Loss

...continued from Ten Years Gone Summer came and went and I eagerly waited to see her again. But I never did. High School was not Junior High. I barely saw her anymore and we never talked. I wanted to, but I just couldn't face her. A lot had happened since Virginia. During the summer between 9th and 10th grades my face broke out with a vengeance and I found out I had to wear a back brace at night because my spine curved too much. Even though there was never any indication that she would feel any different towards me, I felt like a monster and hid from her. Of course, she never made any effort to talk to me, either. The longer we didn't talk, the harder it became to start up again. It got so that I was even afraid to look at her. I wasn't good enough. Also, I was in the Voc. One thing they...

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Ten Years Gone

Memories. I hate memeories. For the longest time, that's all I had. Just memories. Memories of a better time. Of her. Everyone has that one story. That one person that changed their life. She was mine. This is my story. It starts in ninth grade Science class. I had Mr. Galiano. I hated that guy. I'm sure the feeling was mutual; he didn't like anybody. Some people become teachers to educate and inspire. Not Galiano. He became a teacher so he could yell at people all day and get paid for it. He never bothered to learn anyone's name; he just called everyone "freshman" in that condescending, excessively monotone voice of his. It was equal parts Ben Stein and Darth Vader. Hello, freshman. Where's your homework, freshman? You underestimate the power of the Dark Side, freshman. He'd get right...

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I Like Megan

Well, I don't like Megan. I don't hate Megan, either. I don't even know Megan. But somebody likes Megan, because they spray-painted their tepid feelings for her along the wall at the beach across from my apartment. Not I Love Megan. I Like Megan. Why? Why would someone feel the need to write that on a wall? Why would someone say "Megan, I wouldn't mind seeing you on a semi-regular basis, to hell with what anyone thinks!" If you're going to deface public property, shouldn't it be for an emotion a bit stronger than "like?" Oh, won't Megan's friends be jealous when they see her sort-of admirer's apathy prominently displayed for the world to...

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the Boogieman!

Michele insists I was dreaming, but some kind of horrible thing tried to rip out my life force last night. It rattled me a little bit, almost being sucked right out of my body by unseen forces, and dream or not, I'm still shaking. I woke up at 3 AM. Why? Because we had KFC for dinner that night and it was trying to escape. Half an hour later, I crawled back into bed, feeling much better. I couldn't really go back to sleep because Michele...well...she snores. I closed my eyes and saw the residual image of the room as a high-contrast negative. That's pretty normal, it happens when you close your eyes after being exposed to bright lights. But I also saw a door. A door that's not really in the room. And I felt myself being suddenly grabbed and pulled toward it. Not my body; but my spirit, or...

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Just the Ten of Us

Mr. Potter died when I was seven. He was my aunt's father, but I didn't know that at the time. To me, he was just a nice old guy I saw on birthdays and holidays who'd give me money. He had a Winnebago that he and his wife were going to travel the country in, but never did. So after he died, my aunt Betty decided we should take it on a trip to see what it would be like. So ten of us, Uncle Jay, Betty, their kids Andrea, Kristin, Joel, Jon, my parents, my younger brother Ryan and me, went on a trip to Busch Gardens. From left to right: Kristin, Jon...or Joel, my dad,Ryan, my mom, Andrea, me, Betty, the other twin, Jay. We took the Winnebago and...

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