Representing Seven Games

Representing Seven Games


Atop a hill, overlooking what had happened she was safe now, not a fear in the world as he kissed her. He was complete then, not a worry in the world as she kissed him. Not always had they been worry free. Not always had they been fearless. Let’s go back. Back to when fears and worries ran rampant. Lets go back.


It’s now six days till today and he’s working late. No, he had no fancy job. Assistant fry cook he was. Seventeen years old he was, fueled by sex and hate. He was. It was nearing the end of his shift when he sees her. She was a vision among visions. How has he never noticed her? He thinks. She enters the restaurant, friends at her side, and phone to her ear. She’s oblivious to him, he’s nonexistent. It’s 8:07 and she places the order, she asks for a Number three with no tomatoes and a large fries. He remembers this, she doesn’t even notice him.


It’s now five days till today and they’re in school, they’re unaware of each other’s presence, she more than he of course. He walks the halls and notices her once more. He doesn’t know how he‘s never seen her. He asks his friend who she is. The friend’s answer comes almost immediately, but each second that passes feels like hours of waiting. “Her name’s Jocelyn or Chaplin or something.” He laughs, “Chaplin, what are you fucking retarded, what kind of name is that?” “Hey Chaplin!,” he hears someone screams from across the hall. He feels embarrassed. “Ha, dick!” His friend replies.


It’s now four days till today and it’s raining. Chaplin hates the rain. She’s new to town, moved in with her cousin’s family because her mother passed away and her dad went to jail. She’s unaware of the latter of course. How she is filled with pride for her father, believing he is serving in the army, how naive. She makes her way to school alone today. Her cousin is skipping school, there’s a school-wide proficiency exam, and her cousin isn’t feeling quite proficient that day, so she feels lonely. She waits for the bus in the rain, no coat, no umbrella, she never did really get the chance to pack. She boards the bus, she feels as if she’s the center of attention. Three stops go by and a boy enters the bus, the boy from earlier, dry from head to toe. His mother drove him to the bus stop, he has a loving family, no dead relatives nor any convicted. She still pays him no mind. He too has been feeling rather un-proficient that day and was planning on cutting school. He exits the bus, not without with meticulous notice of the girl he’s infatuated with. He passes by her unparticularly, ever so slowly. This forces the bus driver to yell, and yell she does. “If you’re gonna’ get off the fuckin’ bus get off it already! Fuck!” He’s embarrassed, he’s forced to rush, he drops his umbrella near a certain girl. A certain girl notices and runs to return it but the bus door shuts. The umbrella has the initials “O.K.” as if to assure her the day is going to be fine. She smiles and for the first time that day, she’s happy.


It’s three days till today, it’s a beautiful day but Chaplin has an umbrella in hand, an umbrella marked “O.K.” She boards the bus, now in anticipation of the boy, the umbrella‘s owner. He never boards, she’s disappointed. That same day, some time after, the boy wakes. He’s dreary, then angered by a glance at his alarm clock, he’s late. He gets to school in time for second period, he can’t miss a second day in a row or the school will notify his parents, his parents wouldn’t like that. Periods go by, the school day is at an end. He gets ready to board the bus and he notices the girl and for the first time the girl notices him. His heart races, she begins to move toward him. He is now confused, but happy. He thinks, “why’s she coming to me?” She sees him, she sees him see her, she thinks “I hope he doesn’t think I stole this.” She moves toward him, her heart is racing. He stands still pretending not to notice, his heart is racing. She approaches him and taps him on the shoulder, he pretends to be startled, she giggles, he laughs. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my name is Chaplin Day.” Her name always embarrasses her upon introduction. “He’s got beautiful eyes,” she thinks. “She’s got a beautiful smile,” he thinks. He introduces him self, “Or--, Orlando Kelly.” His name always embarrasses him upon introduction. He then notices his umbrella in her hand. She realizes those are his initials. They start talking. They board the bus. Everything is O.K.


