April Writers!!!!

Happy April :)

I hope you are enjoying this beautiful weather.  We have a great set of reads this month with lots of Flash Fiction.  So, find a comfortable place to relax, grab your phones and start reading.  There are ten pieces this month.  Please, read ALL of them.  Choose five to leave thoughtful and considerate comments for the writer.  Your comments are due by Sunday, April 16.

Writers,

Keep an eye on your page and follow the comments.  Choose at least two and respond.   Also, leave comments for three of your fellow writers. You can very well respond to all of your page comments.  Your comments are due Tuesday, April 18.

We only have one more set of submissions left for the 2016-2017 school year :(

Enjoy your reading this month.

See you in class,

Mrs. Solano

I remember when...--Andrew

I remember when I met you.

There’s a certain beauty to how much of our emotions we can’t put into words. The things we’ve wanted to say. Opportunities that change our paths forever depending on whether or not that single step was taken in a million different directions. The fact that lives intertwine and not forever, just brief moments that appear and disappear as the world drones on.

So much noise.

 So many people.

And then there’s you.

It’s quiet now.

Our single moment could’ve lasted a lifetime, that is until that server rammed half his tray of champagne glasses into my chest. You rushed over like an old friend. The smile on your face seemed so genuine and familiar. A flurry of responses rushed through my head and all I could muster was a measly “Thanks”. I thought so hard about it.

Had we met before? No. Impossible. I’d only seen you sit across the room at Lenno’s and order the same medium cup of Pike’s roast every other Sunday. Sorry they didn’t have the scones last time. No one told you how dry the muffins tended to be either. You were always working and that crease I love would form on your brow as it always has when you focus. The bean grinder never failed to remind me that time was still running. Conversations and keyboard clicks filled the space again.

So much noise.

So many people.

But there you were.

It’s quiet now.

The screaming monitor beeps woke me up again like an alarm clock. They weren’t mine, but the howling and sobbing in the adjacent room told me that someone’s clock ran out.

I’ve never liked these situations. Everything is so clean and artificial. Rooms like these are made for holding life until it flourishes or withers. You don’t know where I’m headed. I know where you’re headed. You left only a while ago for the hotel room. I hope the sheets aren’t too brittle. I know I’m missing ours back at home. For once in my life time without you seems unbearably slower than when you're actually around. My monitor just joined the chorus of sincerity in my head. They’ve all said their gooodbye’s and brought their displays of sympathy. But not you. You told me, “I’ll see you in the morning,” and your sweet smile warmed me as much as the kiss you planted on my forehead. The monitor contends with those words.

So much noise.

So much noise.

Sleep well, sweetheart.

It’s quiet now.

Allegiance to a flag--Tyler

So there’s room 201, 202, 203… Why am I even going this way? I’m on the fourth floor. Man, if that old man hadn’t stopped me to babble about my melanin, maybe my mind wouldn’t be such a mess right now. Nothing like running into a bigot on the day I move into my dorm. I’m just glad I don’t have to see him again. Time to go back to that broom closet of an elevator.

Hmmm. I wonder if my dad’s on his way back from the car. I really hope he’s not talking to anyone or getting into an argument. Where’s Arthur? I need to stop worrying about everything.

Finally, the fourth floor. Let’s see… 410… 406…Ahh here we are, 402. Home, sweet home.

 “Oh goodness, I didn’t realize that anyone came in. Hi, I’m Jim. You must be Arthur.”

“Yeah, but you can call me Arty; that’s what my friends call me. Nice to meet you. I take it this is my bed up here.”

“Yeah. I thought you might like to be top.”

 “How considerate of you. You have no idea.” Wow. Let me just unpack my stuff before things get even weirder.

Is that a pride flag he just pulled out? “Cool uhh… flag. Are you…?” What are you doing, Jim? You don’t just brazenly ask people that question. Geez; now he probably hates me.

 “My twin brother died in the Pulse shooting; I have this flag mostly to honor him, but I’m also bisexual. He and I used to have a bunk bed just like this.” Well at least I got that out of the way now. I just pray he doesn’t ask me if that means I’m straight or gay. “Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry for your loss; I didn’t know…” Saved by the knock, thank goodness! “That must be my dad. Hey dad, what took you so long to get here? This is my roommate, Arthur.”

Not this man again. “Oh, I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting him.” And now the attack ensues. There are the typical racial slurs from before… No. Way! Did this man really just pull a confederate flag from his back pocket? This is lowkey hilarious: the ignorance, the flag, th-.

 Did my dad really just say that? “Dad…”

 Okay. That’s the last straw! “I could deal with the racism, but do not, for a second, think that I’m okay with you saying that more people should’ve been killed in the Pulse shooting! And its LGBT, thank you very much. Also, I’m not gay, but guess what? I just so happen to find your son attractive…”

Arty thinks I’m attractive?

