Megan+M

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And he told me, that his grip on my heart would never loosen. that his hunger for my smile would never starve. he told me that our love would never fade.

the temptations, people dish put knots in my heart shorten my breath wobble my step. any change in this heart would slowly break me down.

and is it truly possible for loves purity to cradle your heart. no one knows; it must be a myth.

My Short Story B2 __When Time Becomes Regretful__

It’s hard to walk into high school happy, knowing that summer’s long gone. Plus being the new kid to the township isn’t helpful either. Confusing schedules and rushing hallways seem to leave you spinning by the time the final bell rings. At the end of every day I would then have to find my way back home into a family that still lives in the sixty’s. But at least I made one friend; the lunch lady seemed nice and was excited to hear about every kid’s summer adventures. The second day wasn’t that bad. We played the name game in practically every class and I won a free pencil for being able to remember everyone’s name. I’ve got a knack for remembering things; it’s like a hobby of mine. People tend to look at me and take no second looks; just assuming there’s nothing more then my books and neon glasses that outline my pale face. They were right at least I think so. I wasn’t really good at anything except listening, which was my best quality. On the third day things were a little shaky. Everyone rushes from class to class thinking that they have merely seconds until the bell. I was always running, my stubby legs can only move so fast. So much in a hurry, I didn’t even notice the boy in the hall crouched over trying to pick up his freshly crumpled papers. Nonchalantly I take a hard dive to the floor after catapulting over his crouched back. Papers went flying, binders unstamped; there was a tornado of his stuff and mine in the air. I was stunned, his face was perfect. No battle scars from teenager stages, he was like some one you meet in your dreams but better. I was shocked when he actually cared about helping me up, picking up my books, and apologizing for his careless awareness. “Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t see you through all those books you were carrying. By the way I’m Stanley.” He said in a voice that mimicked the heavens. Stunned; by the fact that he would even would mind at even gracing me with a full word, but a sentence. That left me speechless. I only managed to stutter, “no its okay I should have been paying attention.” We both started walking in the opposite direction, “by the way what’s your name?” Stanley said actually interested. “Oh; my name’s Leslie.” I was surprised that I was able to compute a natural sounding sentence. That day zoomed by; the thought of a boy relaxed by thoughts and put my heart into overdrive. I didn’t know him, what he was about, if he was the kind of kid worth wasting sappy emotions on. I didn’t care I was addicted to knowing more about him. You could call it a crush, a tiny, itsy bitsy little crush that I would never cause real emotions for. But it was still a crush that left me wondering could there be something more. Keeping a nice secret is hard to do, like holding your breath. And I had the sweetest most nicest secret of them all, a crush. It didn’t take that long for Stanley to notice I was constantly looking for him in the halls. He even stopped me one time and said hey. I was only fazed for merely seconds, and then straightened up before he figured I was crushing on him. My new friends figured it out for themselves. Stanley was the name that I was always mistakenly saying. They would tell me stories about how he was every girl’s crush in middle school, and how he confesses how he’s different now. And that he’s not the swift, bigheaded guy that he was last year. I almost took their words for it but everyone knows that in the mind of a girl words always seem to get twisted so it’s hard to tell what’s fictional or fact. I was walking down the hall one day, routinely going from one class to the other sparing some time for a trip to my locker. I was so confused; Stanley was leaning on my locker, eyeing me down the hallway. “Hey Leslie!” he said in the sweetest tone. “Um, hey. What’s up?” I said puzzled. I nudged him to move off my locker but he didn’t budge, he just stood there. Eyeing my profile as I strain to hold my textbooks any longer. “Leslie, do you want to go out for dinner on Saturday night?” Stanley said so surely as if I already told him my answer. “Maybe, well sure. I’d love to.” I didn’t know the kid and yet “yes” seemed to develop into the answer. There was a trust extract about Stanley. He seemed like the kind of person who was strong, knew what it feels like to be turned down. I guess the moment seemed to get caught up into me and I did nothing to stop it. “ Great I’ll call you Friday to give you the details!” he said so excited. He flounced away into his next block class and I hurried to gym. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday all came so fast. And my anxious heart couldn’t wait for tonight. I wore my best outfit, curled my hair and made my self-smell like vanilla. I looked better then usually and I was sure that I would please Stanley. When I answered the door he was standing there glowing in my uncommon beauty. He took my hand, grazed it with a kiss and we were off on our dinner date. I was home before curfew. Barely made it to sleep, there was too much to think about and so little time to think. The date went great, Stanley seemed normal; no flaws were detected as we had casual conversations over a slice of pizza and root beer. Stanley was funny and a good-looking guy for someone who had perfect grades and a family history of messing up. He was different and so was I; that was our real connection. The sound of rain was everywhere, but the wind had died. Today was different, it seemed much more brighter. Sunday was like I was floated gently to the ground. I was still caught up in last night’s memories as I replayed them in my mind all day. They sweetened my dreams and shoed away the bad ones as I slept into a new day. A few months past and me and Stanley’s hearts only became heavier for each other’s. Everything was in its place for once and I felt comfortable being me in front of people. Monday started out great, instead of my drowsy unprepared self. I hopped out of bed with a jump-start, got on the bus almost excited for school. In my own seat, my eyes would inch forward in the direction of the school wondering if Stanley was they’re waiting for me. He was waiting all right, with his lips locked with another girls. Speechless, furious I couldn’t understand what really was happening. I stomped off the bus purposely walking right through their display of affection. Stanley pulls back and chases after me. Striking my hand with his he pulls me back trying to explain the situation. It was too late for “Sorry” I was betrayed and you can’t take it back. “Don’t leave me.” Stanley said with eyes filled with lust. He was lying and only I could see it. Then his grip loosened from mine and he returned to his mistress and started ranting on how she messed everything up. I returned his plea with,” it’s over, I thought you were different but apparently your not.” It felt good to be able to have harbored so much power into my own words. I felt so strong yet broken. Even though I knew I did the right thing a second opinion from mom would clear my cluttered mind. Who was I kidding I was on my own for this one. No my mom of mine who’s example of romance is making tie die t-shirts is going to have advice for me. Strangely with out Stanley things felt weird, like something was missing when everything was here. I had to get passed the thought of him, he was the enemy of a young girls heart. The next few days were familiar to when Stanley and me weren’t steady. I hadn’t seen him at all in fact nobody had. It was like he had disappeared, vanished into thin air. The next week came and rumors were past about Stanley and me. I was the villain of each situation for not giving Stanley a second chance. I had the right not to, he cheated and got exactly what his heart wanted another girl. There were other rumors, ones that I didn’t understand; they even scarred me. I was not going to confuse the situation anymore so I went straight to the source. That day after school I went to Stanley’s house, his mom opened the door. When I asked for him she burst into tears, “Leslie he gone he gone!” she kept on sobbing this phrase over and over again. It turned out Stanley hadn’t told me everything, he had cancer. When I computed the actual reality of the situation my eyes became blistered with salty streaming tears. He only found this out a month before school started and decided he would wait to see what might happen. I felt horrible. I wanted to step out of my own skin and shun it from existence. His last days were filled with a broken heart and I was the cause of it. After a week of preparation I went to visit his grave. I found it easily. His grave was the only one with flowers over it, it seemed as if all the other dead people had no one who cared for them because there stone hedges were lined with weeds. Stanley’s was in the perfect spot, just like him. I said a silent prayer and thought of leaving it at that but I didn’t. I didn’t care if people thought I was crazy for talking to a rock in the middle of a field; there were still things left unsaid between Stanley and me. “Stanley, I’m sorry. I didn’t know and for some reason I think it was for the better I would have pitied you. And now that your gone I must say that it’s different. You’ve cracked the shell that I once hid in and now I’m not afraid of being me. Again; I’m sorry. Even though I can’t bring you back I’ll think of you when I cant remember me.” It was sweet, I felt like I was talking to heaven and in a strange way I felt Stanley’s presence. The last graveyard flowers were blooming and there was a peaceful silence as I closed the gate to the cemetery and walked down the dirt path home.

