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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Weee

Meeting my soulmate in San Francisco

7 minutes and 15 seconds. … In 7 minutes and 15 seconds i was supposed to lay my eyes on my soul mate… At a convetion. Where 9,000 people were congregating. Very nervous, i wait outside the convention center. Waiting for the doors to open. Since it was a formal, religious event, I am wearing a pink flowy, chiffon skirt , black tank top with whute cardigan and a small jeweled pink.headband. i adjust the skirt nervously, anticipating the moment I’ll hear the beep. … 6 minutes and 22 seconds. … I wonder who he’ll be… i daydream about my future husband… will it be One of the doormen? A speaker? A random convention goer? How will the moment be? … I hear the doors opening and the crowd moving ahead. I am hurried along the tall ramp and i glace at the timer: … 4 minutes 15 seconds. …. Still halfway to the entrance… i glance around… mostly older men and women. I look a bit out of place as a 16 year old. I wonder if my soulmate is significantly older than me… as I hurry along the ramp with the crowd, I glance again… …3 minutes, 48 seconds. … I got to the entrance and now must find my seat. As I open my bag I realized, I dropped something. My Bible. How did I drop something so important? I think to myself. Sighing, I begrudgingly go outside to the ramp. Yep, it’s there. I open the cover to make sure, yep, it says my name in Purple letters. As i look up i find an old friend… Maya. … Maya greets me and we chat for a bit before heading together inside.As she tells me about her honeymoon with her new husband, I glance at my timer. … 50 seconds. … My heart is beating out of my chest… … I’ll meet him soon. My thoughts are consuming me. My heart is going a thousand miles. I’ll meet him soon. I can’t even concentrate on the conversation with Maya. I get to the door. And a purple Harston cap catches my eye. The man opening the door wearing a trenchcoat and a Dark purple Harston Cap. I Briefly make eye contact to thank him for opening the door, not really paying attention to his face, when the timer beeps. He looks down in amazement, apparently forgetting this was going to happen… …. Letting go the door, it closed behind him. … I was dumbly walking away from him… dazed. Underwhelmed. Confused. Maya comments “hey, that was my husband’s coworker, Derek. ” Maya was completely oblivious to what had occured. I think about the man who was my soulmate…. Derek. Purple hat wearing, trench coat wearing, Derek. I think to myself. Saddened. But I live in Sonoma… And We are In San Francisco…. How will we meet again? I found myself thinking. He’s older than 18… to have been working with Maya’s husband. So we can’t really be with each other until im a bit older… I think… Will I see him today again? … how will I find him if I didn’t really see his face? … how will I find him in 9,000 people? … … i kept thinking about that moment all throughout the day. Not paying attention to anything. Before i knew it, it was the end of the convention. I got in my parent's car and they drove out of San Francisco…. Later on, as i looking back at the golden gate bridge at the end of the day, I catch a glimpse of a car that catches my eye, A dark purple Honda. A dark purple hat is seen in the driver’s window. My heart skips a beat. Maybe I don’t have to wait so long to see him again…

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Remember everything will be alriiiIIIIiight

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Weee

Meeting my soulmate in San Francisco

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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his: 0449d 16h 20m 56s mine: 0000d 00h 00m 00s

Wrinkle-resistant, office-blue button down and the same black jeans I wore yesterday: typical lazy mid-week work outfit. Mikhail’s snoring while I rummage around the kitchen, trying to remember where I left my watch last night. I always wake up earlier than him, even on the weekends. After a year and a half of living together, I’m used to the sound. Finally find my watch, on top of the fridge, and fight back the urge to vomit as its TiMER-Safe band clicks closed.

TiMER-Safe bands have been around since TiMERS came out. They’re just basic watch bands with an offset clasp and a little bit of foam that cushions your TiMER and stops it from getting scratched. Some of the nicer ones muffle sound, just in case you’re somewhere important when you zero out. They didn’t get big until a string of lawsuits a couple of years ago. Some women got their hours or responsibilities cut when they were close to zeroing out because they’d “probably just get pregnant soon”. A few people got passed over for promotions because they had wedding bands and weren’t zeroed out. Massive fucking HR nightmare. So when the winning verdicts and million dollar settlements got handed down, most of the bigger companies added “TiMER covers” to their dress code and everyone else just added it to the unwritten rules of office casual.

his: 1095d 11h 02m 08s mine: 0645d 11h 02m 08s

That was back when Mikhail and I were both still in grad school though, so it’s not like we cared. It was Fall and a week into the semester we realized we had the exact same schedule. It wasn’t much of an accomplishment in a tiny Math department, but good enough of a reason to fall into a routine of coursework, beer, and eventually sleeping together. That Christmas we got each other watches with the nice muffling bands, as a kind of tongue in cheek joke.

Our friends were happy for us that first Christmas because I still had over a year before zeroing out and “most relationships don’t last a year anyway”. It was common for friends to hook up in the interim, pass the time, stay friends even after they meet their one’s. Neither of us was worried about that day, so far in the future, when my TiMER would stop counting down.

The morning train ride was uneventful, but I still feel like vomiting when I get to the office. We didn’t eat dinner and stayed up half the night talking, rehashing the same logic maps we’d agonized over for the past year, my TiMER slowly counting down to midnight.

“If we didn’t have them, and you met this person you really liked, and he seemed like a better match for you, then you’d break up with me and go for it.”

“Or maybe I would suppress whatever feelings and stay with you because I’m loyal and I love you and fuck it you got here first.”

And silence.

“Or I wouldn’t even entertain the possibility of having feelings for somebody else because I couldn’t imagine anyone better than you, and I didn’t have some stupid countdown to tell me otherwise.”

And more silence. Because we’ve gone over this before.

“But we do. And I knew this day was coming. You don’t have to feel bad. Just do what feels right.”

Calling in sick would have felt right, but I have meetings today. Work feels fairly safe anyway, since I already know everyone and we aren’t getting any new hires today. Maybe somebody interviewing? Or on the train home? I taste bile in the back of my throat and try to think about the way Mikhail’s mop of curly brown hair looked this morning, splayed over a couple of pillows we got at Ikea that day we just wanted an excuse to get meatballs. I pull up some old R script to mess around with and pretend I’m working, and then it’s time for my first meeting.

I’m so preoccupied with my own thoughts, walking down the long corridor to one of the smaller conference rooms, that I don’t even register the beeping until I’ve already walked past him.

I turn around and he’s smiling at me, excited, expectant. He’s taller than Mikhail. The beeping from his TiMER’s finally stopped. Why is he here? Interviewing? Will he come back? I don’t know, I don’t know. A quick look around reassures me nobody has noticed us zero out. I don’t care, I don’t care.

“Hi! I’m-”

“Hi! I have to go to a meeting! I’ll catch you later!” I smile.

“Sure thing!” He’s confident, happy. I keep waking down the hallway.

At the meeting somebody is droning over a Power Point and all I can think about is last Christmas. I’d reconnected with a friend from undergrad and she’d encouraged me to swing by her Christmas party for a drink. She was newly married and pregnant and glowing, triumphant with her little zeros glinting on her wrist. She hugged Mikhail when he presented her with cannolis, but pulled me aside after she’d checked my countdown, to express her concerns. How long had we been together? But I have less than a year left now. Wasn’t I worried?

“I’m so happy. I haven’t thought about it.”

I told Mikhail on the way home, thinking he’d get a laugh out of it, but he said maybe it was time to think about it. The thing with pre-zero dating was that it usually never lasted. In the beginning we’d assumed that something would come up and we’d just split amicably. Later we were just so happy that we stopped worrying about it entirely, so sure that no matter what happened we’d always remain friends.

“I love you and I want to keep spending time with you”

his: 0728d 22h 41m 30s mine: 0278d 22h 41m 30s

Nine months still seemed like a long way to go, so we got drunk on the rest of the seasonal beer in the fridge.

“Okay, so 8.4 million people in NYC. Why just stick to NYC? It’s easier to prove my point with more constraints. About 650,000 of those are members of the opposite sex age 20-30. Let’s say 10% are into the same general stuff, like never going to Church and always paying extra for free-range eggs. Maybe you find 10% of them attractive, so now we’re at 6,500. Let’s say a generous half of them are assholes and on top of that half of them don’t like eating tomatoes (I know that’s a dealbreaker for you) and on top of that you just don’t click with like, ninety percent of them. Oh, and five percent are gay. So we’re at … 154. A hundred and fifty four people you could potentially be happy with.”

