The cabin.

The car ride there was remarkably silent.
Her voice caught every time she went to speak. His eyes had glazed over, his mind over matter. Conversation never had a chance to begin. The road passed by with remarkable speed, the dark pine trees reaching into the sky, the dimming light fading, isolating. The world from outside looked menacing and cold, and she shivered slightly. He never took his eyes off the road, but he took off his blazer and handed it to her. His dress pants felt incredibly thin, every hair in his body stood upon end. Dark Canadian winter would do that to the body, chill, freeze, and mutilate, inch by inch, with bitter frostbite. She shivered and wrapped his blazer tight; her eyes were shut, and he just wished he could do the same.

He literally couldn't even focus enough to look at her - it was enough to watch the road, the drifting snow, and the shredded evergreens rushing past them as they drove in silence. They were only a few minutes from reaching the cabin, anyways. He couldn't wait until he could pour himself a drink, or six. His fingers were cold, incredibly so, and he placed his hand down towards the heater on the centre console. After fiddling with the climate control for a few seconds, he turned up the heat. Still nothing. His eyes betrayed a trace of annoyance, and he glanced at her beside him. She was looking away, her eyes closed, near the window pane. If breaking down was this hard, she was going to break him apart, piece by piece. He looked down towards the console again, still no heat was blowing out of the vents; quickly taking his eyes off the road - and that’s when it happened.
She screamed, it pierced the silence of the car. He suddenly looked up and saw a semi-trailer half in his lane, sliding precariously towards his SUV. He did the only thing he could do, avoid it. Ripping the wheel of his Range Rover to the right, he barely missed the rear end of the jackknifed, skidding semi, hurtling the SUV off the road and into a snowy patch of forest deep off the road below. He grabbed the wheel and shouted as the SUV began to gain speed and tumble down the side of what seemed like a ravine; later he would admit he lost count after four complete body rolls. Branches scratched and smashed out windows as they descended, until suddenly, they hit a tree, hard.
He awoke what felt like hours later to the sound of her whispering in his ear. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings. They landed luckily right side up on all four wheels. Most of the windows were destroyed and the B pillar of the rear doors had been destroyed from hitting the tree. He felt his bones and unclenched his fingers, so far so good; it was just his head, ringing and a nagging pain. He looked deeply at her, worried about what he'd find. Her lip was slightly bleeding, but she looked great - as always he thought. A little worse for the wear.
"Jordan. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Her voice was quiet, but compassionate, deliberate. Always the same, always there. But not for him.
"I'm fine. Seriously."
She looked at him slightly suspiciously, and he looked down.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then he took matters into my own hands.
"Do you have cell reception? Let's see if we can start by calling out."
She reached into her pocket and took out her totally cracked iPhone.
"Can you even dial?"
She attempted too, but then shook her head; the screen was missing chunks of glass and revealed electrical components behind it. He fell back into his torn, leather seat.
He hadn't brought his cellphone along for this trip, because he had left it at the cabin when he visited earlier, preparing it for them, for her...

"Let's head out, make our way to the cabin," he told her.
His voice betrayed less of a statement and more of a question, but it slightly irritated her.
"It's almost dark, we won't be able to find our way in the dark, let alone find a cabin somewhere in the middle of the Canadian shield," she replied, rather tersely.
"I'm not against staying here, Ariana, but if you want to freeze, so be it. We don't have much choice."
She looked at him. Then her face lit up.
"Does your SUV battery still work in here? Turn on the car."
He was confused, but he did as asked.
He attempted to turn over the engine, nothing, but the electronics lit up.
She navigated her way to the onboard navigation and found directions to the cabin.
He took it all in, in amazement. This girl, she was smart, brilliant actually. Her intelligence had always been one of her most attractive aspects, it always made him feel proud that she was his... or had been.
He looked over at her in the fading light. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, casual enough to look gorgeous in her white Doctor's coat, but sexy with just lingerie on. Off track he realized, feeling sick.
"Jordan! Did you hear me?" She was practically yelling at him.
He shook the cobwebs out and replied nicely, "Say that again, sorry. My head hurts."
She looked at him, slight compassion in her dark brown eyes. Nobody could make him feel that way like her, with just a look, withering or loving.
"The cabin is only a mile and a half away; if we stick close to the road and turn at this road here on Millcroft we should be able to make it by dark if we hustle."
He looked at her and asked, "You warm? We've got a walk ahead of us."
He gently gripped her hand, but she released it.

