 
The

Circus in Me

Truth in Trae Lae

S.M. Bjarnson
Copyright © 2014

S.M. BJARNSON

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. ALL OF THE CHARACTERS, ORGANIZATIONS, AND EVENTS PORTRAYED IN THIS STORY ARE EITHER PRODUCTS OF THE AUTHOR'S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY.

PHOTO CREDIT: Amanda Raymond

MODEL: Sadie Hatch

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

ISBN: 148260504X

ISBN-13: 978-1482605044
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Acknowledging that sometimes things are not what they appear.

Stating tragically that there may never be good endings to a story.

Commenting that in life there are ups and downs; I hope you have more ups than the other.

Mediating that somehow we may meet on common ground and share a cup of tea.

Transgressing that I may carelessly sin to make life a little more enjoyable.

But never in a reckless of mannerism.

Confessing that life should be lived, even from a cardboard box.

If you are starved and are hungry, hunger for the brighter days and the warmth of a sunny day.

The circus in all of us let it be known and accepted.

DEDICATION

One minute of courage could lead you to find a whole new meaning to a life worth living.

To those individuals who always wondered about the outside realm of what they've been taught to believe in.

Courageous souls combating the struggle of what to think next; a choice causing rifts in the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~~

My knowledge of Amish life are imperceptive in the lines of expertise. Please don't assume I am factual on every account my characters chose to make, contour to Amish beliefs. On another note I am increasingly aware of the LDS faith, noting although relatively alike, no settings stand as actual predicaments.

This is a work of FICTION, I am not about to blast into the world of literature with non-fiction pages loading up on Young Adult romantic zones.

Everybody on common ground and commence forth the reading process?

Enjoy!

Keep an open mind to all things you read or believe.

Let Literature Heal You.

No Chapters, Just Life.

α

I'm awoken by the slap of my father's hand. His fists clench the disobedient daughter claimed as his own. My round cheek burns from red imprinted fingerprints. Speechless, I await for the next mechanism of outbreak. The punishment chosen put into blame. Other children hiding underneath the safety of their sheets. Blends of the noises of mute moaning's with the valley wind. Made it hard to realize who was in choice crying, my siblings or that man who stood strangled before us.

Words unspoken the brother's bed laid empty. He believed the vacant spot had been my doing. If I could prevent the outbreaks Malachi so strangely motivated himself to do. Longed for the ideas of an obedient son, granted that make father respectful. Children of their own creating rifts and a name for themselves, shining a darkened light on those we call mom and dad. Anger betrayed by his wife's teardrops. Comforting hushes only ringing inside the ears of her own being. Woes keeping her unstable and shaking. Rebecca was once an alluring woman I remind myself, my mother might have been a prize to be won out among the modern of folk. Instead she paired up with the first man who came calling. The man she called papa sending her off to give birth to the devil's defiant son.

Words useless in the battle alongside him. Crucible tones of unnecessary phrases sharing his guilt and discernment of the mistakes made in Malachi's upbringing. Flashbacks show the sobbing in his throat, knowing the mind has placed those corrections onto his humanity.

Mother spoke indirectly, with more meekness if that were possible. Knowing the voice mirrored the effect, back-lashing at her own prism. Image looking ever so weak. The trembling stutters she tried replacing with confident alibies for her son.

Everything entails of the next move when my brother walks through that door. Malachi never does use that doorknob to enter the household. Ears never perk up as you hear the footsteps stomp on the porch making their arrival. Instead the knocking at the door came from a man asking father by name: Levi.

◊

Forgetting where the time had gone; the windows shook violently from the Chicago winds and I sat desperately away from the infractions I called home. He had been flown in a modern aircraft for better research of his case, not that it made much difference in the end. The hospital ranged higher than four floors; we began to beckon the top of it. Malachi didn't move. I saw his chest rise and fall as if it were the last time to once again pick itself back up, to regain the health it had lost.

How had we gotten ourselves into this mess? I was already planning for the escape. My parents had not come by; they had no intention in supporting a defiant son, let alone loving one. His movements were nonexistent, twirling my brown hair around my index finger. Who knew what a calamity this would provide my unwilling guardians? Guardians is what they were, right? Guarding us from harm, pain, from life.

It was quite odd to see my eldest brother so weak. In front laid a skinny teenager, all muscle dissolved from his desolation. The once strong arms brittle and breakable on command. Sighs signified his life when the room stood silent and the wind began to slow.

Instructed to stay home, I begged at the opportunity to go to the city with my idling brother. My parents only refusing once, agreeing to the venture only to use it as a lesson of life I ached to understand. They sent me ahead and informed me only to call when Malachi took a turn for the worst.

I dialed those awkward digits to a grocery store nearby, hopefully relaying the message in time for my parent's arrival. Traveling over the state border my father and mother grimaced as they took a gaze at their incunabula offspring. My mother in a weeping frenzy, it was shameful to me to console her.

The execution was confirmed and we had no verdict to object to it. My father signed and declared his first born son mythical as his mistakes. They didn't stick around long after that; he was already lifeless in their images.

The town would not forgive the patrons involved; his best friend was a cast away as he would have been. Drinking and driving in a community that had no tolerance for the first one, let alone the second. Remembering that night only brought up anger and frustration towards the victim that became my brother. Did he somehow realize he alone was to blame for this? Were we all flashing guilty cards with the victims' names?

I turned back to what the weather had caused for us today. Mother Nature roaming over the individual county lines, making promises of better wishing times and novelty practices of where we could go from there; no promises were ever kept. I remark on the notion of this delicate place, the times we've spent here wishing the cuffs would be loosened or dissolve altogether. We were prisoners of our own time. Not the time they stamped into these metal bracelets they called love.

My hand print comforted his; he had been estranged for a week now, his hand already tingling to the beneficiary of its fate. I pressed firmly into his palm, imprinting on it more than adoration. The radiance of the moon quickened by his window as the machine signaled his failing heartbeat. I sat gallantly among the stars; the bearded lad lay before me under the white sheet covering his mercenary shoulders.

Tears trickling down my white cheeks as if for some reason, I had been the one on the menu for death's plate. I asked myself what the point of this was, why the long trial had run dry, sitting alone in a room with a corpse the name tag inscribed with my brother's name.

I was 16 years old, realizing there was no description for a failing household. Staring down at my parents entering the dilapidated horse drawn buggy, I beckoned to know if they were the cause of this rebellion.

Worry struck against my head. Memories came flooding, the dam breaking from the anger that grew. No point in going back, in quiet comparison no reason at all.

Eventually, coming back would be inevitable. Knowledge full of the facts I merited more from the guardians who surveyed over me, their perspective an infinite blunder.

They'll move on as they always do. It didn't matter where I came from, or what name I had been entitled to owning. I understand now it was not of their choosing.

Feet cemented to the doorstep; in spite of the welcome sign, it being furthest from the truth. Mistakes would be made, by a degree of my own. I wanted the trials. Teachings from fate or reality they were at the bottom of the list of teachers we hired for our daughters to learn the laws from. There were 10 kids living under this roof; the marvel wasn't that we all fit snug and cozy, it was our placement in the household.

I loaded my garbage bag with belongings I had stored. I kept nothing sacrificed by them for the initial reason of belonging to their debt. Vows of goodbyes, neglected to be rehearsed, in the cold palms of my brother, they'd chosen my escape; flee in progress. Abandoning the thoughts of looking back beneath the horizon. No intentions of being that person they could ask anything of. He wanted better for us he had always said. I went out to find what better for me meant.

◊

The train loaded two at a time. Rendering the plastic satchel to the man lifting bags above the seating arrangements.

"Hi, I'm Tom." Placing out his open hand and I smiled at his formality. Introductions for sparking friendships, the kindness making the flutters in my stomach anxious.

Situated beneath the gaping windows, slouching indecently to cater the adolescence side. You remember fully these times together; when you are solely alone, nobody but yourself. Weaving through endless tunnels and corners, I thought I'd make my advances toward L.A. or other fantastical sanctuaries. I had no dreams except the ones that haunted me and now today, I dreamt of the blank spaces, the visions of you vanishing.

My belongings, categories of a historical world. Bonnets, and lonesome braids dangling at the seams of my dressings. People waited to point out the obscurities of the adamant coverings, wondering if I strode out of the 18th century. A world far off, opposite to theirs. Remarks are made every time I enter a new destination. Speculations and undeceiving lies qualify me to understand that I am the outcast.

Can you tell me why we are so harshly judged? Was it worth the blood we shed, the drops of tears, forming puddles on our blouses in a dampened stain? Men tortured for their losing streak. The winners of men scorned for the lives they've taken. I have left a world not far from here, but far enough to know I'm different. Marks upon my hands, the wrinkles of a lifeline lived and others yet to be lived.

Why trash the rationalizations of what man hopes to be? In ourselves revolution is a progression we would venture around, then journey down the middle. Aching for the reward, without grinding your knuckles at work.

You found yourself amongst the non-believers as I once did. Flipping through implementation plans as playing cards.

I sought out reason or justification for this. Roam the prominent church buildings for guidance and honest counsel. How dignified they must have felt to have me in their midst. Church leaders glorifying bout individuals escaping the ties of old religion, pursuing comfort in their influences of curiosity. The towers of brick and stone intimidating the likes of you joining. Huddled beneath a ragged blanket, caving to the hotness inflamed in your belly.

Hope being a luminescent neon sign buzzing in the middle of the night. Promotion to clients that we are open for their business. Come and have a seat and let your concerns come clean and your wallet run dry.

Squeals of an abrupt halt, I found my way off the locomotive. I sat a passenger to the signs passing the shimmering screen. I glance at the beaten path, the one I had come from and the one I headed down. Discover any position to call home. The rain pelted against my bare cheeks reminding me of the deaf beatings I claimed--if in chance I declared to return home.

Comprehend the classified trepidation; guilt grows into the trembling of my frozen fingers. I shove the brittle phalanges into my deceiving knit pockets. We had never been across the state border. Never touching base with other individuals in the surrounding modern towns; now realizing what you people appeal as sheltering.

Bright sides were for fairytales. The land I came from preached no such imaginative tales. Comments to myself convince me to grow a credence that somewhere the sun was shining more, the grass growing greener. Doubts forming in my core lead me straight back to the unwelcoming town. Foolish the rough conditions in the world. Everything traded with coinage, the economic worth of items, making them less of value.

We had the education chosen for us, by whom instructed. The wind began to pick up and I shifted my memories of late yesterdays to early fore comings of tomorrow. Dreaming to survive out here on my own? How in this collapsing world could I search for the haven to surrender the modern practice of love?

WELCOME TO THE GRAND CANYONS.

Posters of colorful dancers hang torn on pin boards and billboards alike. I thumbed the edges; secrets in need of being unfolded. Managing to read pieces left from a carnival poster hanging in the window. Today. Only today? I lacked the skill of reading coincidental signs or premonitions written in the blue sky. As my thought pattern came across, I just wanted to go see the show.

Signs every which way pointing to this very destination. Following in the steps of other tourists; I arrived at the beckoning scenery of a national monument. Me, hovering above this source of sightseeing. My gaze flaccid beneath shades of rough edges, romanticizing about the depths of the stone's ambiance. Dangling my stout legs over the jagged edges of the Grand Canyon, waiting to locate the next proper location for my person. I sat as close to the rim as I possibly could draping my feet in midair, into the abyss. I cast my vision out along the river rock and blended stones. Miracles astounded me and the centuries that it took to carve out the remints of that which stood before me. The breathtaking beauty I could categorize as potential-making in bygone days. With my satchel in tow I found myself encircled by a crowd witnessing another anomaly.

Striped with circumstance of vacillating behaviors. They performed with aiding eyes, a wanderer's paradise. They flew and they floated, I became flummoxed. Giving insight to be expected at their show tonight. One particularly stared ever so graciously at my eager soul. His twin making the same connection to me. The 3rd of the set of twins, making it a triple pair, looked over me and beyond. His matter was to perform and I wasn't the spectacle he hoped to view out upon the crowd. I looked down at my wardrobe. My skin only showing on my wrists and face. I suddenly felt naked, tugging at the lace upon my neckline and sleeves. I thought seriously about throwing it all off the edge removing the old settlement of a world I had once belonged to.

5 words carefully whispered in my right ear. Jumping out of the trance, the spectacle stumbling.

We can take you away.

I looked around catching the young acrobats standing by my side. Their masculinity could deny itself only in the eyes of a priest. Arabian beauties stood side by side, leveling the playing field in-between us.

"Excuse me?" Sniping my tongue as the words came out. My upbringing reminded me to question not a man's statement, even if you believed you had heard a misinterpretation.

"To the circus, my dear." Gleam of honest smiles. The confusion on my face gave way for explanation.

"Tamer, Tagert, Leonard." Tamer, pointing to himself first and then to the right and left of him, where his brothers stood with strong names. Tamer's welcoming green eyes drew you into the grasp of his kindness. Tagert giving an awfully greedy grin. His eyes swelled with a quiet darkness. Spotting in him the personality of control, raging for me to follow in his feministic collection. My eyes focusing onto the residual brother still not making eye contact with me. His gaze placed elsewhere.

"Tracey Aliza," I began to whisper, catching myself, I followed with, "Trae Lae, call yours truly Trae Lae." Only hearing the final remarks of my name.

"Trae Lae!" Looking incredibly content Tamer grasping me into an embrace.

"Tamer!" Leonard gave a weary look as if I was the one offering the sugary sweets. Shyly, I gave a weak smile. Eliminating myself from the newfound stranger. I accepted the answer dwelling deep inside before I could catch my breath to object to its acceptance.

"Takes time to get use to his friendly attitude." Slight shrug of the shoulders, Tagert giving a quick playful wink.

I nod.

Sunshine decorated the landscape over the canyons. Their hands outreached for mine. Take my hand both of the intriguing whispers advised. Follow me. Spellbound I followed in their appeal. In their caramel colored hands they offered a salvation to the freedom I foraged many moons to uncover. The uncertainty thrills me. Surety of things created a rippling effect of boredom beyond belief.
β

I stood among the vagabonds and thievery of folk. Noticing how strange the light came through the funnel of the tent. I arrived on the edge of my seat. Greeted by none other than the performing characters; they enchanted their performances around me. Thinking of my parent's response only gave me a grave desire to expose of my lunch the way it kindly went down.

Taken back beneath excitement to something of gleam or gallant. They gravitated toward the atmosphere around in which I was, wanting to accept, include me on their journey. Shivering in the conforming chair, contemplating these lifestyles almost in a judging manner but not quite.

My hand never raising in a disapproving manner. I merely volunteered to be rescued. As you would a lost dog, a homeless cat or any other helpless animal you couldn't help but find weak.

Brought me into an encirclement I'd never experienced. Doc, the ringmaster placed a comforting hand on my shallow shoulder welcoming me into his family of mistook individuals. He led me down the line of performers. Each character more skillful and witty than I'd ever known to be true. Each day a new town. Every moment a little brighter.

My eyes opened for the first time; acknowledgements, not the physicality of life's history or future, just the observations of present tense.

First the bearded lady, Mona. The Arabian triplets Tamer and Tagert came next giving high fives and winks toward my way. I walked amongst the oddest of characters; my fear becoming intolerable now. Arrival at the conclusion I shout out for random sorts of help, but what aid was I wishing to receive? A departure? A rescue from these peculiar fools, who I to had sworn a partnership. Fallen in an immediate love with these people, they wanted a side of me I had yet to transform to.

The mystic, Arunia, smiled in my direction as she lent an open hand, her voice simple and sweet. She hushed the new identity of Trae Lae's skeptical voice. Countless afternoons spent with the joyful crowd. I forever longed for a belonging such as this one. Encased by their way of life. Their symmetry to existence was an aging way, I could have achieved by myself. Arunia spoke soft the way my upbringing catered to the behaviors I manifested.

"My child, you are going to be heavy from the guilty load for ambiguous hours. They have programmed you from such a young age to live in horror of the outside world. They have taught you to fear of what might happen if you go against their teachings, if you question those beliefs. I promise it will get better, you will breathe bravery. Overcome the notion they have instilled you to believe. It is what you have been waiting your entire existence for, is it not; a chance?" She spoke according to the heavy demeanor I live. In the subconscious state in my mind I felt childish for not making the realization beforehand.