“A hundred and fifty four people with whom I could potentially be happy.”

“How does the TiMER figure out which one is your soulmate?”

“Probably sorts on match percentage. Like OkCupid.”

“Right. And I can see the difference between #154 and #1 being pretty clear, but do you think you’d be able to tell the difference between #1 and #2, or #1 and #3? If you put them side by side, and tried to figure out which one was better for you?”

“Probably not. Probably a lot of people who ended up with numbers two to a hundred fifty four before TiMERs, and were just fine.”

My boss holds me back after to meeting to talk about something, but she realizes I’m distracted and asks if I’m all right. I tell her I’m feeling a little sick and might head home early. She hopes I feel better.

I take the back way out and don’t run into anyone.

That night, Mikhail comes home to find me in bed, under the covers, drinking a beer. He smiles and disappears for a second, returning to join me in bed with his own beer. Before he can ask how things went, I say “Work was terrible. Some stranger tried to hit on me at the office. I left early. I think I’m gonna start looking for a new job.”

He gives me a hug and I can smell the laundry detergent we use and the deodorant I buy because I like the label and his hair because he hasn’t washed it today. He whispers “I love you” and I can hear that he’s almost crying and I can see that his TiMER is still counting down to zero.

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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So cute hihi

Looking Out The Window

I sighed, looking out the window. I lived by myself, and life was boring. Twenty year old single people weren’t rare, but most people , such as most of my friends had their soulmates. Peeking at my timer, looking out the window. I was down to minutes. My coffee had gotten cold from the light autumn breeze. I set the mug down and stood up beside the window. The moon wasn’t romantically full like my sister’s meeting, and there were no stars out, like my parent’s. There were a few drunken groups wandering the streets. I leaned out, pushing my hair back and breathing in the fresh air. I glanced down at my timer again, then back out. “Hello?” I shouted out into the street. “3:44?” A deep voice yelled back. I glanced down. The same time read. “Yes!” I cried, suddenly filled with joy. Quickly, I pulled on a sweater and ran down, my slippers on the wrong feet. I heard equally eager footsteps thumping outside the building. I made my way onto the sidewalk, where I saw a tall figure approaching. “So…” He whispered breathlessly. “Hi.” I whispered back, pushing my large glasses back up on my nose. “Well, I think we should go stand under that spotlight over there, and then kinda talk, I mean, it is two in the morning and stuff, kinda dark out,” His low voice uttered to me in the darkness. I shuffled over to the streetlight, finally seeing my soulmate. His eyes were a greyish brown, and his hair was dark brown, almost black. He was almost five inches taller than me, I had to look up to see his face. “Hi, I’m- I’m, you first.” I stuttered, looking down. I glanced up, and he bit his lip. “I’m Gavin, and you?” He murmured, biting his lip and looking away. “I’m April. Nice to meet you,” I looked up again. “Gavin.” As soon as I said his name, the entire moment came alive. The colors, the distinct shape of his jaw, the way the streetlight illuminated our hands and faces. “April,” He replied, and grinned softly. I smiled back. “Would you like to come inside? It’s kinda chilly.” I murmured. Gavin nodded and followed me inside.

The second mug thunked down on the table, in front of Gavin, who was across from me. “So,” He told me awkwardly. I giggled and twirled my spoon around. “From this day on, we’re… Soulmates.” I told him nervously. “Soulmates.” He whispered back. “Soulmates,” I replied.

Three Years Later…

I smiled up at Gavin, my heart pounding. His forehead was beaded with sweat as I made my way towards him. I stepped up to face him. The man to my left muttered things I couldn’t hear. I beamed up at his face, the same chiseled jawline I saw that first day under the spotlight. “April?” Gavin whispered softly. I nodded. “I do,” He stated to the small audience. “I do! I do! I love you!” He yelled. I grinned happily. “Do you- April Gra-” I cut him off. “Yes! Yes! Yes I do I do I do I DO!” I shouted, throwing my arms around Gavin as the entire room clapped. I thought back to that day we met. “Soulmates.” I whispered into his ear. “Soulmates.” He replied. I grinned.

BY: Maddie Potato @ potatowrites.tumblr.com

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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He's such a charming douche

Evasion

Warning: Light use of adult language, as well as implications.

Funny little thing about these little bio-clocks on the wrist; it’s actually been proven that they cause ‘nudges’ at certain points in the countdown.

No, really. I know a guy who hates pastry sweets (something about the caster sugar). When he’d hit about the 15m mark on his Timer, he’d randomly decided to get a jam and cream bun despite the thing having a fair coating of sugar.

He met his Soulmate when the girl damn near crushed said bun between them: to this day, their only reason to buy a jam and cream bun is to privately re-enact that scene, plus extra. From what I understand, she uses the same sports bra/shirt each time.

The things you learn when researching…

However, ever since it was proven that these Timers nudge the Soulmates together…

I’ve been trolling mine for the last month. Various amounts of success, too.

Like the time I had an appointment that required catching a train, but barely made it because I chose to change trains twice and always travelling the length of the car I was on before switching to another.

Good thing that the Doctor was running a bit behind, though.

Or the time that I took a winding circuit with back alleys and heavy foot traffic when I went for a walk.

… How can I tell it works?

Well, kinda easy when the Timer jumps from 0d 23m 43s to 5d 15m 27s. Think the longest I ‘dodged’ the clock was about fifteen days. Man, did I get drunk at that record.

A lot of people constantly wonder why I’m doing this; am I afraid, a coward? Am I being needlessly cruel to that person and enjoying it? Do I have commitment issues?

In short? Nah. I’m doing it because I enjoy giving this borderline obsessionpeople have with this Soulmate crap the finger. In some cases, literally.

As I stewed on those thoughts, I felt an almost debilitating ache echo through my head in a direction.

… Yeah, apparently the 'nudges’ get pretty damn strong if you ignore it on purpose.

I decided, however, to play a little more with this. Ignoring the so-called nudge, I headed into the nearest crowded cover; in this case, a small shopping centre. And by small, I mean two stories and some fifty-odd shops, including the big names. Flicking a gaze at my wrist, I read the display.

0d 0h 6m 22s

Smirking, I pulled out my phone and, entering the air-conditioning and crowded interior, tapped the start of the stopwatch app.

Let’s see how long I can make this six minutes last, hm?

[One hour, thirty-six minutes later]

Oh, this poor, poor girl… Okay, yeah, she’s a looker with sea-blue eyes on a clear sunny day, auburn hair in a mostly pixie cut with three cornrows along the centre of her head and a light tan with a fair figure, and she certainly seems like she’s gonna have a breakdown with the way she’s snapping her head around, presumably for me (though since she’s been tailing me and I’ve been slipping from her for at least an hour, I think it’s a good guess).

Another fun fact; six times outta ten, the Timers only beep when a certain range is met. Three is eye-contact, and the last one is acknowledgement, or that is to say, 'Hi, I’m your Soulmate.’

So, I’ve been leading her around keeping an eye with various reflections and when I know she’s not looking at me.

… Maybe I am a little cruel, but come on, I volunteered for this the same way a school kid volunteers his lunch money to an asshole.

That is to say, I don’t get along with my parents without some real focus on my part. Or the government, really.

——————————————————————————————-

Damnit. Damnit, damnit, damnit, DAMNIT!

For some reason, for the last month every time I think I’m about to finally meet my Goddamned Soulmate, so that I can get my parents off my back about not even dating at all, the stupid Timer jumps up.

Honestly, even as I stand there, looking wildly around for my so-called Destined One like an idiot, I just want to break down from the stress of having to track this ass down.

Maybe… maybe he’s already got his own Soulmate. Or maybe I’m just a plaything of whatever Higher Power there is, always getting close like a cat chasing a string before the string gets pulled out of reach only to settle nearby…

——————————————————————————————-

I looked on from within the crowd at the now lightly crying girl, a kind stranger holding her in a motherly embrace. Any sense of enjoyment I had was killed by a long-buried guilt coming to the surface. Turning away for a few minutes, I returned with a decision.

——————————————————————————————-

As I clung to this woman that was comforting me, face almost buried into the crook of her shoulder and neck, a ball of paper bounced off my head.

