Whispered In The Wind

Whispered In The Wind
Just a fairy blowing in the wind, singing tales to the west wind

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Green Boy


 -Not a new story, but one that ought to be shared with the rest of the world..there is more if anyone is interested. Want to rate it? Press my link to the same story on teen ink:http://www.teenink.com/fiction/sci_fi_fantasy/article/327084/Green-Boy/ Thanks!-

Life is a fairytale. At least it was when we were young. What went wrong? What broke our bubble words, shattered our porcelain dolls? When I was young, my favorite fairytale was Fern. Fern was my best friend and first love. The only problem was he was imaginary. A conjure-ment of my mind.

I met him when we moved. I was alone in a big new house with a  busy parent and a long summer ahead of me. I was seven years old and the only child my age, I had met, was my neighbor. He was a chubby little boy with a nasty temper who used to steal my dolls and hang them by their hair. I detested him.


 My mom dragged me to mass one Sunday and in the pew right in front of me, sat a princess. Or so I thought. There sat a little girl with rose cheeks, golden curls and a princess dress of pink tulle and daisies embroidered all over the hem of the dress. She sat perfectly composed and sang with a clear cut crystal voice. She became my idol. I wanted to be around that girl. I spent the summer begging to see this exquisite slip of a child.

But this princess girl, Lizzie, was not all sugar and cream. She was conniving and nagging with her parents wrapped around her little fingers. Never the less her way with words, her art of storytelling, entranced me. I was blinded my extreme desire to win her approval. I would pick her wilted flowers and even give her my dolls. To this day I can't shake her little rosebud face from my head. I thought we were best friends.

  But she had different ideas. Her mother was an awful gossip and must have said something about my family to her daughter. Something about our hurting financial status, the fact that I didn't know my biological father and my mother was infamous for changing partners. The same stale gossip that has followed me my entire life. She turned her child against me..said I wasn't high class and Lizzie decided she didn't want anything to do with me. In her high pitched voice she said "YOU ARE NOT REPUTABLE..AND I NEVER LIKE YOUR DOLLS ANYWAYS. YOUR MOMMY IS A BAD PERSON!"

That wasn't the last time I would hear that but it hurt just the same. I cried in my mom's arms all day after that and she rocked me back and forth.

"My baby." She said
"My precious lamb..I am so sorry..I should never have let you play with that high and mighty little brat. I guess I am a bad person. Oh, darling I try to so hard. It just isn't easy! Oh, I will be better..oh my baby, my baby."

So the next day I met Fern. I was dancing to no music around the field outside my house singing

"I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE..PEOPLE ARE MEAN. I THINK THEY ARE NICE BUT THEN THEY ARE MEAN. 'CEPT MOMMY. MOMMY IS NICE!" I chirped angrily. I decided I was only going to be friends with mommies and dolls. That was the only logical conclusion. And maybe if I found a fairy I would be friends with the fairy too. 


But I did want a human friend. So it made sense that I would make one up. The main problem was I was not sure how to make a human. At first I thought about Sunday school and tried to sculpt a pile of mud into a girl. That failed. After many unsuccessful attempts to try to hit some magic words and doing a fairy dance..or how I thought a fairy would dance, I had nothing. Then inspiration struck. Obviously this would be more simple if the person was invisible. If only I could see the person. I tried to create a little invisible girl out of air but she was boring and I told her to go back to the wind.

Frustrated, I went inside and curled up among my fairytale books. They always made me happy. I picked up my favorite green covered book and read about Cinderella. Then I turned to my favorite picture. It was of a ballroom with dancing princes and princesses. But on the left side sat a little boy dressed all in green with a spaniel at his feet. He was staring straight out the page. I don't know why I loved him so much but I always wanted to look at him. Today he almost looked alive. I tilted my head.


"I think you should be my friend!" I told him

"Yes, you are gonna be my friend! You are invisible to everyone else and I'm gonna call you Fern because that is my favoritest leaf!" I whispered to the boy on the page
"NOW STAY RIGHT THERE FERN..TILL I CLOSE MY EYES..and then I will close my eyes and you can jump out of the page! KAY?!" I commanded.
I closed my eyes, put the book down and turned to face the other direction.
"ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!" I hollered.


Then I jumped around. I squealed. There was a little boy all dress in green right in front of me. He had big blond hair and bright green eyes and freckles. He gave me a cocky grin.

