that and be gone forever.”

 

“I certainly hope so,” Jonny quietly replied. “I always expected something like this to happen, but now that it's happening... I'm still not prepared for it, you know?”

 

“Well, what is there to do, really?” Chris asked, then frowned. “Unless you want me to just stay at my place, and we can forget-”

 

“No.” The force with which Jonny said it stunned Chris for a few moments. He just stared wide-eyed at Jonny and waited for him to continue. “No, you're staying here. I'm not dealing with that again.”

 

“Dealing with what?”

 

“Dealing with not being able to...” Jonny began to blush, and he looked down at his hands again. “Not being able to... like... hold you and...” His voice was getting quieter by the second, his cheeks flushing a much deeper red. “I like being able to wake up next to you.”

 

Chris, completely touched by Jonny's words, slid his chair over to the other side of the table and rested his head on Jonny's shoulder. He wanted to say so much, but he was overwhelmed by the vastness of his emotions. Instead, he settled for an, “I love you, Jonny,” and then silence.

 

 

 

“You're not serious, are you?” Will asked. He was on the phone with Guy, who was being a huge brat over the whole Chris-Jonny situation.

 

“I am serious,” Guy bit back. “It's disgusting, and I don't see why I should be subjected to such horrors just because my friends-”

 

“Your friends love each other. Who cares? They're happy, you should be, too.”

 

“Yeah, I'll be happy for them, sure. But I don't want to have to sit there and watch them practically fornicate right in front of me.” Will was silent for a few moments, trying to pull himself together and not completely lash out at Guy.

 

“You are so lucky that we're on the phone right now, otherwise you'd be receiving a rather large slap from me,” he informed Guy. “Or maybe two.”

 

“Why?” Again, Will needed to calm himself before speaking.

 

“Why?? Oh, I don't know, maybe because you're way over-exaggerating and making a huge deal out of something that shouldn't matter to you.”

 

“I am not making a huge deal about it!” Guy exclaimed defensively.

 

“Guy, yes you are,” Will forcefully said. “Now, shut up, and tell me why the hell you have such a problem with them.”

 

“Well, excuuuuuse me! Fine, what if I said... ugh, what if I said that it's because I'm...” Guy finished his sentence, but he mumbled it unintelligibly.

 

“You're what?” Will asked.

 

“Jealous, OK?” Guy clarified.

 

“Jealous?” Will almost laughed, but he was mature enough to hold it back.

 

“Yes, jealous! Not like I want to be with Jonny or anything.” There was a small awkward pause, then Guy added, “Or Chris, for that matter. It's just... well, I always kinda hoped that if any of us were gonna hook up... it would involve me.”

 

“Oh, really?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, I don't really want to hook up with any of you, I just figured someone would want to hook up with me, and then maybe I would see what it was like, you know?”

 

“No, I don't know,” Will said. “Guy, you're so arrogant. And besides, it's not like Chris and Jonny are just hooking up. You have seen them, right? It's pretty obvious that this is a lasting thing.”

 

“Whatever,” Guy said, and from his tone Will could tell that he was probably rolling his eyes. “Listen, did you check on that thing?”

 

“Yes,” Will said, annoyed.

 

“And?”

 

“And it should be here soon. Calm down, Guy.”

 

“Hey,” Guy shouted, “I put half the money into this, I'm sorry if I want to make sure that it's not just gonna disappear.”

 

“You did not put in half,” Will yelled back, “you put in, like, a third. And besides, you wouldn't even know about it if it wasn't for me.”

 

“Right, Will,” Guy began, brimming with sarcasm, “because none of us would ever be able to do anything in life if it wasn't for your guidance. Thank you so much, sir.”

 

With that, Guy hung up, and Will had to stop himself from throwing the phone across the room.

 

Bury My Lovely

 

Chapter 9

 

 

 

Dr. Weiss drew up his chair to where Chris sat.

 

“It’s very important that this stays between us.”

 

“I think I’ll need to tell Will and Guy.”

 

Dr. Weiss bit his lip but nodded.

 

“Alright.” He took a deep breath. “My family and I have lived here for many years now. Rosehill Manor has always been the jewel of our village. Up until… 1975 I think it was.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“The family that purchased the place… There was something wrong with the mother. I had just finished medical school and begun to work here… Chris, have you heard about an illness called Münchausen syndrome by proxy?”

 

Chris shook his head.

“Well…” Dr. Weiss continued. “It’s a mental illness which makes the subject in question seeks attention by, for example, faking the illness of their child. Or making them ill and keeping them that way.”

 

“That’s terrible.”

 

“Indeed. And that was exactly what happened at Rosehill Manor. Joanna Raven, the mother in the household, was often alone… Her husband, I can’t recall his name, was out on business trips a lot and everyone in the village gossiped about the affairs he allegedly had.”

He paused.

“Now, little Miss Evangeline Raven was seven years old the first time I met her. She had been taken out of the town school a few weeks earlier – her mother claimed it to be under her abilities.” Dr. Weiss cleared his throat.

“She was such a ray of sunshine, she was… Even though she was tucked into her bed – not being allowed to lift a finger. I never suspected a thing. Her temperature was rather high and she was really weak. According to her mother, she wasn’t able to keep any food down. I wrote out a prescription for something to keep the fever down, and asked them to come to the hospital, should the situation worsen. That was it really.”

 

Dr. Weiss looked out through the window.

 

“But then I was called over there more and more… And the little one seemed to be getting worse every time I came by. They refused to come with me to the hospital, so I had to conduct simple medical treatments on site. Evangeline had begun to complain that all food tasted funny so I thought it could be some allergic reaction to the medicine, so on the… I don’t know the sixth time I was there; I informed the mother that I was going to draw some blood.” He shook his head. “The woman got furious and threw me out the door.”

 

“Didn’t you call social services or something?”

 

“I did. But the report I got back was that Evangeline was fine. She had apparently been out of bed and entertaining herself in the playroom while being doted on by her mother."

 

“What happened after that?”

 

“I wasn’t called over there again.”

 

“But you went back?”

 

“Well… Yes.” He blushed. “I’m not proud of it, but it needed to be done. One day when Joanna had gone into town, leaving the poor child locked in her upstairs bedroom while she got sympathies from the villagers for having such an ill child; I broke into the house and took a look through their household supplies. There was an unusual amount of rat poison. And also a lot of empty bottles.”

 

“Had she been feeding her daughter rat poison?” Chris asked with eyes wide open.

 

“Yes. But I didn’t make that connection at first. Just as I was pondering over said collection of poison, I heard the car coming up the driveway. I ran and hid in a cupboard, leaving the door open just a crack.”

 

He shook his head, as if he didn’t believe his own story.

 

“I couldn’t believe what I saw next. Joanna took out a bottle from the underneath the sink and poured about a teaspoon into a glass of milk.”

 

I quietly followed her into the hallway and hid behind the stairs. I could hear their voices floating down to me…”

 

-*-

“Hello, darling.”

 

“Hi, mum.”

 

“How are we today?”

 

“I think I’m better today. May I please go down and play with my dollhouse?”

 

“No, I don’t think it would be good to over-exhaust yourself just yet, honey. Here, drink your milk and maybe you can go down and play tomorrow.”

 

“It tastes funny.”

 

“It’s because I mix in your medication. It’s easier for you to take it that way. Now be a good girl and drink your milk.”

 

“Yes, mum.”

 

“Good.”

 

-*-

 

“I ran out of the house as I heard Joanna sit down to read a story to her daughter. The last thing I heard was Evangeline complaining about feeling nauseous.”

 

“What did you do after that?”

 

“I couldn’t do anything. I had broken into their home, I couldn't prove anything without actually being caught myself. I was young; I didn’t want to lose my medical license. Today I wish I had. Poor Evangeline died a few days later. It was a huge affair – the funeral that is.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Yes, quite.”

 

“But what has this to do with my friend being missing? Both from you know… Our memories and the house.”

 

“Well… This is where it gets strange. My theory is this… I think that Joanna’s spirit is still in that house, trying to gain attention by preying on your friend.”

 

Chris frowned.

“That sounds very, very strange.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“Alright, let’s pretend it’s real. This Joanna woman is haunting the house and has done something with my friend. Why would she make us forget about him?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe she thinks he draws attention from herself?”

 

Something flashed in Chris’ mind. A pair of soft green eyes. His heart fluttered.

 

“…Maybe.” He admitted. “You need to tell Guy and Will what you just told me.”

 

He ran out to his friends and dragged them into the office. Dr. Weiss went over his story again.

 

“Wow.” Guy said. “That sounds… Insane.”

 

Will, however, was silent in thought.

“Dr. Weiss?” He asked.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Did you say she wanted to play with her dollhouse?”

 

“That’s what I heard, yes.”

 

Guy paled. “The dollhouse.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Chris asked.

 

“We’ll show you when we get back.”

 

“What happened to Joanna and her husband?” Will asked.

 

“Joanna was found dead one morning at the bottom of the stairs. They say she fell, but her husband was nowhere to be found, so he pushing her down the stairs is another gossip still going around the town.”

 

“The other one being?” Guy asked.

 

“The manor being haunted, of course.”

 

“So… What are we supposed to do?” Chris asked desperately. “We have to get our friend back.”

 

“I’m not sure about this, Chris…” Will said. “I mean, alright, we might have a ghost in the house. But that we all would have forgotten about a whole person like that?” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

 

Guy agreed and Chris sighed in frustration.

 

“Maybe we should go back to the house and look for clues then!” He said, jumping up from his chair. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Weiss.” He shook the doctor’s hand. “We’ll stay in touch.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

Will and Guy thanked the doctor as well and they were soon sitting in the car again. It was a silent ride home. As soon as they exited the car, Guy sighed with content.

 

“Thank god, I really need a smoke.”

 

He went over to the stairs and lit up, leaning against the wall.

 

Chris frowned at the cigarette smoke coming from Guy’s mouth. Something flashed inside his mind again.

 

“’M sorry, love. But I really, really want to.”

 

“He smoked!” Chris exclaimed.

 

“What?”

 

“The missing one. He smoked!”

 

“How do you know?” Guy asked.

 

“I just do.” He jumped with excitement. “How many cigarettes have you smoked since we got here?”

 

“I don’t bloody know.”

 

“Try to remember.”

 

Guy sighed but counted them off in his head.

 

“I don’t know… Not that many. No more than three, I think.” He turned to Will with a smug smile. “I’m trying to quit.”

 

“Great, man.” Will said, sarcastically. “How are you doing so far?”

 

“Haha, very funny.”

 

“Oh.” Chris said disappointedly. “There are three stubs around here.”

 

Guy stubbed his own cigarette out under his shoe and flicked it away.

 

“Do you always do that?” Chris asked Guy.

 

“What?”

 

“Flick them away?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Eureka!” Chris exclaimed having spotted something in a nearby flower pot. “So you didn’t put one out in here?”

 

Guy frowned. “No.”

 

“You could have forgotten, Guy.” Will pointed out.

 

“No… I sure I haven’t done that.” He squinted at the filter Chris was holding between his thumb and forefinger. “And that’s not even my brand.” He stumbled back, shaking his head. “Wait, I think… Shit it’s kind of fuzzy, but…”

 

“What?” Chris eagerly asked.

 

“I think I remember sitting on the steps with someone.”

 

“Really?”

 

Guy nodded.

 

“Was it you, Will?” Chris asked.

 

Will shook his head. “I haven’t had a single cigarette for months.”

 

“Well, do you believe me now?” Chris said, rubbing his hands together.

 

Guy turned to Will and shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, Will. But I think he’s right. I think we’re missing someone.”

 

Will sighed, shoulders slumping.

 

“Alright. Yes, fine. Say I believe you. What do we do now?”

 

Chris determinedly set his jaw. “We find him.”

 

 

snoring

 

Hi.

My husband snoring was a nightmare to me=( So i digged the web and found lots of information about it. I arranged it and so here are a few tips that can help you stop snoring the natural way without using any drugs:

* Try to stay at a healthy weight.

* Establish a routine. Make an effort to go to bed at the some time every night.

* Avoid sleeping on your back.

* Put some bricks under the legs of your bed to raise its head by 4-5 inches. This can help you stop your tongue from falling towards the back of your throat, which can result in a blocked airway.

* Quit smoking to reduce the inflammation of the airway.

* Stay away from sedatives and antihistamines.

* Get regular exercise.

* In case the air in your home is too dry, you should use a humidifier.

* If you have a stuffy nose, use decongestants to correct the problem.

* Don't use overly soft or large pillows.

Unfortunatelly forum format doesn't allow to publish all tips and info about it, so you can read more on my page

Bury My Lovely

 

Chapter 10

 

 

 

The three of them spent the whole afternoon going through the rooms of the house.