"The statement of going against everything you've learned to be true. It becomes inevitable but more than worth it. I promise you. Your life survives being the opposite of everything you heard. Every vision of yourself compromised with the image the public expects of you. No matter how right your choices are Trae Lae, your guardians will never give their approval. So stop looking for their acceptance and start making that adjustment yourself. Until the inner spirit is telling you of your wrong doings. Believe what you see necessary." Arunia's spirit accepted who I stood as and engulfed me in love. Experiences that for the first time turned me inside out.

My mind raged war in momentary battle. Inside two oppositions were those sides of myself. One of which I bred. The other vibrant one, a newfound individual blooming. Most words weren't next to the standards for a definition to this course in life. The study guide, the syllabus to inform me of the answers to my everyday problems went gone missing; along with my bonnet and braids. I laid my eyes shut and the sorrowful tune of a song crept its way beyond the borders. I am alone. Absent of noise surrounds me. A line drawn in the sandy shore. Customaries beckoned across from me as I planted deep in the soil of my future in the modern world.

Loyalty branded beneath our shirts. On the hearts of men, we took no menace contrary to our bloodlines. To stand against those we called brothers and sisters, my how frowned upon that would be. Substituting such a word with something else, conducted a blackout of sorts. You wanted freedom in the pursuit of it, you evade, no flee with the idea. Oh, the treachery of it.

Malachi's face became clearer on Sunday afternoons. In reality when a love one dies, everything reminds you of these said relatives. A book, a color, a stranger's facial feature. This coincidence of proposition was hardly ever placed on me. It was from a different variety that he came into the spectrum. No present object made my thoughts dwell that of my careless brother. No manor of movie sequence or street side performance recollected the memories of that we shared. Not one did my brother's outrageous personality shine out. The nights began to grow warmer, blending the coming of spring months. Each day a pattern of snowflakes trying to find their ways home only to be melted from existence.

We pressed on with our touring journey. Michigan grew bright in the horizon. The air filled with distress and common sense. We went by ferry to the island of Mackinac. The land mass floated superior on top of the riveting rustles of waves. On arrival the waters parted as we docked on the port. A curtain being opened, the majestic exquisiteness stepping forward making an ostentatious attendance to the captivated audience. We, common peasants witnessing an immaculate discovery of splendor. Rounding 8 miles, tourist season was well under way as summer approached. Every fudge shop and souvenir store in heavy packing method.

Stationed at The Grand Hotel, performances given in one of their gracious gardens. A wooden boardwalk wrapped itself half way around the island. I tiptoed the creaky path, exploring the nature surrounding me. It lived beyond words or description, such a quaint little island tucked away above the glove of Michigan. Breathtaking I ached to become such a thing of marvelous wonder, being alluring to momentary folk.

"Hey, Trae Lae." Stumbling back, tripping over the droppings of dignity. Tagert leaned alongside the rail smoking a cigarette. His presence was not there a moment ago, I reassured myself.

"Oh! Hi, Tag!" Screeching out the fatality of those syllables. My heart began to pick up speed in a direction I contradicted fondness.

"What are you looking for out there, sweetheart?" His long gaze upon me made my soul shutter, the covered skin crawl. The pet names poked at the parts of me I knew only icky feelings crept.

"The water's movements. I've never seen anything like it..."

"I bet you haven't. I admire that in you. Innocent and unexperienced." Ignorant with my amazement with the scenery, he came too close for comfort. Whispers in my ear the things an adolescent girl hoped to hear. Thuds from my chest cavity reminding me I wanted no part of him in this new life I was beginning. Fraction of a man within him the other equations were too sinister for my wellbeing to partake.

"I... I think it's time for rehearsal." Blushes of every insecurity in front of him.

"I could show you how to walk a tight rope, sweetie." Looking over my shoulder, Tagert ogling at my back side. I race to get out his frame of vision. Tamer caught me in his grasp.

"Trae Lae, have you seen Tagert?" My eyes evanescent to beyond us. Tagert's gaze still hooked on my figure. Tamer comprehending what accounts took place.

"What the hell Tagert! Leave Trae Lae alone! She doesn't understand you're just an asshole!" Tagert shrugging off his brother's consequence. Tamer wrapped his strong arms around me pushing me toward our hotel. I swear I would get lost in a moment's notice if I spun around 3 times, blindfolded.

"Don't you worry! He's harmless, most of the time." He gave a playful but weary wink. Steer clear of him I knew too well where that lead. The evening's performances went splendidly without faltering weather patterns, we had our day in the moonlight.

Onlooker's outcomes of high gratitude along with a side of astonishment. We took our final bows. The magic of our time on the island came to a close the next morning. We said our good-nights and entered our crooks of privacy. We had the cottage reserved for the entire group. A tiny enclosed corner where a hideaway bed laid, I claimed as my slumber chamber. The nook welcomed the crescent glow through the silhouette of a small window. Giving a grateful sigh I accepted the sleepiness that came with yawning. Laying my head upon the warm pillow, a sudden tap on the window peaked infinite curiosity.

"Hello?" Arunia snoring echoed from the next room.

"Hey... come out here and talk to me, Trae Lae." That voice I knew I should stay far from summoned my being.

"It's too late in the evening for chit chat, Tagert." Curling up the blankets around my face; I promised myself I will not leave this safe harbor to venture off with Mr. Womanizer.

"Come on, Trae Lae! I'll make it worth your precious time. I promise..." His teeth gritting identical to a chauvinistic creature teasing its prey. Backing into the shadows wasn't a choice. No reply, meant sending the message every guy like that deserved. In my mind I made a list of reasonable things to say or do in conditions as this one. Of course, that opposite voice convincing you to try the sour sweetness in life. Jump at the chance to experience life as a wild child. In my teachings cats got killed for their wonder, but right then, here in the moonlight I found myself less than a cat and more as a butterfly.

"What do you want?" My arms draped around my chilling form.

"Come closer, I nibble, not bite." Walking closer to him, seeing how he was glowing in the light of the midnight air, I began to enjoy his charm.

"Do you see one to the far left shining the brightest?" I saw it. Blue blurb twinkling off alone. It stuttered its image against the dark sky, sparking with spontaneity.

"I noticed it the first night we brought you to the circus." Maybe he was fooling me, why he tried to remember that night above the others. I always wondered how many other girls he told the same star story.

My voice lost.

Masculine forearms came up around me. I didn't deny the satisfaction I got from the comfort. It was my choice not to pull away. His grasp on my hands twirled me to face his frontal exterior. Facing his stance, putting tiny pecks upon my fingertips. The wooing commenced, girlish requests accepted.

"Hope you don't think I am going to steal your innocence. Trae Lae, I'm drawn to you, you captivate me." I wanted to laugh it off, convince myself he spoke of others and not of me. Confiding in my dear friends that he was playing this joke. Allured with every word, every small intention to own my attention.

"I know." My voice so low the breeze stole it away.

Knuckles stroked the jawline his ancestors carved from rubble into rugged masterpiece. Stares suspect the next act of adoration. Tagert pressing against the figure I tried so hard to conceal; bringing our frames closer. Now in front of me stood the look of enticement, one I couldn't fathom to ignore.

Tips of our breath connecting our icy lips. My first kiss; pinched from a guy whose lips lingered too distant from virgin flesh. My name on the latest line of achievements. Motions he delivered as I tried my best to mimic them. Bringing me closer into an embrace his taste buds made their way into my side of the spectrum. I revolted. Gasping for clean air, gripping for knowledge I had not yet learned.

"Thanks." My fingertips trembling where his perfect lips had been, I scurried off to bed before I longed hopeful of something more. In the back of my head Tamer told me to run away, he told me to steer clear of his brother's behaviors. I once was wise in the spur of the moment. Now looking back at him tickling the imprints my lips once gave him, I stood reckless.

The kiss hopefully forgotten by tomorrow's ferry ride. The embarrassment began to set its idling course. I flip flopped over how I could do such a trivial thing and how my expectations squandered before they were met. A million girly thoughts rummaged through my brain. Halting every single one with the reminder that he doesn't date girls conformed as you are, Trae Lae. You are the opposite of any of those women he brings to bed. Focus! You are overreacting, Amish girl. I accepted the fact I wasn't the typical Tagert girlfriend. I shifted my view to the window and saw the blue twinkling stars, I couldn't help but wonder if I could be.

►

We arose the following morning to biscuits and gravy. The cottage produced its very own kitchen. I walked out to the porch, wrapped around the entire bungalow. Standing in the very spot where I had shared my first kiss with the love criminal. I wondered if he thinks endlessly about that kiss, as I do.

I heard someone approaching and took in a deep breath to being swept away again. When I turned there stood a young woman, my age in similar comparison. The maid uniform fit her body shape all wrong; meant for another role.

"Sorry! I thought you were somebody else. I apologize, let me get out of the way." I grabbed my cup of hot cocoa and entered the dwelling. Shift in my direction the sunlight lit up her name tag; Margaret, 1st year. Margaret looked odd to me among the helping hands. The young maid's superior stomped her way up the back steps. An accented voice I couldn't place. Maid service insisted on being imported rather than Americanized. Margaret stood there the minority. Continued with sweeping away the cobwebs. She knew she didn't belong, nonetheless accepted the fortune whence she agreed. The loveliness of her aroma came aweing. Accentuated leader cursing her for the faults and wrong doings; the young lady's head aimed always high. Speaking out wasn't a choice, my heart understood somewhat how she was feeling. To talk back or stand up against authority, you'd better have your ducks in a row. She focused on me behind the screen door, eavesdropping on the incident of mortification. Quickly I moved my field of vision but she caught me entangled in her life story.

I began to pack the outfits I displayed myself in for the shows. The whole time wondering if Margaret would be making the bed I slept in, cleaning the sheets and washing the moonlight window. I connected with her, in this way I feel close to the situation. Being humiliated for others to learn a lesson. I left her a hand written note, addressed to her, hoping she would be the one to find it beneath the cover of my pillow.

I waved goodbye to the atoll I came to love. In the short week I grew in stages of maturity I have considered impossible. Goodbye Mackinac Island, you gave me the freedom I never identified mine for the taking.

©

A month of Sundays came soaring by and was left imprinted on the footnotes of calendars. Gaining with the milestones, a bond with Tamer, awkward intimate moments with Tagert, and obvious muteness from none other than Leonard. Words and punctuality from my foster mother, Arunia, who enclosed me in understanding, with commentary of selfless acceptance.

Speculations round the special connection and awesome prosperity, made it less surreal. A fantasy force brought her to me and I to her. My own mother looking opposite to Arunia. In the secrets told, it may have been why I let the comfort passed the walls. The ideas on my behalf's location didn't trouble her mind in the slightest. Arunia welcomed behaviors of destruction and dishonesty. Confirmation that it was okay to express anger, to throw things out of temperamental frenzy. To break in mournful sorrow, wishing to take back movements displayed. Swaddled in quilts of acceptance, making it obvious to me in a former life, she once reflected the image of a straggler girl.

When the time was meaningful and right. Soon I began to grow and as I grew I began to wonder. Minds are meant to wonder, but on a short leash we'd been advised. In the aspect of commercialism; freedom fondled the better way of living. I remember recalling to myself several times sassily saying what leash? Although the scars trickled deeper than my obvious disobedience toward old aged ways.

My mystic friend took a final inhale on the night I turned 21. I soon began preparation as often as I could to support my own wellbeing. Money left behind for Trae Lae's own doings. I wanted to be accountable for my own surviving. She exited life, with more to give than a lesson or two.

She projected my timeline as I outlived hers. The miracle wasn't that she could be saved, it was that she responded to nature and the mother took her away. I cried for this loss of this mothering ideal. My heart spoke in hush tones, every now and again. Stories being told of how long I traveled, where I had gone and why I set in motion my fleeting ways.

Coming of the times of life sunblind. "Remember you love him," she quoted. The last thing she said thinking of my brother. Of course, I do love Malachi.

Next week's spent clearing out the trailer on this abandoned air field, they told me to bring it with me, but retired its use.

Arunia always communicating in conundrums as she tried to continue in the raising of a well-mannered woman. As eclectic as her voice rang out, she made a strong point to be unique, to be an outcast. Involved herself in the belief to belong long enough to love and be loved in return.

Half of me understood why the circus claimed her as one of their own. She was as if a grandmother figure to the children playing acrobatics. Lessons and stories, whispered fortune and fame, while other advised to remove oneself from the spotlight.

I was making a clearing for my future. I had been accepted to a university in Idaho. The mystic told me to go, she had adopted me since I arrived; she agreed to pay for my tuition before she died. Little did I know, she had a lot more for me than tuition money.

I traveled by bus from Salt Lake City, 4 hours to the desired destination. The company was making their last appearances around the state before leaving for Nevada and onto California.

I waved goodbye at the county line, they hugged each other as I withdrew from their lives for a good while. I smiled through my teeth and blubbering.

Another journey in our paths. Another day beckoning upon our toes. We were left leaving each other in harmony and desperation.

Looking for a boy to befriend when you will only find a man to marry. Quoting the phrase in my tired mind. Arunia's attempt to comfort my ideas of living alone. Does that mean all boys I convince to develop friendships with, are they then instructed to be my future spouse?

My farewells being stated. I entered the campus of Brigham Young University. They told me to watch out for the guys out there. Tricked them into thinking I'd be engaged within a week.

►

Across the corner of my new apartment, I witnessed parents rushing to help their graduated children unpack. My parents had not seen me in 5 years. It was better this way, I didn't mean to make things harder for them. I simply just wanted to get away from them.

On the other side, my siblings in high remarks of disapproval with my disappearance; in particular Aubrie Ayn. The next oldest in line. She turned 18 soon. I noticed the gap made us stronger. Our siblings gave us our life schoolings.

Predictable, I learned to neglect to drink along with taking a drive. On my younger sister's part, she received the warning to always stay near the homestead.

Malachi, the ever-clever teacher risen himself to principal after I turned 12. He took me into the woods, teaching me how to make fires and telling me ghost stories. I don't think he realized I one day would grow into a woman.

My time with him was short and I cannot bother myself to think of how very little it was.

The memories came at me in a rush. My mind blank except for home. Drown in the temporal thoughts of those I did so well to bury and burn. They came at me, shots of lightning to the sandy shore. Crystallizing the material and making it fairly noticeable. Red, a barn filled with not animals but people. No sheep, but a priest. Not a single stray of hay, only old women and men nodding or saying Amen.

I sat around that old farmhouse, wondering if I would ever escape the torment of my small society. In childhood dreams it was all I ever wished about. Freedom. Independence. Those two things I craved more.

Rouse up in the morning of the bright sunlight, wondering why my placement is doing here. It is not nightmares that stray me from sleep. Mere thoughts of no escape, cause drifting from the rest and peace. Sighs emit, connecting visions of the sundial and turn to my pillow; what more can the core receive stuck in this rut; a deep hole with no passage ways of exit.

Plans I intend to keep. Look forward to the future, it's what we have to stare onward to. Give your nod of approval in agreement. Late at night I do not ache to sleep or slumber, I wish to close my eyes and hallucinate of the possibilities welcoming me.

Snow falls outside my weary window, the wind breaks my outline of expectations. Outside mortality awaits my sleepy toes, a journey just beginning. Times are hesitant to change and bones are breaking, winters are colder and the nights grow longer.

The imagination of my dreams no longer lingers on the borderline of my dozing consciousness, nay I say; they are free and vivid living. They jump on my walls and hop on the fence; I smile at their childish games, hoping one day soon I may be able to play too.

Time spent wondering what they want, why they have come out of hiding to amuse me and mingle with the narcotic temperature. Letting my thoughts rush over, I am asleep once again, no room for breathing. Trees crackle at my doorstep, as nature's animals take their course. They plead with me, oh darling they say, "Wake up today and come out and play."

If for one moment, if for one hour, I may take the course and follow their foot prints. I will absorb how to sprint unrestricted.

Đ

Idaho's shapes radiated brilliance, literally breathtaking. Arrival as the first snow touched basis with the green grass. Oddity of the blades dipped in a white chocolate truffle, September initiated. One of my roommates who was native to the town told me it snowed once in July.

Two months now I've lived in the borders of the BYU campus. From what I saw around this place, these people were a brand on their own. Looking around at faces unfamiliar to mine. People surrounding me, indifferent to my likings. Even if we had similarities in clothing options, our uniqueness apparent.

Acquire information to continue in hiding. Submission to the wonders of middle-class foolery who enforce absolution of merging students into the upbringings of society.

