The Squirrel

We had to write a parody for "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe when I was in Mrs. Hyatt's class in high school. So Austin and I came up with "The Squirrel." He helped with the first part, but he was sick for the rest of the week, so I had to finish it. x3 Hope you like it. (If the way it's written looks strange, read "The Raven" and it will make more sense)

Once upon an autumn day, I saw an apple-core decay,

Eating apples from the tree and wanting many more.

While I sat there, calmly chewing, suddenly I heard some mewing,

The only sound was mewing, mewing louder than before.

"Tis baby squirrels," I said, "mewing louder than before."

                                                          Only this and nothing more.

Very clearly I recall it was in the peak of fall.

While eating well were many farmers, going hungry were the poor.

As I turned and saw the hole, my searching eyes found their goal;

Fourteen squirrels fretting for some food sat upon their tree-house floor.

Baby squirrels fretting for some food sat upon their tree-house floor.

                                                          Only this and nothing more.

Appeared the did the mother squirrel, counting every boy and every girl,

Drawing towards her darling dears sitting on the floor.

Fussing with the little runts, attempting to quiet their hungry grunts.

She turned around and right through me her angry gaze did bore,

"I did no harm," I said. "So stare at me no more."

                                                          Only this and nothing more.

As the mother squirrel approached me, I slowly slipped out of the tree,

Falling to the ground and making all my muscles sore.

Sitting up from off a stump, into the squirrel my arm did bump.

"Ms. Squirrel," I said, "I did no harm so bother me no more.

Just go back into your tree and stay there forever more."

                                                           Quoth the squirrel, "Apple-core."

Suddenly my anger grew and towards the squirrel my left hand flew.

She dodged my hand and I madly shouted, "This now means war."

She looked at me with vengeful eyes until she heard her children's cries.

A new anger filled her stare, and down the tree her body tore.

Through the leaves and branches her little body tore,

                                                          Only this and nothing more.

Very quickly I did stand, for on my shoulder she did land.

Running from the tree, I headed for the door.

Dropping down onto one knee, I rattled off a frantic plea.

"Please, Ms. Squirrel, get off my back and threaten me no more."

Again I pleaded, "Please, threaten me no more."

                                                          Quoth the squirrel, "Apple-core."

Frantically, I began to think, There has to be a missing link,

A link that connects the mother squirrel to her apple-core.

Finally, it came to me, "Yes! That's it! It has to be!

Now I know the answer, but I must get to the door."

"Please, Ms. Squirrel. I'll help you if you let me reach the door,"

                                                          Quoth the squirrel, "Apple-core."

The mother squirrel climbed down from me, and out of my pocket I pulled a key.

Walking towards my house and unlocking my front door.

In I went, then out I came, carrying my missing link.

To the squirrel I said, "Here's your precious, treasured apple-core."

Up the tree she quickly ran, holding her precious apple-core.

                                                         "Good-bye," I said, "forever more."

Winter Night

 Thousands of sparkling flakes twinkled in the air, covering the earth in a fluffy white blanket. A figure could be seen squatting behind a short wall made of the same substance. It was a young man, steadily making a pile of snowballs, his leather gloves protecting his hands from the cold. He adjusted his cap and scarf against the wind, then poked his head above his hiding place. A slushy ball hit his face before he could locate his target, knocking him backward in surprise.

“Not the face!” he exclaimed. He quickly used his scarf to dry off the now-melted snow.

A softer, lighter voice answered in concern. “I'm sorry, Michael!” The crunch of footsteps brought the voice closer. “Are you alright?”

Michael looked up at the source of the voice. A girl bent over the wall, her own scarf not quite keeping the cold from her face. Blonde hair fell from under her hat, framing her red cheeks in small waves. Her gray-blue eyes looked into his hazel ones in concern, her face turning redder the longer he held her gaze.

“Well?” she asked a little breathlessly.

“Yes, Kristin, I'm fine,” he assured her. He almost chuckled as she visibly relaxed.

“Can we go inside? I'm freezing.”

The young man smiled affectionately. “Can't have that.”