 

“Nothing.” Chris sighed as he fell down into the couch next to Guy, long legs stretched in front of him. “How can there not be a single clue as to where he is?” He frowned.

 

“Or who he is.” Will said.

 

“Yeah, right, that too.” Chris tried to ignore the warm flutter in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Maybe we should look outside before it gets to dark?” Guy suggested.

 

“And what do you think we’ll find there?” Will asked.

 

“I don’t know, do I?” Guy snapped. “That’s why we’re looking. To find something. Anything.”

 

“Fine.” He stood up. “Come on, then.”

 

They all went outside, spreading out across the vast amount of land.

 

Will suddenly stopped. “Ew, I almost stepped in sick!” He complained loudly.

 

“Wait!” He suddenly exclaimed. “Wait!”

 

Chris and Guy came running up to him.

 

“What is it, Will?” Guy asked.

 

“I… I remember something too!” He shook his head to clear some cobwebs. “There wasn’t anyone of us who did this.” He snapped his finger. “Motion sickness!”

 

Chris nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes!” He ran back and forth on the lawn. He stopped and jumped around to face his friends. “A cap!” He shouted. “A green one!”

 

Guy and Will also nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

 

Guy tilted his head.

“You guys…”

 

“Yeah?” They answered, excitement shining in their eyes.

 

“I think he’s our guitarist.”

 

“He totally is!” Chris exclaimed happily, embracing his friends. He closed his eyes.

 

“He usually stands-“

 

“To your right.” Will finished.

 

Chris’ eyes snapped open. “Yeah.” He answered breathlessly. “Yeah.”

 

They released each-other.

 

“This is all very strange.” Guy said blinking.

 

“Agreed.”

 

“I think we should search the house again.” Chris said. “This ghost, or whatever it is, has taken a friend from us. And I want him back. Right this minute.” He turned to the manor. “Do you hear that?!” He shouted. “We’re getting him back!”

 

-*-

 

They decided to stay together while in the house as the sun was setting outside.

 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep in this house, knowing what I now know.” Guy said as they climbed the stairs.

 

“Yeah, I know.” Chris said. “But we don’t have any option. We can’t leave our friend.”

 

“No, I know.”

 

A door slammed somewhere downstairs.

 

Guy paled and gripped Will’s shirt.

“Holy shit.” He hissed. “What was that?”

 

A sweet laugh floated up the stairs.

“I think that was that little girl, Evangeline.” Chris said with a wry smile.

 

Guy relaxed a little, but still kept a hold of Will’s shirt.

“Would you please let go? It’s just a little girl!” Will sighed.

 

“It’s the ghost of a little girl, Will!” He hissed back.

 

“Fine. Hang on, then.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They all went into Chris’ room.

 

“Oh, really, Chris.” Will said. “I sincerely wish you wouldn’t throw your clothes on the floor like this.”

 

Will picked up Chris’ discarded trousers. A piece of paper fell out of his pocket.

 

“What’s this?” He asked.

 

“Cover the mirror, hide in your dreams

Forget what they told you, forget what it means.” He looked up at Chris. “Did you write it?”

 

“No, that’s just some new lyrics that…” He smiled brightly as realization hit him. “That Jonny found and gave to me.”

 

“Jonny!” Will exclaimed and both he and Guy sat down heavily on Chris’ bed as everything came rushing back to them. “How could we ever forget him?”

 

Guy put his head in his hands. “I feel awful.”

 

Chris paced the room. “We have to find him. We really do.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Like, right now.”

 

“Give him back!” Chris said loudly to the room. “Stop this; we’re not going to give you any attention! It’s bad enough that you murdered your own child!”

 

The door slammed.

 

“Yeah, that’s right! We know all about it!” The big mirror on the wall began to darken.

 

“Chris, maybe you shouldn’t anger the house?” Guy said under his breath.

 

“Give him back!” He repeated loudly.

 

Will put a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “Calm down, mate. We’re messing with things we have no knowledge of here.”

 

“No!” He turned to his friend. “No, I’m sorry, but this thing has done something to Jonny and I won’t let them.”

 

“What do you want?!” He shouted to the room. There was a black swirling mass of something in the mirror.

 

There was a whisper.

“Peace.”

 

The darkness in the mirror disappeared and the door slammed open again.

 

“Shit.” Guy said, white as a sheet.

 

Will frowned, shaking a bit.

“What about the locked room?”

 

“What about it?” Chris asked, his shoulders slumped.

 

“I think we’re missing something significant in there.”

 

Guy stood up.

“You’re right. I’m sick of these games.” He went out of the room and they heard his thunder down the stairs. He soon returned with a crowbar.

 

“Oh, my god, Guy!” Chris said. “Where did you get that?”

 

“I put it in the car before we left.”

 

“For what? Robbing a bank?”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s always good to be prepared.”

 

“Evidently.” Will said and squeezed Guy’s shoulder. “Good work, mate.”

 

Guy nodded. “Come on then.”

 

They all went with Guy to stand outside the locked room.

 

“Would you like to do the honors?” Guy held out the crowbar to Will.

 

“Gladly.”

 

He put the crowbar in the small space between the door and the frame. A cold wind blew through the hallway.

They shivered but Will didn’t waver. He bent the crowbar towards him and the door cracked open.

 

The air that met them was dry and dusty.

 

“Wait.” Chris said and ran back into his room and lit two candles. He passed one to Guy, while Will wielded the crowbar as a weapon.

 

The faint light fell on a big four poster bed in the middle of the room. Thick, mouldy drapes were drawn around it.

 

“You pull them back.” Guy hissed to Chris.

 

“No way, man.” He hissed back.

 

“Just do it!”

 

Chris bit his lip and took a few steps into the dark room. He grabbed a tassel at the end of the bed and took a deep breath before pulling on it. He gasped and almost dropped his candle.

 

 

 

 

Sorry, I couldn't resist a cliffhanger! Please don't die, Dianna :heart:.

 

Roll Over Beethoven

Chapter 7

 

 

 

There were two weeks until the competition. Jonny was sure that Chris could walk into the contest with absolutely no additional practice and still win easily. But Jonny was not Chris. And Chris was a compulsive worrier.

 

They were back from the restaurant and were now lounging on Jonny's battered old dorm couch. Well, Chris had been lounging at least. Now he was on the edge of the dated piece of furniture looking ready to jump up and sprint down the hall at any moment. His legs were bouncing up and down like mad and he drummed his hands on his knees. His face was contorted oddly and his breathing was uneven.

 

"Chris settle down you're going to give yourself a heart attack," Jonny replied casually, accustomed by now to Chris's anxiety attacks.

 

"I'm sorry Jonny, but I can't help it! Two Friday evenings is not going to be enough practice for me! I need more time!" His voice cracked and his words sounded more like screeches. Jonny expertly concealed his grin.

 

"You will be just fine. You are already as close to perfect as it gets."

 

Chris scoffed at him. "Hardly."

 

"Well if you really think you are so terrible, then why don't you practice more? There's a whole two weeks before the competition. Just ask your music teacher if you can use the room every evening for a while. I'm sure she'll approve, now that you are planning on entering."

 

Chris sprung onto his feet. "Oh you're right!" he started for the door.

 

"Chris, what are you doing? It's almost midnight. Wait until tomorrow."

 

“Oh...yeah." He laughed nervously and sat back down. He threw an anxious gaze at Jonny. "Jon...I can't do this." Jonny looked up, seriously worried about the state of Chris's mind. "At least, not without you."

 

Relieved, Jonny relaxed his expression. "Oh don't worry about that. I will be there every day, guitar in hand. As long as you want me there, I will be."

 

"Thanks Jonny. You are the most amazing friend a guy could ask for.” He leaned in and for a split second Jonny expected him to brush his lips against his own. But instead he reached out his arm and tousled his hair playfully. "It's getting late. I should be heading out. See you...wow, tomorrow I guess." He laughed excitedly and gracelessly left the tiny place. Jonny stared after him with a renewed longing. This was becoming harder and harder to manage, and it scared him. He rolled onto his stomach and put a pillow over his head. It didn't help. No surprises there.

 

 

The next evenings leading up to the competition went as usual. Jonny would walk in to Chris already playing. Sometimes Chris would stop, look up, and smile at him. But sometimes he would be too lost in the music to even notice his arrival until Jonny began to strum his own instrument. Then Chris was sure to stop playing. He would stare at Jonny intently until something clicked inside of him and he would begin laying out a new tune which Jonny would instantaneously fall in love with. He was more than willing to express those feelings on any occasion he got, which in turn created a positive reaction in Chris and spurred him on further.

 

Jonny realized that he and Chris were the perfect musical team. He wondered if Chris had drawn the same conclusion about their music. It was the most he could ever hope from Chris. He was certainly never going to reach any conclusions about Jonny’s feelings towards Chris himself. This was certainly depressing, but Jonny did his best as he always did not to think about it.

 

Unfortunately, two days before the competition Jonny did think about it. He couldn’t help it. The music Chris had been creating that day was exceptionally lovely, as was Chris himself. He had just gotten himself a haircut and his curls no longer sprang out wildly but were now smaller and more tamed. The day was sunny and bright and even though it was evening no lighting was needed except what came in through the windows. Whenever Chris would look up at Jonny his eyes would catch the light and Jonny’s fingers would falter on the strings, creating a not so pleasant sound.

 

After a while Chris stopped playing altogether and turned to Jonny with a concerned frown. “Are you okay Jonny? You haven’t been playing the way you usually do.”

 

Jonny was disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t have a problem with how things were between him and Chris. He stared at his guitar for a long moment. “I think I am done for tonight,” he said slowly.

 

“Okay” Chris replied meekly. But Jonny could see the question in his eyes. What’s wrong with you? But he knew Chris would never ask it. So he decided to free Chris from his anxiety and provide an answer, although not a truthful one.

 

“I’m tired. I am going to go home early and get some rest.”

 

Chris nodded and Jonny left with his head hanging in guilt. He didn’t want to lie to Chris, not anymore. But he needed to take some time to decide whether or not to tell the truth. All this time he had thought the truth was not the way to go, but now he wasn’t so sure.

 

 

 

A Prologue of Sorts

His fingers run across the piano, sending waves of sound coursing throughout the small room. The waves rush to the walls, and bounce back in an echoing collision. Before they have time to fade away, a million more notes come fluttering from under his fingertips.

 

Splendid men in top hats, with coattails streaming to the floor, all gather around, standing back far enough to give him space, but close enough so they can see his brilliance. He is unmoved by their presence, and so engulfed in his work that he hardly gives notice to their existence.

 

He moves about the keys with such grace that it is nearly impossible to believe that he is as human as the other men. In fact, it is speculated quite often- by the splendid men, no doubt- that he is not. His mother would tell you otherwise.

 

The young women tell each other that he is some sort of angel, and they believe it. After all, he sits at that piano not dressed in black, like the other pianists they know, but dressed in white. All white. The plainness of his clothing accentuates the brightness of his blue eyes, though mostly only the young women bother to notice this.

 

Once, a local gardener came to see him play. The man sort of stuck out against the sea of rich and fancy men, but he did not mind so much. He only cared about hearing the angel play, which he did, and could honestly say he thoroughly enjoyed.

 

"Wait." The gardener turned, having been stopped from exiting the room by the presence of a hand gripping his arm. It came as a bit of a shock, and if the splendid men had still been around, they would have stood and gaped. The angel never spoke.

 

The gardener was too surprised to reply, but the angel was not expecting him to. He released his hold on the gardener, and slowly inched backwards. "Thank you for coming."

 

The angel gave a curt nod, then disappeared behind the piano. The enticing melody that arrived shortly after, combined with the deep surprise of having heard the angel vocalize, attempted to persuade the gardener to remain in his spot, but he had pressing tasks that needed to be tended to.

 

The young women all wonder why the angel keeps to himself as much as he does. A man as talented and pretty as he would be able to have any woman he wants. But he keeps to himself, and catches the interest of the young women only with his secrecy. The young women do not see this, and do not realize that they would not be captivated by him otherwise.

 

They would not love him if they knew him, because that would ruin the mystery. Splendid men would argue that the women can not love him anyway, since they do not know him, and no one can love someone they do not know. The angel, if he ever spoke, would say this was false.

 

The angel would stand on the highest platform he could find, or perhaps float above everyone else- he is an angel, after all- and announce to the crowds that you can do it. You can be in love with someone you don't know. Because the angel is in love with someone he does not know.

 

He speaks through his music, therefore thinking it to be rather unnecessary to use words. With every thought that pops up, he simply hits the keys to release it into the air. With every emotion he feels, a prompt tune follows suit. He does not feel as though he is hiding from the world. He pours every bit of himself into what he performs.

 

The people have only once seen him anywhere not even remotely close to the piano. It was a windy autumn day, the kind that keeps the people indoors out of fear that the moving air will rustle their appearance the wrong way. The angel walked the streets in solitude.