When I walk through the hallways an immediate silence no one confesses is present. Classrooms are generic in my opinion. Every student flocking in direct intentions opposite to mine. Nonetheless pursuit for contacts commences, cajoling to create colleagues. I smile in a polite manner of course, not offering unruly remarks on the first days as a college freshman. I do consent them with is an awkward pause, not offering a name to be called by, not even a syllable to remember me by.

I am twiddling my thumbs when the Sister or Brother Teacher calls upon me by my actual name and I am nervy yonder credence. Exposure of the clandestine, parting the image of my being vulnerable. I muffle out that I go by a nickname: Trae Lae. Quizzical looks toward me evaporate.

Waves of scholar bodies incline from complete entrances. Their lives look meaningless, unaffected by shaken storms or the unbearable breeze. I'm aware of others' journeys, yet it's the strong empty area in them that comforts me most; lost like I am.

Lines grow vicious in length. Groups of girls hover around each other. A cloud of whispers floats above their childish minds swirling in misconstrued things, always imagining themselves with a fiancé in a week's time.

True to what they say the Mormons mate and breed so quickly. Their will to convert and take over the planet plan is substantial in motion. I saw this ad in the school paper, as a joke, but I think they are incredibly serious.

Resume to find a suitable mate to marry. Inevitabilities are as follows:

  * Served on a mission (Preach for two years on home front or abroad)

  * Loves to play Apples to Apples (Mormons like to play with fruit)

  * Loves children

  * Wants a big family

  * Holds the priesthood (NO CLUE)

  * Speaks 1-4 languages

  * So forth

Where do these ladies come up with their longings for a guy to wed? They acknowledge the space you take. What more could you want? When will the elements add up to equate enough for you?

I create a mental sign stating Love is from above, so why are you searching below? Of course, even thinking of casting the opinion out rummages up grief. I involve myself with commercial statements; false.

My 'sisters' are anything but solitary. Everybody is open to each other's life stories. Compliments given to the wondrous braids I manifest upon my obedient head. You have lots of time churning butter and baking bread to think up extravagant ways to displease your parents; appearance wise. I give a sheepish smile, giving quiet thanks.

Middle rows in classes are associated with my fanny, mixing in with the white walls and desktops. Aimed always to the attraction to other models.

The prodigies I live with spark conversations wanting me to take part and join in on the getting-to-know-you game. Bite marks on my bottom lip, my eyes widen; invitations for my contribution are aborted. My voice impulsively misplaced, letting them do most of the careless gossiping.

Girls range in age from 18-24 informing myself of important evidence I've ignored. Raised in an retrogressed cult. Did I say cult? Implications intended culture, yes, that is the word I contended to profess. Organized religion, what a wonder that has become.

Updates are the following. In order of importance:

1St Update: We are all sisters they inform me.

2nd Update: All have various fathers and mothers, none intertwining in each other's family trees.

3rd Update: My entire mind is a perplexed fog.

Even if their fathers opposed to having more wives than one. Interpreted the whole polygamists' scandal being kept on the down low.

My contemporaries' superstitions on the land I come from evolve from Amish country to the hick town outback.

Nobody wonders why an Amish girl is making roots in a Mormon town; images whisper to me they do. Where is the fun in being invisible? Predications of the gossip I might receive if they understood the history of the girl with bonnets in her carrier.

Exceeding friendly actions, roommates gape and gander at the odd placements of my whereabouts. Excuse one from the excited crowd: Ashlee Bleu. Jealousy raged from those green eyes the girls swooned over moments ago. Attention direct on others, she began fuming with potential cattiness. Which struck me as anomalous, because she was a nursing major. Assumptions of the health majors led me believe those characters enjoyed other individuals.

Clinging to my clothing everybody is out to make friends with one another. I'm looking for no interference from my peers for the next four years. Plausible, I try to convince myself, totally plausible. I breathe, as if for the first time I am exhaling.

The loveliness of the college, it's gigantic nearly life defining. The tall buildings hold much over you and the stony brisk eastern Idaho weather is obnoxious to comment on the very least.

Round table after round table, we enter and begin each lesson with an opening prayer; not a silent solo one. Once called on to give this opening discussion. Mortified, I stuttered, eyes wider than ripe melons. I began and finished, grasping when I open my eyes that I prayed wholly in my Amish tongue. The teacher was nice enough to let me finish. Continuation with the lesson plan as if I wasn't the outsider I appealed to be.

The thing about this university that bugged me out most, was not the fact we go around calling our teachers and professors' brother and sister so and so. This pointless innuendo that half the student body claimed to be artists. Sing or play an instrument you got it, sign me up for musical choir and bandstand, that's the fastest way into Heaven. The other 50% claimed to be the next business guru by 2020. Warren Buffet be warned, LDS graduates are coming for your trophy.

Every decision made with the influence of God, Jesus (Our Brother), and the Holy Ghost. Not just one standing over your shoulder at infinite times whispering imprints into your mind. There were 3 telling you what to do, who to be and where to go!

Talk about a lumbering crowd.

It's remarkable to me how I had gotten here, how I suppose we had come to this place. Together, collectively we were a part of each other's world connected in depth to the visionary of what we claimed as God.

It was our God wasn't it? Not the sickness of the brain man had taken to kindly? We had a decision in the matter of where life could lead us.

Overall, I agree.

Truth be told this place I came to learn and devour such Christian knowledge for the sake of my own soul. If I am to confess every unworthy sin, my hand shall be washed clean. Though I examined and found no trails of dirt upon them.

Ã⅞

Arrival at Brigham Young University was even more disheartening than I imagined possible. The heat ceased to blaze, girls flaunting their secret curves at me, I fumbled to care. Aunt Macee dropped me off on a side street, waving me off with her perfect manicured hands; ta-ta for now.

The apartment set up to my likings. A roommate shared rent with me.

"Hey bro! I'm Sloan Stevens." Giving out his hand, every man out here loves to shake hands.

"Cool, Briggs Byington." Closed fist to pound his.

"Sorry habit in Mormonville."

Nodding my head in agreement, all my life I have been shaking hands with men and women calling me brother. I knew very little of my family lineage, I had my doubts about their forenames belonging.

"So where do you hail from?"

"Salt Lake City."

"Me too, the Sugar House county." Sloan unboxed his belongings in the living room.

"I went to Sugar House High for a short time." One of the various torture chambers I forced myself to escape.

"Byington? I thought you looked familiar dude! That hoax on the principal's car that is a legend!" Sloan exasperated the image of his previous controller.

"Thanks man. Just doing my duty as a fellow human being seeking revenge for those lost causes." I began to like this friendship with my new roommate, he liked the person I was, and hopefully he would accept the man I obligated to become.

Midnight strikes letting the twelve chimes ring truer to my heart than to my mind. Aunt Macee's hysterical screams awaken my peaceful slumber. Memories shaking her to the core, reminding me every moment how awful my mother must have been. How indecently inhumane Scarlett James reigned in her final years.

Macee's night terrors didn't include scenery from that of her imagination. Rather the rage that brewed deep beneath the surface shook her to alertness in a drunken stupor naming those for ruining her potent punctual livelihood.

Gaze upon the crumbled pictures in the burning flames, my seven year old mind acted in saving one for future perspective.

My mother's form welcoming. Her expression kinder than the words my rueful aunt spoke toward her image. The gleam in her shapely vision transformed my also diabolical hatred for that which I knew to be mother. It wasn't that I saw any hurtful intentions rendering in those dilated pupils. She looked at me sincerely, my anguish deflating, a new feeling arose sympathy and admiration grew on the cropped photo.

The tiny fingerprints cascading over her smile; my smile in comparison. Awareness came to me in a sudden flash! It was the only thing on my person that reflected that of hers, in this cognitive way it appeared a symbol for happiness. Expressions reflecting what ruled inside me.

My mistake wasn't that I solely assumed she granted me this gift. Error as it were run down the course line stating to me to use for the help of my pleasure. Thus pulling the heartstrings of those I chose to trick into my favor.

My conscious cricket, fried by the power of the sunlight and magnifying glass. Yesterday's news of whores and hippos crumbled with the belongings of my sweet young mother once touched. Left me stranded alone to walk the plains of the produce my aunt has reared as her own. Food supply rationed into categories of true or figurative testimonies.

Outlines of your youth betraying you, wondering to your common shoulder if even a fraction of your guardian's words have been purposeful.

Was the admiration a strange act to ploy me into trusting the brainwash on my Madre's behalf?

₫€

A troublesome voice repeated the lines of a song calming the intimidating fears evading from my imagination.

Close your eyes let the sunlight shine through your weary lids.

Visions of the morning dew singing your name.

Reminisce in the good.

You will survive the nightshade.

Be a strong soul.

You are bred for brilliance.

Making my way to the campus cafeteria rendering my hungry stomach to an empty abyss. Fellow schoolmates stalked the steps and sidewalks leading the way to X on my treasure map.

First observed Briggs Byington as he exited the boy's lavatory. He shined, inklings made me furious that my knowledge of him catered to gossip. The boulder of a boy, lived up to his gargantuan name. His eyes round with concern, the destructive personality gravitating towards me, wanting me to make friends with the man behind the wounds and tremors. The sweetheart expression that lured immature women in was smacked on extra ripe today. Sleekness in his smile quaked my knees and I wanted to be his ultimate casualty.

The epitome of womanizer. Using feminine favors for his benefit. Casted my eyes below the sight of his. I knew for certain he was calculating me in comparison to his other objects of prey. Though his mannerisms read true to the persona of a ladies' man. I saw a glimmer of kindness, the sugar daddy act, may not be just a cover up. His gaze meeting mine as I shuffled to the nearest lunch line. Time in slow sequences foremost to the careful wink to the unanticipated Amish girl. I shyly took his note of flattery, shoving it in my back pocket for safe kissing. KEEPING, I pledge I preordained keeping, not even a little bit intrigued with his voluptuous lips.

Ate my lunch alone on a corner table nibbling bites out of my turkey hoagie, being mousy in my motions to ward off potential companions. My eyes glued to the counter in which my school books piled. I found my thoughts scattered and detected by one particular object in motion: Briggs. The scene combusts into lovely embers of hopeful thinking. Chapter closed to inappropriate chit-chat going on in my head. Thoughts being unwelcome in the modest soul I once had. Study for quizzes and questions, answering incorrectly. In a manner of speaking, my wits were still wildly alive. A hunch inside seemed as though no matter my answer I would always receive a failing grade, even if it be the right choice in the category.

Gray like the autumn days, the white puffs of clouds missing from the dimmable sky. I found myself in a daydream, a wonderment of opportunity. In my own circle of trust I let the very deep desires evolve into madness. Consciously giving a ton of effort in the possibilities of becoming more than a shunned Amish.

A stroll along the sidelines of stunning gardens I created with my mind control power, sprouting individual bulbs out of the dirt. Experiments grew wild as the scientist in me bred harmonious flowers with fruit of all genders. Muteness taking over the struggle going on inside me. My form relaxing, the temptation to bring up worries almost evident but I denied its seduction. Tranquil surroundings giving aide to the wounded solider I called dignity. Bowing my head in agreement of the peace treaty to go forth.

►

Knock, knock!

Thunder struck outside the apartment door, gliding upon the britches. The lightning igniting childhood suspicions. Positioned alone in the living room watching the most delirious horror movie of the century. Waiting, I suppose for that someone I didn't need the recollection in receiving.

The next great demonic villain pronounced upon the fuzzy screen. Tonight, the holiday for hallowed souls.

Breeched by the impact as the front door had.

"Hello?" The external personage shouts. Place the bowl of mac & cheese onto the ottoman. Struggling with the stubborn handle I open the plank of wood to find a drenched boy dripping.

"Hello?" I questioned back politely. Appearances from roommates' were irrelevant; stomaching the awkward statement of stranger danger. Declared to become the first lovely brunette to fall victim to this crazy man's demented calling.

"Hey car died half block back that way and my apartment is twelve roads north. Could I use your phone, to call for a tow?" He gripped the outskirts of his shoulders, shivering with neediness. Unappeased as I was, I stood aside welcoming him into the cave.

"Of course." Judgments sidewise, I was alone, so was he.

"Thanks." He followed to the kitchen, where a pair of lips hung as a cordless phone.

Back onto the purple couch our studio acquired as permanent property.

"The phone lines aren't working." An echo sounded as the phone slammed back into placement.

"Oh yeah, there aren't any landlines." Motioning at the plastic telephone recently dialed; a decor item fellow mates purchased.

"Why didn't you say that before?" I didn't mention it, because the guy asked for a phone. I gave him one. He didn't inquire if there were strong communications to the outside world.

"Let me get something to dab yourself dry." Returned with a warm towel.

"Thanks." The soaked t-shirt was sticking to his masculine body. I wasn't good at this odd incident and from my awkward motivation to make this scene less uncomfortable I looked at the damp pants clinging to his flexed thighs. Laughter erupted from his gut shooting out.

"What are you watching?" Shaking off the excess water. Pause button on the screen; engaging in conversation.

"Crimson Expiry the 6th or 7th." Placed comfortably back onto the cushions, hiding kneecaps under the comforter.

"Mind if I join you? Sleet is coming in sheets." A shrug for as an answer, making the communication flow better. He sat on the cushion next to me. Should I put my arm around him? Wait! No, Trae, guys do that to their blonde female contacts, not to the last of the Mohicans. Stop talking to yourself, undoubtedly he could mind-read every word.

"Where are your roommates?" Glances made around the empty room.

"Bobbing for apples at an unofficial Halloween celebration." I got up to retrieve him his own bowl of mac and cheese, with kiwi strawberry pop.

Inclining on a friendship.

He gladly accepted.

"Didn't you want to go out to the parties?" He tugged at the wet jeans. Should I get fresh clothes, would their length fit this colossal good looking guy?

"Not my thing, besides I don't need to go looking for trouble when it comes knocking on my front door." Blush colors formed on my cheek bones. I tried obediently to focus my attention on the ending plot of blood and gore.

"Oh yeah? Not much of my thing either. I was headed to the grocery store. I like it better here though." He sucked on the foam escaping from the rim of the can.

Movie sequences went on cue, everybody ended up dead. There was no need for survivors in this type of show. No one needed to explain to the police or go on living in torturous fear of what lurked beyond in the shadows.

The room stayed quiet for several minutes, the odd tones of screams and sirens rushing through the slides of film.

"My name is..." He held the bowl of macaroni tightly with the left hand. I could see the round curvatures hinting at blood flow, muscles smooth.

"Briggs Byington." I never looked away from his gaze. Wobbling his head at an angle. I think now that maybe my response was too quick.

"You're all the girls converse about in this household!"

"Well that is unsettling!" A grin in my direction.

"If you knew how my roommates talked about you or boys in general it's very unsettling!" Forces joined with his side of the uncomfortable spectrum.

"'Briggs. Is that short for something?" Acknowledgments made at my own shortened sort.

"Nope, just Briggs. Or take him to the brig! Or bridges without the whole D." He grinned like a son of a gun. A slap on his right knee, he was excited to be share on his name tactics.

"Sounds piratical!"

"Oh you haven't the tiniest hint of how piratical I can be, you scrounger!" His coded voice tempting me with humorous laughter.

"I'm sure you make kaput lovers walk the blank!"

"Only cracked modern ones. I wouldn't dream of letting you walk off the high ledge." Winking at the playfulness in my tone. Shyness in my smirk gave way to fresh speech.

Laughing together in introductions of our names.

"Honestly my first name is that of my Aunt's former title. She is superficial and gaudy beyond conviction. You'd love her! My earlier girlfriends loved shopping and going to the spa with her. Now that I say it out loud, they may have only dated me to go shopping with Aunt Macee..." Eyebrows in deep frustrations. He spoke of girlfriends like I was the next one to fill the position for the one who had miraculously gone missing.

"She sounds wonderful. I steer far of shopping malls. Speckled nails and done up toes aren't my forte. Sorry to inform you of the letdown." I couldn't be his GF, even though my insides pleaded for Brigg's companionship.

"Damn, I looked forward to the day you could dishearten my attractions for you." Damn. Only reading it in the bible, hearing it out in the open made my toes quiver. A lightning bolt struck miles away from here; God must hear him swear.

"Why did your aunt name you?" I pried into his life story like bake beans on the Sabbath.

"My mother chose the easy way out and overdosed before going into labor with me. Luckily they saved me in time to obligate addiction tendencies and everything else potential babies would want to handle in their lives." For a couple of shocking moments the hole I ate with was left open, mashed up noodles out on display.