She reached down to help him up. To her surprise, she was pulled down on top of him, nearly tripping over the wall. His lips found hers, and they were soon lightheaded. She could feel the heat behind the kiss, a stark contrast to the cold air. After another passionate kiss, Kristin pulled back reluctantly.

“Sorry, dear,” she said with a smile. “I think it's a bit too cold to do that out here.”

Michael chuckled and embraced her. “I couldn't help myself. You looked too beautiful.” He could feel a blush heat her cheeks, making him chuckle again. She let him help her up, smiling despite the shyness she still felt when he complimented her. They made their way across the snow-covered yard to the steps of a log cabin.

Kristin sighed audibly at the sudden rush of warmth as they entered the doorway. She stripped off her winter clothing and kicked off her boots before heading towards the roaring fireplace. Michael followed suit, pausing to hang their coats. His girl had already stretched out on the floor with a pillow and blanket, wearing only a black silk nightgown. She smiled at him as he undressed down to his boxers and joined her on the floor. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him. Her heart quickened its pace to match his. She looked up and their eyes met once again. The fire dancing in his green eyes nearly made her heart stop.

Michael's lips pressed down on hers for the second time, hungrier than before. His hands slipped to her waist as hers slid over his shoulders. She pulled back when he rolled gently on top of her.

“Did I mention I love you?” Kristin asked softly. Her answer was another kiss.

“You know I love you too,” he whispered in her ear. “More than anything in the world.”

He pulled her face to his yet again. They spoke no more words the rest of that winter night, letting the love between them do the talking instead.

Proposal

 It was a perfect day for a date. The sun shone brightly, drying the soaked clothes of passing families while a soft breeze cooled those sweating from all the walking. Delighted screams filled the park, accompanied by vendors advertising their booths. Smells mingled as they drifted through the air, creating a mixed aroma of hot dogs, funnel cakes, pretzels, and cotton candy.

A young couple perched on a small concrete wall, hand-in-hand. The girl looked over at the one who held her, looking deep in thought as he stared as his shoes. Her heart fluttered when he looked up at her, loving the way the light shone in his hazel eyes. She smiled adoringly at him. His answering smile made her heart flutter all the more, as it always did. She gave his hand a soft squeeze. “Hi, there,” she said softly. “Hi,” was his reply, the voice she loved to hear sounding slightly shaky.

To her delight, he leaned in to press his lips softly to hers. Her pulse raced even from that gentle kiss. She pouted a little when he stood up and stepped away. She didn't want to let go of his hand, sweaty or not. He cleared his throat and asked for the attention of the people walking around them. The girl raised an eyebrow in question, surprised at his boldness. A few people stopped mid-stride, looking at them quizzically. A small group gathered before the man continued, gesturing towards her. “This is my girlfriend,” he said with an affectionate smile that made her heart thump.

“We have been together for the last two years, coinciding with the best years of my life.” The girl began to blush. “Everyday I wake up to that smile, press my lips to it, and I am reminded that I am the luckiest man on the planet.” He caught her gaze, and she was momentarily distracted, missing his next few words. "Granted she and I have been through some difficult times, as all relationships do, but even our constant perseverance doesn't seem like enough for her to really grasp how much I love her." He turned to address the crowd "So here we are today, enjoying the wonderful weather much like you and your families." Turning back to her, he continued, "And what better place?"

The girl was blushing fiercely as he walked back to her. Once again, her pulse sped as he leaned down to kiss her. She bit her lip when he pulled away, a little lightheaded, and bit down with more force when she saw him kneel down. It felt as though her heart would burst from her chest before he even started speaking. “You, my angel, are my entire world. You invade my thoughts as I lay in bed at night, during my dreams, and you're still there in the morning and over the course of the day. There is nothing I want more than to show you just how much you mean to me. And just how much I want to be with you forever. And that better way to show it than with this?” The man pulled a ring from his pocket, holding it up to her as tears pricked her eyes. She knew what he was going to ask. Four words she had been yearning to hear for so long. With more tenderness than she could bear, he asked, “Will you marry me?”

