Have no time to visit the bookstore or library for something fun to read?
Read my story from the beginning here ^_^
Thank you to those who have been following this blog from the very beginning . I’d like to give you a virtual hug! (H)
And those of you who haven’t read any of Alanna’s blog you can start from the very beginnng right here here 🙂
So I’ve been writing about this “Friday Night” of mine for over a week now and it’s taken up seven (?) posts so far! Sorry about that. I’m still relatively new to blogging and I started out having really LONG posts, not realizing that people don’t actually have the time to read long posts. Now I find that I myself usually only read posts under ~550 words. And hence the need to split up my writing into sections.
I will finish telling you about Friday night, whether or not anyone cares, as therapy for me, if nothing else. And because I like to write: Continue reading
I wait several minutes before I feel safe enough to uncover Morgan from beneath all the pillows and blanket. He shakes his hair and runs both his hands through it, taking a deep breath, cheeks flushed.
“The coast clear?” He whispers and I immediately shush him.
“I have to keep my door open.” I whisper, really quietly.
“What?” Morgan mouths the words without sound.
I move closer and try again.
“I have to keep the door open.”
He nods. He smells nice up close; a clean and pleasant smell that is discrete enough to go unnoticed unless you’re up close. “Should I go home?” He whispers, a little too close to my ear, and I get ticklish. I shake my head ‘no’, that I don’t want him to go home yet. Instead of talking I grab Viros and open notepad. I type:
I should at least wait till my Mom falls back asleep before opening the door to let you out, so she won’t hear it opening.
I pass him the laptop and he writes back. Continue reading
Morgan walks farther into my room, shaking the leftover snowflakes off his curls. His hair is even more wavy now from the moisture.
“I hate curls.” He says, running his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “That’s why I used to slick my hair down. I wanted it to be straight.”
“Really?” I say, adding my ‘many words’ to the conversation.
“Yeah, I always thought curly hair was too girly.” He tussles his hair some more then gives up. I want to tell him that most girls love curly hair and it looks great on guys (refer to photo below), as long as its not a perm I guess, but I can’t seem to form words and say them. Continue reading
I’m downstairs, in the narrow hallway that leads to the front door. My Mom’s Busy Bee Housecleaning window decal covers the glass. A thick frost has enveloped the entire door. I won’t be able to see Morgan through the iced up glass if he comes. I try to unlock the door.
Then lock is frozen and for a moment I don’t think I will be able to open it. I give it one last try with all my might and it opens. I breathe a sigh of relief. The cold air in the hallway seeps into me, to my very core, even though I’m wearing a black hoodie and jeans. Fortunately I was smart enough to wear my shoes down.
The door rattles suddenly, startling me. It makes loud cracking sounds as Morgan pushes it open. I help him with the door and he tumbles in. Continue reading
What’s in the box?
I have no idea what to expect.
The box is big but not too heavy.
It sounds like there is something shifting around on the inside when I carry it up the stairs. I don’t want to shake it too much, until I see what is in there. I set the box down in my room. Continue reading
I’m pacing around my bedroom nervously. Its a mess. I’ve never been more aware of the fact that I don’t contribute much to the cleaning of our place.
Finally, resigned to the fact that I have no hope of cleaning my room before Morgan arrives, I stop pacing and look through my blinds. I can see the street below, busy with slow moving traffic due to the slippery roads. I can hear the people in the music store downstairs, talking. It’s so quiet up here. No one is home right now. I don’t know why either. Even if they told me where they were all going I probably wasn’t listening. Continue reading