Standing Still

Chapter 1: Pencils and Princesses

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Guys. I'm so excited. Just read it.
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Chapter 1

IT all began with a pencil.

Tap, tap, tap the eraser went against the notebook as I vigorously searched my mental vocabulary for this one perfect word, the one that danced on the tip of my tongue and was so close to bubbling forth that I could taste the sweet reward of victory on my tastebuds.

Bravery? I jotted down as a suggestion, but it didn't look right. No, I thought, this is more than just bravery.

I looked down at the words on the page in front of me, recognizing my loopy, cursive handwriting. I'd always loved the idea of cursive; a connected string of letters that went on and on until complete, never breaking apart, only lasting, only continuing without fail until the reach of their destination.

Duration? No.

I glanced at the clock above the bedside table where I sat, watching the seconds tick by - increasingly fast, it seemed - until I'd be gone and headed on my way. Was it too much to ask to be able to think of this one word before the five minutes ran out and I would have to leave for school?

I'd always loved the idea of words. Even at a young age, long before I'd begun dabbling with them. Only when I started to write for a fifth grade report on the fast-approaching global warming and what it meant for humanity as a whole did I realize how much I loved it. Not so much the topic, per say, but what could be achieved by such motivation.

It was an idea so simple, and at the same time so complex, that the only way it was to be properly achieved was to let it come from the heart and edit later.

I loved the way the letters looked jotted down on the white paper of my purple-covered notebook, how a small group of individual, unimportant singletons could join together and make something so beautiful. On paper, things make sense. There's no room for mincing words or confusion; things are just clear, understandable. Writing, for me, was like an addition problem in a world of algebra. It had become like a sanctuary for me, a getaway, someplace to go when nothing else made sense. Words on paper did not lie.

I looked back up at the clock. Three minutes left.

I bit my lip as I stared at down at the paper before me, narrowing my eyes as a subconscious way to try and narrow the problem. But I'd solve it. If not now, then eventually. But it would happen.

"Anna!" My mother's voice echoed down the hallway to my room as I readjusted myself in my chair, the button on my jean jacket clacking against the wood as I moved.

Come on, I thought, it's just one word!

I quickly scanned what I'd jotted down so far, starting with the encounter between Alyssa - my leading-lady - and Mayhem Rooskie Hylliard III- the villainous fiend who's trying desperately to uphold his reign over Alyssa's home in the village of Tumbar, in the Lagoon of Delusion. I'd tried out a few different types of genres before, but fantasy was my favorite. And romance. Partially because I enjoyed the adventure, and partially because I just really liked watching out-there movies like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and needed to get my fix.

Besides, it was fun to do the impossible. Maybe it was only on paper, and maybe it was only fantasy, but it felt real when you read it. You could smell the fresh coconuts as Alyssa walked through the jungle, you could feel the heat from the scorching sun on the beach, and you could taste the saltiness of the ocean and feel the sand in between your toes. It was, I thought, even if only fleeting and imaginary, the feeling of being alive.