"Your mother gone to rest young of age?" We both carried grief from the loss of admired ones.

"Yeah. The day before I was born she celebrated too much on her 21st birthday." Both of us witnessing that monumental day for ourselves.

"Do you have pictures of her?" Those were the memories in which my lifestyle abandoned. All I had left of those were a faded image on glossy finish paper.

"Here I keep one on me. My aunt likes to hide things about her. Her name was Scarlett James. Fiery red hair and the greenest of emerald eyes. Good thing my genetics skipped the whole ginger trait, how terrible that might be. Welcome to the World, both your parents are dead from causes of impractical pleasure. Not only are you an orphan, you also have the spawn of Satan resting upon your lovely noggin." Confessions of truth in first minutes of meeting. In my mind he just needed a friend a similar soul who could understand the hardships that came with trying to love those loathed by our guardians.

I took comfort he could cause such a humorous tone when speaking of ill subjects. It comforted me and let me know it was okay, he would be alright. A smile or two only offered at each interval of a pause or quirky comment.

Photo of his mother slipped between my fingertips. I clenched on to it, hoping the wind and rain would not vanish the only identity he had for this woman.

"She's gorgeous!" And she was, the smiling soul staring back, had ambitious dreams in her strut. Happiness sparkling on her white teeth.

"Those blissful times came before the addictions and sex with unmentionable men." Addiction shocked me, now the sex with unmentionable men sent panic to my pulse.

"Oh, I see." Casual, act casual. Act like nothing alerts you, pretend you've overheard this all before and your relatives go wild every weeknight.

In fact I use too.

"My father, a meth addict, his fate the same as hers only months earlier. How they found out he was the sperm donor I don't know." Conclusion of his birth in this presently nasty world even more tormenting than I figured possible.

I wondered the truth behind his awful words. Briggs turned and glanced at me through the corner of his oval perception. Honesty ringing correct of earlier facts stated.

"Oh how very troubling it's to listen to. Your adjustments must be moderately bothersome." Taps upon my fingertips letting me know to calmly discuss the condition.

"I've accomplished thus far. Thank you for your concern. Am I ever going to get to catch that nickname of yours people whisper about?" Making attempts to connect to my lifestyle now.

"Trae Lae. I am." Stupid! In formation to entertain, forgetting I stood not on the ground of the circus tents but on the apartment's stained carpet.

"As in a dinner Tray? And lay, like lay down?" I shook my head politely. Briggs aimed at putting two and two together hitting bull's-eye every time.

Conclusion made that we only had some choices for naming children. All having to do with inanimate objects and things used as dinnerware.

"Want me to get you more?" Gestured at the ceramic bowl.

"Okay." I realized my empty bowl no longer filled with luscious gold noodles in it. I stayed positioned unsure if I should get more or if I could pretend to eat the air.

Yes, I gave the go-ahead.

"Where did you come from?" My mother's womb I speak silently.

"Utah, Arizona, Arkansas, Minnesota, South and North Dakota, Pennsylvania, Alabama, North Carolina and South." I avoided name the place of my birthing record; did he want that information?

"Wow. Okay, don't need your whole life story, Trae!" He gestured at a silence rampage. I removed myself from the blame.

"You?" Knuckling under my own intensions of companionship.

"Utah, too." He was flipping out his cell phone waving it around.

"We go to the same university. You think we would've bumped into each other?"

"With the other 10,000 students? Just a matter of time."

I moved away, nervous about the connection that being created.

"Aren't you Amish?" Spotting an Amish on modern soil, must be like seeing an albino donkey.

"I was raised Amish. My family lives in Indiana." He was wondering if it was the two named relationship Amish folk toke casualty too; like those of Mary Anne or Martha Sue. Although, I was supposed to come out a Rebecca Jean, I did not follow anyone's plan. My name was clearly a misguided notion Levi took as a try for another son.

"Indiana has the 3rd largest population of Amish folk." Surprising nobody with that fact.

"Amish, buggy and a steed." Hummed to the juxtaposition.

Sworn in holy oath that I saw him run out that front door, leaping away from this strange girl who had experienced not too much more than rule breaking. When opening my eyes, he was still standing there.

"Really?" The darkness lifted and we were gleaming.

"Honest to God." His eyes flickered at the mention of Him. I swear eventually maybe later that night, I would regret making him walk out the door.

"Why did you say you were from 4 different states?" He made conspicuous soap bubbles under his chin, trying to be funny. Don't play with soap, I thought. I couldn't help but smile either.

"Because you asked where I came from and those were the latest states I lived in."

"All of them?"

"Every single one. North and South!"

"You just might be on the top list of interesting people I should get to know." Quick quirks made our first greeting spectacular.

"Trae Lae, how is that remotely traditional?"

"Tracey Aliza." I confessed the real name.

"Tracey Aliza, Tracey Aliza." Mulling over the vowels sand constants, tasting the pronunciation with his tongue.

"Do Amish people not go to universities of their own? The student body is stir crazy about you being here at the Mormon college." His cavernous imploration to inform him more of where I came from.

"WE stop schooling around the 8th grade. We continue education as you would an internship in a specific field; carpentry, farming, those sorts of expertise."

"Sounds easy." His voice confirming every conjecture the outside world thought we indeed did. Women sat around with needle and thread sewing socks for future children. While the menfolk produced moonshine by the river, taking a break from farm work and higher gender duties.

"Yeah, I suppose." Connection with my hand, one finger lingering down the lines I had been shaped with. I pulled away instinctively. We aren't allowed to touch, as if they were about to engage in that activity. They were never going to touch as long as I felt this pounding deep in my stomach lining.

"I didn't mean to scare you, pounding on your door." He got up moving his body around the room trying to figure out the best way for an escape.

Moved away from the front door hoping in time he would learn how to use it.

Raindrops quietly stopped. Visions of outside seeped into the living room window.

"Looks like the rain has completed its cycle. I should get going?" He looked at me as if it were my question.

"Guess so." It was sour on the tips of my lips, clenching them together, no other mistakes would be made.

"Do you think I could see you again?" He wanted this; eagerness in his eyes.

"Um... yeah, of course." My hands tangled in the wavy hair.

He shook his head, agreeing with my statement.

"I will see you around campus." He was hopeful for our outstanding friendship.

He began to exit the door and I realized that I wanted to go with him.

I had no reason to scramble to that action.

"I could walk you, if you wanted company." I moved my lips against the pearly whites. He didn't say a word.

"Better yet, I need to finish an essay for math class." I looked away trying to find evidence of this so called essay. Crap! Did I say math?

"I'd like that. If you would go with me on my journey home." He held out a hand as if he were asking me to be Cinderella on this darn carriage ride. I should never speak. In fact I was mute to the surrounding world. Inside, though, I could definitely spill a thing or two. I could confess to my own company why my roommates were never going to get married. As much as they wished, hoped, prayed to their loyal God to bring them Prince Charming.

Focus attention on something other than the male figurines that happen to stroll by the kitchen windows every day. Their careers might be a decent area to start with. I doubt they require the credentials to qualify themselves beyond the potential housewife title. No I am not demeaning women who lead their bodies to the breeding grounds every year or so. If you want to be pregnant the rest of your life, try investing in something like a cancerous tumor. Their presence can last years on end, just ask Queen Mary I. This dampens feelings in many cases, well I am speaking the part of my mind we all own the right in expressing; the whole cranium. Now I am for sure going to paradise prison.

Ë⅔

Usual tactics for acquiring a mate these days didn't faze her. I wondered if she misunderstood my intentions or the lack thereof.

Trae Lae stood alluring. In the smallest of ways she secretly flaunted it. Long ambrosial hair tousled away from the senses I controlled. Braided in division of what acutely I assumed as a strong point.

Walking side by side, I only wanted one thing. One thing I wanted entirely from girls, a woman or two. Innocence, belief that I was different in this way that I could change the title I'd been given. She would be just the same. Another check mark on the list to acquiring manhood.

Captivated as my being allowed, I disguised how absolutely incarcerated my feelings went for her. She was the most unordinary gal, I ever touched.

Our walk brought us to the corners of where I once spent helpless nights strolling the sidewalks alone. How I made my way to her very dorm that night, though I saw her through the window seating solo on the Friday night mixer.

In perfect unison our feet stepped along the depths of puddles. With her the night glowed less hollow and dim. I told her my apartment was close, making deceiving comments along the way. It was farther away from her home than she would stroll. Appeared on her doorstep soaked to the bone in October mist.

Reaching out for her I cringe, letting control lose its way. I shook in the silence of my soul, she struck me as a mirage of sorts. Roomates abandoned the household. Twerking off to some wannabe jerks. Trae Lae didn't even know what that was; maybe I could show her. If they knew how jerkish a real man could be, oh how they would run and cry. For the girls who liked to be pushed around, they'd come back for much more. A rather awful growl came up in my teeth. I clenched onto it to use for better executions later that night. Her skin in amazing glow. The thought of her never being touched began to make the carnivore in me unbearable to tame any longer.

Σ

"I will walk you to your dorm." Grabbing my jacket Briggs indulged in what people call gentlemanlike behavior.

Four wheeled automobile hummed downcast the street, creating goose bumps on the sleeves of my cover up. No intention to sail on home to visit old ma and pa, meant no regard for buying transportation. Everything was in basic walking distance.

"Where do you live?" Look in opposing directions, checking clearance to walk across the street. Found wondering how much dedication for this specific stroll took.

"Half a block or so." Pointing at the absent air; no apartments in that direction. I became nervous, his smile remaining sweet.

Images of getting chopped up by a guy who denoted me the obscure Amish girl. Regret from knocking on my door becoming unbearable for Briggs.

"Don't worry, I've been here half the year. I think I know my way around." Spooky music echoed off the pavement, our strides accord. I've been here 4 months and couldn't fathom the name of this Christian college.

"Do you have friends?"

"No." Kept to myself, as I should.

"I didn't take you as being a hermit." Wasn't that a crab?

"It's okay. I don't enjoy meeting new people either." Assure yourself I'd met new people. Various creeds and colors of name worthy individuals. If insisted these new people did not recollect these meetings, doesn't mean it didn't count.

"I take classes over there. Business lectures, along with occasional promotion policies." Edged up to campus now. Points to a building not far from where we stood. I remember for a minute who he. A familiar face, a friend, now hopeful to be future companion.

"I'm in those buildings, sociology major, and emphasis in gang violence research." Crucial notes of joking lost in the delivery.

Was it showing?

"Oh that sounds interesting, Trae Lae." I don't know if he identifies the absurdity yet. Should I quote of being humorous?

"I know you're kidding, Trae Lae." I was going to tell you that Briggs.

"You're good at the whole keeping the conversation alive thing." Hands plummeted deep into jacket pockets before they could reclaim position around chilly earlobes. Gave a wink; reassurance that I in fact spoke too much.

"Getting any close or should I call a cab?" The brisk air was now indulging around my warm exoskeleton, rushing into things Mr. Idaho.

"We passed it." Walking for a short while, recognizing now the posts of BYU limits.

"You what?" Confused taking myself out from the equation. Briggs located on top of the podium to accept liability for acts I partook.

"I missed the turn. I'm..." The whole I'm sorry thing, resilient of its coming together.

"Let's call a cab, getting freezing out here." The fictional dead cell phone chimed from his pocket.

"You going to call ghost headquarters with that drained mobile?" Shifted foot prints around the frosted landscape.

"Not dead, either was the car." He lied, I let this man into my apartment with a lie. The revelation clear on how those naive actors get hacked so quickly.

"How'd you get here?" My question perked interest into his life and that wasn't my direct goal. Goal at hand was to turn tables and motivate myself not to show the little girl scared.

"My aunt lives in Salt Lake City. She thought it'd be a good idea to be around good examples without running wild across the country with a chopped off head." His hands clasped and intertwined with each other. Wondering what a sensation to hold those palms with mine.

"She brought you here?" Digressions not his only punishment.

"I got into trouble in high school, too many principal visits and police station phone calls." Our steadiness between us.

"After graduating it was either this or join the forces." Used the word forces, like a jack in the joke box. Our culture didn't believe in fighting in times of war; nevertheless neither did the pot smoking hippies. Notice how our contemporary concepts survive.

"She sent me here to straighten out the rough edges. This LDS thing everybody has got going on, the, 'chosen ones' in her words." I looked at him in a funny glance. Audible roughly these chosen ones, Jonah once chosen got swallowed by a whale.

"Are you Mormon?" Worry had stricken my joints. Why? I couldn't find a clue.

"Once upon a time I was the opposite of Christlike. One might call Jack Mormon. Going to be better though." Nudged the top of my shoulder.

Laughter.

I enjoyed the laugh, comforting to know I wasn't the only outcast at this school.

"The whole polygamy thing they got going on, isn't that wild? I mean how many students you think share the same dad here?" We laughed as a group of young girls who looked in coincident alike, moseyed on.

"How is that not against the law?"

"I'm stumped too." Shrugged defiant shoulders.

"You know something, no one likes to talk about it." True. Once I tried to bring it up with one of my roommates. She told me it wasn't a part of their church now. Mormon, LDS, whatever they labeled themselves as, it sounded the same to me. Refusals to speak with me the rest of the semester. It's been going incredibly constructing friendships.

"I guess in these western states, everything is leeway from the natural world." Eyes widen, chuckling at the circumstance we made fun. Where I came from the leaders cut people's tongues out for spouting out gossip. Yet here I was poking sticks at a religion who welcomed me, on most days. Tongue-in-cheek. Briggs and I engulfed in one another's humor.

"Will you take me back home?" We were blocks away from his car and I made it obvious I lacked motivation to converse. I wanted to be alone and peaceful.

We made our way back through crosswalks and cars halting at our right of way. He walked a few steps behind me giving the solitary woman her liberating space.

We shuffled back to the apartment complex I saw a woman carrying in bags of groceries in one hand and a babe or two in the other. Her husband watching mediocre at the window smoking a cigar.

I didn't understand this, and don't think I ever will. No recognition of the duty in myself the way a wife lived in service for her husband, the way my mother had done for my father. Raise the children he had placed into her, neglecting to do other than be a role of command.

Laundry, I couldn't stand and sewing was the way women made clothing. Disgusted in the ways needles moved through thread and fabric. Eternally grateful for lounge wear.

No one was getting out alive.

He stopped at my front door unsure where to go from here. I didn't make a reach for the knob, I was unclear what to do next as well.

"I'll see you around, Trae Lae." Gave a wave as he turned back toward the stone steps.

"Just Trae, Briggs. Trae is just fine." He became elated I spoke to him.

Overjoyed to get under my covers. With a book stamped with my colony's disapproval. I can hear my enforcer now, "Literature fills young minds with ideas that are not based on our beliefs or the beliefs of our God." Fairytale romances, gave ideas to be something other than a domestic servant to future spouse.

Got me there, all I ever wished for was to be a servant. Take the pride, remove the dignity instilled in me. Be the commercial wife to these men whom I have no attachments to whatsoever. Sign me up for that parade, every day of my munificent life.

Sarcasm, well that I'm still trying to figure out, let alone conquer. Humor I didn't understand until the age of 18. The triplets at camp taught me blonde jokes, but I didn't understand how the color of your hair made you less intelligent. That was before I came to Idaho.

I know what you're thinking, immature Amish girl you don't know Idaho or the normalcy in place. My assumption is they rode tractors all day and let the heat fry their daddies' brain cells. To be honest I've grown potatoes and it should be a course of knowledge.

I began rehearsing in my head the blonde joke including a microwave or television? The door began to knock for the 2nd time that night.

I checked the chronometer, 1:00 a.m. My roommates yet to gather home, yes a curfew is set, everyone followed except them. Quick to spring from my bedpost. Hurry to the door, I remember answering the door the first time tonight. I should grab a weapon. Hello, baseball bat may be be nice if I knew how to swing it.

"Who is it?" Probed from the other side of the door. In confusion, was I supposed to answer back?

"I think I'm supposed to ask the questions!" He jerked the door handle; a yelp escaping.

"Hello, again! I thought you'd still be awake." Briggs Byington walked through the threshold once again tonight. More chipper than earlier statements.

"What..." Arms at my sides, the invisible bat hide for safe keeping.

"Don't you mean why am I here inside your living room not dripping wet again?" Stunned in my stare.

"First off no more soaker-fest outside. Second, it's somewhat early and I figured you didn't want to be alone. It's probable that your roommates aren't going to back tonight." He didn't know what I wanted. I spoke, nothing came out to prance. It was noises, I didn't say much. I turned and walked to the sink to do the dishes; he followed my steps.