The snow crunched loudly underfoot as they began their walk heading towards the cabin, while yet staying incredibly close to the road above them. The dipping of the sun and the darkening sky painted a picturesque landscape above them, while making it harder for either of them to see. But with a few bruises and a slightly strained knee (he found that out later as they began to walk), walking became a slower affair than they thought. What was made worse was her flats were constantly full of snow - causing her to constantly dump out snow from them every few minutes. Her feet were freezing. While the walk became long and arduous, it fortunately gave both a chance to stick close together and to clear their heads.

She knew how hard it was on him for what she had done.
She was confused.
Cold, afraid of the inevitable. Of commitment. Unsure of their future.
Afraid of their life together.
They had too many issues, too many complications. They had loving families, close relations with each other's parents and siblings, but that's where it ended. She wasn't ready for that next step, she didn't think. Or was she? Why was she so reluctant to accept him, for all his faults?

She forced her feet to keep moving, following the tracing of the highway high above them. He saw her wince as she emptied her shoes, and he had had enough. He offered to carry her, just so she could take a short break from walking.
She refused, but she knew, that even in her tall five nine frame, she fit perfectly in his arms. The summer before, her brother was getting married and they danced together at his wedding until the sun had gone down and was on its way up, laughing and carrying on like they were two innocent kids in love. Her brother's marriage brought a blessing to her life; she truly saw the positives of him, the caring, unconditional acceptance and strong nature of him, and the playful, not-serious persona. Finishing up at med school, the dances at her brother's wedding had given her the opportunity to just relax, let down her guard, and to fully fall for him...

The sun had faded fast, leaving them in near pitch dark conditions. Jordan had brought the flashlight from the SUV and it pierced the darkness ahead of them in a wavering, unsteady motion. Patches of snow disguised logs tripping them up, and she looked down at what she assumed were legs scratched to the bone, and wished slightly she had accepted his offer to carry her. The sky began to slowly illuminate with stars as they neared down the road where the cabin was situated on. He checked his watch; it had only been just under an hour of walking. She looked worn out he thought, but she was stubborn. He was used to that.

"I've never felt so cold, and yet so Canadian at the same time," he said, laughing.
She couldn't help but smile, as she realized this inadvertent outdoor hike in the Canadian Shield, while being the last on her list of TO-DO in life, had brought her closer with Mother Nature. The creaking of branches and the howl of a distant coyote seemed almost cliché to her as they walked, but it gave her a small shiver.
Think positive thoughts she told herself.
They neared the small drive of the cabin and at last reached the door.
Even in the dark, the idyllic cabin was beautiful. Entirely wood constructed, and made years ago, vintage logs matched snow trails all across the roof, the veranda, and the small front porch. She sighed loudly.

He didn't say anything as they stepped inside. He didn't need too really.
She flicked on a light, as dim overhead bulbs lit up the interior of the kitchen and the living room. Tens of pure white candles and hundreds of dark red rose pedals lay all over the floor in a perfect path to the master bedroom. The air smelled musty, but something smelled better than that, sweet adoration.
He looked away and headed to the kitchen.
She took off her shoes and looked around in amazement. Even from the wooden rafters in the ceiling, a new chandelier had been put in - sparkling white, something she had always wanted in her future house she had told him. He had laughed when she told him, but later that week he ordered one, the type she wanted, from Germany, and had it installed in preparation for her.
She slowly began to walk into the family room, where he had begun already to build a fire.
She saw a bottle of premium champagne already opened, on the hard, wooden table.
She took long swallow and sat in front of the fire.
He sat down at the table after a few minutes of stoking the fire and continued to drink.

