Find Me

She looks at herself in the mirror, a small, sad smile stretched across her lips. She positions her arms just as she'd seen the ballerinas do. She studies her reflectiona moment before letting her arms fall down to her sides and moving away.
"It's always just me," she whispers, even though no one's around to hear.

Not always," comes another voice. She follows it to see a young man looking at her through a mirror frame. She reaches out and her finger lands on the glass. Yes, there's something there..

Staring into the young man's eyes, she feels her breath catch in her throat.Their arms mirror one another's up and down before he reaches through and takes hold of her wrist for a moment.He hurries around to catch her as she falls, spinning her around.

When she opens her eyes again, it's like she's somewhere different. He pulls her up to her feet and spins her around on the floor of clouds. He runs after her as she heads for a mirror, this time seeing herself, and the young man with curly blond hair. He tries to touch a hand to her shoulder, but she shrugs it off and runs off in the opposite direction.
She stops, sucking in air through her teeth. Is this real? Or is this just a fantasy? Can I actually let myself believe this is truth?

Turning back to face him, she takes a step away as he tries to take hold of her hand. He raises his arms in front of him like the ballerinas, and they mirror each other spinning around like the dancers she's always dreamed of.

When she raises her arm, he catches it in a loose grip and she allows herself to fall away to the ground. He follows her with his arm as she rises, her eyes meeting his.They reach out toward one another, fingertips almost touching before she finally slips her hand into his and allows a small smile to stretch across her lips.as they turn.

He waltzes her gently through the clouds before lifting her into the air and spinning her around and around. Closing her eyes, she feels the cool breeze rushing past her face. It feels like she's flying, but the entire time, she's safe in his arms. Her feet barely touch the ground before he lifts her into the air again. She reaches up as high as she can, no longer able to stop her smile spreading to light up her entire face. As he lowers her slowly back down, she allows her arms to fall a little, hands clasping together behind her neck.

Her feet touch the ground, but he holds her, strong arms clasped around her waist as he looks into her dark eyes.She bends backwards before springing back and flinging her arms round his neck, hugging him tight. He spins her around once more before setting her back down and running away.

She pushes her hair out of her eyes before turning around to see he's stopped too. He reaches out a hand toward her. The return of her smile cracks the worry that had filled her features for a moment and she runs to him, hand out stretched. Wind rushes through her hair as she reaches him. Hand in hand, they run together, stopping at a mirror frame like the one she'd first found him in.He smiles at her.
"I've always wanted someone to find me," she whispers quietly.
He pulls her in close for a hug. "Here I am."

Beware The Bears

Sweet is what girls want, right? Especially from their boyfriends on Valentine's Day.

Yes, I thought so too. Boy, was I wrong.

Apparently 'sweet' is what new couples or flash young couples do. According to Leah, sweet is unacceptable. At least, not for the second Valentine's Day a couple spent together.  I didn't get it right. Never did, never would, if you asked her. Needless to say, we are no longer an item. Haven't been for two years. But that's not the point. Merely where it all started.

The 'sweet'  gift (unknown to her, last minute, as usual) I bought for her appeared to be the last straw was a teddy bear which, when its foot was squeezed, lifted its arms up and said, "Love me! I want you to love me!" The more I think about it now, the creepier I realise it was. All along. Isn't hindsight wonderful?

But back then I was an innocent, love-struck guy trying to express it to his girl. I'd always loved love. Valentine's day. But it was only since I met her that I had a proper partner to spend it with. The bear had said it. All I wanted was for her to love me. That was all. Just love. The Beatles had said it too. Love is all you need. 

At first, the teddy bears had seemed sweet. They were popular, too. I'd had to wait at the edge of a rather large crowd to get a mere glimpse of them. I felt luck stretch a little in my favour when I was able to snag one of the last ones left in the store. I'd taken it home, and right up until she opened it, it had seemed sweet.

"Are you serious?" she'd screamed. "I can't believe you thought I would actually like this!" 