 

Leaves were suspended in midair, then spun around till they gently glided to the ground. Once on the ground, they were scattered and such a nuisance. The angel was not wearing gloves like the gardener was, but he stopped to help regardless.

 

The tobacconist across the street harmlessly peered out the front window of his shop. When he saw that the angel was right there, he ran through the door connecting to the shop next door belonging to his friend the florist.

 

"You won't believe it!"

 

"I bet I will."

 

"No, really. Have a look." The florist scurried over to the window to behold the sight. He soon back away, hand to his chest, nearly speechless.

 

"Oh, my. That's... extraordinary."

 

"'Tis, indeed!"

 

"I wonder what he's doing out there."

 

"Helping the gardener, looks like it."

 

"No, I see that. I mean, why is he?"

 

"I haven't the slightest. But he certainly does look odd without that damn piano."

 

The gardener willingly accepted the help of the angel, as to be expected. When their work was quite finished, the angel gave a nod and walked away in silence. Never again was he seen without the likes of his piano, at least not by the townspeople.

 

He composes with ease, the angel does. Each time he plays, it is new, and original. Without failure, he manages to find a different way to express himself with every day, and with every performance. And never does his playing lack emotion. That is one of the things that is so enticing about his music- the pure, raw, deep emotion that you can always count on.

 

He never bothers to memorize his songs, and he can not read or write music. Some of the people are saddened by this, since it means that his beauty can not be carried on should something happen to his angelic loveliness. But if he truly is an angel, then there is nothing to worry about. He, and his songs of secret love, will live on forever.

 

 

 

 

 

“Wait.” Chris stopped strumming, and looked alertly around.

 

“What?” he asked. Jonny held up his index finger, trying to listen to some sound that was completely inaudible to Chris. He tried, but after a few minutes he still didn't hear anything, and his patience was growing thin. “Jonny, what?”

 

“Hold on,” Jonny said. Chris waited, trying not to become angry. “You don't hear that?”

 

“No, I don't.” Chris lifted the guitar up to remove the strap around his shoulder, and set it down, leaning it against the wall. He walked over to Jonny and listened. “I don't hear anything,” he whispered.

 

“It sounds like...” Jonny stopped mid-sentence, then opened his mouth wide and shot his head over to Chris. “This is bad.”

“Bad? What's bad?” Chris started freaking out. He grabbed Jonny by the shoulders, lightly shook him, and nearly screamed, “Jonny, what's bad?!?!”

 

Jonny stared blankly for a few moments, then the corners of his open mouth turned up and he began to laugh. Chris panicked, as he thought this was a sign of Jonny's fall to insanity. Jonny noticed the frightened look on Chris's face, so he said, “It's OK, Chris, I'm just messing with you.”

 

Chris gasped incredulously, then furrowed his eyebrows and flared his nostrils. He blew angry air out of his nose for a few seconds, then softened a bit. “Jonny, you are so lucky that I love you.

 

“I know I am,” Jonny mischievously said, flashing a deviously charming smile. Chris tried his hardest to fight back the smile that was crawling its way onto his face, but it was a battle he couldn't win.

 

“You're too cute when you do that. Stop it!” Chris laughed, even though he was attempting seriousness. Much to Chris's dismay, Jonny kept the smile plastered on his face. “Fine, I'm just gonna close my eyes until you stop.”

 

Chris kept true to his word, and tightly shut his eyes. But every few seconds he peeked at Jonny, and every few seconds he saw that Jonny was still smiling. Finally, Chris couldn't take it any more, so for revenge, he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Jonny. He moved with too much force, though, and they both ended up falling to the ground.

 

“Ha ha, oops!”

 

 

 

Will walked into the small alleyway that led to the Bakery's entrance. For some reason they were meeting there today, rather than the Beehive. He wasn't really sure why, but he wasn't gonna complain about it.

 

As he drew closer, though, he noticed the figure of a petite man standing outside. He assumed it was Guy; who else would be standing there like that, all dark-haired and short?

 

“Guy, what are you doing?” he called out, and Guy looked up.

 

“I'm waiting, what does it look like?” he replied, a hint of snobbishness in his voice.

 

“Why are you waiting outside?”

 

“I wasn't checking the mail or anything, if that's what you were thinking,” Guy quickly said.

 

Will blinked a few times, amazed at himself for being surprised once again by Guy's behavior. “OK, well, it wasn't what I was thinking, but now that you mentioned it, I should tell you that YOU'RE CRAZY.”

 

“I beg your pardon? I am perfectly sane!” Guy exclaimed, resting his hand on his hip in a slight flamboyant way. “Excuse me for just wanting to make sure that it got here on time!”

 

“Guy, I checked the thing this morning. It will be here tomorrow.”

 

“Well...” Guy struggled to find a comeback, so silence sat between them for a few moments. Then Guy quickly threw open the door of the Bakery and ran inside.

 

 

 

Rehearsal was going amazingly well, until Chris hit the wrong note on the piano. The others didn't even notice it at first, but the sound of Chris slamming his hands down on the keys clued them in. Then came the sound of his head banging down, and it was at this point that Jonny walked over to him.

 

“Chris,” he quietly said, resting a hand gently on Chris's back. He left it there for a few moments as Chris breathed deeply, then once again said, “Chris.”

 

“Sorry,” Chris said, lifting his head up to look at Jonny. His eyes were tired and sad, and he was frowning. “I fucked it all up.”

 

“No, Chris, it's fine.”

 

As Jonny tried to calm Chris down, Guy stumbled over to Will.

 

“Drama queen!” Guy sang out of the side of his mouth. He kept his gaze on Jonny and Chris, but if he had dared to look back at Will he would have been bombarded with a series of nasty looks.

 

“This is coming from you?”

 

“Well, yeah, I'm the one who said it,” Guy smartly laughed. And while he was laughing, he received a hard smack upside the head from Will. “Hey!” he cried, rubbing at the injured spot.

 

“Oh, shut up. You deserved it,” Will said. Guy said nothing in return, and just looked back at Chris and Jonny.

 

They were still talking in hushed voices, or at least Chris was. Jonny was standing with his back to the others, so all Guy and Will could see was Chris. But they saw Jonny place his hand on Chris's shoulder, then moments later Chris smiled at whatever Jonny had said.

 

“Oh no,” Guy groaned as he watched Chris hug Jonny, the smile still brushed across his face.

 

“Oh my GOD,” Will moaned, “what is it this time, Guy?”

 

“It just that... it's happened,” Guy quietly said.

 

“What's happened?”

 

“I...” Guy gathered his courage and faced Will. He tried to speak as calmly and undefeated as he could, but it didn't work so well. Instead, he ended up crying, “I caught the Buckin fever!!” then buried his head in his hands.

 

--Paper--

Pl an es

 

 

 

The paper folded neatly

Creased ever so sweetly

Four boys with nothing better to do

Paper in shades of red, white, and blue

 

The shaved, the brown, the light, the dark

They take a trip down to the park

They run, they climb and jump and swing

Leaving their mark on everything

But open fields call out their names

It's there they fly their paper planes

 

 

All You Ever Wanted

 

17

 

 

“Cigol?!” Retaw exclaimed, his eyes flying open. Logella was completely taken aback, and as she stared at Retaw, her face contorted into a widely confused shape.

 

“Retaw?” Not five seconds passed before tears were streaming down Logella's pale cheeks. She reached her shaking hand out to touch Retaw's face. “You can't be,” she whispered.

 

Retaw laid his hand on top of hers and closed his eyes. Moments later, his skin was tinted its original purple color, and Retaw heard a shrill gasp escape from Logella's lips, though it was one filled with joy. Retaw opened his eyes again, and was almost instantaneously smothered by Logella's hair as she buried her head in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

 

“I thought I'd never see you again,” he breathed.

 

“I can't believe it's you,” she sobbed in return. “Retaw, you've been gone from me for so long.”

 

“As have you, dear Cigol,” Retaw said as he lightly stroked her hair. Logella sniffed and raised her head, staring deeply at Retaw.

 

“How is it, do you think, that we ended up together like this?”

 

“Fate,” Retaw immediately replied. “It has to be.”

 

Logella smiled a huge grin and nodded. “Wonderful. Oh, Retaw... when I was forced to leave, the only thing I thought of was how I would most likely never see you again. And I couldn't say goodbye. It killed me.”

 

“It hurt... when I found out that you were gone. And I didn't know why you had left.”

 

“I left because my father said it was for the best,” Logella explained. “It was the time when the enemies were beginning their plan to take over. He said that I had to leave, and that I should only come back when it was safe.”

 

“It is safe now,” Retaw told her. “For two Earth years, the planet has remained peaceful.”

 

“I had no idea,” Logella said, her eyes softening a bit. “There was no way to communicate with anyone. My father never told me where to go when he said to leave. But I found this planet and thought it was nice. I studied the humans for a while and began to blend in. I just figured that I would stay here forever.”

 

“We could go back,” Retaw suggested. “If you want, we could go back.”

 

Logella smiled and placed her hand on Retaw's cheek. “I would love to.”

 

“There is one thing, though.”

 

“My father is gone, isn't he?” she knowingly asked. “He was always stubborn, I can't imagine that he would have cooperated long enough to survive.”

 

“He is gone, yeah,” Retaw sadly affirmed. “So is my brother.”

 

“Oh... I'm so sorry to hear that.”

 

“It's OK,” Retaw said. “It was hard, at first, but I moved on. I could never replace him, of course, but Chris and Jonny... well, they're like brothers to me.”

 

“They're so nice,” Logella smiled. “Though there's something odd about Chris. Not, like, he's weird or anything. He's just... he's also different. Is he an alien, too?” she laughed.

 

“No,” Retaw chuckled in return. “But he is the one who saved our world. Chris Martin, the Chosen One.”

 

“Oh, wow! That makes a lot of sense...” Logella spaced out, completely encapsulated by the thoughts of having met the Chosen One without realizing it. “I really missed a lot, didn't I?”

 

“Yes, you did,” Retaw laughed. “But we'll go back, and you'll never miss anything again.”

 

Logella smiled at Retaw for a few moments, then jumped up and grabbed his hand, pulling him from the bench and down the sidewalk. “Come on, let's go tell the boys, then!”

 

“Chris and Jonny?” Retaw asked as he was being dragged along. Logella stopped, exaggeratedly rolled her eyes and threw her hands to her hips.

 

“No,” she sarcastically said, “the Backstreet Boys. Yes, Chris and Jonny! I think they would rather like to know we're leaving.”

 

“Oh, OK,” Retaw said, not fully understanding what Logella was talking about because of the pop reference that went completely over his head. That and the fact that he could never really grasp sarcasm.

 

The two began to walk again, and it was another ten minutes or so before they reached Chris and Jonny's apartment. When they came to the entrance, they found that the door was already open, and Chris and Jonny were blocking it, both gaping and holding a hand each on a manilla envelope.

 

Logella stopped in front of them and raised her eyebrows. “What happened here?” she asked, and Chris looked up and blinked a few times.

 

“Well...”

 

~

Jonny came home from the store, and he brought in the mail. It was the usual junk mail we always get. But there was this envelope. So, I opened it, and there was, like, all this money inside. And I gasped, and Jonny was like, “What's wrong?” Then I showed him the money and he was shocked, too. We counted it, and there was... what was it? Like, ten thousand pounds. Ten thousand!! And there was no address on it or anything, so we didn't know what the hell to do with it.

 

Then there was, like, this really loud screaming coming from the hallway. Jonny and I ran to the door to see what it was, and Guy was being dragged down the hall by some other guy who looked really similar to him. Then Guy saw us, and he forced the other guy to stop. And he looked at the envelope, which was still in my hand, and then he smiled at us. Then the other guy said, “Sorry about this.” and he turned to Guy and said, “We'll just be leaving now.”

 

And Guy screamed, “I'm not leaving!”

 

And the other guy said, “Yes, you are. You don't belong here, and you know it.” He pulled at Guy's arm, but he wouldn't move. Then Guy started yelling again, something about how he's not crazy. Then the other guy told us about how he's Guy's brother, and that Guy escaped from a mental institution, and he apologized for any bother Guy had caused us, and said that he was talking Guy back, so there wouldn't be any more problems. And, well, Jonny and I didn't know what to say. It was all so... weird.

 

Guy and his brother finally left, but before they went Guy told us we were welcome. So, apparently he gave us the money? But I don't know why...

~

 

“And I don't know what we're gonna do with it,” Chris finished. He looked down to the envelope, then back up at Jonny. “We can't keep it, right?”

 

“Maybe not,” Jonny answered. “But we also can't really give it back, either. And... well, we could use it.”

 

“Yeah,” Chris quietly said. They both were silent for a minute, then Chris shook his head and turned to Retaw and Logella. “So, what's up with you guys?”