They looked away and then made eye contact.
"I'm sorry," he said first. "I didn't know it would be like this." He looked wistfully at her, almost sadly, she thought.
"It's okay," she whispered.
He got up, suddenly and leaned over the kitchen sink, looking out through snowy windows. She saw the hurt in him, the pain. He stood there for several minutes, before she came up from behind and began to embrace him. He felt her hands wrap around his chest and her gorgeous hair fall over the back of his neck.
She let herself go, she let herself go.
All of these issues, these insecurities he had, he was worth it. The games with other girls, the parts of him that she wanted to change, she let it go. He was hers, and she was his.
She wasn't perfect herself, was she? She didn't have everything in her life all figured out, did she? He put up with all of her issues, didn't he? Why was she afraid to commit?
The fire crackled in the background and the wind lightly howled against the log walls. The creaking of the cabin was the only sound in the room, other than the beating of her heart.
She kissed the back of his neck gently.
He turned around and looked into her eyes, then kissed her deep, hard, now.
She reached up and started to unbutton his dress shirt, pulling it off furiously. He grabbed her waist and pulled up her dress, his aggressive nature taking over.
They knew they worked together. It wasn't about being trapped in a cabin, or surviving a car crash.
This was about them. All the rushing thoughts of her walking away when he proposed, the consternation and confusion when she broke his heart, left him, for this very instance.
They weren't perfect, and never would be. But they needed that one chance to realize how perfect they were together.

Suddenly, loud knocks came at the door.

Part II will come down sometime soon!

The lights in life

Never had the lights shone so bright before. I remember kissing you, right then and there. The air was hot, incredibly stale. Humidity that rolled over you in waves, crashing down on our brows. Your eyes were lit up, lighting my life, revealing what you've always wanted. Sweet desire. Like we're made for this moment, tingling feelings that creep down our spines, the rush of silence minus the buzzing of the park lights. Oh so bright, wisping away the dark screams in your eyes, suffocating the space between what was real and what was a lie. I remember you telling him you wanted someone who would pull you close around anyone, without any caution to the world. Your long hair was dark and your skin white, like before we met. I'm not sure what's missing now, but I'm sure you can fix it.

Sitting by a broken tree, we made that moment never end. Every part about you, the thousand hours spent in silence, as you spilt out your life, drop by drop onto my heart. The boy that never made you happy, never made you want to get up in the morning. If he couldn't do that, why was he living?
It wasn't the garden in the park that made this moment seem too real, the harsh feel of your denim jacket on my skin, the icey feel of your skin after we finished. No one else could care for you like I do. I knew then, after that kiss, it was hard to breathe, I wouldn't give you space, would I?

You made my palms sweat, and that was rare. Normally I sweat only in final playoff hockey games, or when I lost money at the bar, unable to buy you drinks. But you made my hands feel sticky, which I love, because I feel like I'm stuck with you. Your hand on my waist made my throat feel constricted, my eyes closed tight... He never made you feel that way, when you put your hands around his waist, he never returned the affection. I watched.

You know when I tripped down the set of stairs beside the lake and fell in? Then when you went to pull me up, I dragged you in? I tripped deliberately, I needed you, right then. The shadow on your face, it went white. You began to trust me, brought someone like me right into your life. While I heard every detail of the life of your last boy, I was dreaming of being your savior. I could've drowned you, snuffed out your pretty little life. Instead, I saved you, because that's the type of person I am.

So here's my heart, and here's my mouth, let these words fill the page, and I can't help if things come out. I can't help if the parts of me that you hate, are parts I could never cut out. Because you mean that to me, your hand in mine. Hold my hand already, keep me steady? For the love you bring, over everything, you're everything I need under the sun.

When I slashed into him, my first stab sliced deep into his chest. The red river poured forth from him, rushing over my feet, running down my hands. The pooling of the red river resembled the stream of tears I carried for you, the one disaster I always prevented. The last thing on your mind is what I could be for you - but take a look at me now, I'm everything you never had. And deep down, isn't that what we've always wanted all along?