I shouldn't have let him come in that way, or stay near me I could breathe the same air he once circulated through his entire body.

Frigid in the motions created for us. It was quiet. I needed this silence to captivate my being in ways I wanted to be ignored. How I had gotten here didn't matter as much as why I was here I thought.

He required to be next to me; my personal space was drawing him nearer, gravitating in a way.

"Why did you pick this university to come too? Or go abroad?" He flipped over the back of the plate washing it firmly; impressed he'd done dishes. More soap insisted on being added; bubbles created for playtime.

Abroad? We're allowed to leave the country now? Confusion struck about his inclinations came acceptable. Where was I supposed to be? Questionable statements being written upon my stubborn face. To be honest the choice left up to fate and other magical creatures interfering with humanity.

"First one I found on the internet." I scrubbed as well. Silence beckoned us and he shook his head.

"Tell me something no one knows about you Trae." Eyes never meeting mine, wanting this to be real. A list of everything I could profess to him; I ached for this to be real.

"I joined a circus." He anticipated for the butt of the joke. I didn't give into the hilarity he craved.

"What were you, the Bearded Lady?" Nudging my ribs; wasn't polite if you inquire me.

"I'm not kidding! The tight rope ballerina." I flipped myself through the air; sure to point and extend the delicate toes.

"Looks like you acquire skills, Trae Lae!" Smiling was a characteristic I indulged in rarity. Under the manner of disguise to play a part.

"I partook in a manner of degree." I was cheeky the act I portrayed.

We laughed, immersed in one another's existences'.

It was a short time before we came back to reality and soon we were feeling what we had always felt. An awkward unknowing spark.

"Can I see a picture of you, from Indiana?" Dishes completed, he still lingered wanted more.

Torn in two parallel direction, I gave up in slow motions leading my bedroom.

Fantasy of Briggs and I wrapped up in a chaotic love story. As we made way to my bungalow, I realized I hadn't shared it with anyone. I pulled out a shoe box. Painted pink for justifiable misleading.

Inside were many things. Such stuff included; a postcard I'd been meaning to send to the triplets and ringmaster, other letters, and a baseball card Malachi initialed. I traced my cuticles around the edges before placing it beneath the other inanimate objects. Under the small stack of incurring past, there I was. A bonnet placed on my head, from what my parents call my glory days. I handed over to him.

"Wow, Trae Lae! I can't believe you wore this!" His jokes were understandable; I smiled in bargain.

"Your father and mother look sociable." Pointing to the tall man and then his lovely bride, my younger siblings and the eldest brother.

"Yes."

"Who's this guy with his arm slung around you?"

"My brother. Eliminated, you could say." I didn't mean to say it that way. Nonetheless his demise selected for him. For the longest time, I struggled to understand their belief scheme. Trials in my brother's life vindicated him into the opposite of habitual development.

My elder brother left me nothing; not a note on the table, a portrait to hang on the wall. The rebellion of my colleague left me nothing; not even a gracious goodbye.

I gave him time. My assets of respect and moral retribution. I looked up to him. He glanced beyond to find me, asking for an indulgent arrow.

"Drunk driving." My configuration steadied itself on the bed. Shrug off shoulders; he looked at me with eyes filled with ache and pain. I wonder why he felt this hurt for an individual he knew not the last name.

"I thought the Amish don't use automobiles or take photos, something like stealing your soul?" He stroked my mirrored image.

"It is frowned upon in absolute. My brother, had the rebellious boldness." Taking the photograph from his grip, dropping its crinkle exterior. The wind began to pick up outside my window. Briggs wrapped his thick arms around my tiny exterior, knocking me over in defeat. I pushed away. Provided I couldn't handle his will, the sympathy he wished to place on me. I told him to go before I was the one left on the floor. Was I wrong in pushing this fatality upon him? Shoved against not tulips or roses, but genuine coincidence. Be there times, my brother once recited, times where an awkward stance meant winning or losing. A lose in this situation might be worth it. Winning, was advised for quitters. Could I afford to win my dignity and lose this enabling fella?

Clarity, the voices inside me told me I could not, in unsatisfying consequences could not make my first choosing, in which I happened upon the latter. It was okay to be loved. Acceptance in a distant way we deserved to be a part of it. I can't control these thoughts and the movements next to you. I wish to break us a part and not bring us together. His hand leading me nowhere. My own small prints following in the footsteps of his nature.

Ġ

Briggs and I, enclosed ourselves in pure peaceful magic. He opened blue eyes, leaving behind crease marks.

Avoidance of coddling for hours and whispering to the forever bit.

Negation of the throbbing of what it symbolized. Just tugs at experiences you gave me and before removing yourself from my home. Not a word said, not having too.

Just a small kiss placed upon those pink lips.

Gentle to roll your fortress up and over me, swallowing me whole. Not saying it was okay or that you could make me fall under emotions of higher powers.

In circumstances, not saying a word would refer to checking the yes box.

Move alongside the divots and rivets on the wall. In-between the ruffles of my sheets we met. Who were we to enjoy the clarifying position of such haste, of such lovely anguish?

We wanted to believe it to be true.

Pressure from his everlasting imprint connected onto my lips. I ached for the experience we were experimenting.

Who knows where this will lead, but lead me there now. Infatuation will be short, endure enough to ruin us forever. I'd like to take this further, maybe too far. Shall I leave breadcrumbs or let the raindrops wash away our footprints?

Give to you what you ask for, if nothing else than to give the tragedy inside the night off. I'll hand over what you plead for, just for one minute of sweet deception. If you come closer I'll let you win, just this once, I'll let you pass this facade I am creating. Moments, I swear I would never give up to anyone else. I'm not a hero, not a savior, just a woman on her way past redemption.

Sanctified grasping words I never thought I would hear from a male outside the makeshift ordinance. Rebuttal, juddering to your accusation, but of course decline my refusal. Convey on a halfhearted flee. I didn't care if you said it. If you did, would you whisper as I slumber. Say it when you kiss the lips good night, caress the neckline I gave you to dote on.

"We shouldn't be doing this." My body told him otherwise.

"I'm the opposite of the girl you wish to obtain." I profess, but instincts take over and his rhythmic ligaments cater to the likings of mine. There was a variance between a lost soul bound by duty and a forgiving one compromising to a thing mentioned as love.

"I'm not trying to make you love me, Trae Lae." This sentence started like he rehearsed it. Many times before switching out the name for different faces.

The contradiction wasn't bothersome, I didn't mind. Flout down the outside shield. My total body blossoming. Tingling sensations made it confusing. Banned from partaking in acts of unsupervised connection.

"I don't need to be loved. Come here..." His eyes continuing close, rubbing the tips of our noses. Did I hit a nerve bigger than the one I wanted?

"Not by me..." I exhaled, mumbling in my position. "By..."

Kisses precise on those delicate lips. I wanted this always, to touch this escape. Movements making me pucker for more. I ached for that experience once more. Who knows where this will lead, but don't lead me astray?

Enjoy the taste of me. Untouched by other influences, unused by another man's level of kindness. Transgressions I am participating in will get to me. It'll tear me layer by layer. Thin, until my bones are the tiniest concern for feasible shattering. Sin born on my permanent record over and over. Faces I hope to be blind for instead of fronting those determining the consequence. I will die a lonesome soul.

Sweet kisses dived deeper. Moments shared apart were for partial air supply. We'd gotten shirtless bare skin showing, questioning how far we were going to get. Items of clothing strewn across the bedroom floor. Prepare myself of what the next moments would entail for us. To be honest, I had no idea what to expect. My mother followed the society's rules. Sex and explanations mute in households. Birds and the bees, 2 species from which we collected items. Not having a thing to do with examples for coitus.

You put what up where!? I fumbled through my thoughts giving up being led the right way. I can sense him now; how I have never felt another human being until this second.

Briggs in catapulting motion.

We are on a new journey towards our gambling behalf.

Two faces to every story. In this love story the two opposing sides are nature and our religious beliefs. We are informed to stay pure for the wedding night. To stay clean in the sight of our elders, for the man that will make us his bride. I couldn't even fathom the idea of being an Amish wife now. The regulations they make necessary against these kinds of acts.

I know why.

Victim to this helpless crime, weak in my demeanor for that awakening. The endangered species you poke and prod with sticks and stones. Cuts or bruises, a delinquent act of retribution for your unsatisfying self. I was an acting director of this hate crime upon my own people. I understand how banishing us wasn't the worst thing they could have done.

Guilt will manifest, possibly take over the spirit that's been rekindling inside me for these historical epochs. I resonate and wish only for an ease to my demise.

I love it here with you, this place of worship, of craving. You trace an extended finger down my cheek, throbbing at my neckline. Am I as illustrious as you envisioned me to be? What is making you weak, cringing in-between your gasps? I don't care to own that pleasure in your eyes from time to time. I wish to be enough for me. Good enough for memory keep.

"Do you ever think about going back to the Amish?" Briggs twirled loose strings around his pointer finger.

Every day.

"Not even in the slightest." My heart sad and heavy.

"Why not? I'd like to see you back in those pioneer clothing." Tickles on the right earlobe.

"Your mother and father miss you, siblings, past courters." Fingers slow to form around bare shoulder blades.

"Briggs my parents are encouraged to shun the idea of me when I walked off our settlement."

"Shun? How long is that route of punishment?" Intrigued with my past came across moderately uncomforting.

"Forever, Briggs." My thoughts in immediate blockade method. I gathered feelings and pushed them aside. Stage the cleanup of the disaster zone we created.

"Forever? Bit much, I'd say. Couldn't write an apology note and confess your undying love for the Amish world." His humor of this coming across offensive.

"There is no going back, pleading for forgiveness. I made a choice to leave, their reply to my verdict with ostracism." Scramble to cover the exposed ivory skin.

"Hey, just joking. Sorry if you took offense." Body laid length wise of my twin bed, taking his leisurely time to get up.

"I indeed took offense. You know not a thing of my customs and the expense I've made to be here. To walk away from the municipal, means walking away from the entire family."

"Come on, Trae. I am trying to get to know you. I apologize for bringing it up." Shuffles of his warm palms over my arms forming goose bumps.

The clarity of the guilt and pain I relinquished to survive. I tried to push it out and move on, but there was a tie I couldn't break from an isolated homeland I once called home.

"Time for you to go. Studies to attend to." Slight shrugs of careless whatever in wake of his presence.

"I thought you would be different is all."

"Different how?" His expressions never changed unless at the moment of the crime.

"Special." Nurtured to be the opposite of this unique species. Raised as most were, to please the civilization that cultivated you. To serve your Lord and the man you are chosen to wed. Heart full of domicile obligation, with a full spirit of modest support.

Somewhere inside me I knew this part to be true. I wasn't a flamboyant mistress waiting for the maintenance to her golden kingdom. Too nervous to wear pants higher than ankle length.

I was not the angel you had been searching for. Matching wings with the backbones were you? Shrewd that I fit to none, only the ones you imagined for me.

This characteristic of specialty I hesitated to recognize. It didn't wait for me after an automobile accident contoured my brain waves to make magical music. The way a panic attack welcomed the people crazy, while others rendered geniuses. He wanted more than my subtle body could conjure up. Rockets in his hindsight as I clung onto dollar store sparkles.

The marvel wasn't that his devastation awoke a being of greatness. The thought of doing so for his pleasure convinced hair to stop growing. I traveled around the freedom states for years, earning what I thought good proportioned acceptance was. Here with you now, I realize I wasn't going to qualify for your skyscraper morals.

"I'm not out here to make friends." Careless to quote it to myself as well.

"Well, we're not friends." He became impassive. Increase the volume I indorse, speech sounding unlovely.

"We aren't anything, are we?" Detaching myself even further. I got rigged, tired of hearing his identical criticisms on my behalf. I ignored his willingness to change the entirety of my soul. Ignorance was blissful. That is if you were a fool enchanted by its charm.

We weren't preordained for forever. Didn't he know that? Besides this absurd always thing; it was a dedication I didn't have in me to own.

His obsession left neglected.

Ģ⅖

Branch President Bleu inquired about me and asked for a meeting. His office stood on the same level as the food court. A wide variety of good nutrients, everyone's taste acutely catered. Munching on my quesadilla as friendly strangers walk by wanting to make acquaintances. Flipping my 49er cap backwards, I was open for friendships.

Everybody could use a friend or two.

The next fellow who came up to me preaching about Family Advocacy turned my cold blooded being into a boiling pot of hate potion.

"Would you like to join our society we are trying to inform other individuals to take into account of the births and cohabitation outside of marriage?" His lengthy demeanor made it hard for me to get past what he had quoted.

Did he not realize the war going on? Was there not anything better to educate and waste other people's time with than spilling facts about abortion on food trays? What did it matter anyway? Lovers and partners no matter the gender, would do exactly what they wanted despite how numerous times you objected.

The look I gave him scared him enough to drop a flyer and leave my surroundings. I find it hard to not yell at him. To insist not to challenge the doctrine he is an active advocate for. Did he really know about those things personally? I on the other hand had those categories of expertise in my bloodlines.

◊

Trae Lae sensed my intentions on avoiding her. I in fact avoiding the sight of line. Honestly, I stood behind her wondering to myself how to figure out exactly how to approach. If in reality there insisted of an approach plan. She turned toward me, her face faded from its glow as I gave an awful glare. I switched directions going the other way. Spying over my shoulder she stood amazed at my actions. I could damage her self-image by playing these mind games, tricking her into thinking that it was her to blame for us always bumping corners.

I checked my watch 12:40 p.m. Determined to make my entrance late as possible. Fib to him that my class schedule would start earlier than promised, thanking him for his belligerent time and leave without a word from his position on my choices.

Rapping on his oak barrier, he shouted at me to enter the domain.

"Hello, Briggs! How have you been? Take a seat! Be right with you in one moment." Taking my hand for a firm shake. I nod at his request.

Several minutes later his cell phone is turned off, a signal not to be interrupted. Oh no I'm in some pretty heavy shit. I've gone through these stages of disapproval before. Technology and electronics placed in the rearview mirror for better attentive perspective from the accuser.

"Briggs, how are you liking it here at BYU-I?" Fingers intertwined and white knuckles exposed.

Expulsion stood by for reinforcement.

"I like it okay." Short and sweet, let's get on with the charges.

"I've been seeing you around campus with a collection of very eligible girls. Too many options for a young man like yourself could be quite confusing."

Guilty.

"Yes, Brother Bleu. Is it against school regulation to commence in such activities? Is that not the main goal of all of us being sent to private religious universities'; to marry inside the religion we were raised in?"

Branch President smirked at me through his yellowing teeth and receding hairline. His gut almost perfect shape for a beer belly.

"Briggs, you've got all the answers don't you? The problem with your generation is you think none who've come before you could ever have any information to your likings." Nodded carelessly as his words evaporated from my vision.

"Listen here Mr. Byington I'll make it short and sweet and to the point, so you can go on with your monumental existence." I could have sworn he meant miserable, meaningless, and scarce in immaculateness.

Finally, rolling my cascading eyes, get on with the punishment, Brother!

"I have a daughter here at the university. You may have met her previously. The roommate to your latest acquaintance. Now what was her name again Tracey Liz?"

"Tracey Aliza. Nickname Trae Lae." Confirmation.

"Yes that's the one. As I was saying my daughter, Ashlee wouldn't be very interested in the likes of you. If you would keep an appropriate distance between the two of you than that would make us more comfortable." A tooth had gone missing the last time I met glances with him.

Honestly, he looked sincerely normal, no yellow fangs or bald spots. He was just a man worried about his daughter's well-being. Since the new information, I now stood very concerned for his daughter as well. Might have to pay her a visit after my meet and greet with dear old dad.

"More comfortable for you?" Agreements in succession.

"Do I pronounce clarity to you, Briggs?" Branch President's arm outstretched for an approval of shakes.

"Like fire and ice, sir." Fist clenched and the man's hand unshaken.

Let me go find myself a new daughter to torture with my appearance. Finding one would not be a problem, he had so kindly gave up the location and name of the target in mind.

Now just for the execution.

Convincing Trae Lae I didn't want her made the strong desires of my core cease to ignite. Plain, but certainly punctual I fondled the idea of going into her aroma once more. In quick motions I remember why I left.

Ashlee was her name. Today I am delighted she's entered the game.

Hello Beautiful!