 

Retaw opened his mouth to answer, but by the time he did, half a sentence had already flowed out of Logella. “We're leaving Earth and going back home,” she said with a wide smile, until she realized that Chris and Jonny didn't know who she really was.

 

“Home?” Chris asked.

 

“Logella and I knew each other, it seems. Cigol, I should say.” Retaw smiled at Logella, then looked back at Chris. “It's a long story.”

 

“Oh, OK... so, you guys are leaving?” Retaw nodded, and Chris continued, “When?”

 

“As soon as possible,” Logella answered, linking her arm with Retaw's.

 

 

:whistle:

 

A Letter of Importance

 

 

 

The pen stood resolutely on the paper. It was being held captive, forced against its will to spill its dark blood in lines across the page. The paper drank in the blood, spat back words at the beings who tried to read it.

 

Then the pen was liberated, thrown down onto the table, and it rolled away. The blood dried in the last spot and the paper felt cool air float beneath it as it rose up from its seat.

 

“It's perfect,” a feminine voice conveyed.

 

The paper folded in on itself and took shelter inside a small, white envelope. A stamp hopped and latched onto the corner as the pen was called to service one last time.

 

Then another voice was at the door, asking in a girlish manner if the letter was ready.

 

It was.

 

The mailbox consumed the envelope, digested it with the other envelopes it had devoured at an earlier time. Then like birds the envelopes flew to their destinations.

 

A man with reddish hair collected the mail today. He brought it inside- one small, white envelope- and gave it to the other man there.

 

“What's this, Phil?”

 

The man called Phil shrugged and answered, “Dunno, mate, but it's for you and Chris.”

 

Then Chris appeared at the sound of his name, sat down beside the envelope with growing curiosity.

 

“Go ahead, Jon, open it,” he said with wide eyes.

 

As the paper slid outside, it stretched its cramped legs and displayed for the men the blood tattooed across its surface.

 

And this is what it read:

 

 

 

 

Roll Over Beethoven

Chapter 8

 

 

 

It had been a long and grueling night. Jonny would have liked for it to involve some actual sleeping. But you can’t always get what you want. Instead, it was a night filled with thousands of thoughts. Almost all of them reeked of indecisiveness, much to Jonny’s distress. But as the first rays of sunlight broke through on the horizon, a single thought entered his mind that brought on a string of decisive ones.

 

It was a factual statement. He loved Chris. Quickly, another thought followed, then another. He wanted to spend his life with Chris. And he wanted Chris to know that too. The only way to achieve this? Tell Chris how he felt. He sat up abruptly, his eyes wide and a smile slowly making its way across his features. He realized there was no other option. There was only one decision that would allow this to happen. He was going to tell Chris how he felt.

* * * * * * * * * * *

By the time he reached the music room that night he regretted wearing a jacket. He was sweating uncontrollably, not because it was warm but because he was so nervous. But now he couldn’t remove the jacket or else the embarrassing stains on his shirt would be visible. Instead he took a couple deep breaths and cautiously made his way inside.

 

He crept over to his place in the corner and readied his guitar with sweaty hands. He was sure that Chris would notice that he was acting out of character. But luckily Chris was too concentrated on his music this particular day. It was one of those days where an earthquake could have rocked the building and Chris wouldn’t even glance up from the piano.

 

Jonny raised nervous fingers to the guitar strings and hesitantly began to play. He winced as he heard the way the chords sounded from beneath his fingertips. It sounded off. Surely Chris would notice that. It took a few minutes, but Chris did notice. He stopped, lifted his head up slowly, and turned to face Jonny with large, questioning blue eyes. This should have made Jonny even more anxious, but he felt his spirits lift a little. Those eyes were so kind; they never judged, just wondered. Curiosity was just human nature; Jonny couldn’t blame him for that.

 

He wanted to speak right away; tell Chris any and all of his feelings towards him, but his mouth seemed to be paralyzed. Instead he sat there and pathetically waited for Chris to say something. It didn’t take long. Curiosity invokes impatience in the typical person.

 

“Jonny, is there something bothering you? I know it’s not really my place, but you still seem to be acting strangely. It worries me.”

 

“Well I still haven’t had a good night’s sleep if that’s what you mean.” He managed to regain the use of the muscles controlling his mouth. But unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to be able to tell them what to make him say. Words just came out with little or no warning. He set his guitar down. Attempting to play any longer tonight was a waste of time.

 

Chris frowned. “That’s a shame. I don’t like it when you are like this.” His expression turned sympathetic. “I haven’t been sleeping much either. I’m dreadfully worried about this competition. It’s tomorrow! I don’t think I am ready.”

 

“Chris, you were born ready.”

 

Chris smiled appreciatively, showing his crooked British teeth. “Thank you Jonny. I don’t know what I would do without you.” He thought for a moment. “I believe a hug is in order,” he chirped, even as the words escaped his lips he was on the other side of the room, his arms wrapped tightly around Jonny’s torso. Jonny shifted uncomfortably but tried his best to return the gesture. As Chris leaned loosened his grip and began to back away, he whispered into Jonny’s ear.

 

“Jon, I need to hear more. Give me some more words that I can pump myself up to. I could use a good morale boost,” he admitted with remorse.

 

Jonny smiled. Chris was the most interesting character he had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He spent a long moment in deep thought. Chris would probably have been happy with just about anything. But he wouldn’t. He realized that this was an opportunity he shouldn’t waste. Now was the time. He gripped his chair tightly.

 

“Chris, you will do an amazing job, because you are an amazing pianist. I can’t imagine anyone outshining you at that competition. But no matter what happens, remember that….”

 

“What?” Chris asked immediately after the pause, giving Jonny no time to doubt himself.

 

“Just…..know that I love you.”

 

Chris stared at him blankly. For once it was he who was at a loss for words.

 

“Well don’t just stand there,” Jonny mumbled. “What do you have to say about that?”

 

“About you…..loving me?” Chris asked, rhetorically.

 

Jonny responded despite Chris’s tone. “Yes.” He looked Chris straight in the eye. There was no going back now.

 

Suddenly a fire was lit in Chris’s eyes. “I was wrong! I don’t need you!” Chris had no idea where those words came from, but there they were, on display for all those near to hear. Jonny couldn’t move. But who could, after getting stabbed in the heart.

 

“This is all wrong! You can like me, sure, but love me? No!”

 

“But what’s not to love?” Jonny asked quietly. “Chris, I am not one to believe in love at first sight but I could swear that from the first time I laid eyes on you I knew who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I thought…..hoped…..you might feel the same.”

 

“No, just no Jonny.”

 

“Well some of the things you say prove otherwise! Have you ever even thought about it?”

 

“Of course not,” he retorted. There was disgust in his tone. There was a dreadfully long silence. “Listen, you can either come tomorrow and support me as my friend, or don’t come at all.”

 

“You really mean that?” Jonny asked with a hint of disbelief.

 

“Like I said, I don’t need you.” And with that last sentence hanging in the air like wet clothes hang on a line, Chris turned and exited the room, leaving Jonny to slowly fall apart at the seams.

 

 

Holes

Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

 

Chris’s Point of View

 

“Jonny, I’m heading out for a few hours; I’ll be home around dinner time!” I called out as I got ready to go out.

 

“Okay!” Jonny replied, lately he hadn’t been speaking much and he was always drifting off as if he was planning something.. I put on my coat and closed the door to our apartment. I rushed past all the couples enjoying their Valentines Day dates making sure I wasn’t late to meet Guy.

 

Guy and I had been together for about two months, so we decided to spend Valentine’s Day together and go on a date at a fancy restaurant downtown. No one knew about our love for each other, not even Jonny, who I told everything to.

 

On my way to the restaurant I bumped into someone, we both fell backwards and landed on our behinds. As I stood up I began to apologize, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry I was on my way to meet someone-“

 

The person I knocked over chuckled lightly, I looked over to see Guy. “Hello, Chris” He smiled, I grinned back.

 

“Hey, Guy. What are you doing out here?” I blushed as I suddenly realized how stupid my question was. He was obviously heading for the restaurant.

 

“I’m going on a dinner date. Care to join?”

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

“Thank you for tonight, Guy.” I embraced him and patted his dark hair down.

 

“I love you Chris.” Guy mumbled into my shoulder. I pulled away and stared into his eyes.

 

“Really?” He nods as a response, “I love you too.” We press our lips together, our tongues slip in and we don’t break for air. I push the key into the lock and open the door. As we kiss I pray Jonny is in bed and not sitting by the door watching us. I wouldn’t be able to explain to him and I would have no excuse on why I didn’t tell him before.

 

A floorboard creaks and I have half a mind to untangle myself from Guy. I open an eye instead and see a lobster dinner on the small table, candlelight and a hat retreating to the bedroom. Jonny.

 

I separate from Guy and tell him goodnight. He looks shocked and I guess he was hoping to get somewhere tonight. I put on an apologetic face and hugged him. He closes the door softly and I walk into my room. I don’t want to face Jonny.

 

I lie down on my bed and remove my shirt. I run my hands through my hair. Did Jonny see us? Who was that dinner for? Did I hurt Guy? Did I hurt Jonny? Everything was rushing through my head until my head became sore.

 

After an hour or so I got out of bed and began walking around the apartment. I see Jonny has left the light on so I push open his door. I sit on the edge of his bed and put my hand onto of his hip. Instantly my eyes water and I start crying. “I’m sorry, J” I whisper to his sleeping form.

 

The next seconds flew by and I had no idea what had happened. Jonny grabbed my hand and I gasped, I thought he was asleep. “Jonny…” He pulled his face towards me and his intentions became clear. “Jon what are you…” His lips were on mine and I sat paralyzed. I didn’t think this could happen. Not Jonny, he was my best friend.

 

“I’m guessing that wasn’t a wise thing to do…” Jonny muttered, I nod back at him. “Shite, man.” His eyes quickly fill with tears.

 

“I’m sorry Jon.” His tears came faster and faster and it was no use. I couldn’t fix him.

 

“It’s my fault Chris I thought you meant something else. I thought you wanted to be with me. I thought you meant a different type of love.” Jonny began to blame himself, I began to blame myself, but we still blamed each other. It was hard to tell who’s fault it was.

 

Tears started welling up in my eyes; I closed them so Jonny wouldn’t see. He did though as moments later he collapsed into my lap sobbing uncontrollably. My tears flowed freely and Jon’s loudly. We were a mess of emotions.

 

My thoughts had crumbled. Reasons escaped me left and right. I had no clue why I was so concerned about Jonny's pain when I was with Guy. Not a clue why I was crying with Jonny. Not in the foggyest why I was reconsidering the kiss from earlier. Why was I not sure who I was in love with, truly?

 

 

 

The Ex

Chapter 1

 

 

If it wasn't the loud raindrops that woke him, it was the thunder. Guy opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. It wasn't like he was getting much sleep lately, so why start now? It was all because of her.

 -----------------------------------------------

Her name was Isabelle. She and Guy first met in a record shop. It was on impulse that Guy even went to the store that day. He didn't need another record, he just stopped in because something told him to. Isabelle on the other hand was looking for something. That something was a Coldplay vinyl. Across the aisles their eyes met. "She's the kind of girl you write a song about," thought Guy. They were in love once. Every day, he wondered why they still weren't.  

-------------------------------------------------------------

The phone rang the next morning. It was Will. 

"Get yourself dressed. The boys and I are taking you out."

"I'm really not feeling it today, Will."

"I know. You've been moping for a month. It's time to get out of the appartment."

"Fine. I'll meet you at the coffee shop."

-----------------------------------------

The sun streamed through Isabelle's window as she crawled out of bed. It was far too nice outside for her to just sit around, so she called her friend Olivia. 

"Hello?" Olivia answered in a groggy voice. 

"Hey! It's Isabelle. Such a nice day out isn't it? What are we doing today?"

"Umm sleeping?"

"No, no we're not. I'll meet you at the coffee shop by your house."

Isabelle hung up to quickly for her friend to answer.

-------------------------------------------------------

Guy sat down at the table with Jonny, Chris, and Will. 

"Alright, I'm here. Now what?" Guy asked. 

"What do you mean 'now what'? You need to get over that girl Isadora." Chris said plainly.

"You mean Isabelle," Jonny corrected. 

"What we're trying to say is that she's gone, so stop being so sad." Will added. 

Jonny stared at the two girls walking into the shop. 

"I don't think she's gone just yet," said Jonny. 

As Guy turned to see just what Jonny meant, his eyes met Isabelle's, just like in the record store.

 

 

 

 

“This feels weird,” Chris uncomfortably said as he spun around to show off his outfit.

“Yeah, but you look great,” Jonny said, hypnotized by the amount of leg that the shorts Chris was wearing revealed. He was also wearing a plain white shirt that clung to his torso, a bright red headband wrapped around his forehead, bright red wristbands to match, and tennis shoes, with a nice racket held loosely in his left hand. Jonny was wearing something similar, except his shorts weren't nearly as revealing, and he opted not to wear the headband. Instead, he sported his usual green cap.