I'm down on my knees in this cold, dark cell, my heart racing, and my hands clenched like they were back in the park, all over again. Where are the lights, the ones that kept me awake at night? Muffled, gone, removed from my life. My palms aren't sweaty either, if you must know. I won't ever change if you want to stay the same. I'll be your savior, let's start over again?

Shooting stars scream

The slight rush of the river filled his ears in unison with the chirping of insects as he gradually opened his eyes and began to awake. His fists were sore as he began to rub the outside of his eyes, the cracked skin and the pressure on his elbows feeling unable to support his weight. The air feels coarse and his back seems to stick to the hammock underneath him; the room is black, a pitch lighter than tar, but thicker than midnight. He took a step out of the makeshift cabin, silently cursing the darkness, the steep grade of the hill to the murky river, and the bites on his skin. Pain lashed through his torso from the insects of a jungle so uncontrollable by man, dominated by nature. The raft for his journey, into the unknown, lay ahead. Latching onto the the small raft by its moorings and settling himself, he pushed off, listening to the interaction of nature in utter delight. In the near distance he could see a small caiman, the underbelly shining white in the streaming strands of moonlight, before it shimmered into the water. He floated on his back looking at the stars, avoiding what was next. Coconut trees bent into the river and watched him float by. A shattered tree. Yellow bamboo stalks wept, surveying his passage. The wayward cry of a macaw forewarned his journey, echoing, echoing, echoing.

He reached the swamp. He flipped the raft over onto the shore and began to swim in the gloomy water, now upstream, unable to see or feel. The river had narrowed, making it impossible to push a raft through with the obstruction by brush, logs, and unknown creatures. Small fish pecked at his feet, packing around him, more daring by every stroke. The razor sharp rocks cut his feet. The swim against the current made every breath feel louder than the inhalation of the thick, cloudy air. He turned towards the banks for one last look, treading water, feeling foolish for being so sure. So certain.

When he saw her, the detonation almost destroyed him. He almost was unable to stay afloat, and it took all of his strength to tread water. She couldn't yet see him in the darkness. A floating coconut if she wasn't looking. He took his time, watching her.
Had he known that he was about to enter a place where the only part of him left in the open would be his own transgressions?
Perhaps, or maybe not.

He began to swim towards her slowly, cutting a swath in the water in utter silence. The creases of water on the muddy water rippled towards her legs, causing her legs to quiver. She saw him as he began to stand up, her eyes telling a story which even in words, could empty all of the words on paper. The moonlight wasn't particularly lustrous or strong, but it was bright enough. For them. They grasped each other and their mouths met. It was a tangle of desperate desires and a grasp of the truth. He needed this, he needed her, now. His eyes took in the dimples of her skin, the hair, oh the thick, beautiful hair...
She knew this may be the last, but the only time that the world was his. The fish. The sky. The mud. The shooting stars. He moved so easily through it, and she admired his beauty. His eyes revealed more than he had ever showed her before. It was his world and she was more than glad to be apart of it.
She wasn't thinking now, and neither was he. Triumphant smiles and knowing grins lay ahead. But that was all later.

He stood entirely before her, water dripping off of him, drawing a pool between them. That pool contained their hopes and dreams, their aspirations. Soon to be washed away in the jungle rains.
He pulled her in and she pulled him closer. Her clothing off, he began to take her. They collapse.
Like the very foundations they were based on.
Stars overhead scream.

Stepping forward.

The sun beats down fiercely on my back.
My hands have already dried, leaving a gritty feeling of dried salt on my fingers.
Your hands are completely flat while you casually lie on your front, soaking up the deep rays.
My eyes start to droop, and my head begins to feel weighted down with rocks. I fall fast asleep, allowing the warm Mediterranean air to wash over me, peaking at a crescendo of a perfect sleep.

