All the stories I've never finished/posted...
Preface:
Life doesn't provide second chances. I'd already waist my time trying to believe that is does, but it doesn't. Your desires only thirst you for more of what you want, and sometimes you have to let them aside to actually attempt them. I've been cut from a different cloth then everyone else on this island, walking on the boundaries of the Blaue Blume.
They say it's German for 'blue flower'. The officers also say that it's the only colored flowers on this island, and that they've never seen any other sort. Always the color of the deep, frigid ocean opened in front of us. Bate would be thrown in everyday to make sure none of us escape. I know we can't, because I've tried. It'd be easy to stick your finger in there and just tell that all of your reliance and reveries on escape the island had immediately dropped dead into the ocean itself and immersed away. You try to grab it, but then the wintry temperature makes you pull your hand out.
You'd think someone in our position would be liked to be regarded with great conceiving, and optimism for the way we're conducted in this place. I am too intellectual for this imprisonment, and I'd know how to get out.
It occurred a very extensive time ago I've laughed, maybe even smiled. I haven't felt the creases on the edge of my mouth for long time, or my cheeks rise in glee, squinting my eyes. It's been a long time since I've been back to the United States and away from school. I'd only been sent here, because of a calamity. When it was happening, I wasn't thinking. My ruthless behavior had gotten the best of me, and my apathetic eyes stared into the deep depths of the girl's. The knife had gone straight into the side of her neck when I cut it unhurriedly. The jagged edges in the blade cut precisely, while the silver duck tape conceived and swallowed her penetrating screams. Her legs buzzed against the chair's, while her eyes stared up at the ceiling begging and pleading for release. I'd figured after my mom had sent me here, my brain had jumped out of my head that day.
I also remembered that I haven't played my cello.
But today was different, almost completely. I felt like smiling lightly this morning, waking up from the concrete floor for the demented. But I wasn't demented.
The clouds actually parted today revealing the gleaming sun, as I went out to the beach. Blue flowers poked from a patch of sand every few feet away. My grotto had been waiting for me, signaling for me to come near, to come in. My feet pressed lightly against the dry sand, as I turned to go inside my warm grotto. A patch of flowers had sprinted from the cracks in the ground all the way to the very back. They called my to them, as I came each unsteady step to them.
When I reached them, I hugged the patch from the corner, pulled them from the crevices. I brought them to my face, and took a deep breath. The smell of snowdrops, and blue peonies brushed against my nose.
My eyes sprung opened.
There was something else.
My quivering hand sped through the thick bouquet of flowers, and came to an unusual one. A pink one. A Carolina rose's stem pricked at my skin. Then, I'd known I get off this island.
It was my own symbol of hope.
_________
Chapter 1
My palm swept against the dewy mirror, removing the misty effect, revealing my long, black hair and green dazzling eyes. I haven't seen myself in a long time, and to know I've grown that much frightened me. When my mom had seen my for the first time she said I'd grown into a beautiful woman, showing confidence in herself, not mine.
My physique was skinnier then I'd remembered. Various fat had disappeared out of many places, signaling my eating habits were all wrong.
I twisted my hair into a bun, and let my bangs hang on the side of my face revealing my tanned skin. It must have been sitting out on the beach everyday.