“I do?” Chris asked hopefully. Jonny nodded and walked over to where Chris was standing. He put one hand on Chris's shoulder and placed a satisfactory kiss on Chris's lips. “You look pretty hott, too,” Chris seductively said.

Jonny was just about to reply with a most likely pervy statement, but at that moment the phone rang. Chris rolled his eyes and ran over to answer the phone.

“Hello?” he said. “Oh, hey Guy. It's Guy,” he whispered to Jonny, who nodded in understanding. “What? Now?... But Jonny and I were gonna go play tennis... It is not gay!... No...Kinda... No, they're not that tight... Well, maybe I am wearing a headband! What does it matter to you- Shut up!... You know what? I shouldn't even go now just because you're being so mean... What is it?... Well, it can't wait until later? …Fine, we'll be right there.”

Chris hung up the phone with a sigh and pranced back over to Jonny.

“Change in plans?” Jonny asked.

“Guy wants us to go over to the Bakery,” Chris answered. “Apparently he and Will have something to show us.”

“It can't wait until later?”

“That's what I said! But I guess it can't wait.” Chris nodded in the direction of the door, and they began to leave.

“Can I tell you something, Chris?” Jonny asked as they walked out.

“What?”

“It is so hot that you're wearing that out in public.”

Twenty minutes later (it would have been only ten or so, had Jonny not made the remark about Chris's outfit, causing Chris to throw a fit about how ridiculous he looked, when in actuality he really did look stunning) Chris and Jonny arrived at the Bakery. Will and Guy had been waiting for them, certainly, but they were in no rush to greet them when they came in. They were huddled in a corner, gathered around some briefly invisible object.

“Can we get on with this?” Chris called as he and Jonny walked over to the other two. Will looked up first, then shifted a little to make room for the new arrivals. Chris and Jonny stood and looked at the object.

“What is it?” Jonny asked. Guy looked up at him and smiled.

“It's a... Magic Bullet!”

“A what?” Chris shrieked, utterly confused.

“Magic Bullet,” Guy slowly repeated. “Like, from the informercials.”

“Well... what the hell is it??”

“It's a blender-y thing,” Will answered. “And it is pretty sweet.”

Chris stared blankly at Will and Guy. “You two brought us over here for a blender?”

“It's not an ordinary blender,” Will said. “Look, show 'em what you made, Guy.”

Guy lifted a bowl filled with some sort of green goo. “Guacamole!”

Jonny looked at the bowl and its contents, frowned, then said, “It doesn't really look like Guacamole to me.”

“OK,” Guy admitted, “so it's a little runny. It's my first time using this thing, cut me some slack!”

“Oh hey,” Will began, throwing something in the blender and placing the lid on it. “Would you guys care for some,” he pressed down a button, holding it for three seconds flat, “cole slaw?” Chris shook his head fervently, and Will twisted his mouth at the blender. “Neither would I... oh... what a waste...”

While Will contemplated what he was going to do with the unwanted cole slaw, Guy began to prepare something else. Chris decided he'd had enough of their shenanigans, and so he grabbed Jonny's hand and began to walk away. “Hey, where are you guys going??” Guy asked.

“We're going to play tennis!” Chris yelled, not bothering to stop or look back. Then he quickly decided to get revenge for having to come all the way to the Bakery for this dumb visit. “Or, failing that, we're going home and having sex.”

Jonny had to stifle a smile at that, whereas Will refocused his attention on the Magic Bullet, and Guy, having heard more than he wanted to, was beginning to think his fever was starting to break.

 

 

 

One

 

 

These people have a strange fascination with me. I am not so interesting, really. They are far more interesting, with their strange fascinations. And their hats; these people loves hats like no other thing in this world. Sometimes I suspect they feast on the hats, though that is a rather silly thought. But me, I only play the piano. It is not as if no one else in the world has ever done such a thing. Perhaps in this town, there have not been so many, but certainly I am not the first. Plus, I have far too much hair to stuff under a hat. The hat would probably fall off in an instant.

 

What I would like to know is what draws these people to my performances every day. Quite often, it is the same group of men whose faces I am looking at as I briefly scan the crowd before I play. They almost all look the same to me, anyway- hats and cloaks and sometimes monocles or canes- so maybe they are not always actually the same men. But this town is not heavily populated, either, and I suspect that there are not all too many who dress as they do.

 

Some women will come to watch me every now and then as well. From the times they do, I get the impression that they would like to visit much less sporadically, but perhaps they do not have that option available to them. While I play, they whisper- rather rudely, if I may be quite honest- about little, silly things like the way my hands seem to gracefully glide along the keys. They say that they have never in their lives seen someone so talented, yet so young. I think I have heard the word 'angel' being thrown about rather carelessly, too.

 

I do absolutely love playing the piano, of course. There is simply nothing else like it. Nothing else that I have experienced in my twenty-six years of living. I find myself being unable to stay away from it. Playing is like some sort of drug to me, coaxing me into the depths of its delectable hypnotism and leaving me desperately begging for more. But it is also an art, a true art, and a brilliant way (the most effective way, I find) for me to express myself.

 

Every now and then my mother comes to see me. Not during any performances, though she does stay for those, but one day she might just suddenly drop in and start pestering me about my life. There are all the usual questions, like:

 

“How is my lovely son, then?” she will ask. I sit at the piano, and gently stroke the keys. She knows I will not give an actual answer.

 

She will sigh and continue, “No girls around, I see,” with a disappointment she tries to pretend to hide. There are indeed no girls around, and I do not expect there to be. After all, I am quite plain. “Well, none are good enough for my handsome boy, anyway.” She will pat the massive chunk of hair sprouting its roots from my scalp, and I will continue to expertly avoid acknowledging her in any way she deems worthy.

 

Eventually she will leave, finding some matter that is far more important than hanging around being basically ignored by me all day long. I do not blame her, and I can not say I would not do the same in her position. I also feel a little relieved when she leaves, as it lifts the sort of pressuring spotlight she shines over my head. It is far worse than the fancily-dressed men staring holes through my body, probably because at the end of the day, they think I am great or something. My mother thinks I could be great, but I feel like she is always let down. Maybe she should be, but it is not such a nice feeling when people expect more than you can give.

 

I do not expect a lot from myself. In fact, I do not expect anything. I know I am not capable of much, but I am fine with that. No one seems to mind that all I do is play piano, and for that reason I get everything out of life that I want. Well, almost everything. But at least I do not have to work so hard to earn my living.

 

After performances, which I never have and never will charge for- I would play exactly the same even if there was no audience, so I see no reason to do so- I will find rather generous donations outside my door. With these, I have no need for any other source of income. I suppose I should be extremely grateful, then, for these people with their strange fascinations and hats. They seem to find something in me that I can not for the life of me see for myself.

 

I would like to find someone like that, actually. As odd as it sounds, I actually want someone to see something in me that I do not, and like it rather appreciably. Only someone for whom I may do the same, though. If I find nothing remarkable in any of the persons whose acquaintances I have the pleasure of meeting, well, then I would much rather they leave me well alone.

 

I have never met a truly interesting person. There are not many people at all in this small town, and mostly they are the same basic person anyway. You can change the name, change the hair and eye color, change the complexion, but you absolutely can not change the degree to which a person bores me to death. If it walks on two legs, with perhaps the assistance of an unnecessary cane, and is as pretentious as every other piece of life crawling through these streets, it can be certain that it will not hold my interest.

 

 

 

Two

 

 

I have one friend. That sounds awful, but it is very true, and I don't mind. His name is Harold. He wears pinstriped pants, usually, along with a maroon vest, and a bowler hat, and I always wonder how it manages to stay on all the time. In this way, I suppose he is like the other people around the town, completely in love with hats, but he is otherwise totally different.

 

Harold and I live together. He is not always around, though. He is a rather secretive person, but I respect that. Everyone deserves their own privacy, not matter to what extent that person alienates themselves. When I do see him, though, he is of much assistance to me. He offers very helpful advice, and is a great conversationalist. In fact, he is the only person with whom I speak most of the time. Every couple of days or so he shows his face, and he somehow always appears at just the right time.

 

Did your mother come by again?” his voice sounded. I lifted my head, which had been laying on the piano, to see him standing next to the bench, the familiar bowler hat sitting atop his head, and a friendly grin stretched wide across his amicable face.

 

I don't remember when Harold and I met each other. It seems like we have just always been friends, maybe since we were born. When it came time to move out of my parent's home, Harold graciously offered to share a place and split the costs. Since he is hardly around, though, and since I can afford to pay for our living space by myself, I do not bother him with it. Besides, with all the help he has given me over the years, it is the least I can do.

 

Yes,” I replied. And I gave a short laugh. The piano sounded gently under my fingertips, which I had not realized had been placed on the keys, so I jumped a little in surprise and snatched my arms back. “How did you know?”

 

Well, usually head to piano is a dead giveaway.” He sat down beside me, and stared at the piano keys. It was something that he seemed to do quite often, though I could never figure out why. “What did she say? The usual?”

 

“Yeah. Nothing I haven't heard before.”

 

“She's really expecting you to marry soon.” Harold often says things like this- things I know are true, but sometimes I do not realize them, or I just do not feel like being so honest to myself. Harold will always come along and smack a dab of reality in my face, though. Trusty old Harold.

 

“She is,” I ineffectively agreed. The piano sounded again, this time through actions I conveyed on purpose. I could sense Harold's gaze slide over to my fingers as my improvisational playing continued, stopping only once he spoke again.

 

“Don't.” I raised an eyebrow questioningly in his direction, and he slowly lifted his head to look at me. “You're not ready for it. It's better to wait until you are ready, even if it disappoints her. Otherwise you and whatever poor girl you pick at random will be miserable, and then you'll bring miserable children into the world. It'll be a huge mess, and the only person who will be even remotely happy will be your mother, who will be a hundred miles away in her own world.”

 

“You're right,” I nodded. Then I was greeted by the tumultuous hunger to return to playing- a hunger which I gladly catered to.

 

“Plus,” he jestingly added, “whoever you get married to will probably want me out. And I'll have to go find a nice cardboard box somewhere.”

 

I laughed, but kept my concentration on the movements of my fingers before me. “I don't think so. You'll stay here, or if you do get a cardboard box, it'll be set up 'round back.”

 

“But what if your woman doesn't like it?”

 

“Then my woman can deal,” I said. Then I thought about what I had never thought about before. One day, I would probably be married to someone. She would want to have children, and I would therefore be a husband and father. Then Harold would find his own wife, and they would have children. Maybe we would grow apart. But I don't know what I would do without Harold. I could just stay a bachelor for the rest of my life. That would certainly fix the problem.

 

“No,” Harold began, answering my unasked question, “I don't think marriage is for me. Maybe I'll find a woman, but I suspect I wouldn't last long in a relationship like that. You might do fine, though.”

 

“What's the difference if you get married or not?” I inquired. “If you're still going to be with just that one woman?”

 

“There isn't a difference, really. The whole marriage title is what ruins it, though. People act differently because they think they should act differently.” Harold looked down at the piano keys, blinked a few times. Then he looked back at me. “Good luck.”

 

“Good luck?”

 

“You deserve to be married and have a nice family.” Harold sighed and turned down to the piano for a third time. Anguish painted his face a sad work of art, and I truly felt sorry for him, though his following words acknowledged the fact that it should be quite the opposite. “But I get the feeling that you're going to have some difficulties in this area.”

 

I thought on it briefly. “Because of the people, or because of myself?”

 

“Could be both, really.” He shrugged and lifted a hand thoughtfully to his chin. “Or neither. Whatever. Point is, keep your eyes open, but don't... well, just be careful.”

 

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Harold.”

 

 

Roll Over Beethoven

Chapter 9

 

 

 

Jonny never knew what it felt like to be numb until that moment. He walked to his dorm with a zombie-like motion. He didn’t feel the crisp nighttime breeze on his face or notice the people passing him by, some of which he inadvertently collided with. As soon as he turned the knob and opened the creaky door to the room he collapsed onto the couch and reached for the t.v. remote. He pressed some buttons blindly and managed to turn the television on. He didn’t notice nor care what channel it was turned to and simply forced his eyes to stare at the flickering screen for some hours until a commercial came on that involved piano music. He turned it off immediately and flung the remote across the room. It made a satisfying sound as it hit the hollow wall. Tears began to form in his eyes. He held most of them back but let a few fall to the dulled upholstery of the couch. It felt good to stain it with a few tears. This was the same couch Chris had sat on. It deserved nothing better.

