Blogging Some Christmas Cheer

I couldn't let the Season go by without blogging about it! Just real quick... some lists. (Of course.)

TRADITIONS:
-Our magnificent Christmas tree (decorated Black Friday)
-The Glass Pickle
-Reading "Twas the Night Before Christmas" with fill-in-the-blanks
-Spreading magical reindeer food on the lawn


CHRISTMAS MOVIES:
-It's A Wonderful Life
-Beauty and the Beast (not technically Christmas, but I always end up watching it this time of year)
-The Nightmare Before Christmas
-The Note
-Toy Story (Well, it's Christmas at the end)


CHRISTMAS SPECIALS:
-How the Grinch Stole Christmas NOT the Jim Carrey one. The good one. ("I wouldn't touch you with a 39 and a half foot poooooollllleeee!!!)
-Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer ( "I want to be a.... a dentist!)
-Santa Claus is Coming to Town ("Burgermeister Meisterburger!")
-Frosty the Snowman ("HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!")
-Rudolph's Shiny New Year (even though I'm the only person on the planet who actually likes this one)
-And of course, the end-all be-all of holiday specials, A Charlie Brown Christmas. ("That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown!")

GOOD CHRISTMAS SONGS:
-Christmas Don't Be Late- Alvin and the Chipmunks (If you don't like this song... something's wrong with you. "I still want a hooooola hoop!")
-The 12 Days of Christmas- Straight No Chaser
-Anything Michael Buble sings (He was born for Christmas music.)
-Anything Bing Crosby (He IS Christmas music.)
-Wonderful Christmas Time - Wings and Paul McCartney (because Paul is the best Beatle)
-Same Auld Lang Syne- Dan Fogelberg (it's so SAD!)
-The Christmas Shoes- Newsboys (see above)
-I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus - Jackson 5. Would you believe I just figured out the point of this song like last year? Yeah. And I love the Jackson 5.
-I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas-- I don't know who sings it. But did you know that the whole point of the song was to raise money for the Detroit Zoo to get a hippo? Aaaah, it makes sense now, huh! They got the hippo.


BAD CHRISTMAS SONGS:
-Last Christmas- Wham. Enough said. Yuck.
-The country version of I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus... no. Just no.
-Dominick the Donkey-- what? My brother's obsessed with it though. It's funny but gets REALLY annoying.


WHY IS THIS A CHRISTMAS SONG...?
-My Favorite Things from the Sound of Music... when did this become a Christmas song? What, we just mention snow and suddenly it's Christmas?
-Celebrate Me Home by Kenny Loggins. See above.
-Sleigh Ride (any version)-- not only does it not mention Christmas, but they go to a BIRTHDAY party!! It's just a winter song. Sigh.



Anyways... I love Christmas. I love the strange power it has over the world, to make it just a little kinder, a little warmer. People smile more, they care more, they laugh more, they love more. What else but Christmas could stop a World War in its tracks, even for a couple of days? (Look up "Christmas truces"... it's really cool.) This world will never be heaven-- it will never come close-- but I think it gets just a little bit closer at Christmastime.

Now if you're a humbug, you're going to say that's a cliche. Nothing really changes at Christmas. People are still preoccupied with gifts and money and greed. But I think you're wrong. There's an inescapable warmth that fills me up at Christmas time and makes me feel like the world is as it should be. Maybe I'm a naive optimist, but I believe in Christmas magic-- not magic in the conventional sense of the word, but magic in the change in the hearts of the world for a season.

From my webpage to yours, Merry Christmas! I hope you and your family have a wonderful season, filled with all the joy there could possibly be. :)

<3

I and Love and the Avett Brothers

Well, while I recover, let's go from a dead/dying punk band to a band that is very much alive. And not at all punk. :)

In the past I've never been a fan of live music. Maybe because in the past the most of the live CD's I've listened to were my mom's Jim Brickman CDs in the car. Not quite my thing. Cheering crowds in the background always bugged me, even on my live Coldplay CD, which I for the most part like.

Oh, my friends. How much I had to learn.

Maybe it was the fact that I've since been to a live show that makes me enjoy the crowd sound now. I definitely think most of it's the fact that it's the Avett Brothers. (And here Holly walks away from the computer, shaking her head at me. Sorry dear. Not really.)

LIVE VOLUME THREE. MIND BLOWN.

Have you ever listened to music and felt something just welling up inside you? Emotion, excitement, happiness, whatever you want to call it. But you get that feeling in your lungs that makes them just a little bit tighter, and your breath catches in your throat, and your heart kinda freezes in your chest, and all you know is you have to DO something. Write. Run. Dance. Sing at the top of your lungs. You don't care. You just have to do something to give that wellspring of feeling a path to flow through. This CD does that to me, from the very first swell in the applause straight to the end. I don't think I've ever gotten that from a CD. Last time I got that feeling was... well, a live show.

There's just something about the Avetts I can't quite put my finger on. Do they have the best voices in the world? No. (Well... maybe Seth does. But that's up for debate.) They're not for everybody if you just look at the face value. But they've got a richness, a soulfulness, an honesty that's just undeniable, especially live. And even though I'm not actually at a concert, I feel like I am. I can close my eyes and see the stage and feel the music running through me and imagine quite easily I'm there. Which is AWESOME!

I bought this two nights ago... and I've literally listened to it four and a half times through already. And I'm not at all sick of it. Even the songs I wasn't incredibly fond of non-live, I love on this album. BUT... I'm not going to do my usual track-by-track runthrough for two reasons:
1. All live albums should be completely album only. If you just buy one or two songs you're missing out on the experience.
2. Similarly, live albums should never be played shuffled. You gotta listen to it straight through. You're cheating yourself if you don't.

However, I will hit the high points.
-Talk on Indolence (if you take out the one bad word like I did): REALLY fun song. Makes me want to dance in a fountain.
-The Ballad False Start-- Because I love Seth Avett and this is just adorable. (Since you probably haven't listened to the CD, he starts playing "The Ballad of Love and Hate" and kinda fades out like he forgot the words, and then says, "I'm so happy right now I can hardly stand it." And since I'm in love with him, I think it's precious.)
-The Ballad of Love and Hate-- Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. I love this song anyway, but I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to listen to the non-live version ever again, because this is so awesome. Definitely a throat-catching, heart-melting, goose-bumping, wellspringy sort of song. Oh man. If you MUST break the cardinal rule of live albums and buy a single, buy this.
-Colorshow-- I just hadn't heard this one before and I really liked it. It's catchy.
-I And Love and You-- Oh goodness. It's so lovely.
-When I Drink (which isn't actually about drinking)-- The boys are harmonizing beasts. And I love this song.
-Paranoia in B-Flat Major-- I just like this song anyway. I'm obviously more of a Seth person (haven't you been paying attention?) but I really like Scott's voice on this one. I also like the key change. (Am I crazy? Isn't it higher? I'm pretty sure the one on Emotionalism is just B Major... but I might be crazy.)
-Kick Drum Heart-- I like this song anyway, even though it's not the most Avetty Avett song, but live it becomes a really really Avetty song. It makes me smile whether I feel like it or not. I like it.

IN CONCLUSION... I need an Avett concert. If they come to Denver, I will explode. And then put all my pieces back together and get myself to that concert.

Thank You, Lord, for making the Avett Brothers brothers, so they can't break up like Paramore. :)

<3

Commentary on a Breakup

I guess everybody has to go through it at some point. There's the initial shock, the denial, the depression, and finally the acceptance. I'm not quite to acceptance yet. That's right, you know what I'm talking about...

A favorite band breaking up.

I guess it's not all over for Paramore yet... the Farro boys are just leaving. However, I can't see it going much further without them, and if it does it's just not gonna be the same. So I might as well mourn now.

You've been able to tell, I'm sure, that I am a big-time music person. I love the empathy you get from it. I love listening to a lyric and feeling as though someone opened up my soul and somehow spun my tangled up, wordless emotions into those words. Paramore was the beginning of that. Listening to Paramore was the first time I realized music had emotional value. Those lyrics still mean a lot to me. They connected me to people. And nothing could beat screaming them at the top of my lungs at Red Rocks last September. I'm so incredibly glad I got to experience that. Paramore's played into so many experiences I've had and shaped me in a lot of ways. I guess it's cheesy, but they'll always have a little red couch in my heart.

Thanks for the smiles, tears, and empathy. You'll be missed, Paramore.

"And if you have to go, I'll still wave goodbye, watching you shine bright..."

<3

Nothing to Fear

"There is nothing to fear but fear itself."

Some people treat movies like connoisseurs treat food. They place value on cinematography, the score, the acting, the screenplay and the underlying themes as though they were a complex flavors in a dish being served up at a five star restaurant, and aren't worth digesting unless they're the perfect blend of sophisticated tastes. I'm not one of those people. I LOVE movies, but I will gladly take a substandard "fast food" movie that's cheap and unremarkable, but delicious in its own way. However, I can and do appreciate the movies that can be picked apart like a book, that make me think, that prove to me that films are indeed a form of literature.

Enter Batman Begins.

Yeah, I'm behind the times. I get that this was nearly six years ago and has already been far overshadowed by The Dark Knight. I don't care. I'm blogging about this one right now.

You start out with Bruce Wayne falling into a well that is inexplicably full of bats. (Sure, a bit of a stretch, but it gets the point across.) Right into his adulthood, he's still scared of the things. So he decides to become Batman, BECAUSE he's frightened of bats. He overcomes a fear in order to strike fear into the hearts of criminals. Conveniently enough, crime and corruption are conquering Gotham City (of course... has Gotham ever been a happy place?) and if it weren't for Batman, it would destroy the city completely. So why do the citizens allow it to prevail? Fear. Fear for their families. Fear for their jobs. Fear for their money. It's always something. After all, like the mobster leader Falcone says, "I wouldn't have a second's hesitation of blowing your head of right now and right here... Now that's power you can't buy! That's the power of fear." Fear is dominating Gotham long before the climax of the movie, when the main villain, Ra's Al Ghul, releases a hallucinogen-laced gas into the air to induce-- what else?-- fear. The hallucinations cause the citizens of Gotham to perceive nearly everything they see as something out of their very worst nightmares. Ironically, it's one of the villains that gives away the whole point, revealing that this isn't just a superhero story: "There is nothing to fear but fear itself."

No one was in any real danger, not at first. They were simply allowing their own fear to possess them, to conquer them from within and ultimately destroy them. Of course it's Batman, the one who has overcome his fear, who is able to save the city.

Happy coincidence or awesome writing and directing? I'm gonna go with the second one. I love it.