The tears rolled freely down her cheeks; cheeks that were starting to smart from smiling so much. She took a deep breath, stilling the tears for a moment and spoke softly. “I could not have picked a better man to be with. For two years, you have shown me in every way possible what true love is. You are kind, strong, loving, and everything else I could ever want in a man. Thoughts of you are always on my mind, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. I am the most at peace I have ever been when I am wrapped in your arms. You're unconditional love has helped me through so much.” At this, she gently placed her hand on the man's cheek, fresh tears flowing. “So yes,” the young woman choked out. “Yes, I will marry you.”

The man's glowing smile would have made her heart stop were it not already bursting with joy. He slipped the ring on the third finger of her left hand, his own shaking. Once it was in place, he stood up and pulled her to him. Then, in front of the applauding onlookers, they shared a kiss, knowing they would have many more to come as husband and wife.

Geist's Letter

This was just something I wrote for my boyfriend's DnD game. There's really too much to explain to understand it, and for that I apologize. I hope you enjoy it either way

 The moon shone full in the night sky, bathing the area in its soft light. A lone figure sat illuminated on a stone wall surrounding a cottage. Blonde hair rippled down the back of a young woman, her slender form trembling. Tears rolled down her face, dripping silently on the parchment she held in her shaking hands. Try as she might, she was unable to disbelieve the words she had read and re-read. It was not a trick: the handwriting was unmistakably his.

My dearest Sofia,

By the time my letter reaches you, I will no longer be of this world.

Not in the way you have known me. I go to my fate, both willingly and reluctantly. Never could I bear the thought of leaving my true love. Alas, there are powers at work

that I have not the strength or ability to defy. So I must accept the burden that has been

placed on me, freely giving my life in place of another. Perhaps in doing so, I may

succeed in cleansing my soul of some of the sins I committed at the hands of The Agency. Forgive me, Sofia, for though I wish there was another way, it is not for me to decide.

I pray I will once again look upon your lovely face in the future, but do not pine for me.

My heart would break if you were to live your life alone. Find another who will love you

as I have loved you, and will continue to love you until the end of my existence. Be strong,

dear heart, and live your life well, and know I will always be with you. This is my last

request.

All my love,

Geist Espirit

Sofia shook her head in grief. How could she ever love another? Geist had been her soul mate; her other half. His hazel eyes lost their haunted look when they were together, and his voice took on a tenderness she never heard him use with anyone else. Love settled in her heart the day he stumbled upon her home, wounded and half-starved.

“No,” she whispered to the quiet night. Sofia lifted her face to the moon, fresh tears shimmering in her gray-blue eyes. “I will keep living for you, dear Geist.” Closing her eyes to the light, she took a quivering breath. “But I cannot do what you ask. Never again will another hold my heart.”

“Forgive me,” Sofia sobbed, the last words to leave her lips before the pain overwhelmed her. With her face buried in her hands, she never noticed the figure standing on the edge of the forest, watching her every move. It took a hesitant step forward when Sofia began to cry, but apparently thought better of it. Red hair flashed in the moonlight as the figure turned and fled, disappearing without a sound.

Like Missing Rain

I miss you as I miss the rain.

The clean, unique smell I always remember.

The soft caresses on my skin that make me want to melt into the touch.

The cozy feeling of wanting to lay snuggled in bed.

The calming, gentle sound, like music to my ears.

The inviting, comforting sight that never ceases to make me smile.

The familiar taste, sweet and delicious on my lips.

The deep love that always has me awed and breathless.

Its absence makes my heart yearn for its return.

When the rain falls again, I wish nothing more for it to stay.

So missing you is like missing rain.

Not always here, but always in my thoughts.

Existing

The rain was coming down slowly. It wasn't enough to be a cause of concern, but it was plenty to ruin any outdoor activities. People could be seen rushing to their destinations, getting themselves even wetter than they would be if they had just walked. All the shops on the busy street were brightly lit and bustling with customers. All except for one little shop on the corner, the bell on it's door constantly silent. No one passing by even gave it a second glance. If they had, they probably still wouldn't have noticed the slender figure staring out the dusty window.