"You didn't think that would work!" he said indignantly
"I DID TOO!" I yelled
"DID NOT!"
"DID TOO!"
I stuck my tongue out at him and wrinkled my nose "I'm in charge of you cuz I brought you to life."
"I think I should be in charge because I am older!"
"YOU ARE NOT! PROVE IT!"
"I have been in that book for years!"
"SO YOU ARE AN OLD MAN? EW! OLD MAN! OLD MAN! OLD MAN!"
Fern grinned and picked up the green book. "I COULD HIT YOU WITH THIS!"
"YOU WOULDN'T! YOU CAN'T HIT A GIRL!"
Fern scratched his head "That is true..."
I grabbed the book, smirking "BUT I CAN HIT YOU!" I hit Fern squarely on the arm.
"HEY..I WILL GET YOU FOR THAT!" Fern yelled.

My mom wondered why I ran around the lawn screaming "CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!" to the wind. And that was how I met Fern.




Fern was not always around. He said he lived inside the book and he only came out sometimes. And sometimes he was ornery and refused to come out at all. I told my mom all about him and she took it all in stride. She was glad that I was at least amused. I told Fern about all my mom's man friends and how I didn't like them. He said I needed a sword to protect myself and my mommy from the mean ones. He was smart like that. I would like to say I never hit anyone with my new wooden sword but that would be a lie. One man made my mommy cry and as my mom kicked in out the door I hit in between the legs with my wooden sword as hard as I could. My mom said she was proud of him. And Fern just laughed.



I loved Fern. He was my best friend. He taught me how to be a pirate and told the biggest whoppers of all time. At least I thought they were. And best of all he listened. He always listened. He liked to pull pranks on me. One day he told me my house was haunted. He said to get rid of the ghost I would have to sprinkle my entire house with baking soda. I listened. I will never forget my mom's shriek. I told him he was an idiot and I never wanted to talk to him again. He just laughed and I shut the book so he couldn't get out. When I finally open it he popped up, glared and said he didn't miss me. I told him he did too. After a long fight about whether or not he missed me or not he flicked me in the ear.



I was indignant and said I would never talk to him again if he didn't have a tea party with me. He agreed if he didn't have to wear gloves or lipstick. At that tea party he made me promise that when we were older I would kiss him. I told him that was disgusting, but promised none the less. I never could stay mad at him.



One day I decided I wanted to go back into the book with him but he said that was impossible. I nagged and nagged till finally he promised that maybe we could try. I held is hand and we jumped into the book. But only he went in and I stayed out of the book. I cried about that. I had so wanted to go into the book. Fern comforted me and he promised to tell me all about the world. But he never really did. That was okay, we created our own world. We threw balls, killed dragons and built fairy houses. The summer I turned eight was one of the best times of my life. Bathed in golden innocence and sunshine I spent it blissfully playing with Fern.



Fern was special. I could never proved if he existed. Often he said exactly what I was thinking or moved synchronized with my movements. Sometimes I thought he was me. Maybe he was. Sometimes I could barely see him. When we touched, I felt the presence, the warmth of him but never actual being. Sometimes it was if he was just completely imaginary. But I knew he was different.



I went to school and I made new friends. I didn't have as much time for Fern now, but we remained close. I kept Fern for years past the average life of an imaginary friend. Something always drew me back to him. As I grew older I stopped talking about him, it was embarrassing to have people tell me that he didn't exist, that I was too old for an imaginary friend. There were days he was so misted over I swore that he was just a figment of my head. Finally at age 12 I demanded an answer

"ARE YOU REAL?!" OR DID I MAKE YOU UP?" I said indignantly
Fern cocked his head "I don't know sometimes. But I think I am real. It is all very confusing."
I scrunched my nose "That sounds insane!"
"I know!" he said angrily
"No need to get punchy, Fern!"
"I am not being punchy, you are!"
"So sorry for asking questions. Next time I will learn how to not be curious."
"That is not what I meant! Gosh, don't be so difficult. It's complicated!" He huffed
"Well excuse me! What is complicated Mr. I might not even exist?"
"SHUT UP! YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND!" He screamed. He ran over to the book and threw himself back into it. I shut it angrily.