Recoiling lightly, both myself and the kind lady snapped our gazes to the direction it came from. There, on the fringe of the crowd, was a guy with a lean build, stubbled cheeks, a close-trimmed beard and pale-brown hair pulled into a rough tail. His whiskey-coloured eyes, somewhat streaked with a reddish-violet stood out on his pale skin with an incredibly infuriating smirk in place.

As I stared aghast at what I thought to be little more than a bully, my Timer beeped. The stranger and I both flinched, before checking my wrist to see the damn countdown had actually reached 0d 0h 0m 0s.

Looking back at the asshole who was apparently my Soulmate, I saw him already moving away, turning his head to flash me that damn smirk before vanishing.

Looking at the paper ball, I pulled it apart to read a simple message;

[Congratulations, Alice. It seems you’ve stopped Time. Perhaps we’ll meet again in say, three days, around two-thirty?

With all the smartassery as due my name,

Cheshire]

… I know there’s no way he’d know this, but how the Hell did he guess I loved Alice in Wonderland, both Lewis Carroll and American McGee?

Written by myself.

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Awwww I love this one so much

I’ve been married for three years to a man I love with all my heart. He is gracious, kind, compassionate, handsome, strong. But most importantly, he is not bothered by the fact that my countdown stopped ten years ago.

In another time there was a man. A boy, really. Tall. Kind. With a sunny grin to match his disposition. My countdown hit zero the first time our eyes met across the library at school l. We hardly ever parted, that sunshine boy and I. Two years later he got on a plane to Africa, bent on helping people less fortunate than he.

“I love you,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

Six months later he was gone from this world forever, killed by some men wen he tried to stop them harming a young girl. Too good for his own good, that sunshine boy. I cried so much, because to lose him. I still do.

My husband understands. He holds me. He kisses me. He says he loves me, because for him, his countdown stopped when he met me. And how I love him, and want to give him the best I can, because he deserves the best for his unwavering patience and support.

A few weeks ago, the doctor confirmed what I already knew. I’m pregnant. I knew because my clock restarted.

7 months, 2 days, 20 hours, 5 minutes, 6 seconds.

I’ll see you soon.

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Awwwwwwww hahaha

Timeless

I always loved the idea of finding your soulmate, but having a timer on it? I don’t think so. I’ve been a firm believer of spontaneity and things that happen out of the blue so I didn’t really know how to react when my parents gave me those soulmate timers on my 16th birthday. Seeing as I didn’t want to disappoint them by saying I completely and utterly hated the gift, I decided to install it anyway; but there it was in its minimalist glory, written in small fonts,

0629d 04h 45m 26s

I hated it. Not because it was more than a year away but why did I have to countdown something this special? Couldn’t I have kept it a surprise? I wouldn’t have to stand in one area scanning my eyes at the crowd to see who exactly my soulmate was.

Which is why I decided to coat the display in black nail polish, thick and heavy. Four months later and my friends are still aghast at the sight of my little timer. They always warn me that the paint will easily peel off, which is why I remember to reapply it at least three or two times a week.

29th October 2015

I’m in a relationship. A great one that has lasted for four months; but unfortunately he lives 11,274 kilometres away from me, which is around 7,005 miles for those of you who don’t use the metric system. He also happens to have those little timers but just like me, he decided to coat it.

“I love you.” He would always tell me before he went to bed and when he woke up and all the other times in between, “no matter what.” Even though our time difference carries a burden of more than 6 hours.

“I love you endlessly.” And I would never fail to reply to him with those three little words because they were true.

6th November 2015

I remember this day quite vividly because he asked me, “Isn’t your birthday soon? November 24th?” Of course I replied with a yes, it’s always adorable when your significant other remembers anything about you. He even asked me what he could do for me. He, being 11,274 kilometres or 7,005 miles away, wanted to do something for me. I swore I would’ve kissed him if he was laying next to me.

4th January 2016

I was starting to get worried. I loved him so much. I was completely and utterly in love with him and if I remembered correctly, the timer said more than a year. I wanted him to be my soulmate more than anything but what if he wasn’t? Every little I love you’s we exchanged through our text messages or video chats just made me fall harder in love with him.

7th April 2016

I found out I was accepted into a university. Not any university but one that was close to where he lives. Can you imagine? I went from 11,274 kilometres away to only a few streets away? I was ecstatic, I instantly told him the news and he showered me with the L word. I couldn’t wait to leave my house and finally go home, to him.

13th August 2016

One day. One more day until I finally get to see him. He has been my home for more than ten months and oh god I am homesick, I need him. Now. Now. Now. I still coated my display with black nail polish. Not because I didn’t want it to be a surprise anymore but in fear that he wouldn’t be my soulmate.

14th August 2016

He’s here, I’m here, we’re here and I can’t breathe because I’m drowning. I love him, oh my god I love him so much.

He was laying in my arms and I was tracing his skin maps and connecting his constellations when I noticed his covered timer. Black, just like mine, and I couldn’t help it. I slowly climbed out of bed and rummaged for my nail polish remover. Call it curiosity, but I just had to know.

So I dabbed some on a cotton ball and wiped it against his timer to see,

0000d 00h 00m 00s

I think I squealed, which is probably why he woke up and instantly cradled me towards him.

“Clean it off for me, I want you to be the first to know.” I said as I pushed the cotton ball drenched in nail polish remover to him. “But before you do, I want you to know that no one else can have the same love I’ve given you for the past few months, okay?”

He nodded and kissed my lips. His silent but effective way of saying that he loves me. As he pulled my hand to his direction and wiped the black nail polish off. Once he was done, he threw the cotton ball away and buried his face to the crook of my neck.

“I love you endlessly.” Was what he whispered when I saw through my peripheral vision my timer that read

000d 00h 00m 00s

//basosexia.tumblr.com

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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OH MAH GAH WAHHHHH I LOVE THIS

She rubbed the clock self conciously, nervously tugging down the sleeve of her black blouse past her wrist, covering the wretched thing. She could still see the glow through the fabric, and though the numbers were obscured, she had memorized the countdown long ago. She knew the date since she was old enough to understand what the clock represented, had painstakingly done the math over and over, wrote the date on every journal, every notebook, every corner of her room. She knew she would be 22 when she met her soulmate, she’d be in her fourth year of uni (God willing), but that was it. It wasn’t until the end of her past spring semester she’d been able to narrow it down; she was going to meet him during her first week back to school, in her Geography class.

She was good with computers, so naturally, she tried to hack into the school’s database to see the roster of students. She went to a small school with a massive female to male ratio, so there weren’t going to be that many men in the first place. Once she was in (it honestly wasn’t that hard!), she scrolled through the thirty something names quickly, her heart pounding in her throat. There were nine confirmed men, one being ruled out already because she knew him, and a gender ambiguous Alex. One of them was her Soulmate. And one of them was going to break her heart.

Because sometimes, people didn’t like their Soulmates. Sometimes, people took one look at a person, saw their bodies and faces, and decided that a lifetime of love and dedication wasn’t worth an ugly wife, and left. The Forsaken were an ugly group of people both physically and mentally, and often died young, turning to liquor to burn away the sorrow of their broken hearts.

Izzy was terrified as she walked into the classroom twenty five minutes early. She checked her face constantly, fixing a non existent flyaway, smoothing down the front of her plain black blouse, as if every swipe of her palm would melt away another pound. She had purposely looked nice today, but not overdone; glitzier earrings, a slimming outfit, flats instead of her dirty Chucks, a blazer. All black. She was already in mourning. She knew she looked lovely, she had a pretty face under the weight but it didn’t avert the eyes of others away for long.

And one by one, the other students began to trickle in. She frightened the first one because she had gone still from sheer fright and the lights had gone off, not sensing any movement. The poor guy nearly jumped from his skin when he spotted Izzy in the far end of the room, looking a bit mad. Her clock was ticking down now; sixteen minutes. My God, was it getting louder?

Another guy stepped in with his girlfriend, looking very happy and very clock-less. Okay, not him, obviously. Eleven minutes.

Shit, what if it was a girl? She panicked to herself for a moment; she didn’t fancy girls at all, not even as a curiosity. But she had never heard of someone meeting a person of the gender they weren’t attracted to originally, so she tried to calm herself down. Which didn’t work at all. Eight and a quarter.