It’s two days till today. Chaplin happy and invigorated, ready to face the world. She makes her way to the bus stop. She boards the bus upon its arrival. She’s waits in anticipation for Orlando. Earlier that day, the alarm has yet to go off but Orland wakes with a purpose. Surprised at the time, he leaps out of bed. He gets dressed and rushes to the bus stop. He boards and looks for Chaplin. The second Chaplin sees Orlando she excitedly yells “O.K. over here!” They make eye contact. His heart beats faster in her presence. They bullshit about the weather, music and TV, each is euphoric. They get to school and it seems as if they are the only ones there. They begin to go their separate ways and suddenly there is a large commotion. She get’s scared, she grabs his hand, he gets worried he grabs her tighter. Suddenly the school goes black, and an announcement is heard, “Please report to the auditorium, all students report to the auditorium.” Growing up in a small town in the mid-west, they are accustomed to tornado warnings. This is no tornado warning. They cram into the small gymnasium, a makeshift auditorium for assemblies. They’re assembled. It was then a man who was not a school official takes the stage, which was nothing more then propped-up tables in front of curtain. Orland’s confused, he had experienced emergencies before, but none of this magnitude. Normally people would be talking about what was happening, no one was speaking. That is no one was speaking until the man began to speak, “Good Morning students of Will Rogers Memorial High School would you please be seated as quick as possible. It is vital that you learn more about the current situation,” Orlando hates that their school is named in memory of an actor. Chaplin has no clue who Will Rogers even is. The man wheeled out a TV, he turns on a newscast that was already in progress. “There is a serious matter at hand, that all of you must be informed of: at 8:07 this morning, the United States was attacked. It is said that attacks of the same nature are happening around the world. People are disappearing at random. We are unaware as of now if the threat is a form of terrorist attack or global warfare. Stay together and in one place, that is what we can offer. All we know is--” and with that the man turns off the TV. People begin talking all around. All Chaplin can do is grab Orlando. All Orlando can do is let her. The man continued speaking, but they did not listen. They were to spending the night in the school. Orlando is thrilled to spend the night with Chaplin, yet scared shitless of what might be going on. Chaplin is glad to be with someone who could hold her, she doesn’t have very many people left.


It’s yesterday. They’ve slept in the home economics classroom. For some reason they were the only ones in that particular classroom. There were oven mitts they could use as pillows along with aprons they could use as blankets. They wake to people screaming. They locked the door the night prior, Orlando’s idea. When they hear the screaming they run to the door. They can’t see anything. And as suddenly as the screaming began, it stopped. They’re confused. Orlando ran to the teachers desk, but it was locked so he took a rolling pin and began beating in the drawer. Chaplin’s scared and confused, but realizes he is doing this for a reason. He then rips the drawer open and pulls out a crank radio. “I knew I heard that bitch. I’ve seen Mrs. Leffe listen to ball games before.” with that Chaplin laughs, somehow she’s having a good time. Orlando smiles; it makes him feel good to cheer her up. He cranks the radio, but there’s nothing. He cranks it again and again, but still nothing. There was nothing on the radio. That was unsettling to them. He puts the radio down and starts rummaging through the refrigerator in the classroom. He finds some eggs, a box of baking soda, very little left of a loaf of bread and a half gallon of milk half-way curdled. “I guess it was French toast this week,” he smiles at Chaplin. She giggles. “She has a beautiful smile,” he thinks. He cooks for them, they eat, they talk, they rest and they wait. They decide they’re going to go out tomorrow. They are both scared, but happy to be with one another.


It’s finally today. They wake, they are anxious. They check the window of the room again, and once more they see nothing no sign of anyone. Orlando feels a little worried. Chaplin is scared. Orlando cooks the remainder of the food. He gives Chaplin more food than himself, and he pretends not to notice. She notices this. They don’t know what to prepare for so they fashion themselves weapons out of things from the kitchen. Chaplin takes the knives and places them in an apron they slept covered with the night prior. Orlando takes the rolling pin, he seemed to be acquainted with it already. There is no reason to think they haven’t been invaded. Everyone is gone. Orlando looks at Chaplin for a minute and is happy. At that same moment Chaplin looks in Orlando’s eyes, she is happy as well. They make their way to the door, filled with anxiety. Chaplin grips Orlando’s hand tightly. Orlando leads the way. They step out the door for the first time in what feels like ages and finally have a clearer view of what has happened. They see in the distance classroom doors flung open, banners ripped from the walls. Orlando notices a trail of discarded items, it’s still dark in the building, he tells Chaplin to stay close. Chaplin follows blinded by fear. As they approached the schools entrance he gasps in confusion. Chaplin can’t hide behind Orlando any longer. Filled with both fear and curiosity she leaps out in front of Orlando in order to get a better look. Cars still in flames, abandoned. Baby carriages empty on the sidewalk. No Bird nor bee, nothing for miles. Orlando asks if she is all right, she nods and motions him to move forward. He now thinks her braver than himself, but doesn’t say so. They continue up the road. They walk slowly, cautiously, holding each other close. They pass each other’s bus stops, fresh with shoe marks, but now no one is there to make them. They finally reach the horizon and look back at their town, confused. Why them? Why were they special. They turn to one another. They think “could it be coincidence?” Looking into his beautiful eyes she smiles and seeing her beautiful smile he pulls her closer. Without care and in the absence of fear, they kiss.

