Story of My Life

I wrote this a while ago and decided to post it to show that I was alive.  It's kind of a fan fiction type thing for an original character of me for Rise of the Guardians.
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       I walked past the school one Wednesday morning and never really thought about how what I heard would affect me.
       "Alright, we are all to write letters to the Guardians," said the cheery teacher, earning gasps from the other Winter Pixies, though she ignored it. "They are going to review each one.  Every Clan is going to do it, besides the Tooth Faeries and the... Fearlings." she shuddered.
       Even though she couldn't see me, I glared at her.  They tell you not to bully in school, so why do we pick on people?
       "They will be due in the office by next Friday," she said, concluding the discussion.
       I got a brilliant idea.  If I wrote a letter, they would see it since they have to read everyone's.  Whether or not they did something about my situation or not was beyond me.
       A whole week went by, and I still had no idea what to say in this damn letter. How was I supposed to write it?  What if I got in trouble? What if I got caught?
       I pushed all these aside and began the story of my life.


       Darkness. That's the first thing I remember. It was dark, and it was cold, and I was scared. But then, then I saw the Moon. It was so big, and it was so bright, and it seemed to chase the darkness away. And when it did, I wasn't scared anymore.
       My name is Sarah. How do I know that? The moon told me so. That was all he ever told me, and that was a long, long time ago.

       I don't remember my parents at all.  I am going to be blunt here: I know my parents are dead. I can also tell you one shocking thing: My mom was a Winter. Normal, right? Well, here's where it gets weird. My dad? He was a Fearling. Yeah, you read that right. He was a creepy, nightmare dealing minion of of Pitch Black, the boogeyman himself and the king of all Nightmares.
       Now that that's all cleared up, yes, I am part Fearling. Don't worry, though, I don't have any intentions of hurting anyone. I am no threat, though that is what the Winter Society seems to think.
       I have a Fearling's dark brown hair, but I also have Winter-pale skin and the bluest eyes you'd have ever seen. I'm sure only Jack Frost's eyes are a prettier blue than mine. They never let me go to school, though. They say I would be a threat if they taught me anything. The other Winters don't think much of me because of what I am. Honestly, unless they don't realize I've submitted this, it probably won't even make it to the North Pole. Am I a bad person? No. Never even been on the Naughty List. But whether or not I am doesn't define me. Obviously. The only thing that matters is what I am. Go figure.
       I guess I should explain why I started this the way I did:
1.) To get your attention, so you'd read it.
2.) It sounded really cool.
3.) It literally happened. I only remember waking up to a cold blackness. It was a room... With a window. That was how I saw the Moon. Manny spoke to me then. He told me that I was not a bad person, but people would think I was. I didn't understand then, but I do now. Then he told me my name. That was it. He never said anything else, though I kept asking question that he silently answered later. Even in my 15 and a half years, I still find the Moonlight to be exceptionally comforting.
       So, that's my essay. I don't go to school, but this paper can still "accidentally" end up on the teacher's desk.
                                               -Sarah
                                               (By the way, I don't have a last name, so... Yeah.)



       Now all I had to do was wait. I know my paper probably stunk, since I never went to school and all, but I tried.  A few months later, I was fully surprised to find the one and only Jack Frost knocking on my door. Guess they got the letter...


                                                  ............... To be continued... Maybe.........
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 Til later,
Sarah

Dead to Me

       I stood, watching him walk away, and as I did my tears streamed down my face in a flowing river.  I wished I hated him.  I wished I never fell in love with him.  The smell of his cologne still lingered in the air, intoxicating me further.  I spun and ran, moving as fast as I possibly could.  I dashed down the sidewalk until finally, five blocks away, I was at my house.  I ran inside slamming doors behind me, the last being my bedroom door.  As in any cliche, overdone book or movie, I slammed my back against the door and side down to the ground.  I pulled my thighs to my chest and buried my tear streaked face in my knees.  My little brother knocked on the door.
       "Mary?" he asked, his innocent voice was quiet, high pitched, and adorable. "Are you okay?"
       I found the strength to stand up and open the door about five minutes later.  He was still standing there.  This was the reason I loved him so much.  He cared and always would.  I gave him a forced smile and picked him up, holding him firmly against my chest.
       "Who did it?" he asked gently. "Was it Tyler?"
       I simply nodded.  He hugged me tightly in a cute-little-brotherly way. "It's okay." he kissed my cheek.
       This time, my smile wasn't fake.  It was as genuine as his sparkling brown eyes.  I stepped back in and pulled the door shut.  As we sat on my bed, he talked about all the ways he would hurt him and, being a little boy, all the ways he would kill him for hurting me.  I smiled as he continued excitedly.
       "...Then, I would kick him in the face so hard, his brains would smash out of the other side of his and it would kill him like he was a zombie!" he said.
       I laughed and hugged him, kissing his forehead. "I like that one the best," I smiled.  He grinned happily.



       A week later, I was feeling fine.  My little brother had made me feel all the better.  I was totally fine... Until Tyler showed up.  He talked to me in a way that was persuasive, seductive.
       "Leave me alone Tyler. I'll kick you so hard, your brains will come out the back of your head. You're dead to me."
       That did him in and he left.  I smiled.  My mother noticed my happy nature when I got home and asked how it was with Tyler.  I told her my little brother helped me get over it.
       She gave me a strange look. "How many times do I have to tell you, Mary?  You don't have a little brother."
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                              'Til I post again,
                               Sarah

No more schedule!

Due to Sarah and I's lives being so hectic we're just gonna post when we want (and can) from now on.

Music

Almost forgot to post mine her her topic of last week since I missed it.  I owe her that.


       Music has always been one of my best friends.  Through good times and bad (and maybe even just for fun), it has always been there for me.  I can always find a song that applies to what I'm feeling or what me or my and my friends are going through.  I have never stuck to one favorite, though.  Of course two songs that have always been close to me are Love Me When I'm Gone and I'm Here Without You, which used to play on the radio all the time around the time my grandma died in 2005, a couple days before my sixth birthday.  A few other songs that always remind me of my "uncle" Ryan are How to Save a Life, Move Along, and Bad Day.  Those songs were  played at his funeral or around the time he died, and I will never forget them.  Music can trigger happy and even the saddest of memories.
       Music is my life and passion and so is writing.  One day, I do hope to become famous in these two major arts and help people see what I have seen and help people with the same passions keep on dreaming their dreams.  Music can be a very touchy subject for me.  Some can make you cry.  Whether they are happy or sad tears depends on the song or the memory that goes along with it.  Even if the song isn't that good, it can be beautiful to someone standing next to you.  If it seems wrong to the person you're with, it can remind you of a terrible mistake you made or a time in your life.
       I hope music will always be a part of my life and a passion of mine.