I wrote this for a story contest in a guild called the Universal Fighters. I really though that my main character was being too emo, but her brother kinda balances her out. I personally think that I need to continue writing this, but I kinda wanna finish Living in Memories first. Oh, and by the way, yes, Mia, Demi, and Sayre are the same ones as from LiM, just minus the vampire-ness. And, yes, Mia is also the same as my RPC, just with black hair instead of silver. Also, I must say something about the awsome bands that inspired half of this story: Oasis, Story of the Year, and Secondhand Serenade (especially the last one...hope they can forgive me for defiling that beautiful song that is Your Call... sweatdrop ). I couldn't have written this without them. (This is kinda random, but is it just me, or do I use the sweatdrop emoticon a lot? It doesn't matter if it's my journal or if it's in the forums of the guilds/clan that I'm in. It seems to be one of my best friends. I have too many uses for it...) Now, enjoy
Songs and a Butterfly
A boy is seen walking off school campus towards the nearby forest. He continues to play his enchanting tune. As he played, everyone would watch him in amazement. He glanced over at one of the girls, flashing his dazing smile. She instantly blushed and looked down. Within the split second of her breaking eye contact, she looked up and he was gone. She stood there stunned. The wind seemed to blow her hair back gently, but she felt it brushed against her bare neck. It was an icy touch. She reached over to touch her frozen neck to find a hand in the way. Heart frozen, she slowly turned to meet the eyes of the guitarist...
I was jolted from my dream as soon as I tried to see his face. I had had that particular one many times before: a mysterious boy that would smile at me and touch me, but every time I tried to see his face, I would wake up. I shook my head a little as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and wondered again who that boy could be.
“Hey, Ri, you up yet?” my brother called while banging on my bedroom door. I slowly climbed out of bed and turned the knob. As usual, I was confronted by the one person who knew me as well as I know myself: my twin brother, Demetrius Brennen. And, as usual, his black hair was messily falling into his blue eyes while he stood there in his wrinkled pajamas.
“Riley, how do you always manage to sleep so late? It’s Saturday! There is no school and no homework! It’s a day that you’re supposed to spend actually doing something besides sleeping,” he complained. I didn’t answer him, other than to shove past him to make my way down the stairs towards the smell of food.
Demi kept up his mindless chatter until we got to the kitchen, which was when I was finally awake enough to shout, “Demi, just please do me a favor and be quiet for five minutes! That is all I ask!”
Amazingly, he complied. For exactly five minutes, I ate my pancakes in peace while Julie, our guardian, laughed at Demi. If you’ve ever seen a little kid who’s trying so hard not to tell a secret, then you know how Demi looked while he served his five minutes of silence.
Once those blessed five minutes were up, though, he asked me, “So, what exactly were you planning on doing today?”
I have no idea why he bothered asking me that. There was only one thing that I ever did anymore: find any hint of our missing parents and best friend. We had all gone on a cruise together, but when the ship sank, we were separated. Demi and I ended up on a small island that happened to have an airport with a pilot generous enough to give us a free ride back home, but our parents and our best friend, Sayre Aeronwyn, never contacted us. That’s the reason we had Julie. She took pity on us when the government wanted us put into the adoption system, so she took Demi and me in. Julie had been a social worker for about four years before we met her and had always wanted kids of her own, but she never had time for anything other than work until she adopted us. They gave her a break because she claimed us before we went into the system.
I got up from the table, the look on my face telling him everything that he needed to know. He didn’t say anything as I headed back to my room to fire up my computer and slip into my usual jeans and t-shirt. After I had completed my usual morning ritual, I reach toward my desk to grab the folder of information that I had been lucky enough to find, but it had disappeared. I searched my room for it, and then came to my only logical conclusion: Demi had it.
I knew he was still downstairs stuffing his face, so I slipped into his room to begin my search. After completely tearing the room apart, I realized that it wasn’t there. I continued on my search throughout the house until well past noon, but was unsuccessful. My folder was gone. All my work, all my research, all my hopes had disappeared. In a state of complete and total despair, I went back to my room and lay down on my bed. Sometime after that, I drifted off to sleep.
The girl is walking down a path between towering trees in a forest. She is completely alone, but she feels as if she is being followed. She hears a sound to her right, and walks toward it. It is the same guitarist sitting in a small clearing, playing his guitar and singing a song that was very familiar to the girl. She couldn’t see his face for the wavy shoulder-length auburn locks that fell across it.
Waiting for your call I’m sick, call I'm angry
Call I'm desperate for your voice
Listening to the song we used to sing
In the car. Do you remember,
Butterfly? Early summer…
It's playing on repeat, Just like when we would meet… (Your Call by Secondhand Serenade)
He unexpectedly turns toward the girl and says, “Do you? I’m waiting for you, Butterfly.” Immediately she recognizes the boy, and…
…woke up to her brother shaking her. Demi had a wild look in his eyes, and it was enough to make me wonder what was going on.
“Ri! Thank goodness, you’re awake. What was going on? I kept feeling like something was wrong, then I came up here and you were shaking as if you were afraid of something. Are you alright?” he asked. It took me a while to process what he was saying before I could even hold up my hand to stop his rambling. I think that what actually sent him into shock was the fact that I was smiling the whole time.
“He’s alive,” I whispered with the smile still on my face. When I saw his look of confusion, I said, “Sayre’s alive. I know it.”
“How do you know?” he inquired. I then proceeded to tell him of my dream.
“…and he was singing the song that he wrote me,” I finished. I reflected on the last three lines. I first met Sayre at a music festival in England one June. He had been playing there with his band, and I had been captivated by his music. He and I had run into each other at one of the many food booths in the area, and we began to talk. We quickly became friends, and we kept in touch long after that with visits, letters, e-mails, and phone calls. Not long after, he developed his pet name for me: Butterfly. He had always said that I was the wings that lifted his soul up. The song had been my sixteenth birthday present.
Apparently Demi remembered all of that, too, because that simple statement was enough to convince him. Just as he was about to say something, the doorbell rang. Julie had gone to work, so quickly got up to answer the door. I rushed down the stairs and twisted the doorknob with a feeling that someone important was there. I swung the door open to reveal the face that had haunted my dreams for the last year.
The three words that he spoke would be engraved into my mind for the rest of my life:
I’m back, Butterfly.
· Fri Nov 28, 2008 @ 02:59am · 0 Comments