Cold water droplets on my back awakes me, freezing the very hair on my neck, passing frigid chills all the way down my body. I roll over quickly and attempt to bury my back in the sun blanket, all the while slowly opening my eyes. You're so gorgeous that I can't help but stare. My lips curl slowly into a wide smile and I squint, gently, as the fading light (already dusk? I wonder) reaches my peripheral vision. You look so happy, your long dark hair falls naturally from your shoulders and curls down beautifully over your neck, matching your tanned skin and that cute necklace I've always loved. We hold contact and you slowly position your lips on mine, held there in this expanse of meaningless time. I reach to touch you, to let you know you I'm awake, but you laugh at me, and forcefully grab my arm and attempt to pull me to my feet. Cute is what you aim for, and you're hitting it like you just can't miss.
"Time to swim, sleepy boy."

I glance at the water, foreboding, dark and churning, and I slightly shudder. I wish I could go back to my warmth. That's what happens when you fall asleep dreaming of her. Reaching back I grab your hand, tightly, and we wade into the water.
I let the waves lap at the bottom of my swim trunks, debating whether I can survive these temperatures. You are already up to your chest and you turn to face me, your face aglow in the pink sky.
"Come hereeee" you call.
I'm about to wade forward, but....
I gaze towards you, and realize this is the step I've been meaning to take for a while now. That step. The one where you're all I want.
I wade forward.
Perfect.

Trains.

Click-clack click-clack, we speed down the track.
We lean back, our hands folded together, our eyes near, searching.
We wander.
The pull of your glowing eyes draws your knees beside my own, colliding gently.
You grin, sheepishly, a faint ember of a smile that lights up each side of your face, creating a gentle laugh.
A passenger across from us shoots a look at us, betraying distaste at our obvious sparks of attraction.
The whirring of the train and the blurring of the lights we pass are perfect.
Suspended time. In a train car. With you.

My life

Malaga, Spain

The faint roar of crashing waves rolling in matches the aura of the fresh, salty air. I lightly tread to the end of the veranda, my brow tightened slightly, my eyes squinting in the bright light of the early dawn. As one other hand pulled my drink closer to my mouth, the other gripped the pen upon which I was to write.
"Commitment is a large undertaking for man, my querito", I began to write. I glanced below and saw the sun in it's full entirety, break through the open sky, a deep lasting fire. Following what it does, everyday, a predictable routine, same old same old. What I'm so afraid of.
I looked up, as I gently allowed my pen to fall from my clenched fingers, and it rushed downwards, loudly landing on the wood boards below. It fell, rushed, out of my grasp, just like you with me, I thought. I stared at the writing instrument, blankly, my mind wandering, sifting through thoughts as murky as swirling storm drains...Where's the storm in our lives? I decided to write later, maybe when the weather is more unpredictable .

7 days Later
Milan, Italy

She pulls me close. Her incredibly dark hair is so... so.. Invigorating, attractive, exotic. The curl of her Italian lips invites my touch, her features desiring mine.
The beautiful shops below have stopped their hustle and flow, and are only a faint murmur in the ever so near distance. Our conversation we've had since we met at the pool has carried on, her lingering voice wavering slightly like smoke in the dusky air. The chair I sit on feels weak, sweaty, as if I could fall through these weaved patterns, ruining this moment.
She smiles, and politely asks me in broken English to step closer. We're on a terrace overlooking a small vineyard of ruby tomatoes and a smattering of olive trees. The air is rich, heavy in heat and feeling. Her cheeks are flushed, a dark rouge, complimenting the fallibility within her eyes. The glowing of the red lantern to our right flickers, once, twice, before it reignites, mimicking my own heart rate. That feeling where the air stops, our faces begin to slant down, and our feet won't touch the ground wash over me. Her tall, beautiful frame is everything I need. Man desires this.
We lean in. But I know this isn't right, isn't what I want, and isn't best for me. I gently pull away and whisper to her 'I'm sorry."
I give pace to a faster step and leave her in disbelief.

14 days Later
Toronto, Canada

I spin. I see her, the real girl for me. I hold her. We fade, casting our cares to the stars, like comets on summer nights. My shivers make me sigh. My sighs make your mouth curl into a smile. Undefinable, perfect, stable. Commitment foreseeable.

The shallows.