Fern began to appear less often, which was fine with me. I had doubts about him. I asked my mom whether it was possible to have a real imaginary friend. She sighed and looked at me "You are too old for that kind of stuff." But I didn't want to let go of him. Maybe he really was real. But when I was around..something seemed weaker. I felt like I was really talking to the wind. One day I couldn't even see him and barely hear him. This continued as I replaced my fairytale books with teen books and him with new friends. Finally it got to the point that I was convinced I had imagined it all. Fern was completely imaginary. I never saw him anymore. He was gone. Vanished.


I missed him sometimes, my old self too. I even wondered if maybe he could have been real, but I tried not to dwell on it. I was just a silly little girl then, I told myself. I had a crush on a boy my freshman year. He reminded me of Fern. He tried to kiss me once, which I thought I had wanted .But when he leaned in towards me I remembered my promise to Fern and turned away. It was silly, but I couldn't kiss him. It felt all wrong. That was the end, I never dated him. Never even looked twice at him again.


Sophomore year I was severely confused about my life. My mom wanted us to move in with her new boyfriend, but I didn't feel comfortable about the way he looked at me, when my mom was not in the room. People said I was pretty but I felt ugly. I got good grades but I felt stupid. I wanted to be young again. I want to be little. I wanted to dance in a field. My best friend, Peggy moved and my old nemesis Lizzie transferred to my high school. I was miserable.


I ended up in Miss Regina's English class. People said she was the hardest teacher in all the school, straight as a rail and just as strict. And strict she was but she never let us write anything that wasn't us. The first thing she ever said to us was

"Hello. I have a reputation. I am strict, scary and not afraid to yell. Behave and I'll behave. First things first, this in an English class. The best writers wrote what was real. Something that resonated with people. I want you to write you. If I ever feel like you are forcing your writing to be something it is not, I will make you stop. Take out a sheet and write one of your most embarrassing moments, then write an alternate ending to it. You have 10 minutes. GO!"

I learned to love her. She,really was passionate about English. She was the first person to ever sit me down and say I should be a writer. She said I had a way with words. She asked if I read much. I said not as much as I should. She promptly took out of a stack of books and dumped them in my arm.

"Read them..I don't care if you fail math to finish them..just read them."


Those books changed my life. I became ravenous. Books were my haven. I started to devour books. They kept me safe from my problems, from the screams of my mom and her boyfriend. Miss Regina noted that my writing had improved by bounds. After I read all I could, I tried to write. I wrote fairy-tales and I found that Fern popped up in each. I was confused. I hadn't thought about him for years. But everyone I turned he seemed to be in my writing. I stopped writing for a while


But I couldn't. It was almost like he was trying to communicate with me. I wrote strange stories of a distant world that seemed to spring from my head. The land was dark and filled with strange beings,not completely formed, some not dead or alive..not undead. Just there. I felt like I was in a trance at moments,the words writing themselves.



I woke up one morning from a disturbing dream. White hands were grabbing for me..I was running through a dark forest. For some reason I was convinced that if I could read the middle of the forest I would be safe. I tried to scream, but I had no voice. I finally reached what I deemed the middle of the forest. In the middle was Fern! But he was much older, a young man, much taller then I. He grabbed my hand and faced me "It's time." He whispered

"For what?!" I panted

I woke up, out of breath and cold. Something possessed me and I walked down the stairs. I opened the glass bookcase holding my old fairytale books and took out the green one. I opened to the page of Fern and stroked the outline of the little green boy's picture. I brought the book up to my room and that night read it over again, cover to cover. I fell back asleep.


When I woke up I was exhausted. For some reason I placed the book in my book bag and went to school with it. I fell asleep during math class and almost got detention. I sat down in the cafeteria at lunch, alone. I just wanted to be with my thoughts. My friend Beth, was gone from school anyways,today. I rubbed my face and opened up the book to the page of Fern. I looked at it. Why now? Why was it captivating me so much, right now? I heard foot steps.


Suddenly I turned my head.