"Isn't it cute?" I'd asked in a whisper as with the hint of another failed attempt, tears formed behind my eyes and I felt my face grow hot with frustration. "What do you want from me?" 

Two Valentine's Days after Leah's blow-up, when it was just me, myself and I, I noticed the bear sitting high on my shelf and pulled it down for old time's sake. A little rush of nostalgia I suppose. A vague shadow of that feeling I'd been after all those years ago. At first, the bear was completely motionless, moving only when I squeezed it's foot. At first.

After a while, the teddy bear's words, 'love me! I want you to love me!', started to sound a little creepy. I remember standing up, at which point, the bear, which I had positioned on my knee toppled to the floor. I began to walk away before looking back to convince myself the instincts were just scary mind stories. Mind stories that acted like snakes, hissing at an increasing volume to try to make you listen.

My eyes widened at the sight that greeted them. I looked away immediately, shaking my head before looking back again. I blinked. The bear appeared to have moved. It now stood on two legs, its arms extended out in front of it, reaching. For me. I converted to autopilot and slowly stepped backwards, placing all my faith into my intimate knowledge of my own dwelling so as not to trip. But, the faster I backtracked, the quicker the bear advanced, determined to maintain what distance there was between us. 

I couldn't help but laugh as I caught a fleeting glance of myself in the mirror. I looked ridiculous. A middle aged man, wearing nothing but his singlet and boxer shorts running from a tiny, fluffy little teddy bear. if it were any other situation, I would not be able to stop laughing. But, the fact that I was being chased by a psycho teddy bear come to life could not be forgotten, and the situation demanded attention. 

Thankfully, I managed to lock myself in my living room by wedging one of the old family heirloom armchairs against  the door. I fell into the armchair the moment I'd successfully heaved it into place, breathing hard. I stayed there a few minutes while I regained breath before turning on the TV. Surely I was going crazy. 

When I turned the TV on, an image of bears just like my own filled the screen. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them, all walking down a road somewhere, like a tiny mob. Hmm... It would seem that  I was not the only one with a Valentine's bear brought to life. 

"The Valentine's 'Love Me' Teddy Bears appear to have completely come to life," came the voice of a newsreader. "We have footage here of a whole army of Teddy Bears marching down Main Street.."

The screen flashed to a 'breaking news' screen before it cut to another reporter. "Anne, we have breaking visions here. People now appear to be marching and chanting with the Teddy Bears." Over the field reporter's shoulder, I could see a few people dotted among the crowd of bears, their arms forward. My living room was filled with their chant. "Love me! I want you to love me!" as the camera zoomed for a closer shot of them. I watched as the camera passed over countless people, their eyes so glazed over that they closely resembled 

I gripped the arms of the chair so tightly my knuckles began to turn a ghastly shade of white. Right there, on the screen, was her. I couldn't help but laugh, full blown, just about fall off my chair, laughter. The girl I'd just wanted to show love was begging the world for it, just like the crazed Teddy Bears she followed blindly. It was obvious that she wasn't in her right mind. The Leah I knew would be scoffing at this. Complaining about how stupid it was. How the world was getting taken over by a whole bunch of desperate losers. How ironic it was that I'm not in any way a part of this... cult of beggars. 

I shook my head as they zoomed out back to the reporter, who had turned her back to the camera. She too was chanting now, and her arms were out in front of her as she moved robotically toward the mob.

The screen filled with the panicked face of a man, attempting to film himself. "It seems that if you look them directly in the eye, it's like they hypnotise you," he said breathlessly.

"Thank you," the main studio reporter said as the camera crossed back to her and the newsroom. I marveled at the serious expression on her face. At the tiny, barely concealed giggle which momentarily broke her composure. I suppose the whole situation would seem quite humorous to someone not in the thick of it. But I was in the thick of it. I am in the thick of it, I realise as I hear the bear outside rapping on the door, louder now.