Wind chimes sound in the distance, resonating through the cool air. The sun, with its faint rays settling in the distance, slightly illuminated the murky, shallow water. A cold breeze rustled across the water and lightly caused her hair to stand on end; I was wearing more clothes than her. This lake we were on was largely a great sandbar, the deepest part of this great expanse was 20 feet in the middle; how aberrant and unfamiliar it looked at night, unable to see to the bottom. The darkness of the water stared right back at me, it was as if God had taken a great brush and had swept the surface with a depressing black, as if it were a polluted oil which had oppressively taken over this shallow, empty lake. She turned to look at me, her hair gracefully tumbling over her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes catching mine, holding contact, holding her emotions inside her. This wasn't like we imagined it would be like. A sharp crackle appeared behind us. I slowly craned my neck and looked behind us. The pools of darkness behind us made it indistinguishable to see physical shapes at all. She spoke, softly, but with great meaning, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
I looked back down at the dock, admiring the creaking, sagging, and weatherbeaten boards. It was like us, taking a lot of stress, holding to the breaking point, but still putting up, shutting up, making it work. It wasn't that I had no feelings for her, after all, one glance at her features would make a normal man a babbling, awkward fool, it was just ...
She touched my hand, and spoke again, "Are you alright?" I finally mobilized myself to completely face her. With the fading light, I could barely make out her face. Her tanned skin and excessively white teeth seemed so vain to me at this moment. Her slim, tall frame looked as if it had been folded, and her knees were at her chest, resting, waiting, commiserating for her. I replied. "I'm alright." She looked away, her dark hair fleeing me, her face betraying her fear, of losing me.
My thoughts ran, escaped my mind. Back to how we'd first met each other, how we'd began to be great friends before we began to be lovers. How intertwined our lives were, where her hand was in mine whenever we were together. It's unfortunate how a span of events began to spiral, twist and lead to places we could never have foreseen, ever. The chill of the air began to set in on us hard. She moved closer, her hand resting near mine, her fingers gripped tightly together. When she told me she wanted me forever, I began to pull away. After all, we're too young, I'm way too dumb, and this won't last forever... was I really "too legit too commit"?
I looked over and swept her dark hair away, it felt so good to touch her.
"I don't know where this is going," I said.
She looked down for a while. I tilted her chin up, her eyes searching, peering, and intruding my space, breaking me down like I am helpless and there is nothing else.
"Forget where we should have left off," she whispered, her voice wavering, flickering at the end of her sentence.
I lightly grabbed her arm, as she resisted, and began to pull away, her beautiful lips not trembling, but her face creasing in hurt.
"Stop this," I proclaimed, my voice echoing harshly over the water.
I couldn't do this, and I can't walk away, when she cares so much about me.
The water, as beautiful as it was, is based on a shallow, a superficial foundation, just like me.
I push away those who get too close to me, was it out of fear, or a lack of commitment? Or worse, was it because I couldn't trust those who want to know me best?
I looked at her, closed my eyes, and drew her in. I want this girl.
She deserved someone so much better.

Sweating palms

Remember the times at night in the truck when the air stopped
Negative emotions, trembling motions, the roar in my ears was like an ocean
Taking this drive slow wherever we go, Summertime by the New Kids on the Block
I pull myself closer to her and begin to put this in forward motion,
I gently feel you push away, my cheeks light up like a cinder rock
You continue to smile while you resist me, it stings with a shock

I stare above her and fall back into my seat, this space is too cramped
The summer heat and the gentle beat matches the shadows on the pavement
I'll try once more, I want you, I want this now, our date is stamped
She's not just the flavor of the week, I want this girl to stay
She won't put her trust into someone that might use her
I wish I could make this girl see, I don't want her to be another blur

It's a Saturday night and she's all alone and yet I'm a million miles away . . .

Potential deal with Elite???

After being in touch with Elite (Model Management) last summer (my rep was Janet Debrois), it appears that things are finally being put into place. I met with someone last week to talk about how feature modeling and facial vs. runway modeling works. This is so much better than my last place, Mode Models (what a joke, terribly disorganized, with no connections whatsoever). This is probably a gongshow as well, but I'm curious as to what exercise and or requirements I need to fulfill. I know I have to keep standing tall and to smile less haha.