okay so please don't laugh at my memoir sadly its entirely true...very embarresing(i spelt that wrong, sadly) its not that long only becuase this is the unedited version...the newer version is much better then this. hope you enjoy it!:D megans memoir-__Cherry__

It was early when we pulled into the slot. Mom got out and checked the placement numbers making sure that she wouldn’t get any fuss from the other venders. There was an early day chill that made you stiff and unawake but that wouldn’t last very long according to the weatherman. I was there to help my mom. Her and I had been coming to the flea market for a few years selling what we could of last season’s misfits. Everything was cheap, and no plants were committed to there prices. My moms saying was” if you don’t buy I’ll throw it out.” And that kept the costumers coming. And as mom would mend the shop all day I would be her “little helper”, getting her food, plastic bags, and anything else that she needed. I didn’t mind working with her, I got paid and the shopping wasn’t that bad either. Everything is cheap and everything is a nock off. As the sun climbed the sky the temperature showed on our faces, it was hot, and everyone felt disgusting. My mom requested an icy for both of us and so I went to retrieve them. I had a few choices; I could either get a good icy but have to take a long walk or a not so refreshing icy a few vendors down. I’d rather get the best then settle for second. So I was off with my money and my phone. I headed down the dirt-covered paths leading in all different directions. The isle was covered in trampled paper cups and flyers that outlined the “gutter” of the isle. I weaved in and out of the people not paying attention to the scowls of how I need to watch where I’m going. Where the icy stand was could have been considered First Avenue. It looked as if everyone was standing still. Being little miss impatient me I pushed and shoved my way through. As I came to the clearing I saw the stand, mediocre and plain with a simple mission of just keeping costumers cool. The tablecloth really was the highlight of that booth, the sign was half nailed on and the venders around it repelled any shoppers. I walked up to the booth and waited in the line straightening out the money from my pocket so that there was no hassle for the cashier. I cleared my throat and waited for my turn to order and when my turn came I looked straight into the cashiers eyes and froze. He was new; and thank God for employers. He looked to be every girl’s high school heartthrob and he had a sweet smile and a voice to match. And then I thought crap I look like shit. I had been up since four and my eyes showed. My hair was pinned back and the sun had probably made my face beat red. I looked horrible and I was in no condition to talk to someone of his high standards. I had been getting ices from this place ever since I started coming to the market and have never this guy. And so I tried to stay cool and prepare him with a smile and my answer of what flavor I wanted, but no it’s never that easy. We both looked at each other and he asked, “So how’s it going”? I had already planned to say my flavor and I was so enthusiastic about giving him a clear one word answer that I didn’t even hear his “so how’s it going” and assumed that he said “what flavor would you like”. So I squeaked in my nervous little voice, “Cherry”. The second I said that I knew that wasn’t the answer that he was looking for. The guy glared his eyes, chuckled and started shaving the ice. My stomach plummeted a few feet and as I he handed me my two cherry ices and we gave me one last stare I knew that I had lost my chance. As I walked down the isle returning to my moms booth trying to dodge any spillage of my ices I replayed that moment over and over again in my head. Being a girl always comes with over analyzing every little detail of everything. And when I think of that day I still flinch at the thought of how embarrassed I was.