Days later, I am still trapped in my living room. I can hear the bear on the other side of that door. Still trying to break its way through the wood. There could be more bears now. I don't know, and I don't dare open the door to find out. I write this to get the word out there. To warn people. Get as far away from them as you can, and whatever you do, do not make eye contact. Should you make that mistake, you will be begging the world to love you too. Ironic really, given that's really how all this started. At least for me. One last, desperate, yet failed plea for adoration. But, you've been warned. Beware the bears.

Myrtle

Students parted like the Red Sea as Myrtle approached. She walked through the crowd accompanied by the click clack of her high heeled stilettos and the whispered murmuring of students. Were they talking about her? They'd better be.

There was a buzz left in her wake, riding the tail of her light summer coat as the edges trailed along the ground behind her. Myrtle smiled as the buzzing turned into screaming. She glanced behind her to see some girls almost tearing at each other's throats, vicious animals native to the school courtyard. Others still whispered, stealing glances her way. Myrtle grinned back at those who caught her eye. 

As she passed the sporting fields, the young men stopped racing about and turned to look. They threw themselves against the wire fences just to get a glimpse, as if she were a celebrity. She paused to flash her blinding pearly whites in their direction, causing many to go weak and fall to their knees. Any longer of a look and several pools of liquid would be all that was left of them. 

If they knew the truth, Myrtle wondered, what would they do then? Would the girls still scream? Would the guys still stop and stare? Would they all still be in awe? 

The idea of losing their adoration, of losing it all, made her want to claw at someone's throat. She rounded a corner, and away from prying eyes, allowed herself to fall against the brick wall and slide down along it to the ground.The thought made her want to melt into a puddle. 

Myrtle beamed as she emerged, all eyes on her once again. She lapped the attention, water that ensured her survival. She closed her eyes, drinking in the sound of her name, a chant coming at her from all directions. She'd never tire of it.

---

Exhaling, Myrtle picked up the pace, eyes not straying from the light at the end of the tunnel; the door to her trailer. As she stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a bang, the noise suddenly died away. Myrtle let herself fall against the door and sighed. "I can't do this," she muttered, running her fingers through her perfect hair, then immediately wishing she hadn't, because it would ruin the hours she'd spent in the hair and makeup chair that morning...

Pushing herself up from the door, Myrtle began pacing the length of her small trailer. "Are they kidding me with this? Can't they keep those pesky paps away?" Pausing, she peered out the window. There were a few people with cameras out there, but far more were armoured with notebooks and pens.

Taking a breath, Myrtle stuck a smile to her face before she reached out and opened the door to go back outside. Waiting by the step was her young assistant, coffee in hand. Myrtle took it without acknowledging her as she began the walk through the crowd. She took a swig of the coffee, allowing it to sit in her mouth for barely a moment before she turned and spat it out on the cement.
"What is this?" Myrtle turned to glare at her assistant, coffee cup clutched in her fingers as if it were toxic. "Celeste, there is absolutely no hint of peppermint in this at all." 
"I'm sorry, Miss," Celeste squeaked, taking the cup from her. "I'll get you a fresh one right away,"

The moment Celeste disappeared from sight, Myrtle turned her attention to the crowd around her, all eyeing her eagerly. She grinned brightly at them, softening to the sweet starlet they all loved. She took a breath and stepped toward them, the chanting of her name like music to her ears. 

In Other Words

Mickey Fisher opened his mouth, only to release a stream of nonsensical words that were most definitely not English. Well, it might have been some semblance of English, but it didn't make sense. Even to Laurel Richards, who had known Mickey for longer than she could remember. He might not have had many words, but Laurel always understood what he was trying to say in the end. It was just said in other words.

She sighed, a soft smile spreading across her lips as he approached, grinning brightly back at her. Ever the dapper gentleman, Mickey was dressed as if he'd just come from an evening cocktail reception in a dinner jacket of blue-green velvety suede. He might have, she reasoned. Mickey attended lots of fancy formal dinners for this charity or that fundraiser. She'd even accompanied him to a few. Just not this one, and she felt suddenly underdressed in her floaty mint green dress.