Ĥ

Every Tuesday classes were let out to go to what I call RUW: random university worshiping. Alienated myself, wondering if in fact Briggs was keeping himself from the teachings of God.

Squished between two locals. Fear grew inside me, the nervous being I'd become started showing through my skin. The presence of every individual surrounding my circumference. Thousands stood out to me, my air supply escaping. Used by others moments ago. Mentally I felt eyes were on me. Questioning my very being there. Timid short girl enjoying the avid eaters club, while others scowled at her behavior as they calculated their calories.

The speaker led importance in their church. In one swift motion the stadium seats stopped squeaking. They start out with a welcoming prayer. Mimicking the students around me. I fold my arms and bow my obedient head.

Amen.

Brother So & So commences his welcome address. The man professed we were all siblings, even I, the outsider.

Voices of my brothers and sisters in harmonious song to a hymn; we were all connected in some level of spirit. As much as I didn't necessarily feel that way, I now belonged to this student body like it or not. I choose not by the way! I was there among the blank faces awaiting a message from above. Carrying from safe shore we are great men lost in a sea of impersonated ideas. Individuals trying to convince us we are unworthy of life, of love.

So & So spoke to us about the importance of absolution. The act of forgiving those whom wronged your pathway. Speaking of forgiveness, my father's head appeared only for the opposite of the meaning.

Treachery, the main word I found beneath his surname every day. The acceptance of what he had done of what he let go, was nonnegotiable. Taking his son's life was rather the opposite of sacrifice. It was a means of tying the loose ends my brother had left behind.

Silence became more welcoming than I could ever crave to be imaginable. There was a quiet aroma that filled the auditorium. My voice no longer shaken, but strengthened. Choices of lifetimes were now welcoming, yet threatening to the young adult I was becoming. I started to focus less on career wise and more on what was particular and personal.

I walk down the corridors watching the other girls smile discreetly, I role play in my head that the make arguments about the guys in their lives. Demanding for her to stay away from her future husband. The other gal quoting back that she only went on one date with him. The first girl getting utterly frustrated and ends with you know I've prayed about us being together! They give goodbye smiles and are lifelong friends, sharing housewife methods and children playdates. I am stuck in the midst of this normalcy, their petty perfume makes me sick. Imaginary riots are so much more interesting.

Today they wear floor length skirts, shaking hands with the cement. I feel included. Buying the first pair of blue jeans I ever owned. Those bottoms were so fetching tight it nearly took me all morning to get out of them. Yet you classify me as strange.

I know what you're thinking, I've been civilized having lived with The Traveling Circus, for goodness sake. Habits have always been a misery to moderate the fact of tradition. Close approached as we all envisioned it would. We weren't running a marathon, passing the torch onto the next team player.

Sometimes you just have to let your hair down and conclude so forth.

20 degrees outside, all I want is to lay in the snow. Having the sensations of snowflakes hit my face, as they begin to enter my hippocampus. Even if the sun were in my eyes, I'd throb for this feeling more than anything, the impassiveness.

It was a good thing about this Idaho weather, it concaved in the direction of numbness.

Strolling the tiled floors to every class, head casted to the floor in an awful despair. Sharing wondrous intervals with a boy who acutely understood the synonyms I spoke of. The emotions in our minds followed by the consequences in our actions; intrepid motives strangling me to believe more to come.

Several weeks following our cascading incident he arrived on my doorstep. Knocking on the behaving door curious for another.

I heard his voice; mesmerized by the vocals attached. When I got up to see him; he merely smiled as he dashed away with a girl named Ashlee Bleu.

Truthfully he was mine to begin with, wasn't he? I wondered for quite some time if I held the privileges to this type of jealousy and discontentment. Those hands I had never held, nonetheless been acquainted. Now they were divulging in her aroma. Mine left unscathed.

Yes, Ashlee Bleu was one of my roommates. Of course, I wanted you to think that this girl, Ashlee was in fact a stranger he had simply discovered at the nearest street corner. She's sweet, I preached to myself.

At least everybody told me that.

My association with this gal was entirely irrelevant. I remember quoting to her that her father was in coincident, a polygamist. He may or may not be. Ashlee did have a lot of brothers and sisters. As did I, not to pass judgment there. I may have made matters worse as to ask if her dear mother pushed all of those kids out. I have seen my own mother give birth and luckily I since I ran away from a life of good faith and childbearing I may never have to perform that action. Insincerely, 14 of your offspring, you're freaking bat-crap crazy lady! How many descendants did this person actually necessitate? 2-4 maybe a good entitlement on your name.

The Branch President reined her patriarch. Whose office I witnessed Briggs leaving yesterday. I wondered what that was about. Probably warning him to stay far away. Briggs in motion, already thinking of proposing to the precious daughter. Beyond those words she made it apparent I wasn't to be involved with on special occasions. Ashlee, clarified I had been the one to with the kiss of deceit.

Great, I'll be known as Judea.

Ĩ

Let's say for argument's sake it doesn't bother me one bit; fondling each other. Oh how obvious to torment the very feelings I so cleverly concealed. I despise him and you knew it, you enjoyed this annoyance as much as I'd been accustomed. Shy, I looked away at the grasping of her hips. Uncomfortable did turn my attention, focusing on something that didn't reek of saliva or sweat.

Briggs' pupils always gazing upon my stature. Always apparent presence making the living area quite unmanageable. I could scurry off to the corner I established as home. Who wins if I hide in dark corners of my room? Who is going to portray a strong woman if no examples exist? Acts like this carried on for weeks, a month or so. You saw the way it made me flinch. The way every time you kissed beneath the chin, I quivered in remembrance. You acknowledged me no further than the unlawful doings reputed to show.

Your futile behavior made quite the difficulty to consider reconciliation. Crossed pathways, decision being made I wasn't giving into your games. I began to play one of my own, called not giving Briggs the daylight of time. I'm becoming pretty damn good!

As you noticed lost interest in this green-eyed character I mirrored. Jealousy was an intense sin. I returned to the awkward upbringings of silence. Every so often that flat expression on your face, wondered if I became weak for your touch.

Eyes glared every time I walked through that apartment door. Every single roommate belittling the individual standing before them. Ashlee conceived lies about Briggs and I. Turning her plastic nose up at the person once claimed as a sister. Confessions to friends that I took Briggs under spell, great now I'm magician! How else would I convince a guy to talk to me, proceeding to fib? Every inch of unruly eyes rolling over and over. Ashlee was known as the literal definition of the foulest person. Assurance that her mother and father are very proud of the young woman she evolved into. Needless to say classmates enjoyed my company in infinite measures.

Series following fondles and cuddles grew grosser than the blood baths on horror films I observed in glee. Making remorse feel like a solitary shelter. I understand I am to blame for thinking a guy like him could help change a woman like me.

◊

Ashlee set me up! I know she did! Was all I could think as I entered that office. Called in to meet with who declared leadership. Titles called to him as the Bishop or in this very case Branch President.

Escorted into the square office.

"Tracey Aliza it's come to my attention that you've been having inappropriate relations with a fellow male student." He waited for my response. As if there was a sign on his forehead that read please confess weaknesses and every imperfection.

"Excuse me sir?" Confused is this how it works? Were we supposed to confess everything bad ever thought?

"There have been rumors." His knuckles white crisscrossed over one another.

"Rumors? Sir?" Baffled as I was, I began to understand that it was not tolerated to have relations with the opposite sex. True to my nation, I understood this was just like the rules I'd grown to know.

"Speculations you are acting unworthy, my dear." I am most certain I have never been anyone's so called dear. Let alone a man I have just made as an acquaintance.

"Speculations? I assume following up on gossip? Are those corrections in order?" A rough patch growing in my throat.

"Gossip. We do not listen to such tall tales. Here on provable facts here." Soon I would find out what sin I would plead forgiveness.

"I assure you sir, I am not involved with any male figures. I know not to speak to the boy students and all that Jazz." My hands began to shake. I slapped them together tucking between the kneecaps.

His smile was quiet. Stare struck into my blue eyes. Something he saw every day and somehow he was seeing it now; guilt.

"Unless Jazz is bad too, then none of that whatsoever." Gladly giving into odd ideas of my strange personality.

"Miss Livingston, there is an Honor Code set in place at BYU. Every student abides by the rules." In my hands he placed another copy of the guidelines I abided.

"I embrace that you have proof of these actions Mr. Branch President?" Eager to understand what proof was evidence enough to lead me to his office. I glance down at his last name, Bleu. Calculations being precise. All facts and folklore coming into perfect harmony.

"Did your daughter make these complaints contrary to me? She is my roommate." He gleams acceptance of the things I profess.

"Such a beautiful name Tracey Aliza. You should go by that instead of this Trae Lae business." What an awful name; Tracey Aliza. I was one of many. Born into the prototype of human beings.

"I do follow the rules." In his hands I laid the copy back. I had done nothing wrong, I corrected.

"My daughter's middle name is Tracey." Ignoring absolute honesty.

"Is she the 4th or 5th child in the line of kin? I am the 2nd in my generation. I will tell you this because obviously you don't understand the meaning of names." My gut bulging with pride and power. His vision changed. More nervous than wearing a skirt four inches above knee length.

"I am named Tracey because in a male dominate society, who think little of the female race, it deemed inevitable to confirm my father wanted a 2nd son." His silence spoke for itself. Ruled by souls and soldiers of generational men he acted as the rest did. I feared my gumption.

"My name and place are of no concern to you or the board members, you suppose I should confess my wills too. I am pure in thought and mind. My reputation or report does not fall into your hands. I send all undignified claims to God. You sir, my brother, elder, Ashlee's padre, claim whatever name fits you best. Are in dire need of editing your remarks on the obligation others have to confide in you, for we are both made from His Divinity."

"No need to raise your tone, young lady. Do realize though physically we are made from similar materials, in spirit quite the opposite of ingredients. I will always float higher."

"You're confessing to me that I am below you as a human? Because you stand behind a desk and have Bishop in front of a calling? Does that make sense? Orate to me that I am lesser in God's eyes because of a position?" Stricken with benevolent words, all of us equals.

"Who are you to question Him?" Standing abruptly slamming down the mug of warm water.

"Who are you not to question?" My spoken word soft and confident.

Hands swiping in downward motions smoothing out his white dress shirt he sat parallel from me once again.

"An event in my community happens when a young lady or man comes to the age of 16 years. He or she is free to wander outside of our community walls. Join in on experiences our beliefs neglected to share. Some individuals choose to be baptized back in seeing what the awful world has to offer. Others, like myself chose to leave the solitary idea of conformity. To wander outside of the safe harbor is not blasphemy, but bravery."

"Tracey Aliza do you have a fiend telling you that these things are acceptable to reference? The words delivered to me are shouts for succor. You are no longer part of the Amish community. You live here in the midst of Latter Day Saints patrons. I recommend you to remember your place as a visiting student."

"These ideas are my own way of thinking. The error you assume is an opinion from a closed minded individual whose has seen the sunshine on one side." My stomach squeezed tight against my belt loop. A deep low voice in the back of my memories telling me to stop or the consequences of my words will be dealt in secret pains. Father Levi's tone frightened my strength.

"This conversation of beliefs will leave your thoughts right now. You will evade sharing your tall tales with the other students, because that is what they are: fictitious ideas."

"Fictitious...My mind is monitored in close proximity. Your devotion to exile questionnaires from my cranium would go against which the Mormon religion prophesies, does it not, free will?"

Brother Bleu's slight nod of the head commenced touché.

"Do you suspect one of your classmates as a master of lies, Miss Livingston? Your charges are mindboggling. Actions in this manner as a protective state." He was stern and still slid the Code of Honor book back over the desk. Anger hidden under the red tie on his white pressed shirt.

This action appeared to me that I already given in and confessed to my demeanor.

"Not at all. My judgment would suppose falsified information and incorrect. If I am to confess of impure thoughts, but no actions have come from thinking them." I grabbed the copy of the DO's & DON'TS.

Flipped his hand away, giving approval to flee.

"We'll be in touch." His focus returning to the sports section of the newspaper.

"I'm sure you will be keeping both eyes upon my whereabouts." Silent in my steps as I exited the office, scrutinized, even scorned.

My outcast status was clear. Symbol to others not to act as I have. They made an example out of my backlash behavior. Abandon any hope that I would cause rebellion with the ideas I contorted. I suppose other students might see the glory in their guidance counselors.

I threw the copy on the pile of other read copies. Instructions promised thrown out and forgotten. Did they miss my name when they gave them out at orientation?

I read and re-read that Honor Code and still I neglected to find out what I mistaken and slipped on. Was it my clothes? No, I wore longer dresses and skirts than these wannabes modest gals put together.

I loved the weather being clear and freedom roaming around in the breath you breathed. Thoughts about leaving constricted my motives. I was at home in my heart. I searched everywhere to a place I could feel like I could prove myself. Cruising the nation for the next hot stop on our Circus tour. Now, here stranded in isolated wilderness pending the second coming of Jesus Christ.

◊

After the intense standoff with Ashlee's active papa, my entire thoughts on the edge of combat. This time against those that called me sister. That one right there telling lies to her gullible father, crawling to her every whim. I saw abuse in power, the men filling ideas of pride in their hearts instead of humble reverence. I left the community for such reasons of misunderstandings. Not about to be pushed out with the sinners, just because his daughters thoughts of me revoked her potential to be a suitable human.

I would stand against the age of time. God loved the individual who prayed within and spoke directly with him. I fought mentally over the concept of what the Mormon Church preached to members. Sad to say, that most are alike to I. Encouraged to be produced and accept what elders seem fit in place of truth.

ij

Fierce inferior scowls cutting blades at the sides where Ashlee Bleu's tiny hands connected. I maneuvered positions for the help of Trae Lae's potential viewing.

Trae Lae took my betrayal ordinary. She smirked at me in quiet phrases, showing bits of concern. Other than the seconds of displayed affection, I cursed the feelings that developed inside me.

Ashlee annoyed the every living crap out of me. Maybe Sloan would like to date her. His style seemed to cater to my sloppy seconds. No judgments. Enough of girls to go around twice.

Rumbles in my stomach unable to keep my eyelids closed. She stole the show in all patterns of thought. I wondered how she performed and what she was like before the runaway look. What troubled me most about her is that I exposed decent facts about my life, and she couldn't seem to share those of which inflicted her.

Unwinding the helpless hands of the present lover. Being a solo candidate for date the disaster. I trembled as I tried to open the car door, the escape route always persistent in strides. Should I glance back to see her eyes met mine?

I'd become irrelevant if I chose her.

I tried to find a pathway from her doorway to mine, always failing. Tripping over issues of emotions, her past and mine not intertwined as punctual as we'd like. Baggage claimed our strength causing weakness in the midst of blooming coincidence. Hard to find the one if your knowledge of love consisted of momentary substances.

I plotted many ways for her to mourn the loss of me. The more I confused the situation her face less burdensome, and it seemed as though she moved quickly on to the next struggle she wanted to overcome. Groan at my thinking pattern as it transfers onto the next tempting brown hair girl. Courters qualifying in the category of obsolete.

I looked back, always looking back at her wanting her to be the one to run in my arms. The one comfortable being proposed too, but she wasn't like other girls. Girls like Trae Lae Livingston meticulous dignity and moral standards refraining them from being promiscuous lovers. Maybe it was time I started a chase of my own.

Trae Lae's smile widens, promising myself to always keep that grin on her innocent face. Wishes I wouldn't be the one making it turn upside down. Ashlee beckoned me, tugs at my arm. I shrug letting her drive me away from my one true love. Visions of soft blue kindness, are changed into greedy eyes of green, wanting more than I cared to offer. Whatever women wanted from me I couldn't comply, unless it was physical demands. Any of the emotional connection stuff and you were in for a letdown. But there was something in me that ached to give everything I wanted to cater to the wants of another, the Amish girl who captured attention with a quirky personality.

A part of me dozed while Ashlee rampaged on about her social standings in the college ward. Insight I didn't needles or medications to conform to my level of happiness all I ever needed was somebody who understood. A person to believe there was a better way to live, a better way to love. Trae came into the picture and she understood without any judgments passed. Honesty in tones of her life I resembled them back to her, I did not have to know everything about her mannerisms. Though maybe I could help heal a bit of her past as she accepted the fate I was given.