More people came in: six more men and nearly fifteen more girls in the next five minutes. She was going to puke. She waved to her friend, Charlie, who sat next to her with a grin.

“Hey Izzy! Why’re you pale as a ghost? This class isn’t meant to be that hard.”

She hadn’t told anyone besides her closest friends, three girls she trusted with her life. She hadn’t told ANYONE else today was the Day. She was too afraid of having to explain that her Soulmate didn’t want a whale of a wife. So she clammed up and nodded to him instead.

‘No, I’m good. Weird Mexican food for lunch. Not sitting right, I suppose.“

There was only one more guy left in the class who hadn’t arrived yet. Seven minutes. She called out, rather unceremoniously, if there was an Alex in the room. When a small Vietnamese girl spoke up, the poor thing only received a curt nod from Izzy before being ignored again. Izzy couldn’t breathe; it was a boy named Peter, the only one to have not shown up yet. Her friends showed up to the class, despite Izzy threatening them with dismemberment, and perched themselves in the back, ready to record the event. Five and a half minutes until he came in, five and a half minutes until -

A boy walked through the doorway, scanned the seats, and plopped down lethargically in the back row, his feet kicked up onto the table. He met Izzy’s eyes briefly as he casually glanced around the room, then closed his eyes to try and nap.

What.

“Are you Peter? Peter Blair?” She hadn’t really meant to sound that …. shrill…. but Peter Blair was the last man enrolled in this class and he wasn’t suppose to show up for another three minutes twenty nine seconds!!

“Yea..?” The Jamaican boy looked slightly taken aback, but not insulted. Izzy scanned the room slowly, very aware of all the eyes on her form. She stood up, shaking. Something was wrong. He wasn’t in this class. He wasn’t coming. Had she done something wrong? Izzy glanced down on her wrist. It was less than a minute now, still counting down. She didn’t know what to do, so she stayed up but looked down at her table, trying to calm her heart rate down.

Fine. He wasn’t coming. That was okay…. she hadn’t needed anyone up until this moment, she certainly didn’t need anyone now. She set her mouth, determined, as she sat down and pulled out her laptop, ready to take notes. She didn’t pay any attention, booting up her email, as she heard the professor step into the classroom.

“Sorry I’m late! I was just… I don’t know, I’m sorry. Anyway, I’m Professor Adam Finch, and this is History 416, so if you’re looking for Linguistics with Dodson, he’s down the hall.”

lookuplookuplookupLOOKUPRIGHTNOWSTUPIDGIRL

His voice hit her like a ton of bricks, and her head snapped up, her dark blue eyes meeting humble brown eyes, wide set and staring at her, unblinking. He was tall, reed thin, with a mop of dirty blonde hair and five o'clock scruff all over his chin. He had on khakis and a nondescript button down, well worn but well cared for, a leather jacket slung casually over his arm, a messenger bag sitting heavily on his shoulder. He was average. He was normal. He was unbelievably perfect.

Somewhere, several light years away, Izzy heard their clocks snap off their wrists in sync and hit the floor, clattering to the ground. Someone wolf whistled, probably her friends, and Charlie laughed to himself and muttered ‘Oh, SHIT.’

——-

It was the first class of the semester, so even though they were scheduled for a three hour block, he was finished going over the syllabus and meeting the class in two. That was one hundred and twenty minutes of sweet, sweet torture for Izzy, and she presumed for Professor Childs. Of course, the entire class realized what had happened and would chuckle every time the two of them caught each other’s eye and stared. Which happened fourteen times.

Taking role was probably the funniest time during the class; Izzy appreciated the humor and tried to be good natured about it, but she really just wanted to lace her fingers in his. Funny, her earlier apprehensions seemed to have disappeared; this would probably make it even more difficult for her when he ultimately rejected her, but she couldn’t be bothered to think about that now. His neck was very long. So were his forearms.

He called out each individual’s name and had them come to the front of the class to introduce themselves to the other students. Each time he read a name, he would glance over at her hopefully, as if eager to hear about her mundane facts; he was disappointed until he finally reached her name and she stood up gracefully, despite her knees shaking. This was completely overwhelming and not really fair, the way he beamed at her as she made her way to the front of the class. He looked… she couldn’t even explain it. She looked towards her friends, who were all recording the event and in silent hysterics, laughing at the very obvious joy radiating from her. Izzy walked past him to stand in the center of the room, very proud of herself for managing to not thrown herself into his lanky arms, and looked around, giving a wave to her audience in the back corner.

She thought about completely ignoring him and talking directly to the class, but gave that up almost immediately, and turned towards him.

“My name is Adelaide, but a lot of people call me Izzy. But I think I want you to call me Adelaide.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Adelaide.”

“I’m from San Diego, and I’m an Education major. I want to work in Educational Reform, working towards the fight to end education inequity.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. You’re incredible. Your eyes are so blue.”

The entire class started laughing, but she didn’t care. She was drunk off the sound of his praise, wanted it to continue. She glanced up swiftly towards the screen, reminding herself of the questions, and moved on.

“My fun fact is that I used to have a purple pixie cut, and I really loved it and miss it.”

He frowned at that, just the corners of his mouth turning down, but her heart plummeted.

“But your hair is so long now, I can’t picture you with short hair. Can you show me?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Now?”

He opened his mouth to answer but her friend called out from the back row, “Wrap it up, guys, you have the rest of your lives.”

They both turned, blushing furiously, towards the heckler, but she was right, so Izzy continued, clearing her throat in embarrassment. She flicked her hair behind her shoulder, watching smugly as her professor followed the line of it down her arm, mesmerized. She turned on the balls of her feet towards the class, smiling shyly.

“And the farthest I’ve been from home is China, when I taught English there a few summers ago.” And with that, she walked quickly to her chair and sat down, instantly looking up and trying to catch his eyes again. It didn’t take long.

“Can we go to China together? I’ve never been.”

“Yes. I’ll teach you how to order food, it took me awhile but I…” She clammed up and looked around, mortified, as she was planning a trip with this man, who, thirty six minutes prior, was a stranger.

He seemed to realize what they were doing on the same time, because he cleared his throat loudly and started to pace away from her, going down the rest of the roster in a brisk, business like tone. The facade was broken slightly since they just sort of… gazed wistfully across the room at each other like idiots when anyone else was talking. The other students tried to get their attention by giving outlandish answers, like majors in Pokemon battles or trips taken to Mars, but to no avail.

Finally, MERCIFULLY, they were finished for the day. He dismissed the class with a reminder to study for the first quiz next week, and turned away, stepping towards his desk to start placing his books away. The rest of the class got up and left quickly, shouting congratulatory messages to both of them and Izzy’s friends coming up behind her and hugging her, wishing her luck. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry, and she found she was unable to stand. It was coming; he was about to say No.

She forced herself out of the chair and walked towards him slowly, head bent down, like a dog waiting for a slap. Her hands were locked together in front of her, to stop them from shaking, and she stopped when she could see his shoes directly in front of her. Her head stayed down. She counted the frayed ends of the carpet as she wait for him to speak.

“Adelaide?”

She slowly, slowly lifted her head, as if weighed down with the pounds of her sorrow, until her dark blue eyes, once again, met humble brown. His pupils were blown huge, lips parted, breathing shallow puffs of breath as he inched closer to her. 'Just let me go now, tell me you don’t want me now, just don’t break too much of me in the process’ she screamed in her head.

Instead he waited until the toes of his Clayton’s were perfectly aligned with the toes of her bright ruby flats. His left arm snaked around her body as his right hand gripped the base of her skull. Her arms ghosted their way up around his neck, slotting into place because they actually WERE made to be there. Like a ridiculous movie, like some outrageous cliche that should have been laid to rest, he dipped her back and kissed her like his life depended on it. His stubble scratched at her chin and she tilted her head slightly, trying to find the best angle in which to melt into his face.

They broke for air only when black spots began to dance behind the lids of her eyes, and she opened her eyes blearily, like trying to wake from a long nap. He was looking at her like she was ocean itself. He dug his hands into her hair and pulled her close. She stroked the nape of his neck soothingly and hummed, too perfectly content to ruin the moment with words. Long moments passed and he finally pushed her far enough away to look at her face. She looked up at him, not caring what he was going to say next; this was worth it. This was enough. He thought for a moment, brow furrowing, before he opened his mouth and asked, “Will it bother you that I’m a little bit nerdy?”