Inside, the figure stared at what little reflection the window showed. Straight, brown hair; sky-blue eyes, and a thin, feminine face. The person reflected in the window wiped at it with an old rag. No matter how much she washed it, the letters spelling “Adam's Bookstore” were barely legible to anyone passing by. She didn't turn around when an older man set down a box on a stack behind her. After straightening up and stretching his back, he walked over to the girl.

“Staring out the window again, I see,” he said in a cheerful, grandfatherly voice. Standing at nearly a head taller than the girl, he preferred to sit when he talked to her.

The first thing the girl always noticed about him were the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, showing he obviously smiled a lot. His salt and pepper hair made him look older than he really was, but his vibrant, blue eyes made up for it. He was a very handsome man but old enough to pass for her father.

The girl didn't turn around. She merely sighed again at stared at the rain with a wistful expression.

“We haven't had any customers in days,” she muttered finally.

The man laughed and patted her on the back.

“Sylvia, we're a bookstore,” he chuckled. “and an old one at that. Young people these days prefer their electronics to books.”

Sylvia crossed her arms and turned around, her face set in a scowl. “My friends and I like books, you know. We're not all video-game junkies,” she added, rolling her eyes. Then she took on a thoughtful look. “Can I ask you something, Mr. Adams?”

It was Mr. Adams' turn to roll his eyes. “Please, you make me feel old when you call me that.” Sylvia snickered, but he waved her off with a smile. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. 'But you are old, Mr. Adams.'” He shook his head and mumbled, “Kids these days.”

“Okay, fine, can I ask you a question, William?” Sylvia asked sarcastically.

Mr. Adams thought for a second. “I don't know...” he finally answered, a smile evident in his voice. “Depends on the question.”

“Well, I was just wondering why you keep this shop open if no one even knows it exists.”

“Ah, now see, that is the kind of question that requires some deep thinking,” Mr. Adams said, pacing back and forth.

Sylvia sighed. “It's just a simple question, I don't see how you have to think about it.”

She was answered with a grin. “You see, Sylvia, that's just it. Maybe this shop exists, but then again maybe it doesn't.”

“Uh...I don't follow...”

Mr. Adams stopped pacing and spread his arms wide, gesturing to the whole shop. “Maybe the only reason this shop exists is because he believe it exists. If either I or you, or both, cease to believe it exists, then would it actually cease to be? Or would it still be here?”

Sylvia looked at him blankly for a few moments. Then she said, “Are you on something, Mr Adams? I never took you for one of the hippie types.”

He simply laughed and patted her on the back once more. “You know what they say about the ramblings of old men.”

“No,” Sylvia said, crossing her arms, “I don't.” The old man blinked.

“Huh...you know...neither do I,” he laughed, making Sylvia roll her eyes. “Finish wiping off that window, and then you can go home for the day.” He walked off past a dusty book shelf, still laughing, and left Sylvia to finish her dusting.

“He is so strange sometimes,” Sylvia muttered to herself on her way home from the bookstore. It had taken her another two hours to finish dusting everything. Not that she was complaining. It was an easy job, and, if Mr. Adams wasn't paying attention, she would grab a book and take a break to read it. Besides, she would rather be inside at that moment. It had been warm that morning, so she had tossed on her favorite black skirt, her worn out sneakers, and matching black tank-top. Now, since it had been raining all day, it was a bit to cold for her liking.

“I wonder what he meant, though,” she said, thinking out loud. She twirled the light blue umbrella she was holding and bit her lip, a habit she developed for when she was deep in thought. “There's no way that something could cease to exist just because we choose to believe it doesn't,” she said to no one in particular. She stopped walking, though, still biting her lip. She loved anything to do with science fiction and couldn't help but give what Mr. Adams said a little bit of thought.

Sylvia stared up at her umbrella, listening to the rain hitting it and sliding off. Then she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated. After a few moments, she could have sworn she couldn't feel the umbrella anymore, but she thought it was probably because she was gripping it so tight. Then her hand flew up to the top of her head, patting at it. When she brought it up to her face, it was wet.

“No way,” Sylvia breathed. She quickly opened her eyes and looked up, frowning as soon as she did. Her umbrella was still there. She laughed, shaking her head at how silly she was being.