… Well I shouldn’t have said that. Now I’ve not only awakened the beast, but also notified Jim. Great job, Arty! “Look. That flag is above my bed because I believe that people are being senselessly oppressed, hurt, or even killed because of who they are attracted to; my brother died because he stood for that flag. I have that flag because I am tolerant and open-minded. I have that flag because I believe in peace, unity, and equality. Your little southern cloth stands for nothing but hatred, separation, ignorance, bigotry, and white supremacy. I’ll be damned if I ever stood for such detestable ideals; my allegiance is with those that don’t spend their lives looking for what makes them different from one another. THAT is why I have that flag!”

Man, that was beautiful. And to think this man said I’m attractive and he happens to also be my roommate! I can’t wait to tell him th- “Dad! Don’t talk to Arty that way! You have no right to attack people because of their appearance or sexuality. You need to stop. … Dad… I-I’m…”

Insomnia--Connor

The yellow street lamp disturbed my eyes through the blinds. Awake again. I turned away from it and checked my phone. Two-Thirty. I thought that left plenty of time to sleep before getting up, so I didn’t worry much. I sat up listening for a moment. What felt like ten minutes passed. Sleep still hadn’t found me, so I decided to go find something in the kitchen. Getting up, my plans for the week went through my head: Classwork. Project, nothing big. Lift. Something on Saturday. My mind got going with my feet, which moved along toward the fridge. It’s lights and creaking door irritated me before glancing over my options. The only one that might help at the moment, I decided, was the milk. A few moments later I found myself hunched over a glass of it staring at the oven clock. A quarter of an hour had passed since I last checked. Still not anymore tired, though. Being up at this time wouldn't normally bother me, even on a school night, but on this one I needed the rest. Writing essays after a quiz and a night spent online never ended well for my grade. I’d worried plenty about that all day, and doing so any further only made me frustrated and more conscious. I chose to think about something else, in the effort of distracting myself. Something on Saturday. What is it? I couldn’t remember anything else other than it was taking up my weekend. Something more to worry about, then. On to something else in my mind, I looked outside. The silhouettes of palms and a few stars stood out to me. I thought of idling around out there for a few moments, to clear my head. That wouldn’t solve anything. I should be asleep, not sitting here; the thought nagged at me. It repeated as I quickly returned what I had taken from the fridge and stepped through the hall. I checked my phone again before settling on my sheets. I’d managed to spend an hour and a half about and got nothing but a headache. I shut my eyes, fatigued in what seemed like every other possible way except that which induced sleep. The possibility of another sleepless day passed into my thinking. I turned in response. My head couldn’t find a comfortable position. I felt hot. Something on Saturday. All of it throbbed in my ears. I looked up toward the ceiling and took a few breaths. There wasn’t much use in forcing myself to rest. I turned again. The yellow street lamp disturbed my eyes through the blinds.

That Feeling--Austin

He sits alone on his bed, thinking, like always, about everything people had told him.  Had he found it yet? That feeling they always talk about.  Did it lie within those parked car conversations late at night? Or hidden in the web of lies weaved just to be able to spend a couple hours together. Even then, how was he supposed to know what this feeling even feels like if he’s never experienced it before. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t hear the phone ringing; he picks up, eagerly. “Hello?” “Hey! You got plans tonight?” He smiles, “Not anymore, what’s up?” “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, it’s been a while.” His heart races with just the thought of seeing those green eyes again. “I’d love to!” “Great, I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

He quickly jumps into the shower, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed. There’s a knock on the bedroom door, “Come in!” His mother stands in the threshold “Hi Honey, where are you headed?” “Me and some friends are going to get something to eat for dinner.” Another strand in the web. “Ok no problem sweetie, just be home by one.”

After getting ready much earlier than needed, probably prompted by sheer excitement and anticipation, he waits for the text telling him to come outside, and when it comes, he rushes outside to a red truck and a hello kiss. “Where we headed?” he asks. “I was thinking Panda Express for some food and then we can just go for a drive.” Was the response. “Sounds good to me.” While driving, they go through the usual playlist of songs that they both sing at the top of their lungs to, even though neither of them can actually sing, but they never care.

After the drive, they head back to his home in time to be back before curfew, and a goodbye that seems to him like forever ensues. Eventually they part ways, and he returns to his room, with a feeling of completeness within. He replays the moment when he sees those eyes staring longingly at him every time they meet, realizing the truth behind the look. The truth being this feeling he feels at that very moment is exactly what they have all been telling him. He doesn’t care about the lies he’s told; one day he’ll be able to reconcile them, but the fact that this doesn’t bother him reinforces his realization that, for real this time,

He finally found it.