 

Jonny curled up on the couch with his knees to his chin. He was fully prepared for a miserable and sleepless night. But to his mild surprise, it wasn't long before he felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion sweep over him. He supposed this was the result of so many strong emotions in so short of a time. He was more than willing to give in to the fatigue. Anything was better than a long bleak night spent thinking of Chris.

 

It was, however, quite naive of him to believe that thoughts of Chris would end in sleep. Dreams are often as powerful as conscious thoughts. And that night he dreamed of Chris incessantly. Although he didn't realize it at the time, for one can only truly ponder a dream after waking, all of his dreaming had been positive. It seemed his subconscious had nothing but good things to say about Chris, despite his recent actions.

 

This realization flashed into his mind just moments after he blearily opened his eyes. In a few second's time the memories of his dreams replayed themselves like an old movie reel. They came in bits and pieces but could easily be grouped together. Eyes a sparkling blue like the clearest lakes, a smile that was brighter than the light of the sun at noon. What it felt like to be around him and to hear him laugh in that nervous way of his.

 

But the parts of visions that stuck out he most were those of an elegant, beautiful figure, perfectly poised at the stool of a piano and producing the most gorgeous sounds in all the world. Jonny almost gasped aloud as he recalled the clarity of which he heard the music in his sleep. Reality hit him like a rock then. he was never going to hear those sounds again. Not if things continued on this way. He rubbed his face and sat up slowly. His still tired eyes made their way lazily around the room. Everywhere they landed there was the image of Chris at that piano.

 

Jonny stood up, perhaps a bit too quickly, seeing how he nearly fell over due to the disorientation that mornings often brought. But he couldn't have cared less about that. A decision had been made in the mind of Jonny Buckland. No matter how much it hurt him, he would remain mere friends with Chris. Because that pain was nothing to the pain he experienced when he considered the alternative option of ending all contact with him.

 

Later that evening, he glanced at himself in the mirror. Everything appeared to be in order. His hair was fine, it was too short to do much with. His face was clean shaven and he thought he looked alright for someone as weary as he was. He tired out a small smile. It was weak, but it would do. Shrugging into his jacket, he made his way out into the chilly evening air.

 

The small pub wasn't far at all, only a couple of blocks. Jonny reached it much sooner than he had planned. He stopped in front of it briefly, his hands shaking with nervousness. He didn't have anything o be nervous about. But to calm his overactive nerves he started walking again, passing the building and rounding the corner.

 

There was still time before the competition began. And he didn't think it would make a difference if he was a little late or not. It's not as if Chris was expecting him to show. But wandering down the road, he found, made him even more anxious. He really didn't want to miss hearing Chris play. He felt an almost fatherly sense of pride just thinking about the way he knew Chris could outshine the competition. He turned abruptly around and marched back to the pub, nearly knocking over another pedestrian in the process. No matter if he was Chris's friend or his lover, he was going to cheer him on and shower him with support.

 

 

 

Three

 

 

One day, a most strange and magical thing happened to me: I ran out of inspiration. It was just gone. I sat down at the piano, but the keys just looked like unimportant things; they did not speak to me as they usually did, and anyway I had no desire to engage in a conversation with them.

 

So, I took a stroll outside.

 

There were no people on the streets. It was an autumn afternoon, and a windy one at that. It was the kind of windy autumn afternoon that keeps the people indoors, out of fear that the movement of air will rustle their appearance the wrong way. Perhaps it will knock their hats off, and they can not have that.

 

The air was nice, and the leaves were beginning to change color magnificently. Reddish and golden hues leaked through the green foliage with such passionate vigor. Everywhere I looked, I was blessed with the sight of these colors, marching in the trees, and on the ground, and even halfway in between.

 

I walked endlessly around the town's roads, never once thinking of stopping. It was almost like when I play, except that I had no emotion at this time. I felt empty and blank, and not at all vibrant like the leaves around me. I walked and hoped that some of their brilliance might rub off.

 

Then I heard the working grunt of a man from somewhere nearby. A gust of wind had just blown its way past, sending this man into a state of utter distress. Lying beside him was what used to be a pile of leaves, but was now just a mess. I watched briefly as the man set about restoring the perfection of the gathered leaves, then decided to lend a bare hand. Yes, I was rather unprepared to help the man, who was wearing very stunningly professional gloves, but I did so anyway.

 

He looked up at me, momentarily surprised, then abruptly went back to his work. He thrust leaves into a new pile from the left side of the old one, and I weakly pushed them from the right. Though poorly, I lent my aid to him until the job was finished, after he had made absolute certain that the wind could no longer cause mischief in the raking department.

 

I straightened my back and was just about to quietly exit when the man raised his eyes to me. He glanced, then held his hand out. I tentatively shook it, and the man uttered the words, “Thank you,” with a soft, sweet voice. This was a man, I felt, who should speak more often. He could be a politician with a voice like that. But then, surely anyone with a voice like that would not have the personality to be a politician. In a perfect world, maybe.

 

I walked on for only the amount of time it took to return home. Something struck a chord in me, so to speak, and had brought out the feeling that I had transiently lacked. But for some reason my wandering legs journeyed beyond the awaiting piano, and headed for my bed. I laid down with no intention of falling asleep, but it seems that nothing you intend to happen does, while the things you do not intend to happen do.

 

In my unconscious state, I saw many visions colored with familiar tones. First, I was in a room made entirely of gold. The door alone was worth more than everything I own. I was curious as to why I would be in such a room, but no answer was ever provided. I was just there, I suppose. But dreams are weird like that.

 

Then came a fiery image, burning bright red and crackling like crazy. I took a step back to get a better look, and it seems I was standing aside a fire, as it were. That certainly explained the color, and the noises, and the heat. There was so much heat surrounding me, it was like being very close to a volcano, I would imagine. I fanned myself off, but it did no good, as with each swipe of my hand, the fire enlarged. I began to wonder if I would melt, if my skin would liquefy and slide to the ground, leaving my muscles bare and exposed.

 

And then it changed again. I was swimming around in a lake. I can not determine the exact amount of clothing I had on, but I do not recall it being much. The water was cold, near freezing, but it felt so refreshing. Especially compared to the fire.

 

I closed my dream eyes and let the water wash over me. A few minutes later I opened them again, and I noticed that the lake was tinted an unusual color. It was rather green, maybe the result of too much algae. Oh, but it was a lovely green, absolutely awe-inspiring in its pale brightness. The surface was foggy, but even so it was apparent that there was much life hidden deep below. All it took was a dive down to see that the lake was inhabited with so many fascinating and beautiful things.

 

In the magic of the dream world, I need not return to the open air for any gasps of oxygen. I simply spent my entire time under the water, searching for every hidden treasure that I knew was bound to please me when it was found. Anything the lake had to offer proved to be gorgeous, and every time I discovered something new- some previously unseen plant, or a cute little fish swimmingly innocently in circles around my feet- I loved it and longed for more. I was never disappointed by what I saw, only by what I did not see. And even then, I was only disappointed because I did not see those things.

 

The next memory I have is that of opening my eyes to see a group of men gathered near my door. They were outside, of course, so I did my duty and let them in, then sat down at the piano. I looked at them all; they were still the same faces I had seen in days past. No matter, because I had a sudden burst of emotion- some lovely emotion very new to me- and once I hit those keys, any and all awareness of the fancily-dressed men went right out the window.

 

 

 

 

Four

 

 

A woman with bags under her eyes stood in front of me. I had no idea what she wanted, and I am not convinced she did, either. She held out a paper, written in what looked like English, but the ink was smudged and the penmanship was horrific to begin with, so it could have been written in French for all I know. I took it from her, and tried to read it. After several minutes, I accepted my defeat. I looked up to try to pry some sort of information from the woman, but she was already gone.

 

Instead, a balding man stood in my field of view. He was squinting at me, looking up because he was rather short, and he wore glasses five times too large for his head. They magnified his eyes to a frightening extent, and to the point where I almost thought I was just staring down at a pair of eyes.

 

“Wow,” he gaped, seemingly trying to enlarge his eyes. He leaned closer to me, tilting his head as he did so. I simply stared down at him, waiting for an explanation of sorts. The paper stayed loosely in my grip, brushing up against my pant leg.

 

“You're really tall,” the man went on. “It's magnificent, eh! Splendid, really, how did you get to be so tall?”

 

I just shrugged, and that seemed to be answer enough for the man. He nodded, still gaping, and neatly walked away. Just as I was about to shut the door, the woman with bags under her eyes slid over from the side. It appeared as though she had simply moved over to let the bald man through.

 

“That's my father,” she quietly said. I suspected that I was supposed to be stunned by her simplicity. She only wore a simple coat over what looked like it might have been a tattered dress, perhaps a hand-me-down from someone who had not taken such nice care of it. The bags under her eyes made her pupils look grey, and she even had a grey streak running through the front of her otherwise dark hair. Her cheeks were sullen and her lips were turned in a frown.

 

“He's pretty weird.” I looked at her for a moment longer, and I could see that she was hiding something. Almost as if she wanted to say more, but something was holding her back. Returning my attention to the illegible note, I heard her continue, “I was sent to deliver this to you. Apparently it's from... I don't know, actually. Some man in town.”

 

I absentmindedly nodded at her, and tried my hardest to make heads or tails of the letter. 'I appricotted it neatly' does not really sound correct at all, but that is what it sure looked like. Then something about bears and clay.

 

“I think it was from my cousin? But I'm not sure,” the woman said, because I had looked up at her again with a look of absolute confusion. “He has pretty messy writing, I think. I could try to decipher it, if you want.”

 

She held her hand out, and since I had made no progress, I gave her the paper. Her eyes scanned the page silently for a minute. Then she lifted her head and frowned even more. “Sorry.” She handed back the paper, and stalked away. Before she disappeared completely, though, she turned her head and gave a little wave. I halfheartedly waved back, then immediately returned inside.

 

I sat down at the piano again without even thinking, and set the paper in front of me. I studied its lines, trying to match letters of words that I could make sense of with letters in the words that in no way fit into the sentences. I still came up short in the end, but I let the paper sit there as I started to play. It proved to be great inspiration.

 

Halfway through my playing, a group stood outside, and I prepared myself with a sigh, then let them in. I did not even bother to look at any of them first, because I felt like I needed to get this song out of me. So, I continued with my previous playing, and for some reason, this performance felt quite different.

 

My mind kept replaying images from the dream I had the day before. The lake, especially, and there was this feeling, much like the one from the day before, a feeling that was new to me, and very pressing. It hovered in the air and tried its hardest to penetrate my skin, poking and prodding until it finally got through. Then every time I hit the keys, the feeling grew, and when the song finally finished itself, I looked up at the note resting against the piano and I smiled.

 

I have no idea what made me feel that way, but I was... happy. It was an airy sort of happiness, light and feathery, and it felt nice. It was inexplicable to me, but I certainly did not question it. I have never felt that sort of happiness before, and I did not want it to become too airy and fly away.

 

I watched the men leave, their coats dragging along their feet, and something told me that my life was about to change. Our lives are always changing, of course, but perhaps, then, my life was about to change in a much greater way than it ever had before. And I was at least intelligent enough to realize that this change most probably had something to do with this interesting and illegible letter.

 

Possibly the first change came that night. I dressed in my nightwear, and readied myself for a good, long rest. As I passed the piano, I glimpsed at the note, and some extension of the airy happiness pushed me to take it from its resting place. Without further ado, I slipped into my bed and closed my eyes, the note laying gently in the space between my hand and heart as I slept.

 

 

 

Right my roommates and I had a little incident today hence this little story ;)

 

Handyman

 

 

 

 

Inspirational picture behind story ;)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Handyman

 

Jonny looked out the train window to only see the countryside blurring past him. He had been away visiting his brother and was longing to hold Chris in his arms and to run his fingers through his golden curls and feel his hot breath on his skin. Two weeks had been far too long to be away from the devilishly gorgeous man!

 

Three hours later and Jonny was practically running to his car from the train station. Throwing his bag in the back carelessly he jumped into the drivers seat and started the car. The purr of the engine began to calm him down a bit, but he couldn’t wait to walk through the door to his home to see his love! Putting the car in drive he began his 15min drive.

 

As he wound his way up the drive to his home he saw all the lights on in the house, chuckling to himself he bet that Chris had had all the lights on while Jonny was away. Parking the car Jonny ignored his bag and made his way to the back door that lead into the mudroom. Opening the door Jonny expected that Chris would jump out of nowhere and scare him, but nothing happened. That’s odd thought Jonny; maybe Chris is in the music room? Walking down the hall Jonny thought he heard a rather loud thud but dismissed it in thinking Chris was playing with the drums or something. Jonny opened the door to the Music room slowly hoping to surprise Chris with his arrival home.

 

“What!?!” The room was empty and clean. That was a drastic shock! Normally instruments were in disarray and paper was crumpled and strewn about, but it was spot clean. Jonny closed the door and leaned his head against the frame. “Where is that man?”

