Daisies

I helped her into bed, tucked her hair behind her ear, and kissed her tear-soaked face. “It’s going to be okay, little sissy. I love you.” She sniffled, smiled, and closed her eyes.

            I slammed my door, screamed into my pillow, and cursed her name. “Why don’t you do this, mom? I am not her parent!” I sniffled, grunted, and forced my eyes shut.

            That night I dreamt of her running through a field, picking daisies, and laughing while I chased after her. We collapsed in the grass, gasping for air, and then sat up and braided daisies through each other’s hair once we had caught our breath. But our mom wasn’t there, I was the only hand she had to hold and the only one to braid her long, blonde curls.

            As I lay in bed, screaming into my tear-soaked pillow, I heard a light knock on my door. A few moments later, I felt my mom’s warm hand brushing my hair from my face and drying my eyes. “Thank you for being such a good big sister. You have such a way with her. No matter how hard I try, sometimes she just needs to hear it from you.” I shut my eyes with a smile on my face, and dreamt of that same field, my mom in the middle with her right hand stretching towards me and her left, towards my sister. We all laughed and ran through the daisies, she helped us when we fell, and she meticulously threaded flowers into our plaited hair when we were unable to.

Mermaid

She curled her legs into her chest and moaned in protest as her father pulled the comforter back, unveiling her to the biting cold of the dark morning. He drew her curtains to let light in, but to no avail, as the sun had not yet lit the night sky. She only arose in pity after hearing the anticipation in her father’s voice as he urged her to rise. Her forehead was pressed against the glass for the duration of the car ride along the coast, her warm breath forming a ring of dew on the window. As the car neared a halt at the harbor, the girl and her father emerged into a thick fog, so thick that she could see nothing and finally peeled her face from the glass. She followed her father to the boat, dragging her feet behind her while her dad skipped across the dock. She sat cross-legged on the deck, wrapped in a thick, grey blanket with a frown on her face. She sat here quietly as her father carefully navigated out of the harbor. As the boat picked up speed, the wind bit her cheeks and the splashes of seawater stung her bare legs. Once they reached open sea, the fog had lifted and the sun finally began to rise above the horizon, leaving a film of orange on the glossy surface of the water. Suddenly, an abrupt movement caught her eye. She abandoned her blanket and rushed over to the starboard side of the boat, just in time to see a glimmer of golden hair followed by a great emerald tail flowing in the swell and illuminated by the sparkle of the sea. Mermaid, she thought to herself. “Daddy, come quickly!” she yelled frantically. He stopped the boat and rushed to her side, but the only evidence of the beautiful creature was the foam disrupting the surface from where her tail had flicked with great force to propel her further into the depths of the sea. “What is it, darling? Have you seen something?” An enormous grin erupted across her face and lit up her eyes so they glowed like now risen sun. “No, never mind, Daddy, I made a mistake. There’s nothing to see here!” From that day on, she joined her father on his boat weekly, always leaning over the side waiting for the aquatic beauty to once again show herself and reveal to her the magic of the ocean.

My name is...

            My name is Marilyn. Not Monroe, Edwards. But my parents did ingeniously name me after Marilyn Monroe. I’m nothing like that Marilyn though, not even slightly, but the things I would do to be like her… Her perfectly curled blonde hair and full lips and voluptuous figure. The only similarity I can draw between the two of us is a beauty mark on my chin, and I hate my beauty mark. I think sometimes it seems like I take my resentment for my beauty mark and my lack of other Monroe-esque characteristics out on anyone and everyone around me, but the problem really is that people don’t understand sarcasm and a good old fashioned sense of humor. Well, that and no one has given me a reason to be nice yet.

            My name is Theodore Winter, but I want to be in a punk band so people can’t know that. Everyone knows me by my middle name, Michael. I have decided that I don’t care about what people think anymore so a few weeks ago, I shaved the sides of my head and started wearing only vintage band tees. People probably think I am trying to hard to fit some mold, but like I said, I don’t care what people think anymore. This whole “not caring” thing has actually relieved a lot of troubles for me. My biggest problem at the moment is trying to find a name for my band—I always thought writing music and becoming famous would be the hard part of being in a band, but I have of late been proved terribly wrong.

            I rushed down the hall bopping my head to the new underground band I discovered the other night, shielding myself from the falling rain with my binders. “Marilyn, you’re late! One more tardy and you get a detention!” I broke into a full sprint upon hearing the principal calling after me. As soon as I got into class, a huge smirk broke across my face when I saw that we had a substitute teacher—no tardy for me! And I could probably manage to leave early to go grab a cup of coffee before second period! Unfortunately, however, my favorite seat in the back next to my friend Clarissa was taken and so I had to seat in the only available seat next to that one suddenly punk kid with the cute dimples, Michael. The teacher timidly started taking role and when she got to the bottom of the list, she called out “Theodore Winter.” Michael blushed then raised his hand to announce this presence. Most of our classmates giggled, which would have been my normal reaction, but instead I turned to Michael: “I love the name Theodore! I always thought Chasing Theodore would be a perfect band name!” He blushed again and flashed those cute dimples in my direction. Okay, they weren’t just cute, they were really cute.

            I could hear the crowd’s anxious murmuring from just behind the curtain. My palms were clammy, my heart was fluttering, and adrenalin was coursing through my veins. Beads of sweat were forming at my hairline. The owner of the small restaurant came behind the curtain and announced that our first ever live gig needed to begin right now. I really don’t think he realized the gravity of the statement he was making. The curtains opened and we could now make out the faces of our friends and a few others who were dining at the restaurant. “We are Chasing Theodore.” God, I hope Marilyn was right about this band name… And right as the words came out of my mouth, I caught her eye in the crowd and a huge smile broke across her full lips. She mouthed “hello.” As we played the first chord, she began bobbing her perfect blonde hair and swaying her voluptuous body across the dance floor. I never noticed how beautiful she was.