Ќ

Solo in my bed, frozen from the sight of my God fearing father. Thunder and lightning displaced as he marched to make compost of his disloyal daughter. Lost the race with the first one. In my head confident that he would not lose the reins on his 2nd born. I figured as much he tightened the restraints on the other children, making any means to see them unfeasible. I held out my tongue, my speech still intact. Cross my heart, my allegiance still in good order. I take out my brother's photo, my sorrow solid and alive.

What was I to make of this? Where was I to go if not to a place others claimed as sanctuary? Why not seek shelter with the Atheists, the Buddhists or the Catholics? The simple answer I tend to lean towards is they asked of me, not for me.

The Mormons accepted who they approved on good merit and grace. I must be good enough, if the Latter Day Saints want me there.

Arunia insisted I go. Her reasoning for me being here kept locked up. The keys decomposing along with her wisdom. The inheritance left for college tuition, now who can pass on tuition free college.

Perceptions of the world ponder on likings I have toward him. Marvel that maybe I am not trying to persuade his acceptance, I am fulfilling my own wishes.

We were in no commitment to belong to one another. Yet there was a tug at my side, a trembling in my breath and a twitter in my heartbeat. Many days gone, spent wandering in my own rule-books of customary circumstances. To make matters worse I level headed a major I fought to comprehend. Did anyone ever completely understand why we were earning degrees that would be so called worthless, in the monogamous years?

Classes blended themselves together. I walked from my dorm to the uneventful site that awaited me across the street; his expectations to be different. How different can a woman be, when she is put in a class of simple, normal, irrelevant creatures?

Briggs wanted a shining star. The color that would restore me from my shelter of ultimate darkness. Gleam in his words was unforgettable, but mine never discovered.

Knowledge about me smeared in every which way possible. The fact he acted shocked was shocking overall. I wasn't as plain Jane as they said. Although I didn't make myself a public item to be dealt.

Arunia told me I would fall in love. She told me the sweet smell of honey as I came to understand what real love could mean.

◊

Daydreams of when they would give up the idea of Trae Lae's arrival back in the country. Contemplating to themselves it just wasn't Rumspringa on my mind. The small thought of being recognized as a biblical follower caused such a panic, I cloaked myself in the formal wardrobe.

Intentions of going back home, eventually. Soon my pockets of this worldly money would become empty. My reflection stood a girl who would in two movement's race home to unforgiving guardians. Grace her with one more chance of humility.

A heart broken, a soul taken. My mistakes were mine for the making, I came to this conclusion quick. I needed time absent from that world, time gladly leading me away. This thought deemed obscure, referring to time as a being of manhood. Rehearse the next lines often in my melancholy head. Giving into a beautiful smile, he gave me the volume I so longed for; endless. Mr. Time began to pull me along into categories of adulthood.

Never having this chance before, the escape I'd always envied. A fugitive from the monitoring world; I began to dream. Dream as I did, lead me to far off places.

At first arriving in the mythical land of carnival, I found myself the victim of oddity. It was awkward like many things were in the circus way of life. I began to stare, the stillness in every direction; not understanding the rules of engagement. Embarrassment, pushed respect into a deeper hole. They offered new clothing, but I kindly refused. I can't be seen in something so trashy as a purple skirt; no matter the length of it. A bright orange top that read I'm young and free. Whatever the hell that foresaw I couldn't very well go gallivanting out in the media world when raised in a doctrine one.

Memorize these small moments when this world clashed with the one I came from. Also recalling these were times of struggle, of change, of enlightenment.

It seemed we were all orphans of the ocean. In the offing to float upon the naked coast, holding nothing in our hands but a struggle to survive in these taxing stages. It wasn't long before we are found. Placed together like we'd come together. I was wondering myself if in time we would become captivated with one another's quirks. Did they assume we are meant to belong to one another? Justly, as I would state it; oddities tailored oddities.

Lack of care to go outside. I didn't have intentions of making words with you. I indeed envisioned to weave a basket out of your prolonged lover's bleached blonde hair.

Yes, I went that dark and creepy.

My solitary confinement made the best exception for a household. On days like this I wrote to Tagert and Tamer. Leonard was never on the talkative side. I told them the basics; school was going good, the weather was depressing, as always.

Spring break might acquire spring.

Simple replies like, sucks for you, we've just landed in Hawaii.

In which I would reply in thought, sorrowing tunes play for me always. Of course I would never write such a comment with words. I was only sticking it to them, they would say.

My studies were unsatisfying.

Nevertheless they must be completed. Finals were approaching and my ideas of happiness further from the truth. The rhythm they took I would never understand why.

Where would I spend my long-lasting spring session? In Florida with the next generation of alcoholics and strippers? Or lounge in the living room watching reruns of black and white shows. In reality I would be spending quality time with fresh novels. My remarks were distasteful. Images on the beach with my old colleagues, playing in the sand and enjoying the waves as they crept up to my toes. Enjoying life once more. I want go. They sent a ticket with my old aged name. I could go anywhere.

Smile on myself, I picked out a near tight-fitting swimsuit. One of the locals might take a liking to this illusion of beauty.

Ł

Hawaii glowed blissful. For the next seven days I'm going to do nothing except breathe it in and devour the scenery. Inhale every good thing about the beautiful Maui Island.

Circus artists engulfed me as I walked off the jet craft. All clamoring onto me, flies to food. I smiled at their embraces, connecting informal hellos from my triplet friends not far.

Our hotel stood right alongside of the ocean, welcoming the sea breeze into our lungs. I loved the idea of attaching myself to the shore waiting as the waves washed over my struggling body. Heal the ins and outs I put myself through to prove pointless notions to those who couldn't add up.

Midnight glowed outside my window, the sharks in predator mode. I'll dip my toes in and that's as far as I'll go.

The pull of the water made my heart feel with glee. I wanted to bask my entire life under water baptizing it and bringing it out new. Oh, how my toes curled under and I wished to be on that salty edge of the tide.

My lips tingling with the sensation to be alive. No way to hold off the tempting waters any longer I made my way to the balcony and shimmied my way to the sandy floor. My footprints planted in history. A noise startled me, looking beyond where the noise came from. I told myself to be scared, although Tagert's appearance seemed to calm me and excite secret parts of me.

"Can't go down there Amish flower. Sharks will sniff you out and take you. Like myself, they like the taste of virgin flowers in the moonlight." His personality on cue changed to a killer of romanticism.

"Amish flower, what is that a new nickname you're trying out? Nobody tells me what to do anymore, Tagert. Or maybe that's what you like, when girls tell you no?" The ploy inside began to scream utterly confused. I haven't even thought twice about Tagert since I left the traveling circus months ago.

"Tamer has an Amish flower so I want one too! She looks like you, in ways of being odd." Tamer had a girlfriend and I heard it from friendly Tagert of all people?

"How about you come tag along and play my protector? Call me anything you want." Making actions to flirt into his trap.

"You'd like it if I saved you from your misery; a damsel untangled from distress."

"It is not like it hasn't crossed your mind, Tag." Digging myself further into the background of the hotel property.

"What will be my reward if I do decide to come to your rescue, Trae Lae? A kiss, a riddle, or something more pluck worthy?" His comment on petals was what conjured vile in my throat.

"Whatever you consider proper..." My words cursing themselves on their way out. Why in the deception of the evening did I ache for his attention; why? I will explain to you why, I will spell out every single syllable.

Firstly, I am a girl. Though my feeble minded mother taught me otherwise, women are in practice of being con artists.

Secondly, I may or may not be upset with a certain boy who found my virgin spirit opposite of virtuoso. So here goes nothing. I hear myself whisper, I am in for a lot of adverse trouble.

◊

Were you wondering if I went all the way with a guy like Tagert, who probably acquires multiple STDs on a daily basis? He probably doesn't even know what the letters in STD stand for. What kind of girl do you think I am?

Innocent nibbling is as far as it went thank goodness, you dirty minded book-lovers. He did something quite heroic, making great attempts to cop afield. Turned to the lawn chair next to me, threw up and passed up. Hours of being with him to find out his mind drowned in a drunken stupor.

Poor me, I took 3 showers just in case any of his cooties tried attaching themselves permanently to my ligaments. I coxed clear from his arrogant manhood easily.

Daybreak came with fresh starts and bananas foster. Included in this land of enchantment they always offered surfing lessons. Heaven opened up its pearly gates welcoming the Amish girl with a hearty Aloha!

◊

The crew performed at their highest level of ability. Their act receiving rave reviews from all the locals and even tourists. My memory of the joy of acting came back, and I ached for resolution to be a part of the show. With them on a stage lite by flames and torches. Excitement stinging the very seat you placed underneath your behind. I was aching for a life worth living and somehow the thrill of my high rope walks made it clear to me how to dive back into my comfort zone.

Ask permission, okay, there may have been a moment or two of groveling, the ringmaster accepted my volunteered ask to stride the high wire.

Giddy with a fresh aspect on my escape here in Hawaii, I rustled through the old suitcases to find my old costume in perfectly pressed appearance. I looked longing into the full length mirror realizing the mystery of a beauty I'd become. I hardly recognized my image as I pressed my fingertips to the reflection.

Alone on the edges of courage and danger, my sparkling appearance running coarsely through the components of my hair. The crowd below me gleaming with eager wishes of misstep or tumble. Faces familiar, all prompting me of loved ones. Their awful stares wanting me to fail, their welcoming attitude a fake attempt to be close to one another.

My father's chin up in aversion. The eyes of my mother in a worried flutter. Making me hold my position. Malachi sat next to her, comforting her cries. His attention turned elsewhere, who I thought did I come to impress tonight? The other younger siblings high-spirited in their audience clothing.

Down below seated next to them was Arunia, a light at the end of the tunnel. Claps of wild excitement as I continued to tiptoe across the rope.

To her left waved Tamer, a gentle kindhearted soul. Tagert sat next to him his eyes hungry for flesh, ivory skin. Leonard quietly sat and stared at the shadow of my spotlight below.

It was at that moment I saw him standing in the middle of the ring, awaiting the victory spin. Briggs held out his open arms in an attempt to catch me. My eyelids grew thin looking ahead to the furthest end of the line. Only having inches to go, but where would that lead? I glanced back down at the boy who confessed adoration for me. Would he be able to catch the fallen ballerina? His grip strong enough to carry me home?

The sparkle in his eyes, I knew his safety would captivate my soul. I leaped into the open atmosphere spread eagle into my diver's position. Descending fluidly to the person I had many doubts about, an impulsive shocking my brain awake, letting judgments of him die in the dirt.

Gracefully catching me whole, his aroma a sweet scent of honey.

М

Vacationing in the volcano land made me itch for freedom. Hawaii catered loveliness to the directory of good memories. Returning to school was the worst mistake I made all semester, besides Briggs Byington.

He came around the next day after finals had finished and classes were let out. Despite the wonderful daydream about him catching me in bold grip. I ignored the good intentions displayed. I was getting ready to leave to the airport, when I saw him walking toward the apartment steps.

Let the grudge match begin!

Not making the first motion to ignite our conversation. Too captivating in to resist.

"She left before finals." I indeed talked of his artificial figure; Ashlee.

"I know." His hands in his pockets.

"Did you forget something? Maybe your dignity or Ashlee's virginity?" I tried to balance my backpack with the weight of the duffle bag. He didn't notice the tussle or I'm sure he would come to the rescue.

"Nope. Both are still intact, thank you for your concern. Ashlee will be happy how worried you were about her wellbeing. I thought I would stop by before you left for summer." I assumed he was going back to Utah where his audible aunt loved to govern him.

"Okay." I managed to wrangle the straps in the directions I wanted them to go.

"Hey, Trae." Briggs leaned against the door frame.

"Hi, MIA Byington. Did I happen to overlook the engagement we are having on my doorstep?" My belongings out on the porch, ready to go.

"Took a short vacation to an Amish paradise." His grin gave a sick feeling inside my stomach.

"You went to..." Nearly fainting from the words.

"Whitley County, Indiana. Met the lovely little sister, Aubrie Ayn. Coincident she is dating your old circus mate Tamer." Confessing the sight of my sister, longed for an answer of her wellbeing.

On another important note who in heavens name told him he could go to my birthplace.

All thoughts contested to my attention, stopping as I came to the guilty conclusion it was not my place to care for them anymore.

"Did you hear what I said? I met your family, well your father is a bit stubborn and wouldn't talk to me open." His rambles of the intense conversation carried on, all my mind could conceive is his visitation to my home.

"Why would you do that, Briggs? It is not your place to go globetrotting across the country in exploration of people you are not related too." My throat dry.

"I thought I would surprise you and talk your sister into visiting you. She seemed very excited I came with news of you. Tamer invited her to your circus dinner. I thought maybe it would make up for my ignorant attitude and playboy persona." Palms face up, trying to make amends for speaking truthful for my behalf.

"I understand you were acting out of interest for me. I would have not asked that of you, you've made the conditions of my shunning even more obsolete."

"Thought it would heal the broken part of you. You could let it go and come to agreement with the trials in your youth." His concern for my wellbeing, attracted me momentarily to him.

"What did she say?" Vision back on the important part of the aspect.

"Trae Lae, I wanted to know that different side, the part hidden most. The secrets shown to no one, except your own mercenary."

"How is she?" Eyes filling with pools of clear water.

"She's good, Trae. Very good." Confessing his scout tactics worthwhile.

Part of me told the other pieces of my identity to quit playing dumb to run home and ask for the forgiveness I ached. In other thoughts, I'd done nothing wrong or out of ordinary. It was there the guilty conscious of how to be raised and be respectful to whom raised by.

"I... am confused." Stuttering out the basics of where my findings brought me. Briggs taking me in his wholesome rugged arms, reminding me of the safety he sheltered.

"It's going to be fine." Frustrated that he thought there was a bright light showing us the way. Over the green meadows my eyes blank the variety of home I once knew. Troubling times colliding into what I called present tense. Water scribbles down the soft cheekbones of my cream colored face.

"To be clear if you assume you resolved this issue for anyone you are more than mistaken. You are a fool!"

"You will see her at the dinner party, make amends. Put this tragedy business behind you." His grip loosened, for a minute I felt his annoyance for my overreaction, which in turn forced me to recoil.

One foot away from the nearest step I found my feet stampeding toward the exit sign hanging above his head.

"Trae, something else I should tell you, no you have to see to believe. About your brother Malachi..." Catching me as I tried to make my escape.

"Do you think you could let me stew this for a while?" Words came out, and I cared not what they were.

"Sure, Trae Lae. Sure."

We hugged tightly as a means to make a good impression on farewell. I envisioned my sister's reaction as she walked in the room. Would she recognize the woman her sister converted?

When the time comes to recalibrate the relationships with my past the tide will be high and I will soon drown in gloom. My mind preparing with every determination to achieve seclusion.

Where would I begin with abandonment of my family?

"So where are we going?" Briggs followed close behind me as I made great strides to the sidewalk.

"Colorado Springs." Peering over the unnecessary cargo, I made my way down the steps of the complex.

"Sweet. Mind if I tag along?" His sincerity struck as odd. What was he thinking? This wasn't about to become our honeymoon of any sort, especially not after the joy ride to the Amish Country.

"Yes." Made it to the sidewalk and dialed for private cab.

"Come on." Slugging me on my right arm.

"Go see your aunt!" Dropping the distinguishable bags. I folded my arms in a square formation. His Aunt Macee spent her time and monetary value intimidating shop owners at the local boutique shops in downtown Salt Lake City.

"I told her you invited me to go to the Annual Circus Dinner." I didn't believe this, why would he want to be around me when he had made it clear I wasn't the specific one he longed.

"I doubt it." He took my bags and began to place them in the trunk of his car.

"What do you think you are doing with my bags?" Demanding explanation.

"Listen, I want to be with you!"

Everybody heard it.

His challenge wasn't the fight I began letting up on. He made a confession, a guy like him never supposed to profess out loud, not in front of our student body.

Others tried to look away and carry on with their last arrangements for break. I looked around us and people were staring, their breaths held for my next line. Their lives clinging to the next happenstance of my move. It was as though I was on a soap opera, one that finished well. These people loved those shows. Romance and drama so good you couldn't look away from.

"Why else would I go half way across the land of the free to visit a man I knew loathed me before I had spoken my given name?" His eyes never met mine. Briggs head never lifting to greet the eyes I so questionable held on him. Lips began a small quiver. He pursed them together. The weakness becoming as a facade. What remarks were there to make and even if he had meant for them to be true. I could not take this declaration and create it to be my own.

