Hey everyone!!! I just want to say that all of your comments make me feel incredible. Every one of you are amazing. And as for you ZoeyRedBird, thank you for the consideration, but I am no way good enough to get published. But thank you so much! Maybe when I'm older.........

Well, anyway, this is the end of chapter 2. I found the chapter too short, but the last part just really seemed like a good way to end it. The start of chapter 3 will be here soon :)

I paid one last glance to my sister before heading out the front door, quietly and gently shutting it with my suitcase rolling right behind me. The crickets were a distant humming in the bushes and trees beside my house, singing in complete unison as they went on with their lives, completely unaware that the night was supposed to be dead. The only sources of lights were the streetlamps that lined up evenly along the abandoned road. I could make out cars sitting lazily in the driveways and next to the curb, or the cherry trees that a few neighbors decided to keep on their front lawn because it looked pretty, and if I tried real hard, I could slightly see the HAPPY 21^st BIRTHDAY VERONICA!!! Balloon swaying from side to side, attached to the mailbox of the Pilipean’s house. When I was younger, I remembered, Veronica and I used to be friends. She would come to my house multiple times a week and the two of us would search up random videos on Youtube. It was quite a weird connection with someone, growing a relationship by watching absurd videos of complete strangers falling off of chairs or believing that they were amazing singers when they were awful, but it was just the only thing we had in common.

The bus came about ten minutes later, the bright headlights forcing me to shield my eyes with my forearm. I could hear the slow rumbling of the motor, and the squeak that always bothered me whenever the doors would open. In the drivers seat was an incredibly heavy man holding a sandwich in one hand and driving with another. He barely acknowledged my presence as I silently stepped onto the bus and he stuffed a piece of the sandwich in his mouth. It was almost abandoned in all the seats, except a middle-aged woman with black hair cradling a sleeping baby in her arms, stroking the child’s face with one hand and using the other to keep it close to her chest. The baby’s mouth was slightly open as she breathed in her sleep. In the front seat was an elderly couple sitting as still as statues. The woman stared straight ahead, her eyes distant as if she was gazing in space, and the man looked at me vaguely threw tiny gl*censored*es. I tried to ignore his gaze as I walked down the narrow aisle, sitting completely in the back seat with my suitcases propped next to me.

The growling of the bus seemed to transform into a soothing purring as the vehicle began to move, increasing faster and faster by the moment. It was merely impossible not to fall asleep; car motion had always caused me to feel sleepy, I would even occasionally drift off on the way to the local supermarket. Being prepared, I shuffled through my bag until I found my “stay awake tool”. My ipod was fresh with new songs that I illegally downloaded from Limewire sometime last week. It wasn’t that awful, I kept reminding myself every time guilt would attempt to over power me, it’s not like I’ve ever done it before. I plugged in the round earphones into my ears, snapping them into the whole of my ipod, and searched through “artists” until I came upon one that interested me. I closed my eyes, leaned back against the smooth leather seats, and allowed the lyrics to take me on their own ride, allowing me to forget every pot-hole, every streetlamp, and every empty space in my heart. 

I close both locks below the window

I close both blinds and turn away

Sometimes solutions aren’t that simple

Sometimes goodbye’s the only way….

Hey everyone!!! Listen, I recently kind of felt like I lost all my inspiration, and I almost completely abandoned this story. But I didn't want to abandon my 4th story (it's kind of a habit) and be a failure all over again. So, I toughened up and attempted to get down to business. Now, this is pretty short and I wrote most of it in about 30 minutes, so it may not "sweep you away". But not everything has to.....

Chapter 3           

     The ride to the airport was a silent one. The woman with the baby got off, just as the young child began to shoot off into an insane hysteria of crying, and the girl rubbed her temple with one hand, shushing the baby softly. She practically ran off the steps, tripping and almost falling flat on her face but somehow regaining balance thanks to a streetlamp that stood right beside the bus stop. I felt a small sense of sympathy for the mid-twenty year old. It was hard enough for me to have to go off in the middle of the night all alone, taking care of myself, but she also had a young toddler in her hands as well. It didn’t seem like it was capable of being able to juggle that many priorities in the air at once and still be expected to stay breathing. It seemed, at least to me, as impossible as slamming a revolving door.           

 I got to the airport around forty minutes later. Groups of people were scattered here and there in the open, windowed space, some hugging loved ones that they were finally being reunited with, others shopping through souvenirs in stores. Through the gigantic rectangular windows, if my eyes fought with the wrath of darkness, I could slightly see the shadowed shape of lined up planes, sitting close near the building, being prepared to take off like they had so many times before. I’ve been on a plane once, the time I went down to Captive Island with my family. I remember feeling sick to my stomach, imagining in my brain these horrible and atrocious images of the plane crashing down and blowing up in an empty field, where no one could save me. When I mentioned it to Emma, she just laughed, telling me I was being a Pre-Madonna and should learn to toughen up. She would pat my back as we waited in the leather chairs with our bags and suitcases resting against our legs, telling me that everything would be alright and no one would get hurt. I realized at that moment that Emma and I were born at the wrong times. She was meant to be the big sister, the one who would comfort the youngster and make everything seem to easy, and I was meant to be the little sister, desperately begging for help and reas.surance and having kiddy-like fears taking over me. Our recreation did not go as planned, I hoped.            