And it's relevant because fear possesses people in the real world. Not in such a heavy physical hallucination-gas type way, but in a very real way nonetheless. Fear keeps us from following our dreams, from going that extra mile, from being ourselves, from sharing the Gospel, from trying anything at all. But really, what is there to lose? If friends are going to ditch you, they weren't truly your friends. If your dream doesn't work out, it wasn't meant to be and something better's coming. So why not go for it? Why let fear hold you back?

There's nothing to fear but fear itself.

"Nothing Works For Me" by Richard Lederer

I found this while browsing Adam Young's blog (as in the guy in Owl City... yeah. <3) Anyway, call me lame but I thought it was hysterical.
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My first job was working in an orange juice factory but I couldn’t concentrate and got canned.

Then I worked in the woods as a lumberjack but I just couldn’t hack it so they gave me the axe.

After that I tried to be a tailor but I just wasn’t suited for it. Mainly because it was a so-so job, de-pleting and de-pressing.

Next I tried working in a muffler factory but that was super exhausting.

I wanted to be a barber but I just couldn’t cut it.

So then I became a hairdresser but the job was just too cut and dried.

I sold Origami but the business folded.

I attempted to be a deli worker but any way I sliced it, I couldn’t cut the mustard.

I studied a long time to become a doctor but I didn’t have any patients.

Next was a job in a shoe factory; I tried my best but I just didn’t fit in.

I became a Velcro salesman but couldn’t stick with it.

I was a professional fisherman but discovered that I couldn’t live on my net income.

I became a baker but I couldn’t make enough dough.

I tried being a fireman but I got burned out.

I managed to get a good job working for a pool maintenance company but the work was just too draining.

I got a job at a zoo feeding giraffes but I was fired because I just wasn’t up to it.

So then I got a job in a gym but they said I wasn’t fit for the job.

Next, I found being an electrician interesting, but found the work shocking and revolting so they discharged me.

I got a job as a historian until I realized there was no future in it.

I became a transplant surgeon but my heart just wasn’t in it.

I became a tennis pro but it wasn’t my racket. I was too high strung.

I tried being a teacher but I soon loss my principal, my faculties and my class.

I tried being a farmer but I wasn’t outstanding in my field.

Then I was a pilot but I didn’t have the right altitude.

I worked at Starbucks but I had to quit because it was always the same old grind.

So I retired and I found I’m a perfect fit for this job!

Pretty Girl at the Airport

All I really have to say is "Marry me Seth Avett." :D

Chapter 9

Yeah, here it is. Sorry for taking so long. I promise I will finish... In fact, I'll finish by New Years. Deal? (I have up to Chapter 14 written... I just have issues finding time to post.) It isn't terribly interesting, but it's words!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Patrick pried his fingers under the knot and pulled it open to reveal some kind of key pad.
“Synthetic tree? I’m surprised at you. Isn’t that a little progressive for you?”
“I don’t know, it was convenient! You can take it up with the Sergeant when we talk to him. I’m just a cadet.”
The Sergeant. She remembered the static-ridden voice that had proceeded from the walkie-talkie just hours before, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Before she was even quite sure what was happening, Patrick had punched a few numbers into the keypad and yet another panel of the knot had opened, revealing a wider hole in the tree. It ran down into the depths of the tree in an almost frightening manner, giving her the same feeling as the black holes she’d watched clips of in Current Events.
“You care to go first, or shall I?”
She gave him a terrified look. Surely he didn’t slide into the tree’s mouth, to descend into the belly of the beast?
“It’s perfectly safe. I’ve done it hundreds of times. If it makes you feel better I’ll go first, though.”
Speechless, she merely nodded.
“It’s not far down, I promise,” he added as he slid into the tube and disappeared into the darkness.
She peered down the pipe after him for a good minute, unwilling to follow him into this unknown menace. Slowly, gripping the top edge of the tube with all the strength her fingers could muster, she slid into the tube. Lincoln, with a mischievous look in his yellow eyes, pranced up on his back legs and placed his paws on her back, as if to tell her to get on with it.
“Oh, fine,” she muttered. “Stupid cat.” Releasing all her fear, she let go, allowing her body to slide down into the dark. Within seconds her feet met hard, solid ground. Bright lights nearly blinded her eyes. She wasn’t sure she was in the right place until she saw Patrick’s face, and suddenly felt safer.
“Who’s the girl, Blue?” She tensed and whirled around, reminded sharply of the soldier on the road just a night before. She turned to see a lanky, but handsome Memorist soldier with brown hair and grey eyes that looked almost like Nana’s.
“A friend,” Patrick replied, not looking worried. She felt a sigh of relief leaving her lungs; if Patrick could trust him not to hurt her, she probably could too.
“Oh,” the other soldier said, holding out his hand. “Trey Putnam at your service.” She noticed an accent in his speech that wasn’t present in Patrick’s, a sort of twang in his words.
She took it, and he cranked it up and down firmly. “Piper Conrad.”
He stopped shaking her hand abruptly. “Did you say Conrad?”
She nodded. He and Patrick exchanged a pointed look, and the latter merely shook his head.
“What?” she asked, confused.
“Nothing,” they both said at the same time. She opened her mouth to give them a piece of her mind when they heard marching coming from the corridor. She made her instinctive move to hide behind Patrick, but he pulled Trey in front of her. “Listen, I need you to hide her for a minute, okay? Just don’t let anybody see her. I’ll be back in a minute. And if anything happens to her… I blame you.”
Trey raised a cupped hand to his forehead and swept it out toward the air in some sort of Backwinder salute. Before Piper could object or even ask what was going on, Patrick was gone, and Trey was hurrying her into a corner of the room. Lockers covered most of her from sight, and Trey, tall as he was, kept the passing soldiers from noticing her presence.
“So whatcha hear for, ma’am?”
“I’m not a ma’am just yet, you can call me Piper. And…” She stretched for something to say. “I guess I kind of got lost.”
“Aw man, that happened to me once. My first day on patrol, I got separated from the rest of the troops and had to sleep in a tree. Scariest night of my life. Saw a bar.”
“A bar?”
“You know, the things with the fur and the teeth. Big as three men and brown all over. She was scratchin’ at the tree stump”—he made scratching motions with his hands—“and growlin’ at me, and I just knew I was gonna die right then and there. So I threw my canteen out over her head, ya know, to distract her, and then I scrambled outta that tree faster than I ever moved before in my life. Got back to camp in less’n ten minutes, and it was three miles away.” He held up three fingers to prove his point. She had just started to laugh when Patrick came back.
“What’re you thinking, making her laugh? Someone could have heard you, or seen her, or…” He trailed off and rubbed his hand across his face in his usual nervous habit.
“Relax, Patrick, I’m fine,” she said. “And I thought you said it would be fine for me to be here.”
“It is, but I had to make sure with the Sergeant. He wants to see you in his office alone.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah, he says it’s procedure.”
“I’m not going to do it, I won’t, he’ll kill me on sight—“
“No, he won’t. That’s ridiculous. You’re going to be just fine, and I’ll be right outside the door the entire time, alright? It’ll be fine. I promise.”
His chocolate brown eyes were screaming at her to trust him again, and she couldn’t deny them.
“What’s wrong with her?” Trey whispered loudly.
“Nothing, Putnam, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“No.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Well, what then?”
“She just needs help, alright? Give her some air.”
Trey backed off with a reserved expression on his face, and Patrick moved towards her, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her down the hallway. The harsh concrete walls, lined with green lockers, made her feel as if she was in prison rather than an army camp. The lights, still blinding, reminded her vaguely of the dentist’s office. She’d never liked the dentist.
They came to a gigantic metal door that slid open to give them admittance. The room seemed pitch black at first, but as Piper’s eyes adjusted from the bright light, she found herself in a room bearing a striking resemblance to the Lex car station in Iretum. Green posts settled themselves over more metal doors, with windows that seemed to open into an underground tunnel. Suddenly a loud feminine voice blasted through the speaker above Piper’s head, startling her. The voice very calmly announced, “Now approaching Concourse B. Concourse B.” Lights flashed from down the tunnel, and she could hear an ominous rattling coming their way.
“What’s a concourse?” she asked Patrick.
“This used to be an airport back when traveling was commercial.”
“Airport?”
“Like the helicopter pads in the cities, but anybody could fly. Go on vacations and stuff.”
Piper nodded calmly until a frightening thought entered her mind, causing her to grip his arm in a panic. “We’re not flying, are we?”
He laughed. “No. We’re hundreds of feet underground now. But the train to get the passengers to their planes still worked when we found this place, so we decided to keep using it. No sense wasting the time and money trying to get a new one. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
In a blur of white and gray some sort of vehicle pulled into the station. The doors in front of them slid open, revealing a well-lit cabin. Metal poles, not quite thin enough for her to wrap one hand around, rose from the floor to the ceiling.
“Might want to grab one of those,” Patrick said. Eyeing the boy suspiciously, she took one of the poles between both hands, almost unwilling to comply with his unusual suggestion.
“Next stop: Concourse C. Concourse C.”
The rickety train jerked forward suddenly, jolting Piper backward. Her hands caught her just in the nick of time, and she moved forward as fast as she could, hugging the pole for dear life. This thing, whatever it was, was nothing like the Lex cars she remembered from home. Lex cars were levitated by static electricity high about a foot above its track, but the sharp jerks and turns of this vehicle betrayed its primitive nature. Even though the cars moved much faster than this train, the same static kept the passengers standing upright through the friction between their shoes and the floor, with no need for these silly poles. This had to be ancient. She felt like she was going to be sick.
“You alright?” Patrick asked calmly, as though he had been through this process a thousand times. He probably had. He had even dared to let go of his pole, and was standing up right as though he was strolling through the park on a holiday.
“Fine,” she said, more loudly than was probably necessary. She hated showing weakness in front of him. He had helped her enough. However, she could hear him chuckling quietly over her shoulder, and she knew he saw right through her. He nevertheless had the tact to keep his mouth shut, and both of them remained silent for the rest of the ride.
“Now approaching Concourse C. Concourse C,” the cool feminine voice announced. The vehicle began to rattle noisily to a stop. Just as Piper thought it was safe to let go, the train’s brakes sent her flying forward toward the pole again. She could hear Patrick laughing aloud at her.
“Hey!” she said in genuine annoyance. “I’m trying, okay? Just because you’re good at everything around here doesn’t mean—“
He rested a hand firmly on her shoulder and looked her dead in the eye. “Piper. Relax. We’re friends, remember?”
“Says the guy carting me off to my doom,” she retorted.
“How many times do I have to tell you? You’re going to be fine.”
“At least one more time. As always.”
The doors slid open and she found herself in a spacious room with white concrete walls much like the hallway they’d come from. Smack in front of her was a dull metal door with a window at eye level. It reminded her of a prison cell.
“That’s it,” Patrick said, tightening his grip on her shoulder and pushing her forward.
“You’re going to be right here?”
“Right here. You just have to scream.” His voice sounded tired and exasperated.
“Alright, then.” Her every limb was trembling as she took a step forward, then another, then another. The door might as well have been miles away at the pace she was going, but Patrick did nothing to speed her up or scold her. At last she reached the entryway and wrapped her fingers around the cold handle. She took one final look at Patrick, who was sending her a thumbs up sign. Nodding in affirmation, she turned the handle, and again was blinded by the lights.