 

Dragging his feet down the hall Jonny walked past the living room, but then backed up and saw that the TV was on. Jonny entered into the living room to turn off the TV when he noticed all of Chris’ Bob the Builder DVDs on the floor surrounding the TV. “Oh Crap! Not again! Chris please, please, please not again!” He then heard another loud thump. This time Jonny turned his ear toward the sound and determined it was coming from upstairs. Jonny swiftly turned on his heal and marched up the stairs. At the top he paused and waited for some sort of sound…. “Bob the Builder! Can we fix it? Bob the Builder! Yes we can! Scoop, Muck and Dizzy, And Roley too…”

 

Jonny lunged toward the bedroom bathroom! And there was Chris and there was what was their bathroom. Plaster chunks were missing from walls and paint was splattered on just about every surface of Chris and not on any wall. Chris had his Ipod plugged in and was dancing around with a hammer and a paintbrush in each hand. Jonny couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him. Chris turned around and a huge smile erupted on his face!

 

“Jonny boy! Your home!” Chris started to move toward Jonny but stepped in the paint bucket and fell over with arms flailing and paint being splattered on Jonny and all other surfaces.

 

“Oh Jonny! I’m so sorry, I wanted to surprise you with a new bathroom for when you came home, but now I’ve just made a mess and made you all painty!” Tears began to well up in Chris’ Stunning blue ocean eyes.

 

“Oh Chris” Jonny said with a seductive grin. Jonny laid down on the paint-splattered floor next to Chris and pulled that little handyman into his arms. Jonny stroked Chris’ hair and gazed into his eyes. “Chris you look extremely sexy with paint all over your body, but I think I need to help you a bit.”

 

“Mmmm Jonny boy, I do need some help, perhaps we can fix the shower together?” Chris said with a twinkle in his eye. “You read my mind Chris!” And with that Chris and Jonny made their way over to the shower, Jonny picked up a spare paintbrush and took it with him into the shower. “ Jonny why do we need a paint brush in the shower?” Chris asked. “ You’ll see handyman” Jonny said with a wicked grin as he closed the shower curtain behind them. “Oh Jonny! I’ve missed you!”

 

 

 

Holes

Chapter Five

 

 

 

 

Chris's Point of View

 

I packed my bags, with all my possessions. The room looked empty, the apartment looked empty. Though I felt bad for leaving, I couldn’t back out on my decision. It had been tough after Jonny had kissed me. I had no idea what I felt towards anybody. He had given me a whole new light to my relationships with others. That’s why I decided to leave the apartment we shared. Jonny could find a new roommate while I had my time to think. If he still wanted me back after my time to think, I might return. I wasn't certain with myself right now.

 

I didn’t tell J I was leaving the apartment. Lately I hadn’t been telling him anything. Guy didn’t know I was leaving either. I hadn’t spoken to Guy since Valentines Day. He called several times but, I always ignored his phone calls. It was a few nights ago, that I made up my mind. I waited for a day Jonny wasn’t home then packed my stuff and left.

 

Where was I going? A hotel probably. Stay near campus until I find another dorm room. Maybe I’d have my mind made up soon; maybe it’d be months or years. For now I had to keep a safe ground, which is why I called Guy as soon as I got to the hotel.

 

The phone rang for half a ring, when Guy picked up. “Hello?” He sounded anxious and worried.

 

“Guy?” I ask softly.

 

“Chris! God where have you been? You haven’t been answering my phone calls and then I just got a phone call from Jonny saying you moved out.”

 

“How was he?”

 

“He sounded worried and sort of panicked. Did you tell him you were moving out? Where are you anyways?” Guy's voice was bitter when speaking of Jonny. He mustn't have been too happy with me, calling and asking about someone I'd just left.

 

“I’m in a hotel Guy. Look, I feel like crap for doing this the cowardly way but… Guy I'm ending it. Ending us." My reply was simple, nothing. Then he spoke.

 

“It’s Buckland, isn’t it? Jonny caught us. Or you’re in love with him. Which one is it Chris?” Guy voice was filled with hatred and hurt, which killed to be directed towards me.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” The words felt like lies which were unclear to me why. I was beginning to feel something for Jon. Or was I wanting out of my relationship with Guy?

 

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

 

Three Months Later

 

I walked up to the door slowly with my suitcase and guitar case in hand. I had left my piano in the apartment with Jonny since I knew I would either be back for good or at least come back for it.

 

I knocked on the wooden door, softly and heard footsteps come closer and closer. The door creaked open slightly.

 

“Chris?” He cried, but with a tiny smile, he looked undecided on how to feel. Happy I’m back or sad that I may be leaving again.

 

“Can I come home?” I was pulled into a hug and Jonny’s tears came spilling down his cheeks.

 

 

 

EVERYDAY LIFE

A Rachel-Hahna Collaboration

 

 

 

 

"Party over heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!" Guy yelled into the phone.

The man on the other line whooped and thanked Guy. "I'll bring the drinks!" Guy smiled and hung up.

 

"Alright, Chris..." Guy left the sentence unfinished, and wandered over to Chris. "Now, do you have any CD's that aren't Miley Cyrus that I can use?"

 

"Ummm, I think Jon's has a few Celine Dion CD’s... Or was it Mariah Carey...?"

 

Guy was all like 'WTF?', and he said," Uh...no, stupid, do you have any dance-y type music? Stuff that doesn't suck..."

 

"Miley doesn’t suck!” Chris cried to the short bassist. "I love her!"

 

Jon coughed. "Really?" He narrowed his eyebrows. "Sure about that?"

 

"You're just jealous because I fell in love with her before I fell in love with you!" Chris childishly stuck his tongue out at Jonny

 

"Stop flirting, you two!" Guy shouted, waving his hands around the place to emphasize his annoyance. "Grr...Now, get some snacks ready, some good music playing...and some decent clothes." Guy looked at the 70's dodgy Hawaiian shirt Chris was wearing and cringed.

 

“Come on J; let’s go find some clothes..." Chris walked of with Jonny leaving Guy to fend for himself.

 

"HEY, WHAT'S THAT?!" Guy yelled at the top of his lungs, and his scream had the potential to break a glass.

 

In front of Guy was the window, which wasn't too excited so it must have been what was outside of the window which caught his attention. In the yard were two large metal things with ant-sized koala-looking creatures exiting them.

 

Guy was throwing a hissy fit by this point. "Dude, where are the llamas?" he yelled. "This is all wrong! All wrong! We want LLAMAS!"

 

From the yard the "koalas" got angry with Guy's shouting. Their bitter enemies the llamas would never win over his heart if they could control it.

 

They screeched and made some awfully weird noises. Guy thought he heard one koala-thing say "diellamadie" or something like that.

 

Guy was horrified by these non-llamas and immediately began to seek refuge from them, either that or find some weapon of some sort. He was a man on a mission and he was getting those llamas. Anyways who invited the koalas to his party?

 

He bet Chris was the one who did it... After all, he knew Guy hated koalas and he also didn't want the party in the first place. Chris was sabotaging the party!

"Chris is going to pay for this." Guy decided to keep the koalas for the party, but he also decided to get out his "Phone-Directory-Of-The-Most-Annoying-Intersting-and-Insane-People-In-This-Part-of-the-Universe" and call every number there was. Chris would be driven mad with so many people who were just like himself and Jonny would be driven mad by the fact there was more than one person in the room.

 

Guy grinned and thought about how awesome his evil plan was. It was undeniably awesome; awesomer than the awesome Vince from Sham-Wow. More awesome than...Lindsay Lohan... And Guy thought Lindsay Lohan was pretty awesome. Tonight was going to be a good night for Guy. Especially when he introduces Chris and Jon to their guests.

 

It was going to be more than mildly amusing to see Chris and Jonny's expressions when they see the mob of people at their house, standing on their precious grass. WHO WOULD CARE ABOUT GRASS?!, Guy thought, sure he just made a massive punctuation mistake by using three thingies in a row and making himself look like more of an idiot by trying to explain himself.

 

That was a fail in Guy's eyes, and that made him sad. But he hyped up again with the thought of the party.

 

Behind him there was a thump. "I know what you're planning Berryman" Will was standing behind Guy looking scary as usual.

 

“Uh...a party?" Guy laughed nervously. Will was big and mean, and Guy didn't want to end up on his bad side.

 

"I can't let you do this Guy. Do you remember what happened at the last party?"

 

“I had heaps of fun, hence I can't remember what happened," Guy said smugly.

"Two words. Barbie. Girl. And why are you punishing the Buckin? Cant you see they are in love and deserve to be worshipped?"

 

Guy thought about this for a moment. "Well, they need to stop being anti-social little boys and they need to get to know more people..."

 

"Good point..." Will gave in. "What's your plan?"

 

"Just invite everyone I know over and everything will work out... Plus, I'll be able to... LOOK, A FIRE HYDRANT!" Will turned around, and Guy ran away.

 

"Guy Rupert!!!!!!!!" Will shouted at the top of his lungs, returning to his scary face. "I have to find the Buckin and warn them...."

 

Will sprinted back into the house to alert Chris and Jonny. "Guys! Guys! Guess wh-" Will stared in horror at the sight before him.

 

 

 

 

:):):):):) :):):):):) :):):):):) :):):):):) :):):):):)

All You Ever Wanted

 

18

 

 

“Well... this is it, then,” Chris said. He looked around at the empty room as though it had just been filled with all of Retaw's things, even though it looked the same as it always did. He and Jonny were standing opposite Retaw and Logella, a large group gathered in farewell.

 

“Yeah,” Retaw simply said. “This is it.”

 

“You're welcome back any time, you know,” Jonny said. “Both of you.”

 

“That's very kind of you,” Logella smiled. “And I would say that you're welcome to visit us anytime, but,” she began to laugh, “I don't think you have any way of getting there, do you?”

 

“That we do not,” Jonny laughed back.

 

“I'm gonna miss having you around, Retaw,” Chris sorrowfully mentioned. “It was great seeing you again.”

 

“I can not thank you two enough for allowing me to stay here, and for aiding me in my quest to blend in.” Retaw walked forward and hugged Chris, then Jonny. “You guys are the best friends I have ever had, and I can assure you that will remain true until the day I die.”

 

Chris stared at Retaw for a few moments, completely touched, and then quickly said, “Retaw, I need to talk to you for a minute.” He gestured to another room, and Retaw tentatively followed him in.

 

“What is it, Martin?” he asked. Chris took a deep breath and looked around for a bit.

 

“You asked Jonny about what happened,” Chris began, “a few years ago. There... there was... Jonny doesn't actually know what happened. He knows... well, I ended up with a broken arm. He knows about that.”

 

“Broken arm?” Retaw repeated with curiosity.

 

“I was walking home one day, and I was attacked by these... people... people that I knew. They worked with us, and they lived in this building, too. And... well, they knew. Retaw, everyone knew. Except for Jonny.” Chris looked at Retaw with sad eyes, and frowned. “Jonny had no clue, you know, that I was in love with him. But I came home one day, and they were outside, and I guess I had been particularly flirty with Jonny that day, so they decided to mock me for it. I think they might have been a bit drunk... It got really out of hand, and they dragged me into some alley and started...” Chris stopped, his voice breaking and eyes filling with tears.

 

“They hurt you for that?” Retaw incredulously asked, and Chris nodded.

 

“You can't imagine the awful things humans do to each other because of little stuff like that. It doesn't even make sense...” Chris took a shaky breath and calmed himself. “Retaw, Jonny still doesn't know that that's why, he probably just thinks they mugged me... I don't want him to find out and then feel sorrier for me, or whatever.”

 

“I won't tell him,” Retaw reassured Chris.

 

“That was one of the reasons why it took so long for me to tell him how I felt. I was afraid that he'd react like that, too.” Chris covered his eyes with his hand to catch the new batch of tears that were streaming out. Chris tried to stop himself, and said, “But it's all OK now, and all that horrible stuff is in the past. Jonny doesn't need to know.”

 

“Thank you for telling me.” Chris nodded, then they both left the room to return to Logella and Jonny, who seemed to be having a conversation about Chris.

 

“Oh my God, that's so sad! How could you do that?” Logella asked.

 

“I... don't know. If I could go back, I wouldn't have. I would have stayed, really stayed. But I guess I needed the time. I'm just glad it all worked out...” Jonny stared at the ground, haunted by his past. “God, I don't know what I'd do without him.”

 

“You guys are great together. I don't even really know you, but I can tell.” Logella quickly looked to her side, noticed Chris and Retaw standing in the doorway, but didn't bother to inform Jonny.

 

“This is gonna sound really... lame, but... well, Chris is basically everything to me. I would literally die without him. And every morning I wake up next to him and think about how lucky I am and how stupid I was to hurt him like that. I almost can't live with myself thinking about it. I don't even know why he would still be in love with someone who treated him so horribly.”