“Only if it will bother you that I prefer Star Trek to Star Wars, and I think Yoda is grossly over idolized.”

He grinned and laughed, a genuine belly laugh, before saying 'I can’t wait to fall in love with you’ and kissing her again. Written by http://pseudowittysayings.tumblr.com/

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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OH MAH GAH WAHHHHH I LOVE THIS

Another guy stepped in with his girlfriend, looking very happy and very clock-less. Okay, not him, obviously. Eleven minutes.

More people came in: six more men and nearly fifteen more girls in the next five minutes. She was going to puke. She waved to her friend, Charlie, who sat next to her with a grin.

“Hey Izzy! Why’re you pale as a ghost? This class isn’t meant to be that hard.”

‘No, I’m good. Weird Mexican food for lunch. Not sitting right, I suppose.“

What.

lookuplookuplookupLOOKUPRIGHTNOWSTUPIDGIRL

——-

She thought about completely ignoring him and talking directly to the class, but gave that up almost immediately, and turned towards him.

“My name is Adelaide, but a lot of people call me Izzy. But I think I want you to call me Adelaide.”

“That’s a beautiful name. Adelaide.”

“I’m from San Diego, and I’m an Education major. I want to work in Educational Reform, working towards the fight to end education inequity.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. You’re incredible. Your eyes are so blue.”

“My fun fact is that I used to have a purple pixie cut, and I really loved it and miss it.”

He frowned at that, just the corners of his mouth turning down, but her heart plummeted.

“But your hair is so long now, I can’t picture you with short hair. Can you show me?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes. Now?”

He opened his mouth to answer but her friend called out from the back row, “Wrap it up, guys, you have the rest of your lives.”

“Can we go to China together? I’ve never been.”

“Adelaide?”

“Only if it will bother you that I prefer Star Trek to Star Wars, and I think Yoda is grossly over idolized.”

He grinned and laughed, a genuine belly laugh, before saying 'I can’t wait to fall in love with you’ and kissing her again. Written by http://pseudowittysayings.tumblr.com/

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Used

I’ve been in a healthy relationship for the past 2 years. Everything was going smoothly even thought the relationship was mainly built on sex. He was still a very gentle and loving man. But I never understood why my soulmate was 10 years older than me, when everyone else had a soulmate that was only 5 year older maximum. However, that thought was always pushed to the negative space in my mind as I fully believed in this system.

My palms were sweating again today as I sat in a chair in this luxurious restaurant waiting for my soulmate to come in. It was our two year anniversary.

I looked down at the clock that once counted out the days of loneliness I had, but now lay there embedded into my wrist, dead. A small smile crept onto my face. I look up as a figure came to my side.

“Would you like to order anything, Miss?” the waiter patiently asked me.

I shook my head in response and continued to wait. I checked my wrist watch for the time and it was only 5 minutes past 8. Even though, he wasn’t one to be late I was sure there was something important that might have interrupted him as he was leaving from work. As a doctor, he was always in a hurry.

Minutes of waiting turned into hours, I saw many couples walk in and out of the restaurant, as I sat there monotonously checking my time.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I’m afraid the restaurant is now closing. You must leave.” The same waiter now sympathetically smiled at me. He kindly gestured to the door as I nod and trail out in shame. A small part of my heart broke as I finally pulled out myself to call him. The only response I received was the sound of his voice instructing me to leave a message.

I lowered my hand that was clutching my phone and stared at the countdown at zero on my wrist. Lies. What society created these lies that would only disappoint a woman. It was already 12 and the streets were filled with drunk men and women. But a frustrated yell captured my attention.

A man was kneeling on the ground with his head lowered as a woman , with her arms crossed and leaning to one side, huffed in exasperation.

“ It’s been 2 years since you have graduated from university you still haven’t found a job? Did you think I married you 2 years ago just because you were my soulmate? Honestly, you were fairly well off during university with all your internships. Why did you lie during these 2 years and pretended to be someone you were not?” She continued to scream and cause a scene. The man stayed still knelt on the ground. Not a single word did he speak. He didn’t even do anything as the last few foul words came out of her mouth.

“That’s it. From this day onward, we are strangers.”

The silence hung in the air like a man who gave up struggling on his death bed. The heels clacking on the pavement as unheard as the man kneeling slowly fell down. People avoided him like a plague and scurried around the fallen man. I turned my head, but in my peripheral vision something caught my eye.

A trail of blood glimmered in the flashing lights. I pulled out my phone and immediately dialed 911 for an ambulance.

When the ambulance arrived, i quickly explained the situation and they transported us to the hospital. The man had been beaten up quite badly. his bruised body laid there and once in a while he would cough up some blood. The doctors tried to maintain his conscience however he was too weak to stay awake. The moment the ambulance arrived the doctors strolled him to the surgery room immediately and asked me to wait outside. I was stupefied as the white doors of the emergency room slammed in my face. I sat on the bench, hoping for the best.

After 15 minutes, a nurse rushed outside to greet me and asked for my relationship with the man. I simply explained that we were strangers but I know that the man was now divorced. The nurse nodded, stated that he was now in a coma and then left. I went to the waiting room in the main part of the hospital and sat down. Suddenly, i heard a voice. A voice that was so familiar. I looked up and my eyes landed on a man standing and talking with a nurse. It was him, my so called boyfriend.

“How’s my wife?” he asked the nurse.

I bowed my head in shame. I should have known it couldn’t have been him, he was too old compared to all the other soulmates. I must have made a mistake. I took a deep breath and walked outside. I was nothing to him. I was just being used. I was simply blinded by the idea of finding my soulmate that I never knew someone could take advantage of that.

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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God damn

Today’s the day. I’m finally going to meet her. This is the most anticipated event in my life. I head over to the local coffee shop because I love the atmosphere and I’m sure the girl I’m going to spending the rest of my life with will too.

The timer reads 8 minutes. I can wait that long. After all, I’ve been waiting my entire life, what’s 8 more minutes? I head into the shop and order a small coffee. I sit down at a table for 2 near the window. I’m not sure why, but I just had a perverse desire to see everyone passing by and try to pick out who it’d be. I��d figure out how to greet her when I saw her.

I sipped my coffee nervously. All right, I’ll admit, I’ve gotten a little antsy, more than I’d care to admit, but how can you blame me considering I was about to meet my soul mate?

I glanced down at my timer. 5 minutes. How should I greet her? A simple hello and introduction? Or should I crack a joke? No, that’d be stupid. I’ll keep it plain and simple to make sure I don’t mess anything up. Then I laugh to myself, if she’s my soulmate I’m sure she wouldn’t think the joke was TOO bad, but I still decide on the simple introduction.

I get a good idea. I’ll buy some coffee cake for myself and her so I set a good first impression.

I head over to the counter and order 2 coffee cakes. The cashier sees that I’m nervous. He asks me why. I flash him my wrist. 4 minutes. He smiles and says to me, “Ah of course, I remember how nervous I was too when I met my beautiful wife. It was about three years ago and I savor every day I have with her. Make sure to do the same. Good luck! I’m cheering for you!”

I thank the man and pay for my order. I decide to pay with a $20 and tell him to keep the change. Today is the best day of my life, might as well spread the cheer. Worse things could happen than giving a friendly stranger money. I head back to my seat and take a long look out.

4 minutes. I don’t see her yet, but I didn’t really expect to. The street corner isn’t too big, should really only take someone 30 seconds for someone to get from across the block to the coffee shop I’m in.

I’ve broken into a light sweat. I take deep breaths to calm myself. Relax, all you need to focus on is talking to her, the rest will play itself out.

3 minutes. I’m taking deep breaths to calm myself. I can hear the cashier from earlier laugh and tell his coworkers that I’m waiting for my soulmate. I redden a little as they giggle, but I don’t mind too much. I’d probably do the same. I turn around to them and smile. They flash me a thumbs up. I feel re-encouraged.

2 minutes. I scan the street and I see a woman come around the corner, nervously glancing at her wrist. Could it be her? She’s coming in my direction. She’s pretty. Very pretty. I definitely hope it’s her.

