She peddled along occasionally glimpsing at the ripples in the water. She could only imagine what filth and disgust corrupted it.

Her hair blew in the summer breeze. Her wide framed sunglasses hid the top part of her face. Her bicycle, old and warn had been her only form of transportation since she became of legal age to operate an automobile.

A heavily forced whistle exited the mouth of a young man as he whizzed past her on his ten speed. He circled back around whistling again and then stopping to await her response. She ignored him until finally, she asked him to move. His bike, sideways, blocked her from going ahead.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

With no answer, she dismounted her bike, walked over to the fella, and straddled his front wheel while holding onto the handle bars. “Get out of my way!” She clinched her teeth while speaking.

He laughed, leaned in closer to her, and whistled again.

The world around her closed in, with a mighty force fueled by rage, she pushed him to the ground, picked up his bicycle and with ease threw it into the murky water. Everyone around froze in fear, realizing her clothes had ripped, her skin was now green and her muscles were bigger than those of a grizzly bear. “Rrrrrrrrrrr…..” she growled. “Can’t a girl just enjoy a simple bike ride?”

She twisted her ankle sloppily walking down the steps. The railing didn’t prevent her clumsy slip up. There was nothing that could’ve saved her from the trip or what was yet to come. Four glasses of moscato and the walls were a blur.

“Whoopsie daisy,” A tall dark silhouette blended in with the dreary scene. He took her by the arm, straightening her stance. “Are you okay, miss?” He asked.

“I’m fine, going to my car,” she ran her hand across her clothing, brushed her hair from her face and put one foot in front of the other immediately slumping, forgetting her injury from moments ago. “Whoopsie daisy,” he caught her again.

“Let me help you. You are in no condition to drive,” he picked her up. She laid her head over on his shoulder. Out cold, he carried her to his vehicle. She stirred next to him as he weaved in and out of traffic. She opened her eyes. He forcefully sent his elbow into her forehead. “Whoopsie daisy,” he groaned. “Didn’t your mother teach you to never talk to strangers?”

A little cup of nothing, that’s what my life has seemingly become. My dreams and goals all went down the drain in one fast circular motion, never to be seen again, chances are, I wouldn’t recognize them if they were to reappear. Minutes turn into hours, hours into days, days into months, and so on. I didn’t realize how true the statement, “The older you get, the faster time goes.”

I don’t know what I’ve missed, what I’ve accomplished or what I truly have going for me. I’m not sure who or what can validate my success or lack there of.

Maybe I’m just a little teapot, not short, not stout, no handle on anything. I’m already tipped over. I’ve poured out my entire soul over years of confusion, desire, lust, love, desperation, insanity, even bouts of stability and peace. Yet, still, something is missing and I will never know what that something is. I am human and I will never be completely satisfied. Maybe for short periods of time but never completely. Will you?

Her weary bones and heavy heart never took her soul. She fed it nightly with scripture, verse after verse and then again, often forgetting what she had just read. She was never alone although sometimes she couldn’t remember who was in the room with her. She trusted enough to live, enough to sometimes smile and even giggle at life’s funny moments. She was a rarity, a real gem. She was our mother, an irreplaceable part of our lives.

I was crushed after her passing. I picked up her Bible and held it close to my chest. Taking a deep breath, I sighed with a tad bit of relief knowing that this was the one possession she cherished. I found peace in that. I opened it to the front page and fought back tears as I read her shaky handwriting, “Give to Joyce when I’m gone.” I didn’t make it to Genesis, angry that she left her Bible to my sister. She knew I’d see the note.

I followed her wishes. My sister cried with happiness at her inheritance. It was more valuable than she could realize. I stormed out of her house and drove as fast as I could back home. I sat down in momma’s chair and mourned, only now with confirmation that she loved my sister more than me. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and hopelessly stared at her chest of drawers. Sitting on the cherry wood was another Bible, the one she had been given on her wedding day by her own mother. We assumed for years that it had been lost. A small bunch of purple lilacs sat atop her favorite scripture, Psalms one. Only I knew of her love for those words. I haven’t a clue how it reappeared but I know it was a gift from God.

He kicked at a couple of rocks, the cuffs of his jeans, slightly rolled up calling the attention away from his dirty shoes. A pack of cigarettes were neatly tucked into the sleeve of his white t-shirt. He silently counted his steps.

I sat on the side of the tracks, a daily norm after school – anything to keep from going home. It wasn’t a pleasant place.

He stopped, looked over at me and nodded towards the tunnel. I got up and slowly followed him. I guess most girls are fearless at fourteen, I was no exception. He was cute and I do mean cute, an intriguing stranger. He stopped halfway underneath and leaned against the concrete wall. He took a comb from his pocket and ran it through his oily black hair, his hand followed making sure every strand was in place. He reached towards me and gently took my wrist pulling me closer to him. His hazel eyes stared peacefully into mine, a slight smile formed on his face. He took my other arm and tightened his grip. His lips gaped open revealing a gruesome, damp, red, teeth-filled, tongue-less hole. He forced out the word “secrets” from his chest using what he could of his vocal cords. I ran quickly away, tripping over a railroad tie. I lay there frozen in fear. He turned back, leaving me alone. I found out later that he was the estranged son of my mother’s boyfriend. It didn’t take much to realize what would happen if I told my truth. I guess it was a warning of the sort.

I’m now blinded. I no longer see a future for myself.

The water glistened like ice in a tall glass of tea. I stood leaning against the railing of my one-hundred and twenty-seven foot yacht watching as two guys rode the waves on a tiny sailing apparatus. The sight made me laugh. But what didn’t tickle my funny bone was the reason I had decided to set off on an excursion of my own. I wanted to get away from it all; my life, my wife, my job, my desires and as bad as I hate to say it, my kids. I believed time away would heal my soul, help me make better choices, keep me away from my thoughts and the things I did after having them.