I'm not out of sight to be here tonight

The most prickly feeling in the world is pine needles rubbing against my cheekbones. The faint crack of dawn, the whoosh of a world of brightness, the unraveling of my skin from the faint creases of my bedding, serve as my wake-up call. The haphazardly thrown sweatpants that serve as my sleeping covers feel rough and gritty to my touch; its as if my future is being dictated to myself. I look through the slits at the top of the light colored fabric, our protection, our savior. The sky is a dark grey, cold and overbearing, its as if God has spilt a cup of dark tea in fierce anger, with each drop absorbing its pale, menacing darkness into the approaching clouds. The drips of rain, God's tea drops from the sky, lightly blip our tent. An irritated creature squawks and startles me, forcing one eye to slam its way open, blurring my right eye. Jeeze. What a day to be alive. I slowly begin to stretch, steadying myself in preparation for another day in these shrill, uncertain mountains; a place of which we are not accepted. I think of where we were supposed to have landed, and to the trip we were supposed to have gone, and yet..I struggle to think. It's better this way. Adjusting to my surroundings, I hear a slight rustle to my right, and I can't help but smile and stare, even as a few drops of rain beat a slight drum on our fabric roof. The roof that holds us together? God, she's beautiful. Her dark, full, hair streams back through the arch of her neck, and lands peacefully on the canvas, the torn, the uprooted ground. She opens her dark, tired, brown eyes, left one first, then the right, as if afraid to see. The chirp of a loud jay interrupts my stare, and I roll over, watching for that damn root!, and I close myself in towards her. Like a cat with its prey, she lightly grins with her half open eyes as she sees me approach, her cheeks and eyebrows tightening, her features so inviting. Her hair flickers up and over her back as she sits up, her unholy brown eyes brightening ever more, the nearer I approach. Her cheek is stained, a small, brownish muddy spot was evidence to the leaks in our, our, our.. prison. I wipe her cheek with my hand, and I notice her lips curl into a smile, systematically I swear, she's so perfect with her timing, (She'll always be that little banker!) and our lips meet. The droop of her lips is gone. The caw of a some winged creature is very near and unsettles her a tiny bit; she positively shrinks when she is in my arms. I'm the fortress for her. She's the thread that keeps our fabric together. Tip tat, tip tat, the water drips over top of us. Its a beat, a small bongo drum that mimicks our hearts, beating faster and faster. This small river of rain is soon to be a sea; a wide, regrettable sea, reminiscent of me and my Marie back in our childhood. I gnaw gently on her collarbones, holding her close, closer than I've ever wanted. Have you ever felt so alone, Marie, that you cannot speak in fear of the approaching thunder? I whisper to her. She nods, and I hold her. Thunder begins to roll.

-Tyler Stunna-

You know that feeling?

You know that feeling when you remember when everything was just so right?
When you didn't want to let go of the love you had that night?
You know that feeling when you felt tingles up your spine reading Goosebumps?
When you just wanted to throw the book down but you couldn't?
You know that feeling when you got a tiny bit scared in Home Alone 1, but by Home Alone 3 you were laughing like crazy?
When you just couldn't pick between what to watch; Wishbone, Where in the World is Carmen San Diego? or The Magic Schoolbus?
You know that feeling when you recorded your first crush and it felt so magical?
When you kept denying that you liked girls, when it was so the opposite?
You know that feeling of super excitement when you got Windows 95 and you played solitaire?
When you thought Sega Genesis wasn't as good as Super Nintendo?
You know that feeling of pure sadness in the Lion King when Mufasa dies?
When you couldn't pick between Aladdin or Beauty and the Beast?
You know that feeling of victory when you'd own at Headsup 7up in class?
When you finished every sentence with "NOT" and a laugh?
You know that feeling of being so content, being so young, and enjoying life outside and not around screens?
When you couldn't wait to go on a Scouts or Girl Guides camping trip?