Story of a Lonely Guy

Story of a Lonely Guy

A man at peace, a woman in mourning. A family in pieces, a family gathered one morning. With her by his side he remembers the end. He doesn’t however remember his. He remembers theirs.

Bang, bang, bang. The scampering of little feet, then laughter. Then a voice yells, “wake up, you’re going to…” The voice is cut off. “Stop! Just, let me, what? Where? Hold on, just stop talking!” He fumbles for his alarm clock finds the snooze button and presses down, sweet release from a hellish ordeal, he thinks.”What, what was, what is it?” “I was just checking if you needed to be up, your alarm was going off for a while.” He replies, “Wh-yeah I was, it wu… yeah.” He lies in bed till she leaves.

It’s both strange and sad being woken by an alarm. Your body knows you’re not done sleeping, you’re mind is dreaming, your body is resting, but your ears are saying “why now?” It’s kind of amazing how sad the feeling of waking up from a good dream is. Those few seconds you have a vivid picture, you’re content. The seconds after in which you forget them, you’re indifferent with the realization, “I’m no longer dreaming, this is my life.”

Some time goes by and he finally gets out of bed. He’s groggy, but complacent he has a routine. He thinks of his life is a show of sorts, low ratings not a great chance it’ll be renewed. Here’s hopes to it will have a cult following on DVD. In spite of this he continues his routine. He used to be able to get ready while she was home; he used to be able to do a lot of things, with her. She hasn’t returned his affections in some time.

They have children now, plural. They’re a blessing, as he remains cursed. Blessing being a word of loose meaning. A word possibly meaning the term “c’mon baby just the tip,” and swiftly followed by “you know it feels better without one.” You can see where this leads; this is why he sleeps in.

This one was lucky; a future accompanied by a side of fries was not in store for him. Just that of his children, to eat of course. A boy who could work was not in need of schooling, a girl who couldn’t work had nothing but her school work. This aside they had each other. That is until she had someone else, where he was left with no one.

His love though immature, was thorough. You’d think he had won the lottery the way he had showered her with affection. Affection being free that was what he could afford to offer her. You would have thought it would last forever. The way he looked at her the first time she came into his life was the same as the day she left his life. Love may be blind, but when love is no longer there it will also leave one deaf. No matter what he said to keep her in his life she could hear no word of it. She had found another. He was left alone, where she just up and left.

For some time they remained friendly. It was to be done for the sake of their family, resentment built, but love however had never depleted. He had loved her, the same way he did years after her departure, the same as the day he met her. A tainted youth is a wasted youth. If only mistakes could be forgotten without undoing said mistakes.

He will never think of his life, laying blame. He will never think of what could have been. She will start anew. She will build toward making what should have been. He cares solely about the past however does nothing to protect it. Whereas she wants so badly to move on but nurtures every aspect of it.

Nineteengoingontwenty: Mommy.

Setting a password for my father's girlfriend the other day I realize the importance certain birthdays have for some people. Not only your own, but those close to you. Most passwords, most lotto numbers are birthdays. I don't really have anywhere to go with this, I just need a space to clear my head.

I took my mother out for her birthday for the first time ever. Just her and I. That felt like a step into adulthood. For a woman I live with I see her so little, it may sound sad but I was so happy to have that time with her. I look forward to her birthday so that I can finally show her that I appreciate her, it's not often I get the chance.

Am I young or am I old? I'm criticized by my younger friends as being to old to understand, yet by my older ones as being to young. What am I? I'm Nineteengoingontwenty. Is that young or old? When will I no longer be judged. Possibly it's the remaining teen angst in me but little things just get to me.

Am I considered an adult, yet undermined? Or am I considered a child that is allotted extra privilege? Personally, I'd rather not be either, but what can you do really? What can you do?