Posted in story, Uncategorized

Brianna ( Part 1)

I have not ,until now, shared with you any stories I have written just thoughts, reviews, poems and other forms of writing. The other day though this all began to unwind and I was thinking about typing it up to keep on a flash drive instead of losing it in the abyss of papers I have of stories told. Instead I thought I would take a bold leap of faith and share it with you in sections until it was done and get some feedback on a very new style of writing for me to be showing you. So I really do hope that after reading each section you will leave a little comment for me  about how you like it and how you think it compares to some of my more poetic works. Also, a quick note on naming my stories. I have never been good at naming them until I am done and I reread and know what is before me. With this story in particular I did not really have a name for it but it is a story of somebody I have known in my mind for a really long time, Brianna or Bree. I hope you get to know her as well as I have. Thank you and enjoy.

 ” Why is your hair purple?” He asked as if it was the simplest of questions to have traversed the human mind in all of history.I laughed, ” Because hair dye exists and I was feeling rebellious.”  He laughed back , ” You’re always rebellious. That is why I love you.     ” I love the way your nose twitches when you talk , I thought , sinking further into his arms.   ” Well lucky for you I don’t plan on following the rules anytime soon.”                           ” Not even if it means getting a scholarship to college. I mean, think about it Ree, your behavior– don’t you think it might come back to haunt you ?”                    ” Most definitely,but I don’t mind being haunted as long as the ghosts don’t pray. I never liked the mumblings of prayer-kinds of eerie you, you know.” he brushed aside a lock of my lavender hair.                                                                                                          ” I don’t know Ree, it is kind of comforting to me. Isn’t that kind of the point. To be comfortable?”                                                                                                                                                ” Yeah, for Them ,” I emphasized the them just enough to make it clear I wanted nothing to do with religion, ” but people who always want to be comfortable make me severely uncomfortable.”                                                                                                                          ” Oh Ree–, ” he sighed ” sometimes I am not sure who you even are.                              “Me either.” I mumbled as if in prayer.

Tornado watching from an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere is only a good idea if you are on a date with your boyfriend and sporting lavender hair.I suppose we should have been more worries about the twister pirouetting towards us.It’s odd how we could be so calm when we were minutes away from being sucked up and dismembered by the wind.Yet, Zack had a motorcycle and we had this theory that nothing could get us if we got on that motorcycle and sped away.We climbed down and hopped on just as I saw darkness like never before  reach out to grab me. Funny, how it was only then that I couldn’t hear. The wind sounded so shrill like all I had ever wanted being vacuumed out of the atmosphere. It was only seconds or at least it seemed like the compression of who I was only felt like seconds until I slammed into something and woke up three weeks later in the hospital.” Zack’s dead, ” the first words out of my mouth. It was strange how it took me a day to even remember how I came to be in that situation yet knew before I was even told that Zack was dead.                                                                                                                                            ” It’s spinning.” I said like a little girl pointing out a pony. Then I collapsed and choked on my tears, the heart rate monitor beeping in between my feverish gasps.                                      ” It is going to be okay honey.”My mother’s voice lying to me somehow made it all hurt more.                                                                                                                                                                      ” It’s my fault– it was my idea– storms,” is all I said before I fell asleep for another whole week, in which I dreamt dreams of Zack riding away from me on his motorcycle: leather and cologne.

…. To be continued…

-Wishing you the brightest of days,Eva

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”










I am the author of and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

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