Stories and Dreams and a Night on the Town

I'm singing 'The Last 5 Years', I really love it. Thanks Miss Katherine for introducing me so long ago!

My friend and I were talking online a few nights ago, and we both were in a writing mood. So we gave each other topics (haha, actually, the topic was I wrote about him and he wrote about me in some fictional sense). So here's his, he wrote two very short ones:

TITLE

Alicia was a strong-willed brunette. She was Italian and she was damned proud of it. She was also a bit of an attention whore, but hey, that comes with being a theater major.

Anyway, one sunny day Alicia stepped outside of her dorm and stretched her arms. A shadow fell over her, and she was suddenly trampled by a Tyrannosaurus.

The whereabouts of the large carnivorous dinosaur are currently unknown. Perhaps one day the prehistoric reptile will be brought to justice.



Stargazing

At 8:00 the curtain opens and Alicia starts singing the show's first ballad. It's 8:15 before Paul hurries down the aisle and takes a seat in the front row. He hopes the actress doesn't notice.

Outside, the stars this night are especially bright. Paul, who was walking to the theater, had slowed down to admire them. He was fascinated by stars, always had been. He had given up wishing on them a long time ago, but seeing so many of the white pinpricks still put his mind at ease.

The girl on the stage is a star. Paul watches Alicia with her dark hair pulled back and her green eyes flashing up toward the stage lights. Her eyes flicker down to him for a moment and swing back up to the ceiling. He squirms in his seat.

Earlier there had been a fight with Alicia, harsh words yelled over the phone. Paul crosses his arms and repeats the words of her song in his head as her music flows over him like the stage light. She hadn't spoken to him since the argument.

He hadn't meant anything of the things he had said. Initially he had wondered why he even cared, they weren't even dating. Seeing her shimmer on the stage, he knew how foolish that was.

Watching the stars on the way to the theater, Paul had wondered if wishes could come true. He clenched his fists and made one, then bowed his head and walked faster until his legs hurt.

When the show ends, Paul waits for Alicia backstage, unsure of how she'll react when she sees him. She delights him by rushing to him and taking his arm.

Outside the sky is still cool and clear. Alicia sees his head turned upwards and squeezes his hand.

"How can there be so many stars in the sky?" she asks him.

Paul looks down at her green eyes. In the darkness, in the street light, she is ethereal, musical. Might she fade away like the melody of a lingering song? Maybe that's what makes her so beautiful.

"Well?" she asks.

"I think," Paul says, "it's because there's a star out there for everyone."

Close curtain.

And mine - I'm long-winded:

Like In Movies

The rain poured from down from the iron gray sky, as if God had decided to dump His vast oceans on the suburbia below. It's the kind of rain you could be kissed in, she said. Like in movies, you know? When they had been warm and safe, watching it from her bedroom window, he nodded and smiled. He loved those kinds of movies. She was a hopeless romantic. He was a dreamer. They would be a good pair if they could ever get their timing right. wasn'trently, her heart wasn't there and his timing wasn't right. Again. He sighed and looked up. Very funny, he thought. Whether it was a prayer to God or just to tdidn'tarma of the day, he didn't know. He continued to walk down the street in his hooded sweatshirt and jeans, wondering what had brought him here and how he could have changed the events leading up to this moment.

***

Months ago he had been sitting in a class he was forced to take for his psychology major. He hated every moment of it and she was bored out of her mind. Why are we even in this class? It's pointless. I could teach it better than this moron, she had said to her friend across the aisle. He came back to earth from the momentary "space-out" session. The teacher had that affect on a several students. He looked at her and had to agree. If you were teaching, we'd probably pass our tests. Half the class couldn'tling right now, so you couldn't hurt anything. She informed him that she was doing just fine, thank you very much. He remembered seeing a lot of test grades on her desk that had set the curve for most of the exams he scrapped by on. After a few more classes filled with small-talk, and poor marks, she was tutoring him.