Movie Review: Phantom of the Opera

After all the years of hearing Phantom songs around the piano at Kamp, I finally watched it for the first time tonight. WOW. That's all I have to say. Wow. I have to blog about this movie. I'm not entirely sure what to say, but I have to blog about it. I think I shall review it. Yes. I shall. (If you actually care that much about what happens... you shouldn't read this. Because I don't want to spoil it for you.)

So... here's what it's basically about. Ever since her father died, the beautiful performer Christine has believed that an "Angel of Music" has been watching over her and guiding her through the world of 19th century Parisian opera. Little did she know that this Angel who has inspired her is actually a mysterious, misunderstood man who lives in the crypts beneath the opera house. The Phantom takes his opportunity to whisk Christine away to his world of night, and will stop at nothing, even murder, to convince Christine to be his eternal bride. Torn between the mysterious genius and her childhood love Raoul, Christine must choose whether she will follow her heart... or the music.

The plot... Oh wow, the plot. It was wonderful. More importantly, the characters were amazing. The Phantom was one of the most complex heroic villains I think there's ever been. One minute he's all set to strangle Raoul and the next I'm crying because Christine wouldn't stay with him. He's brilliantly misunderstood. And misunderstood characters are the best characters. Seriously, someone should do a psyche on him. Once his insanity's cured I'll take him, messed up face and all. And he sings! :)

My biweekly rant: The Phantom DID Love Christine. My evidence:
-He WAS her angel. Granted he was kinda a demented creepy stalker angel, but ever since she came to the opera house he was there for her. She just... didn't really know he wasn't a figment of her imagination. He was kinda her best friend when she was all alone. It's sweet. In a creepy way.
-He honestly did want what was best for her. He was trying to help her get the lead the whole time. Because he loved her. :)
-He could have killed Raoul on the rooftop, but he didn't. Because he loved her. :)
-He let her go in the end. She was at the point she would have stayed with him, but he let her go. Because he loved her. :)
-The rose on her grave. Oh. Oh how broken my poor little heart was.
Not that it's okay that he killed people, but I think he did love her. That's my rant.

And Christine totally loved him back! She wouldn't let Raoul kill him, and she was going to stay with him, and you could just tell from the look on her face that she loved him. She did. But no. She married Raoul. Boo.

And of course, the music. It was beautiful. If somebody sang "That's All I Ask of You" to me, I'd marry them on the spot. Haha. Just kidding, probably not. But it's a great song. It just about broke my heart in the reprise when the Phantom sang it instead of Raoul. Of course, the iconic Phantom theme just kinda freaks you out in an amazing way, and in general it all just makes you want to sing. Loudly. In higher registers than you're probably capable of.

Yeah. That's about it. Like I said, it was just one of those "I have to blog about this thing."

What can I say? I'm a Phan.

<3

Chapter 8

Hey there. :)
So I decided a couple days ago that rather than kill myself trying to write 19,000 words in 4 days, I would just PROMISE myself that I would indeed finish and just do it at my own pace. This is already a huge accomplishment for me (the longest thing I've written previously was only 16,000 words or so... as of right now this is over 31,000), so I'm proud regardless, especially considering I started six days late. So yeah. Happy reading.
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Piper looked up at the tree to see Patrick’s brown eyes staring down at her, a look of pain on his face. Her mouth slammed shut, as if on hinges. She looked down in embarrassment, stroking the kitten’s fur to hide her blush. “Sorry,” she said, her voice bubbly from trying to stifle a laugh. “Did I wake you up? Or is my singing just that bad?
He wasn’t wearing his hat. His hair was redder than she thought. His face expressionless, he replied, “Your singing is just that bad.”
She let the laugh go and threw a twig in his direction. She missed. His face broke into a grin. “Nah, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just brought back fond memories.”
She wanted to ask what fond memories, but she could tell from the way his face reverted back to seriousness that he didn’t much care to talk about it.
“So, what’s for breakfast?” she asked. “I would have tried to get something, but I didn’t even know where to begin.”
“The cat,” he groaned, burrowing back into his sleeping bag. The cat hissed at him. Piper threw another twig at him.
“Hey now. That’s my cat. Get your own cat and you can eat him.” She looked down at the little ball of fur, who was still hissing and spitting ferociously. “Cool it, kid,” she said to the cat. It turned to look at her, his screwed up eyes becoming wide and docile.
“Easy for you to say, he likes you,” Patrick said.
“Maybe that’s because I didn’t try to leave him out in the cold to starve.” She ran a hand down the cat’s long gray back. “Isn’t that right, Whiskers?”
“Whiskers? You can’t seriously be naming the cat Whiskers.”
“And why not?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips in an exasperated habit. “He’s my cat, I can name him whatever I want.”
“But Whiskers?”
“What’s wrong with Whiskers?”
“One: EVERY cat is named Whiskers. Two: how’s a guy supposed to feel manly with a name like Whiskers?”
Piper laughed. “Well, what do you suggest, Mr. Hypercritical?”
“I don’t know. Something like Jefferson or Lincoln or Washington. Good strong name.”
They sounded like Backwinder names, but as she looked down at the cat’s squashed face and his sharp yellow eyes, he kind of looked like a Lincoln. “All right,” she sighed in defeat. “Lincoln it is.” The cat, as though aware that the matter had been settled and being satisfied with the outcome, went back to pouncing at a grasshopper on the ground.
“Blue!”
The scratchy voice came out of nowhere. Patrick jumped with a start at the sound of his last name, nearly falling out of the tree as he scrambled down its trunk and toward his backpack.
“BLUE! Answer your commanding officer!” The voice was overshadowed in static, making it even more frightening to Piper than it would have been clearly. It was a Backwinder commander, possibly the man responsible for her mother and brother’s deaths. She shuddered.
So he wasn’t a deserter. Any deserter would know to leave his walkie-talkie behind, especially knowing it could contain a tracking device in it. She opened her mouth to scream at him, realizing he was a spy, that he had been setting her up all along, but his actions stayed her words. She thought Patrick had rushed to answer the walkie-talkie hidden in his pack, but instead he was standing in front of the pack in a pathetic effort to conceal the voice within.
“I can hear it, Patrick, okay? Just answer it.”
“I’m not going to if it’s going to make you—“
“Don’t be stupid, Patrick. They’ll come looking for you if you don’t.”
He stared her straight in the eyes, and she tried her best to keep up a unified front. She couldn’t show any weakness or let on how scared she was…
She got the sense he knew exactly what was going through her mind, but he clicked the button on the receiver anyway. She held her breath, not wanting to betray any superfluous sign of life. If they didn’t know she existed, maybe there wouldn’t be a problem.
“Yes, sir.”
“You were due back at camp two days ago. Report.”
“A distraction, sir.”
“Specify.”
There was a long pause.
“Sympathy for another living thing, sir.”
“This is the army, Blue. We’re fighting a war. If you’re not back to camp by nightfall there will be serious repercussions.”
“Yes, sir.”
The other line clicked off abruptly, leaving nothing but static in its wake. He just looked at her, and she stared back in sheer terror.
“You have to leave me behind, don’t you?”
He said nothing for a long time, finally shifting his gaze from her face to the ground. At last he spoke. “No. That’s not an option. We’ll figure something out.”
“What is there to figure out? I’m a National girl, I can’t just waltz into a camp full of Backwinder—I mean Memorist—men! Even if I was a Memorist I wouldn’t be allowed in there.”
“There’s a women’s regiment not too far away.”
“Are you crazy? I can’t fight for your side!”
The stark differences between them slapped her in the face. Her feeling hadn’t gone away, but at the moment it was eating away at her insides, leaving her in agony. She couldn’t explain the attachment to this boy that had formed inside her in the last few days, but she knew she didn’t want it broken. Not yet.
“Look, the Sergeant’s not as bad as he sounds. I’m sure if we just explained to him—“
“He’d have me shot on the spot. No one’s going to trust me there, Patrick! They’d be idiots if they did. I could easily be a spy.” He shot her a guarded, pointed look, and she hurried to clarify herself. “I’m not, you know that, but they don’t know that.”
“Do I really know that?”
“Don’t you think they’d at least arm a spy? I have nothing. No armor, no nothing. If I was of any value to the National army you’d be able to tell.”
“What if that’s what you want me to think?”
She grabbed his arm in exasperation. “Look at me, Patrick.” She looked him dead in the face, focusing every ounce of energy into her eyes, trying to convey her sincerity with all the strength she could muster. “I’m not lying. You know I’m not.”
He relaxed under her grasp, and she could tell he believed her. She let go.
“What do you want to do, Green Eyes? You must have some kind of plan if you’re objecting to mine so much.”
She wanted to shoot back with a surefire idea, but she had none. Unwilling to admit defeat aloud, she merely looked at her feet.
“Alright, then I guess my plan is our best bet. We’ll go to camp, see the Sergeant, and try to work something out. And if they try to lay a finger on you, I’ll shoot ‘em before they can say National. Deal?”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. They’d shoot you in a second.”
“I know that.” She looked for the smile on her face, but there wasn’t one. He was dead serious. And it scared her. Why was he willing to go to such great lengths to keep her safe?
Gauging his expression, she warily took his hand and shook it. “Deal.”
“We better get a move on if we’re going to get there before the sun sets.”
Piper nodded wordlessly. “How far away is it?”
“Closer than the ocean, but we slept late today.” He looked her in the eye again. “I am sorry, Piper. I didn’t expect this to happen.”
“What did you expect, then?” she said, finding an unexpected harshness in her voice. “If you weren’t a deserter—“
“I was a deserter. It’s a long story.”
“How long can it be? You’re smart enough to know that unless you left your intercom somewhere they’d be able to get in touch with you. Just what exactly were you planning on happening?”
He looked away for the first time since they’d started speaking. She moved to try to catch his gaze, but he avoided her as though she had knives where her eyes should have been. She wasn’t willing to give this up so easily as some of his other secrets. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve heard that one before. For real this time.”
“I wasn’t lying when I told you I didn’t know where we were going, and I’m not lying now. I don’t know. Leaving was an idiotic idea.”
“You’re right, it probably was. And I’m probably going to get myself killed because of you.”
She didn’t like the pained look that filled his eyes. She wanted him to shoot back a harsh word, to retaliate, anything, just to prove her theories. But he did no such thing. He merely looked at her with that look in his eyes that told her she was picking a nonexistent fight. It filled her with such a great sense of guilt that she could not bring herself to keep going.
“But I’d have died if you just left me there, so I guess in the end it can’t really be your fault,” she finally conceded, alleviating some of the hurt from his expression.
“Look, I’m not going to get you killed, okay? Can’t you trust me enough to believe that?” His face broke into a sheepish smile. “Plus, we don’t kill our prisoners. At the very worst you’ll just be imprisoned for the rest of your life.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that helps so much.” But his smile was contagious, and she couldn’t resist when she felt it sweeping across her face as well.
“So do you trust me?”
It was a difficult question. Everybody she’d ever trusted had disappeared from her life in a puff of smoke. How could she trust someone to keep her safe when she wasn’t even sure if she could keep herself safe?
But he’d saved her life once. That gave her some confidence that he could do it again if need be. And he’d trusted her, only moments ago, even without any good reason to do so. At this point, she owed it to him.
“Yeah, I trust you.”
“Do we have to shake on it again or can I believe you this time?”
She smiled slightly, embarrassed at her own inconsistency. “No, we’re good.”
“Alright. That settles it then. I’ll pack up the tent and we’ll go.”
They finally got on the road at what Piper assumed was about ten o’clock in the morning. Once again she tried to pick up the cat, but he refused her arms. An independent little thing, he preferred to assert his independence by keeping a slight distance at all times, but he never let the pair of them out of his sight. She watched the kitten plod along happily, his feet bouncing on the gravel path, and envied his lack of want or worry. As far as he knew he wasn’t heading to his death… Piper couldn’t be so sure.
She found the strange world that surrounded her much more unfamiliar on the way to base. She wondered why her beautiful orange and red leaves had begun to fall from the trees; she was sure some unseen evil, held captive by the cool breeze, was frightening them right off of their branches. She hugged her arms across her chest in an effort to keep warm. She needed to find new clothes somewhere—the wind played with the hole in the shoulder of her shirt, chilling her to the bone.
They didn’t speak for most of the way, whether out of apprehension or exhaustion. The quiet made her uneasy; she had grown so used to conversation. She had always been so quiet in the past, but something about Patrick brought her out of her shell and made her want to talk about anything and everything. She hugged herself a little tighter, trying to fill in the hollowness, but she found that external motions could do nothing for internal problems. Finally he said something, and she felt a few of the empty spaces filling themselves in.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
She laughed. “Quite the conversationalist, aren’t you? Hmm… I can’t sing.”
“So I noticed.”
“Hey now, I doubt you can sing any better.” At this he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “Your turn.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Well don’t look at me! Tell me a secret.”
“Don’t have any.”
She gave him a wayside look. “That, my friend, is a lie.”
“What did you just say?”
“That’s a lie.”
“No, the other part.”
She was confused until she realized it herself. She’d called him her friend. “Are we friends, then?” He gave her an interested look.
“I suppose so. Allies, at the very least.”
“I don’t like that. Allies sounds like we’re at war.”
She laughed at the incredulous statement. “Welcome to the twenty-second century, kid. We’ve been at war for the last twelve years.”
“But still. Allies makes it feel like it’s a friendship of necessity.”
“Well, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so. Do you think we’d be friends without the war?”
“Well, if it weren’t for the war—“
“I know you wouldn’t know me, but let’s say you did. We’d be friends, wouldn’t we?”
She thought about how easy it was to talk to him, how much she had told him about herself that she’d never told anybody else. And she nodded.
“Then I think we’re friends now. Allies isn’t strong enough a word.”
She couldn’t help but smile a little bit. She’d never been good at making friends, so this felt like an accomplishment.
Before she could get another word out, Patrick stopped beside a gigantic tree. It was almost as big as some of the buildings in Piper’s city, and as thick of ten of her. A gnarled knot stood at the base, looking like the door to some kind of fairy tree. Patrick kicked the knot, and a clang rang through the surrounding trees, nearly startling her out of her skin.
“This is it,” said Patrick.

