“The last page doesn’t necessarily mean the end.”
Right Now: I’m a high-schooler trying to figure out what comes next. I am a girl with a notebook, a violin and a pair of ballet shoes trying to understand the world.
Someday: I will be the girl I know I can be. I will learn to take risks. I will learn to be someone who can take control, and fly free.
Welcome to my World: I like to look at the sky. Clouds are cool. Imagination games rock. If you’ve never illegally climbed on construction sites, you’re missing out on crucial parts of life. If there are no construction areas, climb a fire escape.
I have lots of wishes and dreams for me and my life. I don’t know if any of them will come true, and that’s scary.The best thing we can do
is make wherever we’re lost in
look as much like home
as we can.
~Christopher FrySeries:
Cassandra and Adam with SandwichMaker: http://ficly.com/stories/16647Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit.
Wisdom is not putting a tomato in a fruit salad.
Stories
-
Release
On the day they released her, she thought someone would come. That someone would care. But no one did. It felt like it had been a lifetime ago that she had felt fresh air. The ocean sparkled in front of her, the waves splintering the moonlight into lit...
-
Coffee and Candles
The coffee shop was dimly lit, with overstuffed chairs and abstract artwork on the walls. Somewhere she never would have come in a million years, which was why it was so perfect. “What can I get you, miss?” “Can I have…a latte? And a corn muff...
-
Yesterday
seems like just yesterday we sat where she is now finger-painting purple swirls dots of yellow washed away like the sweeping tide beauty exchanged for a stick figure first grade crushes to a first romance I want to swing on the swings again holding han...
-
Applesauce and Nonsense
maybe it was the way her hair was in her eyes as she sat there criss cross legs applesauce and nonsense and she’s not even pretty cheap motel room Motel 8 but seven eight (ate?) nine white t-shirt ketchup stains or maybe it’s blood and kale...
-
Not Again
-
Lock and Key
She reaches out to him cautiously, fingers not quite touching the fabric of his shirt. She slides her other hand underneath her camisole, drawing out a long, silver chain. “This is going to be our secret spot. No one else can know about it but us...
-
Maybe Cassie
“I don’t think I believe in forever.” The look on his face is as if she’s slapped him, but she just looks at the floor, drawing swirly patterns in the dust with her index finger. “Hey Cassie?” “Adam?” ...
-
Blue Violin
The blue house was where it had all begun. At first it had seemed huge to her. The half-mile walk from her own home to the blue house, with its fading paint and cheerful curtains, had seemed like an eternity to a six year old girl carrying that black v...
-
Writing on the Wall
She holds the metal box close to her, stroking it like she would a puppy. The cold metal feels good underneath her fingers. Staring down at it, she sees her distorted reflection in the surface – tangled hair, smudged face, torn camisole. He’...
-
Intertwined
-
Memories
She tries to focus on simply putting one foot in front of the other. The rocks are jagged, but when she stumbles, he grabs her hand. His fingers are warm and dry around hers, and she finds herself holding on tight, clinging to that small sense of secur...
-
Familiar
“Cassandra. Not Cassie. Cassandra.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, her airways blocked by the wire. “My name. Is. Cassandra.” She felt the wire tighten as he slid even closer. “Cassandra, then.” It’s almost ...
-
Driving Straight
With the pot coursing through her veins, it’s all she can do to think straight, let alone drive straight. She feels the sharp edges of the bills against her breast. She had been going to get away. She was so close. But there he was in the car, ri...
-
Thirty-Six Times
I ought to be sorry that I let the phone ring thirty six times and let you leave thirty six messages and I really should be sorry that I didn’t listen to any of them and I should probably be sorry that when you came over I pretended I wasn’...
-
Leaving
-
Cassandra
-
On The Other Side of the Glass
Someone once told me that eyes were the windows to the soul, but I thought they had it all backwards. Eyes weren’t the windows, but rather, windows were the eyes, the peepholes to the rest of the world. A world that wasn’t mine, but all the same, I...
-
Lucy's Eyes
They are pale grey; really more of a light silver, so astonishing that when you look into them, you tend to forget what it was you wanted to say. The black center shines in the light; a strange sort of midnight in this small world; and the whiteness en...
-
Stories Without Endings
It all seems so surreal. That tree, the one across the street, has been chopped down, replaced by a small rose garden. And that house, that crumbling thing on the next block, has been repainted beyond recognition. The laundry still gets hung out to dry...
-
Yellow Petals
Gently, I sit up in bed, letting the yellow silk of the sheets caress me. I reach one hand over to the small table next to my bed, extracting the yellow rose from the small, narrow-necked prison it has been confined to through the night, while with the...
-
Through the Rain
It was raining. All the children flocking from the elementary school had umbrellas—red, blue, pink, duck print. All except one. She was refugee-skinny, with dark hair and huge blue eyes that seemed oblivious to the fact that she was being soaked to t...
-
It's All White
White…it’s all white. That’s all I can think of, strangely. The sheets on the bed, the floors, the walls…all of it is white. The cover on the IV hooked up to my arm. The hospital gown I’m wearing. Or wait…no, I think that’s more green. Bu...
-
Patchwork Quilt
The mirror tells the truth. All my life, I’ve been taught to lie. “Don’t tell anyone,” whispered into the dark, night after night. “Tell her you fell. You’re such a klutz, it’s not like anyone will doubt it.” Lies are like little patche...
-
New Hope
The other kids at our public school call us the hippies, but we’re not like the flower children or anything. I mean, we dress a little different, like, I have my calico dress, and we all go barefoot, but that’s it. ‘Cept for the tepees. Rose ‘n...
-
Finding Anna
She gave it to me for Christmas, so many years ago. When I look at it, sometimes I think that I can still see her, that maybe she is still there, inside that miniature world. Yeah, I think that’s her world. And even though I don’t see her, maybe sh...
-
Not Fast Enough
One foot, other foot. Just pushing, pushing away from the pavement. Harder. Faster. Maybe, maybe if I shove hard enough against the gray concrete, I won’t be part of it anymore, and I’ll be able to fly. Maybe. One foot, other foot. Cars are speedin...
-
Reflections
I can see myself reflected on all sides as I hold onto the barré, my leg extended straight out to the side, my toes pointed towards the window on the left side of the room. Over and over I see my face, my arms, my hands. All my life there’s been mir...
-
The Tears Come
Running my fingers along the glossy black, I don’t let my mind work. No. I’m not going to think, not going to think about this. Because if I let my thoughts unfreeze, I’ll realize that all these people have left us for the world above the sky, an...
-
Laura
When Laura thought about boyfriends, they were never her own. Her mother changed relationships the way most people changed clothes – regularly, but sometimes with more excitement than others. She refused to get to know any of them, knowing they w...
-
Interception
The paper airplane nosedived right next to Laura’s desk. Ben. If you’re not Ben, either die in a hole or pass this to him. Well, with an opening like that, she had to read on. Liz lived in her building. She would show her the note after school....
![PJ (Jae) [[LoA]]](http://cdn.ficly.com/icons/2758/avatar.jpg){kind=icon}