The easiest thing to remember was my ears popping. I had six skittles in my mouth, chewing them as much as I could handle until my jaw ached, since I learned that reduces the pain. But as the plane shot off into the air and flying higher by the second, my ears suddenly formed a shrilling sensation in them, almost burning and I wanted nothing more than to rip them off right then and there. For days on the trip, I remembered, my ears would still hurt and I would constantly complain. My mom would just sigh and walk away, Emma would pat my cheeks and say that life was tough, and my dad would offer to chop them off for me.            

“Excuse me, madam,” a middle aged man, with dark brown hair and eyes to match, came up and stood in front of me. His shirt was covered in dirt and his jeans were ripped at the knees. His leather jacket was the only thing on him that wasn’t falling apart. “Where does flight 97 take off? This part of the country is worse than that ‘ole bar I used to work at.”           

I stirred in my seat, tapping on my suitcase nervously. I didn’t like this strange man coming up and asking me for directions. He could be a criminal, for all I know. Suddenly, his leather jacket looked even more suspicious.           

“No, I’m sorry,” I whispered, refusing to look him in the eyes, “I don’t know where it is.”           

He sighed and sat down about a foot away from me. He smelt like sweat, beer, and cigarette smoke. “Well that’s just too bad,” he mumbled, staring out at the windows, “ ‘Cause daddy’s in no mood to go all,” he rolled his head as if he was delusional, “the way to the other side of this darn airport and ask another pretty lady for directions.”           

I could barely breath. His stench felt like it was going into my chest and sucking all the power out of it. And my eyes were burning, tearing up with my every bl
ink.             “

Well, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, grabbing my bag and standing up, “I can’t help you.”           

He smiled at me; a sweet, vicious, dirty smile that reminded me of a dark alleyway. His eyes were almost completely crossed. “Well, maybe you can’t help me in that,” he twirled his finger around in front of his face, “way. But I do know something else you can do for me…”           

“No, no, no,” I began stepping back, truly afraid for the first time. “I guess I’ll be leaving now.”           

He stuck his palm out at me. “Now, wait one second, you beautiful gal. I’ve been all-alone for the past four years since my old wife left me. And I don’t need some teenage chick leaving me, too. Now get back here.”           

 My whole body was trembling with fear. I could feel the blood rushing into my palms, preparing for overload of sweat. “I have to go, now.”           

 I began speed walking as fast as I could without running, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead. I could hear the man’s voice yelling out to me, filled with drunkenness and dirtiness. “Come on, baby!” “I wouldn’t hurt you!” “You know you can’t keep your paws off of me.”           

ohhh its alright and thank you! I quit those other stories because a new idea kept popping into my head. And thats happening now, but i won't quit this one, I went too far to give up. i read a lot of Sarah Dessen (hint hint, username :p) And it always makes me thing "Wow, imagine if I could be that good." and then I start writing because I do want to be that good.

And the feedback=my air thing, that was just 'cause i was beyond bored and had nothing else to do. also, my other friend did it so i was sorta mocking her :p

I didn't write for a good 3-4 days put now im forcing myself too. Although it does stink most of the time, my writing i mean, i'll just keep going

Oh my god!

Do NOT make me come to your house!! (=  Rmail me!

You are the best young writier I have read in a LONG time! Do NOT beat yourself up!!! You ROCK! I want to hear more about this stranger person.. Does he kidnap her? TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL ME!!!

Hey everyone. Listen, I'm not gonna post anymore probably. Maybe...... if some miracle comes and I actually get a talent. But lately, all my writing has been complete dirt, something worth throwing away and never looking back on. I'm still writing, but just random things, and I probably won't show anyone. All my inspiration is completely gone, as well as my what i thought was "gift", but apparently it is. I'm not happy about this, it's really hard to feel so shut down, but I just can't be good at it anymore. Why? I don't know. I think school may be part of it. It puts so much anxiety on me sometimes that I feel like I just might explode. They expect you to be perfect, but I always say "Flaws are not burdens, but gifts that make us who we are." Anyway, thanks to all who always commented, you guys really made me feel good, but all that spark and energy I used to have is long gone, now.

Maybe I'll post something, but there is a high chance it won't be for this story. Probably just blurs of scenes that crash into my head.

P.S.- I am not looking for sympathy. Don't apologize to me 'cause honestly, I don't want to hear it. Say I'm jerk, a failure, a loser, alright, you mean it, you say it. But dont feel sorry for me for something that is my own fault. I don't want you to

Thalia don't scare her! You write if You want to and btw i love the book

Hey everyone! As of right now, this story is at a halt. But my writing is not. I had this idea flowing through my head for the past month, and I believe that is why this story has been coming out so horrible. So, I'm writing the other story "I Dare You" and even though the beginning is absolutely horrible (beginnnings are my weak point, by the way). But anyway, my writing still is not in its groove yet but I am attempting to, 'cause this new idea is driving me absolutely insane. Again, please don't judge me by the beginning of my story, I truly suck at them, but believe me, it will get better by the middle. Every story does :)

Thanks for commenting!!!