Chapter 7

I kinda love this chapter. It is lame. It is cheesy. Guys probably don't actually think like this. But I love the bit about the singing. That will make the final cut regardless of what all else does.
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Patrick didn’t know what to make of this strange, naïve girl that had fallen into his lap. She was reckless to the point of stupidity, and completely ignorant of most of the world around her. But he thought of the curiosity that filled her eyes at the sight of the orange trees, at her first rain, at the view of the sunset and the ocean, and he knew that there was more to her than met the eye. A spring of wonder welled up inside her, bursting to get out. No matter how much she tried to resist, no matter how much she pretended not to care about the world around her, her green eyes said it all. She was curious, and found herself in awe. There was so much she didn’t know, and he was eager to tell her everything he knew about the world, about life, to see that look of wonder in her eyes again and again…
He lay awake in the tree, staring up at the stars through the baring branches. He doubted she’d ever seen the stars amid the bright, blinding lights of the cities. He could spot a city from miles away; they were like burning stars, bound to the earth by invisible ropes, having been lured into some kind of trap by a giant or a magnetic field. Their immense powerhouses could make midnight as bright as noon, but what good was man’s light when it blocked out the stars?
He didn’t like the feeling that was filling up the empty spaces in his heart. It went against every rational thought in his mind, and he knew it. He didn’t like the wonder in her eyes or the look on her face when she saw his bloody lip. He didn’t like the way her hand had felt on his face. They scared him, took away his security and certainty, and made him more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. Patrick wasn’t one to show signs of vulnerability. However she made him feel, though, he felt deeper and more painful the look of terror on her face just hours before. He hated that look, that fear, the man who had frightened her, and tried to do worse… he hated that much worse than any uncertainty she could create in him.
But she was a National. He was a Memorist. She was a temporary influence on his life, the hole in the clouds on a gray day. She’d be gone the minute she found her brother, or anyplace better to be. She had no reason to stay otherwise, and he had no reason to expect her to. He had no reason to will her to stay.
But he did.
It was the companionship, he was sure. He hadn’t seen a girl since he left for the battlefield over a year ago. She probably wasn’t quite as pretty as she seemed to him. Surely it was just the excitement of seeing a feminine face that stirred his emotions. She probably wasn’t all that unique where she came from, either. Any number of Nationals would be ignorant as to the normal processes of the earth… but would they all be so amazed as her? The adults, the real Nationals, had chosen their paths. They’d decided not to give the past a chance, to leave the natural workings of the world behind in the interest of extreme progress, but where was Piper’s choice? What would she choose had she been given the initial choice?
Did she have a choice now?
That was a hope for Patrick, the light of reality shining at the end of his doomed fantasy. She had a choice. She was slowly beginning to see all that the world, this world, the world outside the cities, had to offer her. She’d seen the changing colors in the leaves. Who would trade that for synthetic trees with copper trunks? She’d seen stars. Who would trade those for blazing white lampposts? As to her own city, it was gone, lost in a raid. He’d gathered that much from talking to her. What was left for her?
Her father and brother. That’s what was left for her. And they’d probably kill him on sight just for wearing his uniform.
He wanted to wish she’d never find them, that she’d wander forever looking for them, but he couldn’t imagine the painful expression that would scar her face if she discovered that they were gone. No, she’d have to find them. He sighed aloud in exasperation. Part of him just wanted her to disappear. It would have been easier to let the soldier carry her off…
No, that wouldn’t have been easier. He never would have forgiven himself.
It was stupid to feel this way, stupid to allow her to get under his skin and affect him this way. These things didn’t happen in a period of forty-eight hours. It took a lifetime to learn to trust someone. He had never told anyone else about his mother, not a single man in his regiment. He had even shied away from the subject, and yet this strange, green-eyed girl, a National, no less, had broken his defense without even trying. All she had to do was ask a simple question, and the answers came spilling out. He wondered if his father had felt this way when he and Patrick’s mother had met. Did he know before they even started that she would leave? Or did it sneak up on him? Had he believed she would stay? Patrick had believed she would stay. Patrick hadn’t seen anything coming.
He’d woken up on a Saturday morning, gone downstairs like usual. He had cornflakes that morning. At first he didn’t notice anything was wrong, but before long he began to realize the eerie silence that had crept over the house. Mom wasn’t singing.
For as long as he could remember, Mom had sung in the mornings. She could never hit the notes right, but that didn’t stop her. She sang everything from show tunes to little songs she made up around the house, striking the notes with stunning inaccuracy. It always bothered him until that day. Then he realized that the singing was assurance, security. He knew Mom was there when she was singing, however bad it sounded. And he realized he would give anything, anything in the world, to hear her off kilter notes rising into the rafters one more time. All at once his memories of Mom singing were transformed from bothersome to the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.
He knew, without anybody telling him, without another moment’s thought, that he’d never hear that awful, beautiful sound again. She’d left, and she wouldn’t be back.
And ever since that day, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t make the same mistakes as his dad. He wouldn’t trust somebody to stay. He’d trusted his mom, and she’d let him down. That was enough to ruin his faith. Why should he believe in a National girl with no reasonable commitment? He didn’t have anything to offer her, didn’t even know how she felt about him. He knew better than to let himself feel anything for her, because she’d leave. Just like his mom. Worse yet, she’d be taken like his dad. Either way, he had no way to keep her, so he had to make sure he didn’t care.
Somewhere amidst his thinking and battering emotions, exhaustion won over, and he drifted into a deeper sleep than he’d had since she came. He woke to the blinding sun in his eyes and an unusual noise. He was sure the stupid cat was dying, being strangled by some wild animal…
Until he looked down from the tree and saw her with the cat in her arms, singing to it. Singing in the morning. Just like his mom.
He had sworn ever since the last time he’d heard that noise that he’d never fall victim to this.
He had sworn to himself that he’d never fall in love.