 

“Because he always loved you, since the day you met, and that sort of thing doesn't just go away,” a voice replied. Jonny spun around to see Chris right in front of him. “And being with you is amazing enough to forget anything you've ever done... wrong, or whatever.”

 

Jonny smiled at Chris as Retaw walked over to Logella. “It's time,” he said, grabbing Logella's hands. At that moment, the phone rang, and Jonny went to answer it.

 

“I can't believe this is actually happening!” Logella squealed.

 

“Me neither,” Retaw beamed.

 

“When we get back, can we get married?”

 

“Of course.” Retaw and Logella stared deeply into each other's eyes for a while, then Retaw turned to Chris.

 

“Thank you again, and tell Jonathan I said goodbye.”

 

“Will do,” Chris said, the feeling of tears shadowing over him once more. Retaw turned back to Logella, and they both closed their eyes. Chris was a bit surprised at what happened next; Retaw changed back to his purple color, Logella turned a bright pink, and they both shrunk to about a foot tall. Then, suddenly, they disappeared. Just like that, they were gone, and Chris sighed at the quiet emptiness around him.

 

When Jonny returned from the other room, he wasn't really shocked that Retaw and Logella had already left. In fact, he walked in grinning like crazy.

 

“Guess what?” he excitedly said.

 

“What?”

 

“I got my job back!!” Jonny exclaimed. Chris opened his mouth in shock, then threw himself at Jonny.

 

“That's amazing, babe!” Chris said, though his mouth was full of Jonny's shirt, as he'd buried his head in Jonny's shoulder during the tight embrace. “How did you manage that, though?”

 

“Well, apparently that new supervisor was recently fired for sexual harassment, and they realized that I was the best worker they had, and so they wanted to hire me back. I said yes, of course, but I also made them give me a raise,” Jonny added with a mischievous smile.

 

“Jonny, you slick devil, you!” Chris laughed. Then he quickly gasped, and when Jonny asked him what was up, he responded in a low voice, “We should celebrate.” He pulled back so he could see Jonny's face, and raised his eyebrows.

 

“Oh,” Jonny cooed, “I like the way you think.”

 

“It's settled then- chocolate cake!” Chris yelled, broke away from Jonny, and ran into the kitchen. Jonny laughed, though he was a little confused. He slowly

turned in the direction of the kitchen, and Chris reappeared quickly with a big smile on his face. “Kidding!”

 

“You are crazy,” Jonny said as Chris walked up to him. Chris said nothing, but decided to lift up Jonny's shirt to remove it. “Chris, this can't wait a minute?”

 

“Jonny,” Chris began with a ridiculous emphasis, “what do you think we're doing? Going into the bedroom? That's so unoriginal.”

 

“So we're just gonna...” Jonny fidgeted nervously. “Here? In the living room?!”

 

“Why not?” Chris asked with a shine in his eyes. “It's our living room, and it's not like anyone's gonna walk in.”

 

Jonny turned around and gave the sofa a funny look. “My mum slept on that couch one time.”

 

Chris was taken aback for a moment, and asked, “We made your mum sleep on the couch?”

 

“She insisted, remember?”

 

“Oh... Anyway, who cares? You sleep on that couch all the time, too.” Chris ran his hand under Jonny's shirt and up his abdomen. “The only difference is now you're gonna be sleeping with me.”

 

Chris started walking forward, pushing Jonny back to the sofa. Jonny would have tried to resist Chris's force, but the seductive look on Chris's face gave him the idea that the bedroom was too definitely too far away now.

 

 

 

Five

 

 

“What's that?” Harold asked. Judging by his tired look, he must have been sitting and waiting for me to wake up for quite a while. He pointed to the paper that was still being pinned to my chest by my hand. I looked down, lifted it up, then sat up myself.

 

“It's a letter. Someone sent it to me yesterday.” I smoothed it out across the surface of my lap and admired its mystery. The paper was rather crinkled, and even a little tattered, though I had not had it in my possession for that long.

 

Harold scratched at his chin as he watched me. “Why were you sleeping with it?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

Harold took a breath, louder than his others, but not in a threatening way, and he leaned forward. “Who is it from?”

 

My eyes met his and I shrugged my shoulders. “Don't know that, either. And I don't know what it says.”

 

“You want it to be a love note, don't you?”

 

I found that my lips involuntarily curved upwards. My heart even fluttered at the thought. “Well, that would be nice. I hardly think it is.” A sudden vision of water set my mind racing, and I quickly hopped off the bed, leaving the note behind. “Harold, you wouldn't happen to know of any lakes nearby, would you?”

 

“No, I'm afraid I don't. May I ask why?” I could hear a hint of boredom or tiredness in his voice, like he had dealt with my craziness one too many times before. That was a thing to love about Harold, though; even if he was bored to tears by you, he would not say it, and would still gladly lend any and all knowledge to the matter at hand. A true friend, if I do say so myself.

 

“You may always ask why, Harold, but that doesn't mean you'll get an answer.” I glided over to the nearest window and gently pulled back the curtains. There was a lovely tree right outside the house that I had always loved. Its leaves were still green for the most part, which made me happy. Though the changing colors are always pretty, I love it more when the tree is green. It reminds me of spring, and gives me an airy feeling. “I had the most marvelous dream the other day.”

 

“Involving a lake?” Harold so rightly interjected.

 

“Involving a lake, quite. I was just wondering if it had anything at all to do with reality.”

 

“Well, some say that dreams are the brain's way of working things out. It could have something to do with this life.”

 

“In that respect, then, I'd say you're like a dream to me.” I stepped away from the curtains to look at Harold. He was still sitting beside my bed, and I could sense that he wanted to grab the letter and read it. Not that it would do him much good. “Really, what would I do without your kind words of wisdom?”

 

“Probably what you do now, just... you wouldn't ever talk to anyone.” He smiled, and I smiled back. Then he let his restrictions loose and glanced at the paper on my bed. His head was bent down at a really low level, yet the bowler hat remained motionless on his head. It was a mind-boggling sight to behold. “I'm always glad to help, surely. But I think it's time for me to be off.”

 

“Why?” He gave a small nod in the direction of the window, which I then proceeded to peer out of. Harold had managed to foresee the arrival of several fancily-dressed men, all of whom were now standing at my door. “Oh, it's that late already? Or they're early...”

 

I spun around, and like the sneaky man he is, Harold had already disappeared. Not surprisingly, though, as I find quite often that his exits are very subtle and he is gone in the blink of an eye. It was of no importance now, though, as I had guests to tend to. Guests who all looked the same when I first saw them enter.

 

And I had never thought about it until that very moment, but the piano keys are all always the same as well. Yet, somehow, there is always that one key that sticks out to me, the one that I graciously choose to begin with. This time it was a lower note than usual, around the area of Middle C- not an ordinarily low note, sure, but I had been favoring the right side of my piano rather greatly as of late- though I can not remember the particular note.

 

I did not bother to even look up once until I was finished. I had this strange feeling growing inside me. It was an excitement much like that of a young child on Christmas morning, but with seemingly no reason to exist at the present moment. The piano and I bonded extraordinarily well, the excitement being the paste that held us together. I did glance up just before I finished, but it was only for a fraction of a second. Something caught my eye, though, and I decided that my song was complete.

 

When I looked back up, I saw that I had not been fooled; there, standing amongst the fancily-dressed men and their hats, was the gardener I had helped only two days prior. He looked at me as I watched him with wide eyes, and I had the feeling that he knew what I was thinking. He seemed a little uncomfortable, so I turned my gaze to somewhere else in the room, which happened to be the piano. After I was certain that everyone had left, I finally looked up again.

 

He was still there. He was leaving, though. Something inside of me did not like that, so I reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

 

He turned around, slowly, because he was rather surprised. As was I; I hardly expected my vocal chords to do much of anything around people I did not know, or even around people I did know. But there we were, I having just spoken rather strangely, and he having just had quite a shock. I suddenly felt as though holding onto him was as bad as staring with large eyes for long periods of time, so I released my hand and began to step back. I was not sure what to do, though my brain seemed to have a plan all mapped out for me. After I had taken a few steps back, I nodded and thanked him for coming. That was where the plan ended, and rather awkwardly, I felt. So, I went back to my safe haven at the piano. Finding nothing else to do there, I started to play. I think I was trying to talk to him with the piano, though I did not expect him to stay and listen.

 

 

 

Six

 

 

Half an hour later, there was a knock on my door. I could not imagine who it was, since I did not think anyone would wish to see me other than my mother or Harold, and neither of them bothered to or even needed to knock. So, it was with questioning eyes that I answered the door.

 

Looking rather distressed, in a different outfit than I had last seen him in, was the gardener. I let him in without either of us saying anything, and gestured an offer of a seat on the piano bench. He shook his head, staring at the bench as though he has just been offered to sit with the Queen.

 

“I was wondering if you got my letter?” he fretfully mentioned in his sweet voice. He lowered his head and watched his shoes intently. “I suppose I should have delivered it myself.”

 

“I received it, yes.” He looked up at me, begging me to go on. “But I have no idea what it says.”

 

“Oh.” His cheeks turned a rather bright pink, which I thought was interesting. “I'm terribly sorry about that. I suppose I should have just told you myself, rather than fuss over a letter which you wouldn't be able to read, anyway.”

 

“It's all right,” I began, setting myself up nicely for horrible awkwardness, “It was very nice to receive a letter. Even if I found it illegible.” He blushed more, which I now had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, it was interesting; on the other hand, I felt bad about embarrassing him. I did not mean to, of course. I was simply stating a fact.

 

“Well, it's not so important anymore. I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other day and...” he paused thoughtfully, probably trying to remember the rest of his message. In the end, he shook his head in defeat. “That was it, basically.”

 

“It was nothing,” I replied as the blushing spread to my own cheeks, apparently contagious. But I was not embarrassed, I was just flustered. I had to carefully mull over every single thing I said to make sure it sounded absolutely perfect. But that sounded crazy to me. In the midst of this stranger, I was actually caring about the way I presented myself.

 

He opened his mouth several times, starting about twenty different sentences before finally deciding upon, “I appreciated it. People aren't usually so... kind.”

 

“Are you sure you wouldn't like to have a seat?” I asked in desperation. The thing inside me that was saddened the last time he left had showed its face again, doing no less damage to my demeanor than before. The desire to speak coursed through my body, though my voice sounded a pitch far too high, and I had the inkling that my eyebrows were contorted into some sort of worried shape. “I do have other chairs if the piano is too intimidating for you.”

 

The worst part about my behavior was that I was trying to persuade him to stay when he was not even about to leave yet. I am afraid that it was my over-generosity that ironically coerced him to return home.

 

“Um... no,” he answered when I asked if I would see him within the next few days. “I'm leaving on holiday for two weeks, starting tomorrow.” When my disappointment had outwardly displayed itself on the shelf of my face, I noticed a similar frown come across his visage. “When I come back... I'll stop by.”

 

“Yeah,” I pointlessly agreed, making myself feel like even more of an idiot. Then, to even things out, I added, “You can stop by whenever you like,” which in truth did not even things out at all. It merely gave me this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach like I had just been rejected.

 

But he smiled just before he left, and that repaired a little of my dignity. Then I went to sit at the piano bench, the seat which he had so timidly denied. I looked down at the piano and sighed, rather unsure of myself. The only thing I was sure of was that I had made myself look like a complete dunce. I would not have been surprised if the gardener decided to never show up again. In fact, I decided to convince myself he would not show up again.

 

As I sat at the piano, I repeated it over and over that he was not coming back ever, and that I should just deal with that. Accept it for what it is, then move on. But my attempts were smoldered by recollections of things I had said, things he had said, and all the little actions in between. It was like I was trapped in a prison of my own stupidity. Then I found myself, instead of conveying the idea that he would not return, whispering little things like, He's bound to come back. He's going to come back. And perhaps next time I would be prepared.

 

Then I began to wonder why I was so jittery and annoyed. People came to see me all the time, sometimes they tried to talk to me, but I never gave any of them a second thought. I barely even gave them a first thought. But this man, all I could do was give him thoughts, and eventually I uncovered a reason.

 

I found him interesting.

 

Really interesting, especially when it came to the shy tint of his cheeks and his overall reserved manner. The way he looked up from his shoes, but still spoke as if addressing the floor. He had changed his clothes in the mere half hour that he had been gone for, and as I wondered why, I respected that neither of those outfits included cloaks. He did wear a hat, though. Nothing can be perfect.

 

Then I remembered his smile as he left, and I tried to hold onto the image for as long as I could. That odd, airy happiness returned to me as I thought back and noticed that his eyes were green. Pale, but with such life behind them that I had never seen before in any person I have come across. I sat there for a long time, eventually coming to the definite conclusion that he was not just interesting. He was beautiful.