I took the megaphone from its place and called out. “Have a drink with me.” It took no time at all for me to retreat back to my evil ways. I knew these guys couldn’t resist an invitation to experience my luxurious mansion on the sea. They would never believe I was the only person onboard – the captain and the king of this vessel.

I tied their tiny sea wagon to the side of my monstrous million-dollar moving machine.

I added my potion to a fine whiskey, distributed it to my new friends, and for dinner I fried them up like the fresh ocean catch they were. Bon appetit!

Uggghh… I wanted so bad to change! I pay the cost to be the boss and so the story remains

The piercing heat left a floating haze above the asphalt as we headed to the cabin on Lake Priest with our best friends, Perry and Samantha. Annually, we packed a bag, jumped into Jake’s Jeep Cherokee and left every care.

I sat sideways in the front-seat next to my husband and air-played the guitar-solo in Walk this way while everyone else banged their heads to the classic-rock jam. We’d never be this young and free again.

A couple hours out of town, we stopped for fuel and a potty break. I questioned our choice in gas stations. “Kensley, you’ll be fine,” Jake said. The restroom was on the outside of the building. It creeped me out.

Perry grabbed my hand. “I’ll stand guard. Come on.” The two of us left our significant other’s for the sake of my bladder. Out of sight, I pulled away from him. “I told you, we’re done.” It wasn’t easy hiding the year-long romance that Perry and I shared. What started during a drunken Christmas party could’ve ruined both of our lives.

“Samantha’s pregnant,” he shared. “Congratulations,” I outlined the seat in toilet paper then shut the door behind me. I could still hear him speaking. “The baby’s not mine.”

I flushed and slowly exited. “What?”

“Yeah, while we were sneaking around so were they.”

“What?” I asked again.

“Jake and Samantha.” That’s all he could say.

The four of us had a conversation. Now, I’m riding in the back with Perry and I don’t think I could be happier.

This was his idea of fun. “Let’s try it and see what happens.”

The volcano on the south-side of the island had been gearing up to erupt for years per scientists. We’d feel the occasional rumble, nothing out of the ordinary, until yesterday when the harmonic tremors became more pronounced. The local government issued an evacuation order. We had seventy-two-hours to gather our things and get out of town. The devastation would take our homes, our possessions and our friendships. We’d have to relocate and start fresh some place else.

Shy had been my boyfriend for over a year. I’m not sure why they called him Shy, he was everything but. His family was wealthy, they had the best of everything including a plane.

Shy bought a thousand pounds of bottle rockets off-line, had them delivered and then convinced me to help him load the plane. The plan was for me to stand up on the ridge and record while him and his brother dumped the fireworks into the volcano. I discouraged it at first but finally agreed.

The plane flew above. I laughed, jumped around, and waved all while recording. I held my breath when they approached the volcano. Suddenly, the gases shot up and sucked them into the fervent heat. Before I could let out a scream, the whistling flames zigzagged throughout the sky.

Now, I’m just a lonely girl with over ten-million followers.

Jian mumbled something in Mandarin as he paced back and forth in his white boxer shorts, pulling at his jet black hair.

He jumped onto the bed when he realized his floor was covered in about a half-inch of water. Shaking the mattress, he awakened Li Na.

“What are you doing, Jian?” She asked. “Why are you covered in sweat?”

He couldn’t answer his wife. His saucer-sized eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She wrapped her delicate fingers around his wrist. “I don’t understand. You have no need to apologize,” she tried to comfort the man.

He stood to his feet. The mattress sunk in sending Li Na to the middle of the bed. Jian jumped up and down until he bounced Li Na onto the dry floor.

His unnatural laughter echoed loudly through the room. He breathed heavily, growling as if he were a wild animal in the forest.

“Jian, you’re scaring me,” Li Na made her way into a corner, slid down the wall and sat shaking nervously. She remembered the tea that Jian’s brother had given him the night before. He fell asleep quickly and now had awakened in this horrific, delusional state.

Jian’s brother sped through the door returning from a night of partying. “That was some good stuff, huh bro?”

Jian reared back, and pounced on his brother. He sunk his teeth into his neck as if he really had fangs. He chewed away at his flesh until only bone was visible. Li Na fainted at the sight.

“Li Na, wake up, my love,” Jian stood at the edge of the bed, clean and dressed.

“Where is your brother?” She asked.

“I don’t have a brother,” he smiled after running his tongue across his teeth.

The delicate flowers that fell seasonally from the Cherry Blossom trees outlined the path to the trash habitat, that’s how the more to-do class of folks referred to the trailer park. Me and my from-birth, best friend, Bindy called those people the Whoopty-do’s. One good slander deserved another.

They’d drive through in their new cars and deliver can goods to those of us who needed them. Little Timmy Green always rode along with his mom, buckled up in the backseat of her Buick. Barely big enough to see out, he’d side-eye Bindy as long as she remained in his view. It was a crush if I’d ever seen one. Bindy didn’t believe he was love-struck until last week when Tim turned sixteen, funny how names change with age.

He stirred up the flower petals as he whipped his birthday coupe around the corner. He squealed to a stop next to us, reached over and opened the car door. “Bindy, come for a spin?” He barely blushed, she turned crimson. I pushed her into the car and told her I’d see her later. I wished a better life for all us trash.

I swung my ponytail as I skipped back to my lot. They hadn’t been gone a good three minutes, when I heard the train’s horn blaring in the distance, the sound of metal crunching and my best friend’s scream, all of which still echo in my mind. As time goes on, I try and keep my friend’s memory alive, telling the tragic story of her and Tim’s death. Ironically, “Whoopty-do” and laughter is all the sympathy I get from today’s human.