Sylvia started to walk home again, keeping to the right side of the sidewalk so she didn't get splashed by the passing cars, or pushed into traffic by the impatient people rushing down the sidewalk. She attempted to avoid the muddy puddles that dotted the sidewalk, but it was slow progress. People passed her in annoyance, some even shoving her into the sides of the shops. Growing frustrated, she squeezed her eyes shut once more and deliberately walked through a puddle.

She gasped. Looking down, she saw that her green and purple sneakers were perfectly dry, save for a bit of mud on the very bottom. Sylvia moved over, hugging the wall to avoid getting trampled. To her amazement, she saw the huge puddle everyone was walking through, and the one she had just crossed. There was no way she could have avoided getting wet without going completely in the road, the puddle was too big for that.

Dropping her umbrella, she raced as fast as she could back to the bookstore. The bell clanged for only the second time that day when she burst through it, shouting for Mr. Adams.

“Mr. Adams! I need to talk to you!” Sylvia called, looking around the empty shop. Her shoes made a squelching sound as she walked down the isles, leaving a trail of muddy footprints behind them. She could have sworn the store owner had been there when she left, only ten minutes prior. She kicked a few boxes over in her frustration, coughing when a cloud of dust filled the air.

Stumbling backwards, she felt her back hit a door. Sylvia turned around to see the old oak door that led, supposedly, to Mr. Adams' apartment. She wasn't sure, though, since she had never been allowed through the door. 

She put her hand hesitantly on the tarnished doorknob, debating on if she should turn it.

“It's probably locked,” she told herself. Still, she didn't move her hand. She had always wondered what was really behind that door. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. As soon as she made to turn the handle, a hand fell on her shoulder.

Sylvia jumped back and screamed, clutching at her chest. She turned around to see Mr. Adams staring at her, his hand still outstretched.

“What in God's name are you doing here, Sylvia? You nearly gave me a fright!” He laughed a bit breathlessly, running his hands over his face. “I heard the bell and went to check for a customer, but all I saw were these wet footprints leading back here. I thought maybe we had a burglar.”

“I-i'm sorry,” Sylvia managed to say between gasps. “I wanted to talk to you, so I came back. You scared me, though,” she said, giving him an apologetic look for what she almost did.

“Well, then, what was it you wanted to tell me?” Mr. Adams escorted Sylvia over to a couple of chairs, covered in dust like everything else in the shop. Once seated, she proceeded to tell him what had happened with her umbrella and the puddle.

“It was so strange! I knew there was no way I could have avoided it, so I concentrated without thinking, and I walked right through it!” She could barely get the words out fast enough. “When I turned around, expecting the puddle to be there, it was there, but everyone else walked through it and got wet. So I ran all the way back to tell you about it.”

Mr. Adams sat in silence the whole time she was telling her story, nodding here and there. When she had finished, he merely said, “Interesting...” He didn't sound at all surprised to Sylvia. In fact, he sounded as happy as he looked. He next comment surprised her almost as much as he had earlier.
“Well, my dear, I think its time I left this shop to you.”

Sylvia stared at him, her mouth open. It took her a moment to regain her voice and say, “What the heck are you talking about? I'm only 19, I can't take over a bookstore!” Mr Adams just pattered her back like he had that morning and stood up. He had a wistful look on his face when he next spoke.

“Sylvia, I am not as young as I look. I have been around for decades longer than this shop has, decades longer than even this town has.” When he turned to stare at her, she saw an old wisdom in his lively eyes she had never noticed before. “I've been waiting for someone who has the ability to do what you just did.”

“I don't understand,” Sylvia stammered. “You're not making any sense.”

The old man she'd known almost her whole life just smiled at her. “Child, I'm not like other people.” Almost absently, Mr. Adams picked up a book, then closed his eyes. After a few seconds, the book disappeared, right before Sylvia's eyes.

“How...how did you do that?” she breathed. She looked up, really seeing him for the first time.

He just smiled. “I told you. I'm not like other people. It wasn't just the ramblings of an old man when I was explaining about my shop to you earlier. Very few beings have the ability to make things disappear just by willing them to cease existing.” Pausing, he sighed, looking much more like the old man Sylvia always thought him to be, and ran a hand through his hair. “It gets tiring, though. Wishing something would just disappear over something petty, not really meaning for it to...”