Chapter 6

Cross your fingers for me Wrimos... I have 9 days to write 27000 words. Ooh boy. This chapter is either lame or great. I can't decide which.
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“Do you know where we are?” Piper finally asked after hours of walking.
“Of course I do. How many times have I been through here?” Piper’s guess was maybe once or twice.
“I told you this was the wrong way, there weren’t enough trees this way. I have a photographic memory, you’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. Trust me,” he said. She looked up at the sky, noting its purple and orange hues. They’d never get home before dark. She sighed in exasperation. Backwinder men were just as stubborn as Nationals. The same thing had happened back in the city, the first time she and Branson had been out by themselves… and the city had street signs.
Sure enough, the sky faded to black, and stars began to peak out from behind their black blanket. They were far more visible here, amongst the trees, than they had ever been in the city. There were thousands more of them than she’d realized.
“So… I’m not really too worried about the patrols, but what kind of wild animals were you talking about earlier?” She’d heard legends about the beasts that haunted the world outside the city, and none of them sounded too pleasant.
“Wolves, mostly. Few bears. You’d hope there were some deer around, they make for good food for a week if you can hunt ‘em.”
“Wolves? Are those the ones with the teeth?” Coltrane Thornton had told her about the wolf-beast who could live both on water and on land, and had three rows of poisonous fangs.
“Yeah, they’ve got teeth. Do they have dogs in the city? It’s a big wild dog, just not tamed. Not too pleasant.”
This creature didn’t sound nearly as fearsome as the stories she’d heard. Piper made a mental note to henceforth disregard everything Coltrane Thornton had ever said to her. She was about to ask what a bear was when they heard a rustle from one of the bushes by the side of the road.
“What was that?” She instinctively grabbed his shoulders and pulled herself behind him, not wanting to be in the way of the horrible creature that might soon present itself.
“I don’t know.” He pulled his gun from the strap on his back and pointed it at the bush. A low rumbling growl came in response. Piper cowered even more. Patrick cocked the gun.
“Rrrrr…. rrrrREOW!”
A cat jumped out of the bushes, hissing and spitting at the pair of them as though they’d ruined his every chance at happiness. He was a kitten, not even as big as Patrick’s backpack. Piper laughed.
“Oh, how cute!” She rushed toward the kitten, and it skittered away, back into the bushes.
“No, Piper.” Patrick just shook his head at her, a slightly amused expression on his face. “Another human mouth to feed I can handle, but I’m not giving any of my food to a lousy tomcat.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, he’s adorable.”
Glowing yellow eyes peeped out of the underbrush at them, looking scared.
“Ah, see, he even knows we’re talking about him. Just look at him, Patrick!”
He rolled his eyes at her.
“I’ll give him some of my food or something. He’ll die out here all on his own! We have to keep him, it’s a matter of life and death! Come on, Patrick, show some love for a fellow living thing.”
As though he could understand their words, the cat sauntered slowly out into plain view, looking pleadingly up at Patrick. He looked from Piper to the kitten in total and complete exasperation. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Piper put her hands on her hips and cocked one eyebrow, shaking her head. “You want to. Somewhere deep inside your soul you want to keep him, I know you do.” She grinned at him. He just shook his head.
“You know, he looks just like you. Maybe you should keep him.”
She took one look at the kitten. As adorable as he was, his face was rather squashed, as though he had been hit face first by a Lex car. She punched him in the arm. “That’s it, he’s staying whether you like it or not.”
Just then, they could hear footsteps marching methodically in the distance. Without a word, as though she was being pulled by some cosmic string, Piper felt herself being yanked into the bushes.
“Is it a patrol?”
Patrick said nothing, only stared stoically toward the road.
“Listen to me! Is it a patrol?”
“Shut up, Piper, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“It could be Branson, I have to—“
“NO, Piper.” He tightened his grip on her arm. All at once she hated him again. And she wanted to prove it. With a spurt of strength, she extracted her arm from his grasp, and entered the road just as the army passed by.
It was a patrol, all right. She saw the familiar uniform and felt a burst of National pride. These men were a thousand Bransons, a thousand Dads, marching toward victory at the will of the Diviner. There was a chance, a small chance, one of them had to know about Branson…
“Excuse me—“
None of the soldiers even looked at her. Finally she got the attention of one, but he brushed her off as if she was some sort of pestering insect. Not until the end of the procession did she finally begin to gather looks. One soldier made eye contact with her and smiled.
“Well, well, well, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing way out here?” He grinned at her.
“Long story, not important. I need to know if you know my brother. Branson Conrad?”
“I don’t know him, but I’d sure like to know you, Green Eyes. What d’you say we ditch this overblown parade and go find us someplace nice to—“
She began to back away. “Stop right there, I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Shoot, I don’t care what kind of girl you are. You sure are pretty.” He ran a finger down her face and onto her shoulder, toying with the hole in the shoulder of her T-shirt. She froze in fright. The rest of the regiment had already disappeared down the road.
“Get your hands off of me or I’ll scream,” she said through gritted teeth.
“What’s a matter, honey? Hasn’t anybody ever loved you right…” He gripped her other arm hard, still running his finger along the bare skin of her shoulder. His face bowed, getting closer and closer to her…
“You don’t understand, I’m a National, I’m not—“
“Haven’t you heard me, honey?” he moaned, his voice now just above a whisper. “You can be whatever you like, just so long as you don’t fight back.” He grabbed the hole in her shirt forcefully and pulled, making it bigger. She screamed, not caring if there was no one there to hear her…
The butt of Patrick’s rifle hit the man in the head.
He was shocked enough that he loosened his grip and she was able to slip away to freedom. “You dirty—“
Patrick had him at gunpoint. His face was like a rock. He cocked his head, motioning for Piper to get behind him. She couldn’t be more happy to obey.
“If you touch her again, I swear, you’ll be dead before you know what hit you.”
“Couldn’t you get yourself someone your own breed, traitor?” he spat at Patrick, looking at Piper’s hand at his shoulder. “And you, you disgusting waste of space. You’re even more of a traitor then he is. Running around with the likes of him. Thanks for sayin’ something, Backwinder. I’d never be able to scrub off her filth.”
Patrick began to lower his gun, and as if taking it as his golden opportunity, the soldier punched him square in the jaw. Before either of them could retaliate, he had disappeared down the road.
His jaw was bleeding, and Piper was crying. Her thoughts were so blurry that she could hardly force out a complete sentence.
“How could I have… I was so stupid… I’m so so sorry.” That came out the most— I’m sorry. She said it over and over again until the words began to sound like nonsense.
“It’s nothing, don’t—“
She cupped his jaw in her hand and looked at his mouth. “Are you kidding, what do you mean it’s nothing? He got you pretty good. Do any of your teeth feel loose?”
She looked up to meet his eyes and found herself frozen. Again she was reminded of dark chocolate, bitter and sweet at the same time. A strange feeling welled up inside her, as though electricity was crackling around in her stomach, electrocuting her from head to toe. She felt like she’d just been defibrillated; her heart was beating unnaturally fast. Something was wrong with her, there had to be. This wasn’t a normal feeling. Slowly she lowered her hand and broke eye contact, hoping the feeling would go away. It didn’t.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. When she finally looked up again, he was still looking at her.
“You can keep the cat, if you want. We’ll figure out how to feed him.” She hadn’t noticed the kitten, who was playfully pouncing at her heels. On an impulse, she threw her arms around his neck and started to cry again.
“Thank you,” she said quietly through her tears. He stiffened under her embrace, as though not quite sure how to respond; but soon he tightened his arms around her. She felt safe, safer than she had since the bombings had stolen her life away from her.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. She hoped he knew she wasn’t talking about the cat. Finally he let her go, and she felt the cold air of the world around her again. She didn’t like it. She wrapped one arm across herself insecurely, for the first time not sure exactly what to say.
“I think camp is that way,” he said, pointing down a fork in the road behind them. “If we double back on that, we’re bound to get back soon.”
She simply nodded, running a hand across her eye in an effort to wipe away the tears. She tried to pick up the cat, but he hissed at her, as if to say “Don’t touch me.” However, when they began to walk, he pranced along at their heels, trying to be their friend and yet maintain some independence.
Patrick stayed a few steps ahead of her the entire way home. She wondered if she’d somehow offended him. He rubbed his jaw, and she felt another pang of guilt. She hated herself for doing this to him… if she had only listened…
And the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach still hadn’t gone away. Maybe it was the fear of the soldier still lingering about her… No, that couldn’t be it. There was an element of fear in the feeling, but that wasn’t all. There was a warmth to it, mixed with sadness and excitement. She couldn’t decide if it was a pleasant feeling or not. She supposed there was a good chance being in the wilderness for so long had made her ill. Yes, that was it. She just needed some sleep.
They finally reached the campsite around what Piper guessed was midnight.
“’Night, Green Eyes,” he said as he pulled herself into the tree.
“’Night,” she said with a quiet smile as she disappeared into her tent. She didn’t know what she thought, didn’t know what she felt, didn’t know what was going to happen, but one thing she knew for certain: she wouldn’t sleep well tonight.