Our House--Skyler

As we wandered through the dry desert, treading over bushes and long ago filled river beds, we stumbled upon an old abandoned house. As I looked at Ronald, a sign as to mean “should we go in?”, he just simply shrugged at me, meaning “I’m down if you are”. We had perfected this way of speech, communication by means of eye contact and shrugging. We tentatively approached the house. The windows, some with broken glass and others coated in sand by years of dust storms. This home was no ordinary house, not only was it miles from the road, completely isolated, but also different in the way it had it’s own sense of charm and style. We walked up the cement steps which contained multiple colored marbles of all sizes and colors. Walking through the doorway a new and overwhelming feeling washed over us, not one of unease but quite the opposite, one of calm and nostalgia. Ronald looked at me as if saying “Did you feel that?” I shrugged and simply turned and continued deeper into the house. As we walked tentatively through the hallway stepping on bits of broken glass and abandoned items I couldn’t help but feel as if we were being watched. We entered into the kitchen, the cabinet doors had been ripped off their hinges but still lay on the floor covered in dust, the faded light blue wallpaper peeling from the walls. Ronald approached the pillar in the middle of the room, covered in millions of tiny intricate aged pink and no longer white tiles. “This must of taken forever, the way they’re all spaced differently someone must have done this by hand” He said. I looked around curiously and found myself drawn to the other side of the house. Through the broken windows I saw an old and decrepit shed. I slowly walked across the house paying no mind to the treasures strewn about the floor, my only thought was what could be inside...Ronald quickly grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I had almost fallen through a hole in the floor where the wood had eroded away. “What is wrong with you? You need to pay attention you could’ve gotten hurt!” he said with concern. I quickly retorted “You would never let me get hurt”, he smiled. Ronald ran back into the kitchen, and I followed. “This should be our house! Think about it! We could fix it up, make it ours and come down whenever we want”. I looked at him with confusion, he ran up to me and grabbed my hands. “I love you...please.”

Find Only One Loop--Rachel

 It pains me to say, but our “evolving” world is nothing more than a stagnant society that continues to deem certain qualities as superior. We have already breached past the year of 3000, yet we still do not allow diversity to be the mainstream. Despite our advanced technology and intelligence, we as a collective population, have decided that we must run purely on the concept of beauty.
 Yes, beauty.
Now, you may think, “Oh, Narrator! Our society of 2XXX already thrives on the documentation of celebrity lives and the growing trend of plastic surgery!” Well, yes. But no. The society I'm currently imprisoned in has created an entire caste system that is purely based on how physically attractive a person is. Once a child reaches the age of 21 (the peak and maturity of the physical body), they will be “evaluated”.
It isn't any more frightening or strenuous than the SAT or ACT; instead, it is just another standardized test that students must prepare for. When it is time for “evaluation”, the child is taken to the nearest government civilian station where they must strip down and allow the “evaluators” to take pictures of said child.
Now you must be thinking, “How perverted! How can this be allowed?!” These “evaluators” do not see any sexual intention with these children at all! There is a purpose for these pictures, you know! These pictures are created into a “profile” for said child. Of course you, the reader, must be associated with some type of social media? It's the same for us! We have a social media platform that everyone keeps as a “digital resume”, if you would say. It's called Visage. Everyone must scroll through their feed and rate the child’s profile from 1-5, 1 being ‘This child is absolutely hideous!’ to 5 being ‘This child must be blessed by God Himself!’. Their profile will be open to rates for 72 hours and once time’s up, government officials will average out the ratings and place them within the caste system. Now you’re probably thinking, “This sounds a lot like Divergent or Hunger Games!! A dystopian society dressed to look utopic!” I do agree with you that this society reflects those written on paper, but you see, your society isn’t much farther from mine. You’re all so consumed with celebrity lives that you scroll endlessly on radiofrequency radiating devices. The entire world is far more concerned with how an individual dresses rather than the true issues of war and pestilence. Our Visage is your Instagram, Snap Chat, Twitter; all of your social media is catered to physically attractive people. Humanity bickers amongst themselves about the “ideal size” or “ideal skin colour” when they overlook the easiest solution: let people be. Topics of fat shaming, slut shaming, etc. would not be an issue if society was open to the idea of diversity. Now I'm being a bit preachy here. I'll tone it down. But it's true. Humanity has come a long way, but collectively, we’re stagnant.
 I don't want to end a bit cheesy, but why not! You're reading this on your own free will, no? Then you must know what you are, don't you?
Read the first letter of each word in the title then you'll know.

Have you found more than one loop?

Are you in a loop?