She’s definitely coming this way. She looks up and our eyes meet and she smiles. I get butterflies. I smile back. It’s definitely her. I’m shaking from excitement. I feel so lucky to be alive.

1 minute. She gets to the cross walk right before the shop. We’re both staring at each other and grinning. I stand up and take a sip of coffee. I can’t wait to meet her.

She starts crossing the street, still staring at me. Out of the corner of my eye I see a car coming. It’s moving fast. Way too fast. The driver is looking down at his phone and doesn’t see there’s a red light.

45 seconds. She passes the middle of the street as the car approaches. It’s not slowing down. All I can do is stare in horror. The car smashes into her at full speed.

“NO!” I scream. The coffee falls from my hands. I run out of the shop and onto the sidewalk and I see her mangled body. I collapse, breaking into tears. This can’t be happening. I look down at the timer on my wrist.

It’s at 0.

She’s gone.

I break into hysterics. The cashier has run out and is trying to console me, but it’s no use, there’s no helping me at this point. I can’t be saved.

I slowly stand up and drift back home, leaving the table for 2 with coffee cake that will never be eaten.

From that day on, I’ve never considered myself lucky to be alive.

I’ve also never gone back to that coffee shop.

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

Note

WOOOOO

hey so do you know where i can find the original post on tumblr about this whole countdown? thx :)

thesoulmatecountdown(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/72402385951/ohadelaide-pls-tiptreecrossing

This post is the reason I started this blog

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Hihihi this was so creative

Unexpected

Y'know, when you go out to do something completely normal, like visiting the bank, or the post office, you don’t expect things to actually happen.

Which is why it’s always a big deal when something, like an accident or a fight, draws plenty of attention.

Me?

I don’t have that luck.

I was just doing some simple food shopping - bread, milk, TV dinners, etc - when out of nowhere, some prick decides my head looks like a punching bag. And by the time the spots and stars faded from my vision, I was face down on the floor with all the other customers and the staff, save one who was giving one of these people their change… along with the rest of the contents of the register.

Now, I wasn’t known for having the most consistent amount of common sense…

So naturally I, in my confused (maybe concussed, given the ringing and blurry thoughts…) found it perfectly reasonable to sit up.

The k-chic of a few firearms quickly told me that their holders didn’t think so.

Blearily, I’d simply looked around, ignored the guns and the loudloudLOUD voices screaming at me to lay back down… not very politely though. Spotting one of those little mini-fridges that hold drinks, I shuffled my way over, absently noting that the voices had dropped to mumblings… or maybe indoor voices, everything’s still ringing - while one of them followed me.

I only knew that part because I’d grabbed a sports drink (not an energy drink, last time I had one of those I was convulsing on a hospital bed with an IV) and turned around to lean against the unit to see a pair of scuffed black pants with hiking boots touching the floor. Tilting back (I wasn’t glad to realise that yes, apparently pain was still getting through into my head when I moved my neck) I gradually saw a baggy hoodie with what I was pretty sure was a woman underneath a scarf. With a gun at the ready.

(Having said that, I wasn’t certain; I went through a whole year of high school after a transfer when I moved with unsuspecting guys coming up to ask me out because I prefer to grow out my hair enough for a decent ponytail. Annoying as all hell…)

What I was certain about, was the goddamn beeping that was stabbing into my head now. Looking for the source, I found it on my left wrist, while I dimly noted her checking her own.

My Soulmate Counter, what a… damn…

Well, damn.

Remember what I said about common sense?

Yep, that came back and bit me.

“So, it’s not enough for you to rob cash, but you have to steal my heart, too?”

To this day, I swear that she slapped me hard enough to dent the floor.

In reality, she Gibbs’d me.

And that was enough for me to black out, right as the sirens came.

——————————————————————————————-

When I woke up, I found myself in hospital, with a splitting headache, a tightness around my head, an IV in my arm, in patient robes and with a girl looking at me surprised.

… Wait.

Looking at her, she was beautiful, in a sort of plain way; hair like polished oak that fell just past her shoulders, a smattering of freckles and blue-grey eyes.

“Hope your alright, ‘love’, ‘cause we gotta talk. Especially about your timing.”

I go out shopping and come back with a Soulmate who’s robbing the place…

Yep, my luck in a nutshell.

Written by myself

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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This has to be one of my faves

A Minute of Grace

“Hi. My name is Emily.”

“Hi, Emily,” echoes the group.

“I’m twenty-five, and I never met my soul mate.”

I don’t care. I don’t give a shit that Emily never met her hunky lawyer soul mate. I don’t give a shit about this support group. Fifteen idiots sitting around a coffee table with self-help brochures, therapists’ business cards, and four boxes of Kleenex aren’t going to solve this. Nobody is going to be helped by this, nobody brought back to life because Emily decides to share her feelings.

For the thousandth time in 48 hours, I look down at my wrist. The plastic screen embedded there displays numbers: 00:00:00:00:00. Zero years, zero months, zero days, zero minutes, zero seconds. Nothing. It hadn’t always been that way, like for some others. Those people, I did sort of pity. They had never had any hope of meeting their “soul mate.” They had known since birth that their one and only didn’t exist. But I had had hope, for so many years.

Just two days ago, there were numbers other than zero. Just two days ago, my wrist had read 00:01:04:29:28 - zero years, one month, four days, twenty-nine minutes and twenty-eight seconds, before the whole thing cleared. Right to zeros, in the blink of an eye. I’d hardly been able to believe it. I’d flicked the screen, hoping it was an error. But these things didn’t break. It wasn’t all science running them, I believed, it was probably some sort of magic, too, because these were nigh indestructible. So there wasn’t anything wrong with mine. It was telling the truth.

I’d run, crying, to my father, who held me for hours as I sobbed, worrying and generally feeling very sorry for myself, but much more so for whoever I had lost. Whoever I’d been meant to love. Whoever never got the chance to even meet me.

Dad understood more than I expected him to. But then again, his wrist has read 00:00:00:00:00 for years. Ever since Mom died. He knows what it’s like not only to have to face those zeroes, but to have had hope for so long only for it to be taken away. Then again, I wonder: is it better for him, who had all those years of memories with my mother, his soulmate, and then have her gone, or better for me, who didn’t have those years, that doubtless loving connection?

He recommended that I attend a support group. I was cynical, but I agreed to go, because what could it hurt, really? I had nothing to lose. Except patience, apparently, and empathy. The sooner this was over, the better. I had somewhere to be.

“Thank you, Emily, you spoke beautifully,” the support group leader, Tim, tells her. “Okay, who’s next? How about one of our newcomers? Amber. Do you think you might want to share?” He looks right at me, and rather than feel myself shrink, I feel bigger. It’s cruel, utterly heartless, really, but I feel better than these people. The selfishness that comes with my pain inflates me.

“I have nothing to share,” I say callously, shrugging. “I never met my soul mate, because she died. Two days ago. Hit by a truck who didn’t even bother to stop. So what?” I ask the shocked group, all of their wide eyes upon me as if searching for some sort of empathy. “I can’t miss what I never had.”

“Well, now, that’s not true,” says Tim, trying to look sympathetic.

“He’s right, dear,” says an elderly woman, clearly someone who’s been coming to this thing for decades. “All these years, you’ve had a promise of something wonderful, and now it’s gone. That hurts, and we understand.”

Several members of the group nod. Some of them have lost their soul mates, and others, like me, never got to meet them.

But there’s more to my story with my soul mate than I’d expected. Only an hour or so after my clock went to zero, a story had come up on the news about a girl hit by a truck. Grace Donahue, they said. Her face came up on the screen, a pretty girl maybe a year or two older than me, with honey blonde, wavy hair and dark brown skin. She had a splash of darker freckles across her cheeks and hazel eyes, and for the quickest moment, I forgot all my troubles, because this was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I paused the TV for a minute just to look at her. Then I un-paused, and remembered.

“Grace attended Southwest University, where she was a freshman studying biomechanical engineering. Her family will be holding a memorial service tomorrow at their home in Oakridge Estates, followed by a funeral service at the Holy Point Church on Fifth and Elm,” said the news reporter.

I felt faint. Oakridge Estates was the neighborhood right next to mine. And she was only a year older than me, how had we managed never to meet? Then I realized: I had chosen to go to a specialized school for the arts, only a mile or so out of the boundaries for the local high school. She must have gone there. I hadn’t even liked my school, I wish I’d just… We’d been so close…

With all of the pitiful faces of the support group surrounding me, I no longer feel big. I feel very, very small. My face red, I quickly look down at my cell phone for the time.