Chapter 5

Sorry I haven't posted this in a few days. I'm about 7000 words behind... AAH! This chapter is currently more than half my word count. Oh wow.
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“Rise and shine, Green Eyes.” She snapped awake. At first she couldn’t remember where she was, or whose voice she heard through the thin walls of the tent. She pulled the blanket farther over her shoulders and groaned. He chuckled. “Come on. The ocean’s calling. If you don’t get up now we’ll never get there before one, and we want to be able to get back before sunset.”
She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. The sun was making leafy patterns on her brown tarp roof. “Fine,” she moaned, crawling toward the door of the tent. She peaked her head out first.
“Not a morning person?”
“Not even close,” she replied, ruffling her hair between her fingers. It was greasy and tangled. What she wouldn’t give for a bath…
He laughed again. “Me either. Or at least I wasn’t until I joined the army. Gets drummed out of you pretty quick when you have to be up at the crack of dawn for drill every morning.”
She walked sleepily to the fire pit, where Patrick handed her a piece of meat. Real, hot meat. She took an eager bite. It was a little gamey, but the flavor was delicious. “What is this?”
“Rabbit. Shot it while you were still asleep.”
She almost choked. “Rabbit? As in bunny rabbit?”
“Yeah, what’s the problem?”
“People eat bunny rabbits?”
“Probably not where you come from, no, but when it’s shoot the bunny or starve your best bet is to shoot the bunny.”
He had a point. She took another bite. It was good enough to overcome her initial disgust.
“So how far away is this ocean thing?”
“Quite a ways. It’ll take us a good five hours, but it’s worth it. Trust me. And we walked a lot further than that yesterday. You can take it.”
She nodded as she finished up her rabbit. He was getting his backpack ready.
“Shall we go?” She licked her lips and nodded.
For the first two hours or so they walked in silence. She almost enjoyed the comfortable quiet. It was non-threatening. However, when he finally spoke, that didn’t bother her either.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Like what?”
“Anything. We just might as well get to know each other.”
She took time to think, then said, “I love coffee. Nearly nobody else in the city drank it, but my grandmother did. She got me started on it.”
He raised his eyebrows in approval. “So you’re a little old fashioned too, are you? Nice.”
“Your turn.”
“I’m kind of a neat freak.”
Piper thought of the clutter in her room at home and laughed. “And that’s where the similarities end.”
He smiled. The scar under his eye wasn’t nearly as visible when he smiled. “Your turn.”
“I get cold really easily. Even when the sun’s out.”
“Aren’t you glad I made you take the tent, then?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I’ve got a question. Don’t be offended or anything, but how did you get your scar?”
He looked down and she wondered if she’d touched a nerve. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I understand.”
“No, it’s fine. I got it the day my dad died. Bullet ricocheted off the wall and just skimmed my face. I’m lucky it didn’t go through my head. By all accounts I should be dead.”
She nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
There was a long silence, the first awkward one she had experienced around him. At last he broke it. “Your turn.”
She smiled. “I’m deaf in one ear because I fell out of a tree. Granted it was a synthetic one, but still. It was a long way down. I should be dead too. We should start a club.” She realized what she’d said and gasped. “Not that yours is the same as falling out of a tree, I didn’t mean that.”
He smiled slightly. “No worries, I knew you didn’t. It’s fine.”
Another pause hung in the air. She laughed.
“Your turn.”
“When I was a really little kid, I was obsessed with Peter Pan. I had the hat and everything.”
“Who’s Peter Pan?”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Oh, I forgot. In your world Peter Pan doesn’t exist. Good grief, no old school Disney movies.”
Piper wasn’t sure what a Disney or a movie was, but she liked the sound of it.
The conversation went on for hours, stretching to cover everything from family situations to little quirks. Piper confided everything to him, talked about Branson, talked about Nana, talked about her life before the bombing. She almost questioned her incessant trust; she wasn’t used to opening up to people so much. However, other than Patrick, she was completely alone in the world. Who else did she have to confide in?
She could hardly believe her eyes when she looked up to find the sun hovering in the zenith of the sky. It was noon or later; they had to be getting close. The trees began to scatter and fade into the distance, and the ground became softer and softer.
“Close your eyes,” he said suddenly. “You have to get the full effect.” She smiled in amusement and followed his order. “Keep coming,” he said. She stumbled over a rock, but he caught her arm before she lost her balance. “This way.” He let go of her arm. “Alright… open.”
There was blue. Shifting, turbulent blue for as far as her eyes could see. The ground beneath her feet was thin and powdery. She leaned over and clutched some in her hand, and it slipped through her fingers. The sun played happily the water, creating twinkling daylight stars in the reflection. Piper only had one word:
“Wow.”
He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Yeah. Worth it?”
“Definitely.” She returned the smile. He started to walk toward the waterline, and she followed eagerly, in case he had something else to show her. When he crouched by the surface, she copied him. He extended a finger toward the water.
“Now if you look real close there…”
She hunched over the water eagerly, but jumped back as the cold water hit her face. He laughed as she brushed the water off her face.
“Oh, sure, right now you’re laughing,” she said, not at all pleased. Without warning she seized his shoulders and pushed him backwards into the chilly foam, cackling like a maniac. Her mirth, however, was shortlived, as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the water after him.
She was terrified. The water swirled over her head, twisting and distorting the graying sky overhead. It burned in her nostrils, and she could taste the salt drying and chapping her lips on contact. Finally, in a moment of panic, her head found the surface, and her lungs the air.
“Ha,” he said once she had overcome her disorientation. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”
“Are you crazy? I’m scared of water!”
“Well you should have thought of that before you pushed me in, now shouldn’t you?”
She tried to be mad at him, to hate him like she had so easily just twenty-four hours ago, but she couldn’t force herself to do it. Something inside her had shifted in the past day. Patrick was still wrong about a lot of things, no doubt, but something about him held an irresistible fascination for her. He made her think more than anybody else she had ever met in her life, except perhaps for Nana. So she didn’t retaliate, didn’t accuse him of trying to kill her, didn’t storm out of the water in a fit. She merely swept her hand across the cool surface of the water, shooting a gleeful wave into his face. She laughed. Hard. For the first time in the last day, for the first time in her new life, she was truly happy.
CRASH.
The noise didn’t sound like any other bomb she had ever heard, but it frightened her nonetheless. She jumped in fright and involuntarily grabbed Patrick’s shoulder.
“Afraid of thunder?”
“What’s thunder?”
“Man, they must just keep the weather out all together, huh? Thunder is, well… to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure what it is. It’s a sound that comes with lightning.”
“What’s lightning?” He rubbed his hand over his face again. It seemed to be a habit of his when he was particularly exasperated.
“You have to know about electricity, right? Nationals obsess over it.”
She nodded. She knew everything there was to know about electricity. Since more than half the population of her city became electricians, an entire class on the subject was required to graduate secondary school.
“Lightning is electricity, but it comes out of the clouds. And it usually only comes with…”
Before he could get the word out, she saw it: a brilliant flash of light across the now cloudy sky. It only lasted about a second, disappearing as quickly as it came. Almost instantaneously, a drop hit Piper’s nose.
“Rain.”
Another drop of water fell. Then another. Then another. A cascade of water was falling from nowhere, and it didn’t seem to be phasing Patrick at all.
“We oughta get out of the water,” he said. “Don’t want to get electrocuted.”
“Is this another season thing?” she shouted over the sound of the drops hitting the larger body of water. Patrick nodded. “Well, it’s not just fall. It can come in just about any season except winter around here. But it is a weather thing.” He stopped and stared at her for a minute. “Unbelievable. You’ve never seen rain before.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms in an attempt to keep warm.
“You want my jacket?”
She shook her head. “You’ll freeze.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well I do. Keep it. Really, I’m fine,” she refused.
“Is this just another knock on chivalry?”
“No, I just don’t want you to get pneumonia and die. You’re my only way to get food.” She laughed and scuffed the sand with her foot.
“Brat,” he said, but he was smiling too. “You know what pneumonia is, but you’ve never seen rain. Unbelievable.”
“Is this where the ocean comes from?”
“What, rain?”
She nodded, and he just laughed.
“What? There’s no stupid questions, right?”
“Nah, it’s not that, there’s just… so much you don’t know. Don’t think that’s your fault, but it’s kind of incredible. I guess in a weird way the ocean does come from the rain, but not the way you’re thinking. There’s this thing called the water cycle… it’s hard to explain. But when it gets hot some of the water goes back into the clouds and falls as rain so it can go back up into the clouds again. If that makes any sense. I’m no science teacher.”
She didn’t really get it, but she pretended she did.
“They don’t even teach you the water in your schools? You’d think with their obsession with progress they’d focus as much on science as they could.” He paused for a minute thoughtfully, then kept going. “I think I get it, though. They only teach you about the things it’s easy to harness and use for yourselves. There’s not much they can do about rain… so they pretend it doesn’t exist. Like the past.”
“I want to see the book,” she said abruptly.
“What?”
“The book, the Apocalypse Journals, whatever it is you prefer to call them. I want to see it for myself.”
He raised his eyebrows, looking almost impressed. “Wow. I didn’t think we’d made that much progress. Unfortunately, I don’t have the Journals.”
“Who does?”
“Base.”
“And why can’t we go to base?”
He refrained from answering for what seemed like forever. “It’s a long story.”
She decided to let it go for now. He’d been so open with her today already that she felt she’d lose trust by asking for more.
“Maybe someday I’ll get to see them,” she said, and left it at that. She looked up into the clouds that were dumping their contents onto the earth below. On an impulse, she stuck out her tongue, attempting to catch the droplets on her tongue. Patrick started to laugh.
“See, that’s what all the normal kids do. You’re a natural.”
She giggled. “I like rain. It’s nice.” She flung her head back again, finally managing to catch a raindrop. It tasted salty, just like the water in the ocean had. The water cycle. He couldn’t be lying about that. Patrick hadn’t somehow fabricated the grandeur of the ocean before her, or made water fall from the sky by magic. Not only was he not crazy, he knew more about the world than anybody else she knew. Perhaps the Backwinders weren’t quite as backwards as she’d always assumed.
Branson would kill you if he knew you were thinking like that, she thought herself. Branson and Dad both. She didn’t like the thought, or the conflicting feeling it created in the depths of her mind. Branson and her father were fighting, risking their lives, trying to prevent the spread of the very ideas that were entering her mind at this moment. Dad would disown her if she knew she was traipsing all over the wilderness with a Backwinder boy.
It’s not traipsing, she justified. It’s survival. Big difference. This thought sat much better in Piper’s mind, so she welcomed it to stay. It pushed the conflict to the back of her head, and brought out Piper’s original point: she wasn’t a National or a Backwinder. Not anymore. She was a girl facing the world, and that’s all there was to it. If Patrick could help her do that, then so be it.
“What’re you thinking about?” The boy’s voice broke through her self reflection and brought her back to the present. He was eyeing her again, giving her that feeling that he already knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn’t find the feeling so repulsive as she had the day before.
“It’s a long story,” she replied.
“Fair enough.” The rain began to slow from a heavy downpour to a slight trickle. No longer assaulted by the water, Piper began to notice how truly soaked she was. Either he had the same thought, or he really could read her mind.
“I’m sorry, I should have thought to bring something to keep us dry.”
She rolled her eyes. “How quickly he forgets. Who pulled me all the way under the water?”
He raised his arms in upset. “Who pushed me in the first place?”
“Touché.”
“Ha.”
She gave him a wayside glance. “Fine, kid, you win this one.”
“We should get back to camp. I don’t know how long we’ve been here and we don’t want to be out after dark.”
“How come?”
“Wild animals, patrols, all kinds of things. It’s just not a good idea.”
“And the wild animals can’t get us inside the camp?” She stopped short. “Wait. What patrols?”
“National patrols. What other kind of patrol would I mean?”
“You mean they march right through here?”
“I’m not sure. They never have before, but they tell us to be ready for that during drill. If they were to come through I definitely wouldn’t want to be in their way. One look at my uniform and I’m history.”
“History?”
“It’s—“
“Never mind, you can tell me later. If they came through, what do you think the odds are they’d know where my brother and dad were?”
“I bet they have intense databases for that kind of thing, but you’re with me. You’d be in just as much danger. They’d take you for a spy in a second, especially since you don’t have a National uniform. They have no reason to believe you’re not a Memorist.”
“But there’s a chance, isn’t there?”
“Not a reasonable one. Don’t go looking for them, Piper. Please. Promise me you won’t go looking.” He’d called her Piper. Not Green Eyes. Piper.
“Fine. I promise,” she said after a lot of deliberation. “I don’t see why it really matters to you. I’m just another mouth to feed, remember?” She didn’t know why she felt like making him feel guilty, but she did.
“Come on, Green Eyes, you know that’s not what I think. I don’t drag myself all the way to the ocean for another mouth to feed.”
“Then what do you think?”
He looked her straight in the eye. It was a different look than she’d gotten before. It was neither angry nor tender, and she didn’t have a clue how to read it. “I don’t really know,” he said, with a little lilt in his voice. He began walking back toward the tree line.