Mickey proffered his arm, smile unwavering, and she looped it through her own. He waltzed her around the expanse of the otherwise empty gazebo with gentle grace, their path lit by a few street lamps along the edges. With anyone else, Laurel would have been self conscious and worried about prying eyes judging them. But Mickey had this way of taking her away to another world. Another world where it was just the two of them, enjoying each other's company.

Pausing midstep, Mickey looked at her, eyes shining as he pointed at the bright full moon in the sky above them.
"Do you want to go to the moon Mickey?" Laurel asked.
He shook his head, let go of his hands and pointed, this time to himself, then her, and finally, back up at the moon.
"You want to go to the moon with me?"
Again, he shook his head. He pointed again; at himself, her, then the moon before laying his hand flat in the air and swiping it sideways.
Laurel gasped as understanding set in. It was like he'd read her mind. "It is kind of like we're on the moon!"
Mickey's grin widened.
"In other words," she said, smiling, "another world."
Again he nodded.
"I like us having our own little world."
Mickey's grin widened more, lighting his eyes and making them sparkle. Reaching out, he took her hand, kissing it before pulling her closer and starting to dance her round again.

They danced long enough for her to lose track of time. It must have been well after midnight be the time he pulled away. But Mickey held on to her hands, still beaming. He looked at Laurel in silence. She waited. He stayed silent. Suddenly, she realised that he was waiting. But she wasn't sure what for. "In other words?" she tried questioningly, wincing.
He nodded before letting go of his hands. As he pointed and signed, Laurel translated aloud to herself.
First, he pointed at himself.
"I."
Next, at his chest.
"Love," she said, making a heart shape with her hands.
Finally, he pointed at her.
"You." Laurel stopped, her jaw dropping a few inches. "Wait.. What?" She signed and spoke back to him slowly, still half in shock.
"You," She pointed to him.
"Love," made a heart shape with her hands over her chest.
"Me?" she pointed at herself.
Eagerly, he nodded.
"In other words," she filled in for him after a moment.
He signed again, pointing to himself, his chest and then at her.
"I love you."

Just A Blip

It's just a blip, it's just a blip, it's just a blip. Alex Murphy had said the same words over and over so many times he'd lost count. He felt like a broken record. The world as he knew it seemed on the verge of imploding. The life he'd built for himself felt like it hinged upon this one moment. This one decision. A decision that wasn't even up to him. 

Alex felt it ironic that he was a Murphy when the fate of his future lay in the hands of Mrs. Murphy. Well, soon to be ex Mrs Murphy. If things had been reversed, he might have thought it a sign in the beautiful lens that was hindsight. He would have beat himself up. He would have convinced himself that he should have seen it coming all along.  

She'd given him a taste of the life he'd always dreamed of. A life he'd longed for. Love, children, family. A life, full and rich. Then, she'd ripped it all away, like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. He'd been left on his knees, reeling as he watched them disappear. 

Somehow, she'd turned him into the bad guy. His life had been turned upside down in an instant. He didn't remember the last time he'd spoken properly to his little girl, or spent quality time with his son. "It's just a blip," he told himself again. And it was. 

His kids were still there, even if he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen them. He just had to wait, and let fate run it's course. Because he knew, somewhere, deep down, that this wouldn't last forever. He was just in a blip, but it would go away, and life would be back to normal again. A new normal, maybe. But normal all the same.

One day, he'd look back on this time and remember the hurt and the heartache. He'd remember the fearful what if's that haunted his thoughts and the stress of the weight of all of it, resting upon him. One day, he'd remember all of it and breathe a sigh of relief that it was all over. But he'd smile too, knowing that it'd had to happen. He'd needed the reminder. The reminder that he was stronger than he thought he was. That he was a fighter, and that he could make it through. That no matter how bad it seemed, he would come out on the other side.