“I have to go,” I say, and I rush out of my seat, grabbing my purse and hurrying to the door.

“Thank you for sharing, Amber! Feel free to come back next week!” Tim shouts after me.

Don’t count on it, Tim.

I catch a bus to the nearest stop, and then walk just a block further to Holy Point Church. I hadn’t felt comfortable enough to go to the memorial service at her house–I hadn’t known her for even a minute, after all–but I wanted to go to the funeral.

I enter the church a few minutes before the service is due to start, and I take one of the folded cards offered to me when I walk in. I find a seat at an empty pew far from the front of the church, and I slide to the end.

I look around and I’m surprised to see some people I recognize. They’re not my friends, but we went to school together when we were younger. Justin and Rebecca and Harley, and a few other people my age I don’t know, or have forgotten. They don’t notice me and I don’t blame them. I’m not here for them anyway.

The casket sits, closed, at the front of the church, like a magnet for stares, but I choose to ignore it, look away. That’s not her, she’s gone, and that’s just flesh, preserved for ceremony.

I finally open the card with shaky fingers and I find a picture of Grace Donahue. The slightly blurry picture of her that they chose for the inside must have been for her prom night. She wears a pina colada yellow dress that flows down her body beautifully, sparkles trailing down like they’d been carelessly poured down the dress. Her blonde hair is in braids that go down past her hips. She’s posing with her dog, a sweet-looking Australian shepherd who looks at her adoringly. Her smile is gorgeous. I feel the urge to smile a little myself, but I suppress it.

On the right, is a brief description of Grace: Grace was the kind of person whose smile drove the clouds away. Her Momma said that from the moment she was born, she just couldn’t help herself from making everyone’s day a little better. Despite how heavy we all feel at her passing, Grace wasn’t the kind of girl to want us to be sad that she died, just happy that she lived. And we are happy. Lord, are we happy.

Thank you for attending Grace’s funeral service. It means the world to her family that you could be here, and Grace is probably smiling down on all of us right now, glad to have all her loved ones in one place, no matter what.

There are tears stinging my nose and eyes, and I bite down on my lip. God knows I could have used a smile like Grace’s in my life the last couple of years. I need it now.

After a minute more, I hear the church doors close again and the reverend comes to stand before us. There must be a hundred people in here, most of them toward the front and oblivious to me, most of them with Kleenex at their noses, holding hands.

“Friends and family,” says the reverend, a black man with a deep, emotional voice. “We are gathered here today not to mourn, but to celebrate the life of one of God’s sweetest angels. Her life may have been short, but she made up for that with the brightness she put in every moment on this earth. There’s not a person in this room, I’m sure, who hasn’t experienced her warmth and believed a little more in everything.”

Except me.

He speaks for a little over a half hour. She loved dogs and turtles, and had three of each. She wanted to study biomechanical engineering because she wanted to find better ways to build prosthetics. She had once traveled to China on scholarship, where she’d learned about the culture and cuisine, and wanted to travel the rest of the world. Her favorite food was her great-aunt Jory’s gumbo, even though she’d always said it wasn’t spicy enough for her–those who knew her best laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile, too. It’s awful. I’m falling in love with her.

The reverend wraps up his beautiful speech on Grace, and someone starts a song playing over a CD player. I’m stunned. It’s one of my favorites, an upbeat piano and cello duet I’d learned in middle school orchestra. Did she do orchestra in middle school, too? Could we have ever been in the same competitions, just too far away to see each other?

The reverend explains how the burial service will go, and the four pallbearers - three of whom, from the service, I learned are her older brothers, and one of the guys I knew, Justin - gingerly pick up the casket. They leave the church first, and I see tears on each of their faces, though they look dutifully up ahead.

Everyone else follows them, walking the short distance to the cemetery by the church. I stay behind the rest, still glad I haven’t been noticed. I don’t know what to say, yet.

Upon reaching the burial site, red dirt piled around a rectangular hole in the ground, each of us are handed a yellow daffodil - her favorite, I’m told. Rather than the reverend speaking, he says a quick prayer, and then invites each of us to the casket to lay a daffodil.

Her mother goes first, composing herself to speak, and speaks directly to Grace herself. “I miss you already, baby girl,” she tells her. “Tell your daddy I said to take care of you for me. Even in heaven, you’ll figure out a way to get into trouble. I love you.” She lays the daffodil on the casket, and steps back.

Her brothers follow suit, speaking to Grace about their best memories, thanking her for being their sister. Each of her distant relatives add another flower, blessing her and thanking her, and complimenting her. Her friends go next, and who I guess are her teachers, each giving her the same kind of love. I realize with an embarrassing lurch that I’m the last one, and there are eyes on me, waiting. I take a deep breath, and step forward.

“Uh–hey, Grace,” I say shakily. “Um. I really, really wish I’d gotten to know you, because I think I love you already, and I never even met you. We would have had a really, really great time, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.” Already choking back tears, clamping my jaw shut to keep it in, I set the daffodil on top of the pile, take a step back and try to compose myself. I wrap my arms around myself tightly to keep myself together.

A breeze blows by, and I feel as though I might fall over, but I regain balance and look down at the grass, unable to face her friends and family any longer.

The reverend says a final prayer, and as the crowd disperses, I try to get away as quickly as possible. The bus should be here in about ten minutes, and I should be able to be home in enough time that I won’t break down beforehand. Suddenly, though, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip around, surprised, and find her mother, looking curious. She looks quite a bit like Grace, the same dark skin, hazel eyes and dusting of freckles. I wonder if this is what Grace would have looked like, in forty years or so.

“Who are you?” she asks. No malice, or suspicion, just curiosity.

I gulp and reply, “Um, I’m Grace’s–I mean, uh…” I roll up the sleeve of my sweater and expose my wrist to her, where 00:00:00:00:00 stares at us both relentlessly.

Grace’s mother looks at me with clear shock on her face for a moment, and I wonder if it’s because I’m a girl and not a boy, and then it becomes a crying smile, and she wraps her arms around me, beginning to shake with her tears. I guess it doesn’t matter, and I’m relieved.

After I recover from the surprise, I hug her back, and I cry a little onto her dress. When she finally pulls back from me, she wipes the tears off of her face, then mine, and smiles. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” I tell her.

“We, all of us, we all should have had decades left with her,” she says, and she holds out her own wrist, where the screen reads 00:00:00:00:00. “But life doesn’t always listen to what should happen, does it?”

“Not usually,” I agree.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Grace’s mother asks, putting her hands on my shoulders.

“Uh, no, not really,” I confess.

“Then you’re coming with us,” she says, beginning to lead me away to where cars wait, putting an arm around my shoulders. “We’re going to my aunt’s house for some gumbo.”

“O-Okay,” I stutter. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, baby, I’ve gotta tell you all about Grace. I can’t allow you to know nothing about the woman you woulda married.”

I’m not sure whether I want to smile or cry, so I do a little bit of both. Her words make me wonder what we would have done together. She sounds so sure that Grace and I would have gotten married. Knowing just what I’ve learned of Grace in an afternoon, I think I probably would have. We would have had way too many dogs, and a small house with a big backyard for them, and maybe we’d consider children, if only because we’d know how strong the bond between children and their parents can be.

We would have been happy. But I still have my whole lifetime ahead of me, without her, and all she’s got is 00:00:00:00:00. What I would give for even just a minute to know Grace.

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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This made me smile so freakin wide hahaha

The Boss

All my life all I’ve heard is ‘one day you’re going to find your soul mate and you’re going to love that person so much’, all my life all I’ve wanted was to find the person that I’m tethered to.

You see everyone is born with a visible clock on their wrists that shows the exact time you have left until you meet your soulmate, and right when you pop out of your mom that clock starts counting down. Some people love the idea, some people hate it. I, on the other hand, feel neutral about it. Why couldn’t it have been a diamond encrusted clock?

I was currently walking or more accurately jogging to the subway in the mean streets of New York. It wasn’t snowing too hard, but it was enough to have me wrapping my jacket around myself even tighter.

I finally made it to the subway, I ran to the train that would get me to work as quickly as possible. As I stepped onto a train I got a random feeling of happiness, just out of the blue.