These are the feelings of great memories.
Where would we be without them?


-Tyler Stunna-

Jaded Contemplations

I vaguely glanced at a Time magazine as I patiently waited in the lobby. The nervous ticking of the elegant wall clock behind me indirectly interrupted my hurried thoughts, as I dictated the tapping of my knees in rhythm to a monotonous Sheryl Crow song. I glanced about the room in consternation; I frankly could not understand the rationale of a combining waiting room full of unhealthy, obviously ill fools and myself, who was healthy, fit, and in a hurry. The secondhand of the faded clock shrewdly pointed south, and the time expanse of which I had was deftly escaping. It is worth noting that this waiting room was a particularly sparsely populated room; in my immediate vicinity there were probably about a dozen people, certainly no fewer than 8 or 9, chatting in twos or threes.

I looked calmly around the plainly decorated and neutral coloured room and stared. Yes my knee ached, yes I was due for a checkup, and yes I clearly wanted to leave this uninviting, rather depressing facility. Suddenly, a glint of golden light sharply hit my iris, surprising me. I searched to find the object of refraction. I looked up and to the right, and what I saw caused my consistent knee jerk to swiftly discontinue. A gorgeous, raven haired girl sat behind the receptionist's desk. Her thin figure fit her relatively curvaceous frame that subtly gave slight undertones for what she contained. Her golden chain fit nicely under neck, and revealed a tanned complexion. I was in shock. I ignored the wondrous sight before my eyes and planted my eyes on the clock, feeling my cheeks burn with intense warmth from what I surely knew was her derisive glance at me.

As I realized my appointment time had expired with already a quarter of an hour ago, I politely approached the vast front desk and asked the receptionist a question.
"My appointment time was fifteen minutes ago I believe. I really have an urgent appointment to make right after."
Her eyelashes clearly flickered twice, and she replied in remarkably suave and bland (and was it cold?) tone;
"I realize this, Mr. Smith, but we're experiencing delays with a few patients. I'm sorry about this--
I calmly interrupted her and said, "I'd love to be looked at on time for a change, but no worries."
With the same fashionable, authoritative voice, she replied, "Would you like to postpone this appointment? We can do this free of charge."

I stared at her. She suddenly appeared as if to change in front of my eyes. The cold, bland stare seemed to disappear- if only for a moment, and it was replaced by a teasing, erotic smile which initiated a firestorm in my loins. I hesitated.
"Would you be able to contact me personally if you can find me an available appointment?"
She smiled warmly.
"Of course, Mr. Smith. Can I have your mobile telephone number?"
I smiled, steadily, here we go, take it easy. Leaning in, I whispered my number. She pretended to ignore the beautiful attraction that was occurring between us.
"I'll let you know when we can re-schedule Mr. Smith. Thank you for coming today." She smiled warmly at me. I smiled warmly back. I turned to leave and I saw her leaning away. I was puzzled. She was giving her number to a new girl entering the room. SHE CAN'T BE!

I stepped backwards, still watching this scene unfold from beneath my eyes. She handed my portfolio and contact papers to this new receptionist who was sitting her large, untoned body into the seat where Ms. Gracefulsexy had just sat. NO IT CAN'T BE HAPPENING. She started to laugh softly and bid adieu to the new receptionist. I took another few steps backwards, blindly one foot behind the other, in pure consternation. I couldn't believe this. I felt betrayed, shot through the heart.

My back hit the door with a resounding thud. My heart was beating too fast, my capillaries in my heart were about to explode. The arteries were clogged from my two Quarter pounders I had at lunch and I couldn't breathe... I reached my car in agony. I punched the steering wheel in pure desperation, WHY WOULDN'T she call me? As I pulled out of the lot, dropping the clutch in my car, my cell phone rang. I stopped my car, and looked at the caller ID. It was Dr. Chow's office! She WAS PHONING ME BACK!
"Mr. Smith, its Katherine from Dr. Chow's office, I'm calling to re-book an appointment."
It was not her, it was not my lover, and I was broken.
I hung up, jaded from women, once again.

-Tyler Stunna-