"All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive..."

My novel is hitting a wall, so I'm doing the only thing I know to fix it: writing about something else instead. :)

Today the world changed. Today is a truly great day in the history of music. Today the entire Beatles catalog became available for download on iTunes.

Oh. Joy. RAPTURE. :D

Okay, so maybe it's not the most amazing thing that ever happened, but I'm pretty excited about it. This makes it so much easier for us younger fans to get the music and not pay a completely ridiculous amount of money. (And while we're here, may I make it quite clear that I'm not one of those obnoxious teenagers who claims to be a Beatles fan just because it's cool but doesn't actually know a single Beatles song. I have an Abbey Road poster in my room and could sing you any song off Rubber Soul word for word. Yup. I'm a fan.) I bet this also means Michael Jackson's estate gave up the rights to the songs, which is WONDERFUL. I mean, really, the fact that Paul McCartney couldn't even recovered HIS OWN SONGS on an album was rather sad.

I think the wonderful, timeless thing about the Beatles is how simple they are. Sure, they throw in their beautiful metaphors, but it doesn't take a massive intellect to understand them, and their messages are so universal. (I mean, "I Am the Walrus". Who doesn't relate to that?) For real though, some of the most inspirational songs of all time came from the pens and voices of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.

So, my playlist for today (because I like lists) in no particular order:
1. "Till There Was You" -- Yes. Yes yes yes. "The Music Man" + the Beatles = pure gold.
2. "She Loves You" -- This may be the catchiest song of all time, even if the lyrics are simple.
3. "I Want to Hold Your Hand" -- Ditto the last song.
4. "Ticket to Ride" -- My mom used to play the Carpenters' version of this all the time. And I HATED it. And then I discovered the Beatles version. And I fell in love. :)
5. "Penny Lane" -- I will go there someday. I will. And Abbey Road too. And I will walk across Abbey Road barefoot and pretend I'm dead Paul. :D
6. "Yellow Submarine" -- simply because no Beatles playlist is complete without this song.
7. "Eleanor Rigby"-- I LOVE this song. Especially when I feel like a lonely people. "Waits at the window, wearing a face that she keeps in the jar by the door..."
8. "Eight Days a Week"-- I think this was the first time I ever heard the Beatles on the radio. I was in about 6th grade. "I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship..." Hehe. I love it.
9. "Drive My Car"-- this is definitely my ringtone right now. So catchy.
10. "Help!"-- So simple yet so true.
11. "Paperback Writer"-- Because this is my theme song. Of course.
12. "I Will" -- This is the kind of song I wish somebody would sing to me. It's so cute and sweet. :)
13. "Hey Jude"-- One because it's a classic, and two because I love it. All the way down to the five minutes of "Naaah nah nah nanananah, nanananah, hey Jude."
14. "Blackbird" -- How does anybody not like this song?
15. "Can't Buy Me Love" -- Like several other Beatles songs, this just makes me feel happy inside for no good reason. It's just fun.
16. "Across the Universe" - "Kangaroo Day, um..." haha. Just kidding, that's not what he says there, but it sounds funny. It's a really pretty song otherwise though. :)
17. "Ob-la-Di, Ob-la-Da" -- Life goes on!

Alright...
As a "Paperback Writer", "I Will" listen to the Beatles while I "Drive My Car" down "Penny Lane" and all "Across the Universe". I would have taken a train "Yesterday", but I couldn't get a "Ticket to Ride" even "With a Little Help From My Friends." I suppose I could have taken a "Yellow Submarine" but I don't really need one because "I am the Walrus".... okay. I'm done with this. Hahahaha.

Thanks for wasting your time on this.

Long live Paul and Ringo!

<3

Chapter 4

“We’re going to camp,” he finally admitted to her a few miles from the lake. She stopped dead in her tracks.
“Camp? As in the army camp? As in all your people?”
He shook his head. “You really aren’t in the military, are you? No. That would be base. We’re headed to my camp, the one I set up myself. I’m living there right now. It’s not much, but it’s relatively safe.”
“If you’re living there, then what were you doing way out here?”
“Hunting. Sometimes there’s a few ducks on the lake. Truth be told, I was just as surprised to see you as you were to see me. I heard you brushing around and figured you were a duck.”
Step. Step. Step. They walked in silence for a few minutes.
“So what’s your story, Green Eyes?” She hated him calling her that, giving her nicknames before he even knew the first thing about her. The nerve of him. It took her a while to consider her answer, but she finally replied, “There was nothing left for me there.”
He nodded in wordless understanding.
“That’s why I joined the army,” he said after a few moments. “It’s not mandatory for us, but it’s not like I had anything better to do.”
Another long pause hung in the chilly air. This time, it was Piper who broke it.
“You mentioned your father, but didn’t you have a mom? Or brothers and sisters?” It was none of her business, but curiosity had gotten the best of her.
“My mom left us a couple of years before my dad died.”
“Left?” Piper’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “But how could she? The state couldn’t possibly have allowed—“
“We don’t do things the way the Nation does. Memorists marry for love, not for progress.” He looked down at his shuffling feet. “Unfortunately, love involves a much greater risk factor.”
What a selfish idea, she thought. Picking your own partner in life, with complete and utter disregard to the good of society? Of course, most National couples grew rather fond of each other, and some even fell in love after marriage. She’d always thought her own parents were rather lucky to have come across their love nearly on accident. In the end, however, the Nation was more important than the self; the Diviner mentioned this fact in nearly every one of his addresses. An intelligent man could never be expected to marry an unintelligent woman. The children could hardly reach their full potential intellectually.
“If it was love… why didn’t she stay?”
He didn’t speak for a long time, and avoided her eyes, determined to face the ground for as long as possible. “The only problem with love is… it’s easy for people to convince themselves they’re in it. People like feeling like they mean something in the world, even if it’s only to one person. Sometimes people think they’re in love with someone who loves them… but in the end they’re only in love with love. And when the fluttery emotions disappear, so do they.”
She felt a pang of hurt for the boy, in spite of herself. “I am sorry. Truly.”
“Not your fault,” he said, his deep voice growing louder and sharper. She could tell that he didn’t like showing weakness either. “Life is life. Just got to deal with it.”
And silence overtook the pair once again. Piper had always spent most of her time in silence, even before the bombings, and this silence was not uncomfortable like the many that had filled in the holes in her past dealings with people. It was merely a thoughtful lull, a quiet recharge before the next topic of conversation.
“Hang on,” she asked suddenly. “What did you call yourself before?”
“What?”
“Before, you were talking about your people and how you do marriage different. What did you call them?”
“Memorists. We call ourselves the Memorists.”
“You mean you’re not Backwinders?”
“Not within our own circles. You call us Backwinders because you think we’re uselessly backwards. We prefer to think of ourselves as the ones who have retained the memories of what used to be, as the protectors of the past. The Memorists.”
“But the past you believe in never existed. It’s a figment of your imaginations.”
He stopped walking and looked up, making sure to catch her eye. She hated that feeling. She was sure every fault she had was written in her eyes, and he was reading them like they were books.
“Events can’t be erased by a single man’s insistence that they never happened.”
She could think of no witty remark, no comeback that could convince him. She simply knew he was wrong. It was as simple as that. The boy, however, wasn’t finished.
“We have more records beside the Apocalypse Journals. There are letters, books, memoirs, music. There’s a whole world in the past that the Diviner tells you never existed. A world before the Nation came on the scene.”
“But there wasn’t a world before the Nation. We were the first and only inhabitants of the planet.”
“It wasn’t the first, and it wasn’t the only. It isn’t the only.”
“Not anymore. Not after your people left.”
He shook his hand. “You don’t understand. There are whole other continents. Six more of them, actually.”
“Continents?”
“Land masses. Surrounded by oceans. I forgot, do they tell you about oceans?”
She shook her head eagerly. “What’s an ocean?”
He smiled silently.
“Come on, tell me!”
“I’ll tell you what. There’s one not too far from camp. There won’t be time tonight but tomorrow we’ll go to the ocean, all right? You can see for yourself.”
She stopped walking. “Is this a trap?”
He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. “Look, it’s worth nothing to me to trap you at this point. Sure, you’re part of the Nation, but you don’t know anything about its inner workings. You probably know even less than we do. You haven’t tried to kill me, so I don’t think you’re a threat. Everybody should see the ocean at least once. It’s just a fact of life.”
He looked her straight in the eyes. This gesture seemed to be reserved for moments when he was trying to get her trust. Finally curiosity got the best of her. “Alright. Tomorrow we’ll go to the ocean. Deal.” She held out her hand, and he looked at her in surprise. She didn’t usually offer him trust like this. After a moment of shock, he shook it.
“Deal.”
The following lull in conversation allowed Piper to focus on the scenery around her as they continued to walk. She had never seen anything like it before. There had been trees in the city, but she’d never seen anything like the ones that lined the road before her. Not only were they taller than the synthetic trees that grew in the city square, but they were… orange. Orange, red, and yellow garlands of color filled in the empty spaces between the brown branches, creating a kind of fantastical wonderland.
“Why are they that color?” She tapped Patrick’s arm and pointed at the trees.
He gave her a wayside glance. “You kidding?”
“No, do I look like it?” She grinned in anticipation. “They’re so beautiful.”
“It’s September. The leaves change color in the autumn.”
“Autumn?”
He actually stopped to look at her. “You’re killin’ me. The season? Don’t tell me they’ve gotten rid of seasons where you come from.”
“I’m not sure exactly what you’re talking about.”
He sighed heavily. “I can tell. Man. They got rid of seasons. They just never stop, do they?”
“Wait. Does it have to do with… snow? Is snow a season?”
He laughed for the first time since they met. “Snow is precipitation. Winter is the season when it snows.”
“And snow is white, right? And really cold?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
“I remember snow. It snowed in the city once when I was little.” She bit her lip and grinned. “It was like clouds froze and fell from the sky. It stuck to everything, backed up everything for a week… ice on the roads or something. The Diviner wasn’t happy about it, he promised later it wouldn’t ever happen again. It messed up the Lex cars, got in the way… I couldn’t see why it was a bad thing. It was so pretty. Me and Mom and Branson went outside and played until we froze.”
A lump formed in her throat. Mom.
He looked at his feet thoughtfully. “Glitch in their system. They probably have some kind of covering up to prevent the weather from getting through…” He looked up to meet her eye again. “And you don’t even know how much you’re missing, do you? You don’t know how much they’re not telling you.” He gestured toward the gorgeous orange leaves. “Will you take this as some proof that I’m not crazy? Your Diviner would tell you those trees don’t exist. Autumn is a myth. Your people, the people in charge, they just erase whatever they don’t like. There’s so much more out there than they’re telling you.”
She remained silent.
They arrived at Patrick’s camp just as the sun was setting. Ethereal brushstrokes swept across the sky, painting it lavender, crimson, and gold. The campsite itself set on the crest of a hill, with a perfect view of Piper’s newfound autumn trees lining the ground all the way to the horizon.
“Wow.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “See what I mean? Never seen anything like that before, have you?”
She shook her head in speechless wonder. After a few minutes his voice pulled her away. “Come on, it’ll be there everyday. We gotta eat.” He pulled the pack of beef jerky out of his pack and threw it to her. “Sorry it’s not much. It was a terrible day for hunting. Hopefully we can get something good tomorrow.”
She snapped open the package greedily and tore a piece of the dried meat off with her teeth. She was starving— anything edible was good enough for her. It took some discipline to force herself to hand the bag back to him. He traded her for an apple. It was rich and juicy, bursting with flavor in her mouth.
“You can have the tent,” he said, gesturing to the shelter behind her. “I’ll take the tree.”
She looked up at the gigantic tree at the edge of the camp and shook her head. “You can’t sleep up there. You’ll fall out or something, I know it.”
“Did it the first night I was here. If I strap myself into the sleeping bag I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. You’re the lady. You take the tent.”
“Hey, I can handle whatever you can. Just because I’m a girl—“
“Another thing you’ve lost. Chivalry. Guess that gets in the way of progress, huh?”
She stood and placed her hands on her hips, trying to look as offended as possible.
“It’s not about you not being as good as me, as strong as me, whatever. It’s about you being better because you’re a girl. You deserve to be treated better, okay? And yes, it’s old-fashioned. And I don’t care. You’re sleeping in the tent.”
She could tell she wasn’t winning this battle, so she surrendered. “Fine.”
“You oughta go ahead and get some sleep, too. It’s been a long day.”
She cocked one eyebrow. “Is that chivalry too?”
“No, but I think it’s in your best interest if you want to see the ocean tomorrow. It’s a ways away and you want to be wide awake for this.”
He’d done it again, dangled a possibility in front of her that she couldn’t resist. That’s what he seemed to be best at. “Fine. I’ll go to sleep and we’ll go see the ocean tomorrow. You’ll have to wake me up in the morning.”
“I can do that.”
“Alright. Well, good night, Patrick.”
“ ‘Night, Green Eyes.”
To her surprise, the nickname didn’t fill her with resentment. Maybe it just took some getting used to. No one had ever given her a nickname but her brother.
“Hey, Patrick?”
He looked up from the fire he was trying to start. “Huh?”
“Thanks.” She disappeared into the tent.