I checked my wrist and gasped when I see that I only had thirty minutes left until I meet my soulmate, the person I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with. I immediately got excited.

I whipped my phone out to look at my reflection, making sure my hair and light makeup looked good.

I put my phone back in my pocket as the subway stopped, I quickly rushed off onto the platform.

I checked my watch, I only had ten more minutes to get to work. If I ran I would probably slip on a patch of ice, but if I took a cab I would never get there not with all this traffic.

So, I just took the risk and began jogging as carefully as possible.

I saw the corporate building just a few feet ahead, with only five minutes to spare.

I entered the building and sighed at the nice, warm air. I checked in with the secretary.

“Good morning, Susan” I said, she looked up and smiled like she does everyday.

“Morning Violet, oh um your new boss is in his office and I gotta say…yum” she said giving me a small wink, I furrowed my eyebrows.

Another hot boss? Wow. The last one I had was a gorgeous blonde, the two of us were very…close.

Very very close.

I walked to the elevator and pressed the top floor, I checked my wrist to see the clock counting down two minutes.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out, I walked to my desk and put all my stuff on the chair. I knocked on my new boss’ door and fixed my hair.

A manly voice told me to come in.

I opened the door and stepped inside, I walked to his desk. His chair was turned to the window behind his desk.

“Good morning sir, I’m your assistant Violet” I said trying not to let my nervousness show in my voice.

“Oh yes Violet, they told me about you” he said, he turned his chair around and suddenly two clocks go off.

I looked at my wrist and gasped, the exact date and time was now printed on my wrist in black numbers. I looked up to see familiar hazel green eyes looking back at me.

“Oh my god” I whispered, it was him.

My soulmate.

The kid I’ve hated my entire life.

Ryan fucking Hawthorne.

His jaw dropped at the sight of me, his wrist also held the date and time in black numbers.

I’ve hated this kid since kindergarten. We were neighbors pretty much since birth and he was always a dick to me, which made me be a bitch to him.

We went to the same elementary school, the same middle school, and the same fricking high school. I was lucky enough to get rid of him when I went off to college.

He would always make fun of the fact that while all of my friends had their soulmates, I didn’t have mine; and I made fun of him because he didn’t have his.

We hated each other.

“Shit” he whispered to himself.

“You’re my fucking soulmate! The man I’ve waited for my entire motherfucking life! Are you fucking kidding me?!” I yelled throwing my hands up in anger, he stood up out of his chair.

“You think I’m happy about this? I’m just as peeved off about this as you are!” he yelled back, he walked out from behind his desk and paced around the office.

“Why now? Why not when we were younger?” I asked trying to calm myself, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The angels pick the exact day and time we meet our soulmate, it doesn’t matter if we’ve known each other since we were kids” he answered.

“Isn’t it ironic that we used to make fun of each other for not having a soulmate and then we turned out to be each other’s?” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear, he chuckled.

“I have no idea how I’m supposed to live the rest of my fucking life, with you” he said turning to me, I glared at him.

“Well, find a way because I’m not dying of heartbreak. I don’t care how much I hate you” I said, he didn’t say anything.

He stayed silent for a few seconds, until he walked towards me and placed his hands on my cheeks. He placed his lips on mine and kissed me softly.

He pulled away with a small smile on his face “the only way is to love you” he said, I grinned.

“You think we’ll make this work?” I asked, he shrugged.

“Not at all.”

“Me neither.”

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alysandrangeles-blog · 8 years ago

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Awww, my heart

Imperial Daze

Over the knee of our power we break both the tyrant and the pauper. The scribe looks into the past and weeps to us, who have caused him to cast forth his words in the blood of men. They say they will call forth their God and keep faith in Him through the tribulations we send them through. We say ‘very well then; let your God defend you.” We are where angels and demons alike dare not tread. We are the darkness from which God cannot escape.

We are the Resurgence Corps. Resistance against us leads to extinction.

When we landed here, both the expectation and reality of our campaign were the same—we step out of the transports and anyone who attempts to stop us is bathed in hellfire. Such victory is commonplace enough now that I dare call it mundane. Bodies lay strewn next to the smoldering remains of what were once grand, opulent buildings. The D’Yishen was a notorious wealthy race of fae, and their world proudly exuded gold and silver with each turn of the head. Long, ornate bridges spanned shimmering golden rivers and diamonds trickled from the waterfalls. I say ‘was’ because, as of today, their pathetic kind has been cleansed from the universe permanently. We are here to ensure this—if even a single D’Yishen babe remains when this campaign has ended, the Emperor himself will ensure one of us takes its place in the grave.

As I stand over the remains of the capital, of which there are barely any, no screams come from the pillars of smoke and fire. No anger coming from a final soldier desperate to keep both his freedom and life by fighting for a long-defeated ruler, and certainly no mother clutching her babe in the hopes her plight will avert our minds from the fact that both must be obliterated. There are no more tears falling from this world.

A lifeform, detected just a few blocks distant. Scans show it to be a D’Yishen fae, thus it must be destroyed. With the standard issue H-31 pulse rife at the ready, I begin making my way down the broken corridors once known as streets. Apparently, someone was kind enough to alert them to our position, as the lifeform has begun to run away, only prolonging the inevitable and inconveniencing me. It is of no consequence as one may guess; even without our heavy armor or small arms it will be no trouble to simply rip the lifeform in two and be done with our mission.

Serendipitously enough, the life-form has hit a dead end. There, adjacent to what could only be described as the last vestiges of a wall, stands the only remaining D’Yishen in this universe. Judging from the labored breathing and general silhouette, I assume this particular D’Yishen to be female and my suspicions are proven correct when she tries and fails to direct a traditional dislodging spell to me. It is almost amusing how desperate people become when faced with the Resurgence Corps…and if they believe me amused, they need only wait to see the expression on the Emperor’s face.

Just as my weapon is hoisted and ready to deploy, a small clacking noise overtakes my attention—the noise of my Mate Timer dropping to the ground.

This cannot be. Who among the endless gods of chance did I anger to come to such trash as my eternal love and mate? Even more insulting, this D’Yishen, when staring to me, is very clearly proven to be a mere effeminate male—long, thick lavender hair, a light frame and even a slightly larger set of hips than might be found on other males of his kind. The femininity could be tolerated if it belonged to an actual female, and certainly one species other than this bile before me!

As soon as I get over my anger, he is still staring to me, but he seems relatively unafraid at this revelation. In fact, his pale, blue face seems to be shining brightly though its wounds and dirt. Unfortunately for him, an H-31 blast is more powerful than any amount of love I could have for such filth.

As such, I aim the rifle square to his forehead and pull the trigger.

In all my anger and disgust, I’d forgotten to notice my weapon was overheated. Where other such weapons would overload and destroy both weapon and man, the H-31 simply fails and must have its receiver, charge bay and magnetic chamber replaced. The embarrassment is no less, though—which is why I have a sidearm, one I now have at the ready.

“W…wait. If you would kill me, so be it. But, before I die, might I at least know something?”

The boy speaks with a light, comforting voice reminiscent of the dog days I would spend playing with my brothers outside the Imperial Military Academy—enough to trigger an instinctive lowering of the weapon. If he must die, I suppose I can at least afford him one last bit of knowledge.

“Very well. Speak quickly and clearly.” That is all I have to say to this fool for now.

When he speaks, the memories return once more, a bit stronger—strong enough to force my mind to not only hear what the boy says, but listen.

“…might I know the identity of the most beautiful man I have laid eyes upon?”

The boy has asked for too much information, and as such a shot is sent straight through his chest, forcing him to the ground in a pathetic heap.

Our job is done—the D’Yishen are no more. It is time to return to the ship, but before I go the young boy’s body still beckons me to it, as if I had not just removed the boy’s soul from it. I must leave, but I must stay. I must tell him, and so I lean down to remove my helmet, after first closing the boy’s eyes for the last time.

“Karrow. The man who loves you is named Karrow.”

——————————————————————————————

“Karrow. That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful man.” I thought to myself as my soul began to leave my body. It is all I could say as I witnessed the departure of the continent-sized invading ship.

It couldn’t. I can’t. I won’t do this to him. For his sake—and for whenever we may return again—I will bear my soul a bit longer.

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