"GAH..who is coming over here!"
I put my head back down and tried to ignore them. The person sat down across from me. I looked up at them and gasped. It was a boy with a long mane of blond hair, fine sculpted features,freckles and sea green eyes. He was dressed completely in green.
"Oh my gosh!" I muttered under my breath.
He winked.
"No way. No way. No way. You don't exist."
He put his hand out. "Feel it."
I squeezed his hand. It was completely real.
"Can they see you..too?" I whispered.
He grinned and nodded.
"Prove it."
He hollered at a high-schooler walking by "CAN YOU SEE ME, DUDE?!"
The guy looked confused "Erm..of course I can see you."
"Oh my flippin' gosh. Oh my gosh. No way. No way."
"Yes,way!" he laughed
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!!"
"It's time."
"Time for what?!!"
"For you to come into the book with me?"
"THIS BOOK?!" I said pointing to the fairytale book.
"Yep."
"WHY?! WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?"
"Woah, calm down..is this how you greet your old best friend? Because I need your help. Calm down."
I took a deep breath "Okay...PROMISE ME YOU WILL EXPLAIN THIS?!"
"Promise."
I shifted uncomfortably. Should I hug him or scream? "Hey I am sorry.."
"For what?"
"For being convinced you don't exist..AH, I STILL DON'T THINK YOU CAN EXIST!"
He chuckled. "You should just shut up and hug me now."
I giggled and threw my arms around him "I missed you."
"I missed you too!" he said. He whispered in my ear "Plus I think you owe me a kiss."
I pulled my arms away and glared. "In your dreams, bozo!" I hit him with my fairytale book.
He pretended to look hurt and then he looked serious "So I guess I have some explaining to do?"
"Heck, yea."
He nodded.."I just came from Heck..."
"What?!"
"Nothing!"
"After school you are coming over and I am interrogating you until I am completely satisfied." I threatened
Fern gave me a cocky smile "I'll never talk!"
"You are an idiot." I murmured 

  (Picture taken from the Ballerina Project)

This Is For Being

~The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hands Frederick  Knowles~
 
This is for those late nights when you can't sleep. When the wind it too hot and your thoughts are too warm. This is for those silly worries that you shouldn't even care about, and those little heart pricks that shouldn't even hurt. This is for the way you don't understand where your life is heading, or where you are going for that matter. This is for the dizziness you feel when you are confused about the slightest things. This is for being a teenager and all your pent up teenage angst.

This is for the crickets outside who have no idea what it means to feel a million things at once.

This is for the advice, “You should write every day..if you write once a month no one will follow you.” Or the added in words in my head, “No one will care.” This is for conviction that seems steadfast,but never lasts. This is for the poet that is inside of us, that died at a young age. This if for trying to  revive yours, but its dying again. Or maybe I'm not good enough, anymore. This is for the moments we laugh so hard, because something isn't all that funny, it just ought to be.

A lot of things ought to be, but they never will, so why does it matter at all?

This is for talking in riddles to sound all profound, but not meaning a lot. This is for realizing you miss someone for the first time and being afraid of that feeling. Missing some one means you care. It's something that feels a lot like need, but isn't. Missing means you are actually genuinely attached to a person and attached enough to feel they are far away.Attached means they can tug and you can get hurt. Isn't it funny how sometimes the people closest to you are the ones you miss the most?

The ones that are the farthest away?

Is that funny at all? Or is that just plain sad. Or maybe it is sad like sad clown, it really ought not be sad because it is actually funny. Or maybe it is just scary. A lot of things are scary, like right now. This is for when you were little and thought the scariest thing was the dark. You had the innocence of being unaware the scariest dark, resides in people's hearts. This is for sentences that are not supposed to rhyme, but do anyways, because sentences never gave a cent about what you thought. You know who doesn't give a cent about what you think?

No One.

Everyone gives a whole lot of cents for what you think. Even the ones who pretend they don't. Some day they might go broke paying for your thoughts. That's food for thought, and some one has to pay for that food. This is for the moments to feel like crying, for no reason at all. And not because of  happiness or sadness or even madness. Just being. Sometimes just being is enough to make someone cry. Not because it is a bad thing, just because it is. This is for the few people, who don't understand what that means and never will. They may be lucky, or maybe not.

But I never did believe in luck.

This is for the words left unsaid here, not because I am scared but because they aren't ready. This if for telling myself that, even if it is a lie. This is for being a difficult person, but not unreasonable. This is about being who I am, because being someone else off stage, was never anything I was anything good at. This is for being a name that you will one day know and maybe even care about..but then again maybe not.

This is for being.


                      (Photo from the Ballerina Project)

"I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. "

"I want warm summer nights, to lie in a hammock, staring at the stars, telling you stories. "
"When asked not to make waves, I just smiled and said, don't worry this is just a ripple"