Sylvia frowned. “Couldn't you just will it to exist again?”

“Ah, there is a problem with that,” he sighed. “Unless you know everything about whatever it is you want to make disappear—every single detail, no matter how insignificant—, willing it to exist again will not result in the same thing you made nonexistent. And people....” Mr. Adams shuddered. “People are one thing you never think that about, because when they're gone, their gone. It's as if they never existed. Whatever they did with their lives, their ties to family and friends, anything they affected in their lives—it all gets erased.”

“Wow,” the girl whispered. “I never knew something like that was possible.”

Mr. Adams nodded. “Indeed it is.”

Sylvia looked down at her hands. “So does this mean...I'm different? I'm not me anymore?”

“Of course not, dear,” Mr. Adams reassured her. “Quite the contrary, nothing about you has changed at all. You've always had this ability, Sylvia. I witnessed it when you were small, though I did grow slightly concerned when it stopped happening. You've merely regained an ability you were born with.” 

He looked away, looking slightly sad. “I, however, have changed. I have made my share of mistakes, and I'm too old a man to keep remembering to watch my thoughts.” Slowly, but deliberately, he got up and walked around to the very back of the shop. There was another oak door that Sylvia was never allowed to open, and it looked better taken care of than the one she had tried to open earlier.

The old man placed his hand on the handle, much like Sylvia had before. Turning to the side, not looking quite at her, he told her, “It is quite possible to believe yourself out of existence, Sylvia. And though it takes a heck of a lot more skill and practice than you have now, I wouldn't advise it. I've spent the past few decades away from society, making sure anyone I used to know was long gone before I decided to do this.”

“Do what? Mr. Adams, what on earth are you talking about?” Sylvia demanded, but to no avail. The bookstore owner merely gave her an apologetic smile and quickly slipped through the door. Too confused at first to do anything, she quickly grabbed for the door before it shut, but she was too late. She tugged on it as hard as she could. It wouldn't budge. She kicked and pounding on the door, knowing it wouldn't help, but needing some way to vent her frustration.

Then she stopped, placing her now red hands on the door. Sylvia shut her eyes and concentrated with all her might. Within a few seconds, she no longer felt the door beneath her hands and quickly ran through. When she opened her eyes, she was standing at the beginning of the forest that surrounded her town. She turned around to see the old shop, the door still intact.

“Looks like I can only make things cease existing for as long as I concentrate on them,” she muttered to herself. Feeling she'd already lost enough time, she followed the muddy path into the forest as quick as she possibly could

It was hard for Sylvia to see anything. The thick vegetation, coupled with the dense fog, made her progress slow. Still, she kept running. She wanted to stop Mr. Adams from doing...whatever it was he was planning on doing. She was soaked to the skin and shivering like mad, but she wasn't going to turn back yet.

It didn't take her very long to reach a clearing. Sylvia could barely make out the shape of Mr. Adams bent down in the mud by the lake shore. He looked as if he was writing something in the mud.

“Mr. Adams!” she called. As soon as she took a step forward, the fog grew even thicker, obscuring her vision all together. Suddenly, a strong wind blew through the forest, sending her sprawling in the mud. Almost as quickly as the fog had appeared, it vanished, leaving nothing but an empty lake shore
.
Sylvia struggled to her feet and stumbled over to where she had seen Mr. Adams' figure crouching in the mud. She looked around but found no sign of him. She sank to her knees, frustrated tears filling her eyes. Then she froze. There, scrawled in the mud in Mr. Adams' handwriting, were three words that sent her sobbing. Three words that would remind her forever of just how powerful a simple belief can be:

“I don't exist.”

My Most Important Necessity

When I met you, I wanted to be your friend;

After I became your friend, I knew I would fall for you;

After I fell for you, you said you felt the same as me;

Then you said "I love you," and I wanted to say it back;

When I said it back, I wanted to stay with you always.

And now that I'm with you, I'm never letting go.

I love you with all my heart and more.

You're my most important necessity.

O.A.E.