***

I just don't get it. My brain doesn't work this way. He threw his book across the rdoesn'tnd stared at her. This doesn't have anything to do with helping people, that's all I want to do. And I sure as hell won't get any stories from it. She laughed lightly and teased him. A creative writing major and a psychology major? And you can't find anything creative in all this technical mumbo-jumbo? Come now, there must be a story here somewhere. He rolled his eyes; he didn't care about this junk anymore. She could see himwasn'ttting down; the information just wasn't processing at two in the morning. She would have to try a different way. It was time to be bold; after all, his grade was at stake here. Or so she kept telling wasn'telf to convince her head that she wasn't just following her heart illogically. Not that logic and the heart have ever mixed. Here, look at it this way. She bent down and gathered his scattered notes and crumpled text book. If the stimulus is a kiss, what would the natural reaction be? He didn't know, he didn't even understand the question. And this was supposed to be based off of the basics! He shrugged and looked to her, waiting for an answer. She leaned towards him and gently kissed his lips. He kissed back. After a moment, she pulled away. Laughing, she remarked in a tone she used only when teaching, That's correct... That would be the stimulus...and the response. Smiling, he leaned in towards her and whispered I think I'm getting it now.

***

A whirlwind of dating and laughter, with a pinch of good movies and sweet moments made the remaining time at school fly by. Summer was going to start and they lived far enough away that it would be a problem when neither of them had access to a car. I'm sorry, I just can't do it. I want to, but I can't. She was on perched on the edge of his futon, crying and explaining how she really wanted to be with him for the summer, but bewouldn'tof the way her heart worked, she knew it couldn't end well if they did it that way. He couldn't understand it. This can work, love makes it work. If it's supposed to be, it will be alright. His words usually comforted her, his dreams and his fervent, passionate belief about what was ‘meant to be’, but that day they just broke her heart more. She wasn’t being reasonable. Hadn’t they been through so much together? How could a little thing like distance separate them? We can still talk, online, on the phone, email, whatever. But - we're going to be just friends this summer. I want to be your friend. When we come back next fall, we'll see where it goes from there, but please, respect this. Can we just... be friends? He gave in. It was better than losing her completely. She stood up, gave him a kiss on the cheek and a hug, and walked out the door. He listened to its' quiet click, signifying she had shut it behind her and he was unable to move. Funny, the way the heart works.

***

It was just going to be a visit. To see what would happen, to be friends and meet up. Her parents were at work, he had the car for a few days. She wasn't expecting him. He wasn't even sure if this was the right house. He ran towards the shelter of the front porch as rain drops exploded on the pavement around him. Above the rush of water and wind, he heard the doorbell chime faintly. A dog barked and ran towards the front door. She mentioned she had a black lab once, when they were walking through a park and saw a little girl in a yellow sundress walking a golden retriever that would have been taller than him if it stood on its hind legs. The wind blew harder and he remembered he was on a wet porch, not in a sunny park. The lock snapped open, the door swung backwards, and she squealed, rushing at him and wrapping him in a tight hug. You're here! I can't believe you're here right now! He inhaled, drawing in the smell of her hair - roses and mint. She led him inside, closing the door on the ferocious weather and gave him a grand tour of the house. They ended in her bedroom, which was cramped and full of childhood memories. Pictures of her younger self, key chains, collages, and old birthday cards filled her bulletin boards. Posters of the Backstreet Boys, Winnie the Pooh and Psalm 139 were plastered onto her ceiling, and could be seen reflecting in the gigantic dresser's mirror. They sat on her bed, talking about what they had been doing with their time off, mentioning regrets of not keeping in touch as much as they promised. He kissed her. She kissed back. Stimulus and response, he thought, grididn'tg.