My life! The real one!

...Haha... weren't expecting that, were ya? For real, I probably should be working on my novel, but I'm procrastinating a little bit. I have writer's block. So maybe writing aimlessly will free me up a little bit. So, here it is... you know the drill.

Cool God thoughts:
1. God didn't have to make us the way He made us. Me and my friend Lorel were talking about food the other day and I realized God could have made us so we all just plugged into the ground and recharged or something. But we get to EAT! And not only that, we get to LIKE eating!! Cool.
2. I've been meaning to put this on for a long time, but every one's a minister, because ministry has a ton to do with service. That's my Wednesday night class at church this quarter. I'm lovin' it.
3. Subcategory -- cool Heaven thoughts (a lot of this is speculation on my part... but it's cool speculation!).
~You know how on earth you click with some people ridiculously well, but then there are those other people whom you love just as much, but can't carry on a conversation with quite as easily? I bet in Heaven everybody clicks perfectly. Which is awesome.
~Past conflicts between people are gone in Heaven. Like you don't even remember they've ever happened.
~My grandpa is in Heaven right now, and he gets to hang out with Rachel's grandpa, and Laesha's grandpa, and Warren Wilcox, and Emmett Roberts, and Paul! All at the same time! (Do you think they have like "anniversary of coming to heaven" parties in Heaven? That'd be cool. Happy belated anniversary of going to Heaven, Grandpa. :') )
Yeah. I like Heaven. Excited to go there. :)

Things I did this week:
1. Tried out for my school musical (and made it into chorus!)... but I'm having doubts as to whether I'm actually going to stay. Some of the jokes are extremely bawdy and I'm not comfortable with it. (And if you go to my school, NO, this has NOTHING to do with the casting. They can cast it however they like. This is purely based on my convictions.) They're still cleaning it up though, so I'm not quitting just yet. I'll stick around to see how much better it gets and we'll go from there.
2. I'm up to about 14,000 words on my novel... HOLY COW! I think this is the longest thing I've ever written and I've only been working on it for a week today. Wow. I'm really loving it... it's cathartic. The NaNoWriMo website calls it "thirty days and thirty nights of literary abandon"... I like literary abandon. It's a fun place to be. :) Again, if there are plot discrepancies and they're confusing you... sorry. Also, if the name "Henry" popped up anywhere in the last chapter... I meant Patrick. He was originally Henry but I changed his name. I think I caught 'em all but if I didn't, yeah. It's Patrick.
3. Somehow I misplaced a $15 iTunes giftcard... sigh. The days of frivolous whim-based music buying are over until Christmas.
4. Had a dream about an old friend from elementary/middle school last night-- I need to call you Katherine!! (I don't know if you actually read this or not, but that's ok.)
5. FINISHED MY TERM PAPER ROUGH DRAFT!!! It was quite the undertaking, too. I'm nervous... my teacher is a tough grader.
6. Got my two of my besties back from Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and wherever else in the world they were... I take my girls for granted! Hol and Aimee... I love you. And I'm glad you're back. :)
7. Rediscovered iPhone Bananagrams... fun stuff. What a fantastic waste of time. :)
8. It SNOWED!! And I watched it snow!!! I love snow.
9. I turned my clock back and got an extra hour of sleep... and the benefits end there. I hate being off Daylight Savings time. Hate it. Yesterday I got home at about 5:30 and it was dark. Boo. Boo on Daylight Throwing-Away time.
10. I saw a CHIK-FIL-A COMMERCIAL!! I've never seen one of those before in my life.
11. Oh! I discussed Scarlet Letter in English... aaah! I love that book. Unlike everybody else, I liked Dimmesdale... what do you think? (Yes, Aimee, I am talking to you. Because no one else has read this book. Hehe.)
12. I watched "Avalon High" on Disney Channel last night, and was severely disappointed. It's based on a book and they completely changed the ending, and it was so clever in the book! They made it all "preteenish"... oh well. I'm slowly losing my Disney Channel love.

Things I still need to do in the near future:
1. Two physics labs (well, I've done about half of both of them... so one physics lab?)
2. An article for CFYC
3. Start working on a persuasive speech for Friday... my argument is that music stimulates brain activity, hence helping you study. I am living proof of this argument. :)
4. Start working on the Kite Runner... I still haven't started. What a bad book club leader I am.

Random things you probably could care less that you now know about me:
1. I kinda love awesome socks. Plain white socks are desperately depressing. I'm currently wearing a Buzz Lightyear sock on one foot and a Rex the dinosaur sock on the other. So they're friends. But on my feet.
2. I have a weakness for Chewy Chips Ahoy. It's bad. Two of them have 180 calories, and I have THREE just about every day. And I wonder why I'm gaining weight.
3. I love taking long walks. They help me sort things out or just relax. The other day I discovered I can walk all the way to the park about a mile away from my house without even getting tired. I'm kinda really sad the weather is getting cold because now it's harder to take walks.
4. In my house there's this spot on the rightmost cushion of our couch. It's the comfiest part of the couch and has the best view of the TV and the closest proximity to the outlet where I have to charge my laptop. And it's DAD'S SPOT. I never get to sit in Dad's spot. Sigh. Well, I say never... actually I'm sitting in it right now, 'cause he's upstairs. I'm such a rebel.
5. I type a lot slower when I'm cold. So this cold front is not helping my novel-writing pursuits.

Thoughts of the week:
1. People need to learn to show some respect for other people's feelings, in both directions. (And if you don't know what I'm talking about, that's ok. If you're supposed to, then I can guarantee you do.)
2. The most entertaining part of the GA/Auburn football game is the Pirates of the Caribbean/Star Wars music. (No, I am not directly watching the game. If I were, you would know, because the world would be coming to an end as we speak. I can just hear it from the other room. I am, however, going to move into that room because my laptop is about to die and I need to plug it in.)
3. Christmas comes AFTER Thanksgiving. Santa comes at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and then it is the Christmas season. That means the Christmas commercials should come on AFTER Thanksgiving and decorations should come up AFTER Thanksgiving. I'm looking at you, shopping center by my house. Christmas decorations up by November 1st. Good grief.
4. Some people get very worked up over nothing at all... and that's all I'm gonna say.


Songs of the Week:
1. "Taking the World On" by Meese-- I don't necessarily relate to the lyrics, but they're just so beautiful. "It's like one voice in the choir buried by the rest..." Sigh. I'm sad I didn't get into this band before they broke up.
2. "Breakeven" by the Script-- I like it all except for the "prayin' to a God that I don't believe in" part. Because I definitely believe in God. So I change it to "hangin' on a hope that I don't believe in." And then it's a good song!
3. "November Blue" by the Avett Brothers-- I bought the live version. And it's gorgeous. Yup.

Alright, my novel is calling, whether I know where it's going or not. At 2000 words a day, I can't afford to get behind. Thanks for checkin'.