***

She didn't mean it. She said it, but she didn't mean it. Well if that's the way you feel..., he wasn't about to stay there if she was going to say things like that. He started it, but she just took it to a new level. She was already crying. I hate when we fight, I can't stand this. Why did you come here at all? He can't remember what started this particular argument; they were having such a nice time in her room, talking and remaining. He lashed back at her. The cruelty and unthinkinwouldn'ts pushed emotionswouldn'tcalate. She asked him to leave. He said he wouldn't come back; he wouldn't talk to her anymore. That's your loss. Not mine. She refused to sit there and have her heart stepped on. It was hard enough to decide that their friendship was more important than their relationship two months ago. I had to make that decision; he was blind to what it would mean if we carried on the way we had. Now he decided to pull this crap? I don't have the strength. She shook her head as he walked out of the room. He was boiling mad. Their biggest problem was also their greatest attraction to each other; they similar in love and tempedidn'the stood at the top of the stairs as he slammed the door behind him. He didn't go to his car, he needed to think, needed to walk, needed to go and not look back and not worry about the consequences for a minute. Can the world give me just five minutes? Please!? Lightening struck, and he could hear her mutt barking at the sound of electricity's pulsing boom echoing across the neighborhood.

***

He had been walking around the residential area chock-full of nicely placed cult-de-sacs and housing plans for sixty-three minutes. A spider web of beautiful two story houses complete with three car garages and white picket fencing led him back to the top of her street. The rain water soaked through his hoodie and he could feel small rivers squelching in his shoes. As he approached her house, he day dreamed of ringing her doorbell a second time and admitting his mistakes. He stood on the lawn of her house for a moment. He was hoping she would run out and kiss him, like girls did in movies, while the rain fell down around them, closing them off into a world of their own. He could make her dinner and she could dry his clothes and they could stay up talking until dawn. He raised his head to sky, feeling the water washing away the last remains of anger and frustration. His eyes fall on her bedroom window, and he sees the curtains swinging back into place, as though just a moment ago someone had been watching from behind them. After he finally backed his jalopy out of the driveway, he slowly passed her house, and at the last second he noticed her lying on the front lawn, staring at the sky. He stopped the car, and lay down next to her. After counting the one hundredth drop of rain to touch his skin, he inhaled deeply. He wanted to make it better, to say anything, to make her smile. His eyes focused intently on her face.

I'm sorry.

I know.

She reached for his hand, and he allowed his fingers to become entwined with hers, as they lay in the grass, staring up towards space.

So that's that. I need to make a file of all the stuff I write.

I had a strange dream this morning. Not last night, I woke up and saw it was morning, but decided to roll over and fall back asleep. I had my room all set up for me in Hickory Hall, where I'm going to be an RA next year. Except it was a hotel room. And Michelle and Jenny were there. I don't know what was going on but everyone from my circle at school was at the library - which was, ironically my old Andh school building. I talked to my friends, I did some stuff for residents...and then I starteAndo walk to the library under the facade of my high school. And it exploded...and so then I ran in to help people, and the downstairs was fine, only the upstairs was bad, and my grandmother (my dad's mom, who was a nurse for a while) was there and she told me to get this or that. I used her cell phone to call my mom and tell her I was fine but I had to help residents so I couldn't come home and I didn't know where anyone was besides Jen and Michelle. I was crying and helping people and my mom couldn't understand why I was so upset.

It was weird.

I woke up and I've been in a weird mood. So I'm singing musical songs.

Last Thursday someone came to visit. That was very fun. We went to the Andy Warhol Muesum. There was one room with silver balloons shaped like pillows (life size), and a bunch of fans blowing them around. It was very cool. There was this one picture I looked at and it was ambiguous and I kept trying to decide all the different things it could be. I asked him what he thought it was and when he said one of the things I had came up with, I had to smile. We took pictures on his phone and in one of the mini photo booth things you put three dollars into. Then we went to Station Square. Ate and talked and then stopped by Michelle's for Halyse's birthday.

Good times.

I kinda wish I knew what I was doing. But that's life.

We're moving in a week or two.

I have an audition on Sunday afternoon.

That's my story.

The end.