He succeeded in putting the luggage in the back of the car. He got in the driver's side door, slamming it shut. I wondered if I should put up a fight, take willingly what belonged to me. I couldn't get away from this wreck. Staring me point blank in the face; a gun serving fate, not fatality.

I opened the passenger side door. Climbing in, he began to start the engine and drove out of the parking lot. Everybody's eyes still upon us, wishing they had fallen prey to the earlier scenes.

As I looked back, I realized there were far fewer women distressed with the events than there were men. Briggs made them look indefinably hideous. Their masculinity dipping intense in low depths. My smirk in the distance was the shape of puckered clowns.

We were heading off to yet another adventure.

The blocks we drove were a cohesion of erotic syllables and tunes.

"What is this?" Pointing to the dashboard where the radio buttons lite up.

"This is a radio, the sound coming out of it is a song. A song is a collection of musical tones and lyrics. The people playing the instruments and singing are called a band." His joking manner made it incredibly difficult to be angry with his gorgeous attire.

"I know what music is idiot! I meant the song what is the song called?" My high pitched voice turning imaginary heads.

"High Hopes." He giggled in a mode of speaking.

"Thank you!" Shifting the gaze on the open marked roads.

"Where are we going?" Turning down the radio.

"I told you I'm going to Colorado, my clan is performing their last show of the year. We all come together and have a big dinner for the last performance." I turned my figure to face his.

"Well, I need to go to my apartment and pack my tuxedo." He turned on his blinking signal. Looking both ways he turned into his own apartment complex.

Tag along as he wished too. Waited to see how far this ploy with me would go. I also just wanted to see inside his territory. He'd never brought me here. Why would he, we had no regulation of storing goods together. Loading up on secrets laying beneath us as we slept in the same bed.

But, I had not gone stalking to find out where he resided either. I'm sure Ashlee noted where he slept and what on what side of the bed. The color of his toothbrush and so forth.

Briggs opened his door before the car fully stopped or shut off. His keys dangled in the ignition and he hadn't said a word about what he said back there.

Walking up three flights of stairs, I realized he needed those very keys. I tugged on them for release. Exiting the vehicle I made my way through the zigzagging staircase. To an apartment door stained with the lettering of 13B.

Briggs walked in first and set the keys in his pocket. I followed his footprints trying to collect every item into memory for kidnapping purposes. This was a man cave in one direction and a modern abode in the other. He shuffled in the background. My attention was on more clear things. An aquarium that contained not beer bottles, but a prestigious yellow lion fish. His ceiling fan wasn't dangling by the cords of electricity as you might imagine. Instead it had been dusted new. I found him in the back far right bedroom, the largest of all bedrooms. Lingering throughout the hallway I peered in each room; empty except his.

"Nice apartment, you have B." He didn't look up at me. He never looked into my pupils. I stared wildly into the back of his, I just wanted to feel a connection.

"Thanks, I enjoy my own space, sometimes." I heard someone come out of the bathroom, flushing the toilet. So he wasn't alone after all.

"Hey Sloan! This is Trae Lae." Introductions already, you haven't even seen me naked. Ha-ha, I giggled to myself at this oxymoron. I've become quite skilled in the division of trickery words and juxtapose connotations.

"Hey, Trae. I'm Sloan." He stepped over several articles of clothing. Placing a hand out in front of me, he seemed a reasonable man.

"Nice to make your acquaintance." Him taken aback by my politeness. People rarely made introductions so apt.

"I told you she was proper." Briggs flinging underwear in every direction.

"Oh, right!" He began to remember things Briggs had told him about me. What these frightened me and the fish?

"Found it!" Stretching in-between both of his index fingers, a red thong; a silk one.

Wait, a minute that is not right, what are they called?

The horror from my face, bounced off of his.

"You're not going to wear that, in public, with people around you?" I cupped my hands around my mouth. Gasping like I'd never exposed to such immoral objects.

"The ladies love a man in a speedo!" Sloan high-fived his buddy. Briggs broke out in laughter along with Sloan.

"Ladies like when you wear lingerie?" Embarrassment shaking in my core.

Their laughs ceased and things had gone from the best practical joke ever to being a little femme.

Confused a thong to what men call a speedo. Still, I didn't understand this banana hammock they ranted on about, in the eyes of my brothers your manliness had extracted equivalency.

We talked for a while and he packed what snacks or goodies he was in need of for future cravings.

We made our way back to his car. Waving back up to Sloan who had gone out for fresh air and tobacco smoke.

Onward to the new visions of a better tomorrow.

η

We barely made it anywhere with his tyrant attitude. Briggs struggled with my adolescent ways of not repeating similar truth, he admitted to me hours before departure. If I didn't know better, I would assume that Briggs is a little emotional, and might have got his inner manhood feelings tainted.

Sobering silence not aiding to the cause. Ideas to move past this hot air became too thick to breathe.

Remove ourselves from the Idahoan border. Our way past the Wyoming plains into the Colorado suburbs. Each cycle the tire stole, I released another exhausting breath.

Placed his arm around me as if to make the statement pretty clear, we were here for him. I didn't ask for this. My expression told him so.

Endless roads toward exile droned on. The victims included are those upon our sleeves.

I reckon he stopped wondering why I hadn't said it back to him, why my body didn't fling to his in excitement.

Youngsters in the summer tide pool; alive on hopes and dreams we never thought reasonable, let alone possible. I couldn't plunge myself head first into the deep water when I was the one terrified of drowning in its depths.

I flinched toward his hand. Gentle to move it away.

"What do you want from me?" I spoke in a hasty tone, knowing too well where this conversation was going. Then, I remembered things weren't always as realistic as the story line.

He shifted the gears and glares toward me. He began to shrug in undeniable fear or defeat.

"Well, are you going to say anything to me, or are we going to spend the next two days driving in this stinky car outfitting sulks of muteness?" Pouts of uncanny motions.

"Don't you think you talk too much, girl?" Arm positioned on the driver's window sill. Clockwise steering performed by the other part.

"I don't think I talk much. In fact, the silence I'm accustomed to, you would never survive!" Exclamatory to defense mechanisms.

"I'd like to see that!" He punched off the radio station. Fingers zipper his open mouth to sealed; banned from speech. Twenty or so minutes passed, and it seemed I was the one tortured by the noiseless conversation in progress.

Be prepared for times like this unsettling disposition, they would accuse I've placed upon myself for benefitting purposes.

What do we benefit from silence; a thought or two, the cascading movements of a fallen river? Or do we realize without words we are nothing but creatures, mooches of the nomad?

Fidgets in fingers gave me away. His laughter erupted and finally the first to cave.

"Couldn't handle not hearing my pleasant voice complementing yours, darling?" His thumbprints tapping away at the bottom of the wheel.

"Your wishes deceive you, my good knight." I smirked at the snarky remark.

Exits from the highway agreed to allow us passage. The side of a gravel road Briggs decides to stall. Caught in more to-be-clarified-later confusion.

"Now listen here! I am here for you, and you alone. You could be a little more affectionate towards me. I did bleed my heart dry to you."

"I... ugh."

"What no comeback to that sweetie?" His hand holding it's placement on top of mine. Judgment call states that as a sign of ownership.

Exit the vehicle the same way I entered. His grip didn't let up, I became slothful to scramble.

"Where do you think you're going Trae? We have earlier engagements to attend. Colorado Springs, ring-a-ding that bell in your head?" There was no way we would escape out of the boonies.

"Let go of me!" Fumbling on each word. I realized this was the monster I waited for so long. Knocks at my door, beckoning in the shadows of the space I 'd given him to linger. The assailant to the very crime so scared of portraying.

Meanwhile, moves after me and for a minute I'm not the one afraid. Slow motion sequences eluding myself from the catastrophe.

Finally losing his grimace, the grip around my wrist less heavy. Sunshine started to show through the compact clouds.

"Trae..." Behind a young man strangled with tears, knees deep in rocky matter.

I took steps onward from his tiding aches.

"Briggs! How can you be you serious? Interpretation of your feelings by clamoring on that you only want me. Bled your heart dry? Not in the slightest of actions did you achieve carnage. Let me share a little secret about your confession boy. It wasn't out of compassion, or the undying love you claimed for me..."

"I do love you, Trae Lae." His palms open toward the sky.

"...your statement coheres by nothing other than your boyish needs and childlike wishes." I continued to state my case. Front fully facing him.

"The thing about confessions is they are always coming. This is nothing other than a ploy. Common way to distribute mortal needs in the face of God." My breath caught wind and he fluttered the way it came to him.

"The pulsating inside your cavity conducted rhythms for yourself. You look at a girl like me and see someone who has been unblemished from the world you grew up in. Young lady at her prime, ready to be harvested. I am in no need of your sickle." My knees folding beneath me.

Now I was the one face to face with the land that had betrayed us. The penetrating voice in my head, begging me to ask for forgiveness, to repent of talking to a man in such a way.

I'd stood beaten, mocked, taunted, poked and prodded estimated possible. Things were never going to be the same. The second I stepped foot off the land my fore fathers produced, I became ultimately doomed.

Doomed in the sight of my beloved, inches away from freedom and knowledge. Troubled in half consciousness he would strike me down.

I turned myself around toward him. His head still buried in the paneled shirt. The feet between us were clear as I made my way crawling to his behalf.

Our toes nudging at the locations of our bodies. He began to look at me like I was the one with the solutions.

Taking his hand I rubbed smooth callused knuckles across my cheeks. I pleaded with him in harmony to let this go; to let me go. His blue eyes rippling with water works.

My shaking figure, giving into the love he offered to give to me. I allowed my feet to stabilize our beings. In one stomp I led us to the car, other imprints directed course to the light. Nameless territories we both called love.

Θ

The chosen words I enlightened him with made his physique dissolve into the dust. It was alright in a manner of speaking. To engage one another in a method of teaching; we were still unsure about whether the connection lived. Precise we both frightened to probe.

We stayed close. As a couple would, infinite matchmaking in progress. Our touch passed neither stop nor go. We were floating along the lines of safety visors and cautionary tape. If we pressed to deeply would all that perspired, eventually expire? The excitement raised in his eyes every time I opened my mouth to profess language, clarified that I held the switches of control, movements of doing and not doing.

Time will spell out the moments we wish we could teleport back; roving around like we are lost. Held onto one another like destiny was on payroll.

I'll write from the beginning where I first saw the world end. Right as the breath escapes the last bombs, confessions of the story will be told with a point of view from a once Amish follower.

Briggs turned to me. Couldn't I just pretend I loved him right then and maybe forever? Till death parted us in spirit and might. I would always long for his capacity of boldness next to me, always aching for me. I to ache for him.

His shade of blue taunted the water as they crashed upon the riverbanks, defeated in submerging tides. I was white as he held color. My name was the only thing that turned heads, not justifying that state of human I allowed myself to be. My memories are concise. Words from Briggs evolved me into something more than real. I thought back to when I would worship for these days. Every day he saw me, as Trae Lae, not as Tracey Aliza. To others it may seem miniscule, but I promise a magnitude of deviance.

What are the facts about forever? Are test results creditable? Can such things be proven? Am I the only one wondering if fate will let this one slide? May we decide for ourselves if we are chosen for each other?

Constructive palm laying atop of mine. It would be unfortunate if I did not grasp onto the muscles and veins pulsing within the tips.

"Trae Lae..." I am reminded to not speak unless spoken too as he uttered my name.

Worry painted over my eyes. I tried unraveling myself from the twenty-two year old body.

"Don't tell me this was a mistake?" As he held the fragile frame warned to keep my own. Wasn't every action performed mistakable these days? People rarely satisfied. I assure you, all of us among them in some manner.

Briggs, my thoughts not deceiving me, rather empowering me. I pick a part every scene and assess you won't be the one leaving me in the end; I will be.

"Now, don't go changing your mind about this every five seconds, Trae."

"I love you too Briggs." I couldn't resist any longer.

Ρ

We drove up to the vacant arena filled tonight with orange and silver striped tents. Light bulbs strung across high as flagpoles. The parking lot sizzling with excitement and curiosity.

We were the last pair to arrive. Talia handing out tickets at the toll booth. Her face in remembrance as it smiled upon me.

Surprise, I fortified coming back to our home. She finished with the elderly couple ahead of us. Greeted me with an overreaction of a welcome hug.

"We've missed you here Trae Lae. I've greatly missed you..." Those words hung on longer than her fingertips on my wrist.

"Yes, I've missed you guys too." I shifted my mood as well as direction.

"This is Briggs. Briggs, Talia, the Moon Maiden." His eyes perked up; her beauty astounded him, momentarily.

"Hi, Talia. I'm Briggs, junior BYU-I student." His grin made her look away uncomfortably.

"I am familiar with who you are, thank you for coming to our show." Her eyes cast down.

"Where shall we sit Talia, are there sitting arrangements in order?"

She nodded with dramatics, pulling us toward her with beckoning fingers.

"This way."

◊

We sat on the opposite side of the entrance. The grand stand packed with enthused customers and curators. The make shift magicians taking their place's up on the podiums'.

Leonard, amongst them going up in the world of circus entertainment. Velma the fat lady singing her heart out. Every act better than the last and more intriguing then the next in line.

Briggs seized strong to my hand, I welcomed my former life I eloquently escaped. I saw Tagert in the corner of my eye, staring desperately at me with angry eyes.

"Excuse me, one moment. I'll be right back." I got up and walked over to where he hid backstage.

"Okay." Briggs turned his attention to Talia, who was keeping observations on him.

"What exactly does The Moon Maiden do?" Prying for a simple, but enticing answer as always. His charm captivated her. The dress she wore, a cloak handed down by many fairytale lineages.

"I am a mistress to the moon. Its needs are met by my whims. Its wants are all I manifest." Poetic terms of agreement greeting Briggs with a smack on the lips.

"Yeah, sounds great! Did you see where Trae Lae went?" He looks around to join the escape.

"Where do you think she is sweet boy? Tagert is in town." Nice copout Moon Maiden.

"Tagert?" Scanning to find another exit door he appeared in the alley.

◊

Tagert's eyes glued over my undeceivable body. The cigarette thrown next to my feet that stomped out the embers.

"How you been, darling?" Breath icy crisp.

"I've been well. Tagert, I'm well." My position made it easy for him to understand the somber mood.

"Looks like you've been good, Lae." Not the one and only to call me by that nickname.

"Thank you. How are you doing?" Attempts to skimp dirt off leather sandals.

"I see you brought somebody. Your knight in a college pullover?" Laughter juggled up from his diaphragm.

I felt all of a sudden foolish. Did bring him consummate bigger mistakes than others in past tense?

"Not like you would assume Tagert. I am a tiny bit foggy about the rules or regulations on dating. He's just a friend for the time being." I was almost convinced myself, friends do things benefitting each other on occasion.

"It seems like something to me, Amish flower." Post abandoned, as he came towards me.

"You can hardly claim dibs on someone you've had momentary flirtations with. So we kissed get over it!" Tagert and I did, kiss so why couldn't I get over it?

Cold fingers stroked my forearm.

"I know, baby girl." Took nearly into his long arms.

"I've missed you... Lai." Pecks placed on the lower lobe of my ear. Close to let myself go to him. Briggs was there to consider, and another note to consider was WHAT THE HEN OUT OF THE HOUSE ARE YOU THINKING!? Tagert remained a creeper by definition.

"You'll have to go on longing for golden locks elsewhere bro. This one is in high demand and what a coincidence I'm first in line." Briggs grabbed my wrists, reclaiming the property of ownership.

There I stood in between love and hate. Man and just a guy I once told giving threats with other's fists.

Joy we were ten years old again.

"Tell me again how you are acquainted each other? Oh, right I must have forgotten. You met at Mormon Academy. Did they set the two of you up?" He began to lite another cigarette, "an arranged marriage, everything you've ever dreamed about Lae."

I grimaced.

"How about you just back off on the particulars circus boy?" Briggs gently gave him a light shove on the shoulder.

"Briggs was it? Let me let you in on a little secret. I'm her first and I will always be with her first and last, bud." He spit at him.

What the ugly duckling was Tagert ranting on about? We smooched our lips once. Now they are playing who slay the cherry first puzzle.

"First off nothing happened..." I began to interject.

"You have a lot of nerves Tag man. The things you say do about a girl like Trae." His fists became white.

Talk of me the same way Tagert did just different words, similar in meanings.

"How about you stop acting like were buddies." His mouth growled.

"Both of you please quiet your voices! Lower your insufferable tone!" I covered my mouth in a gasp. Memories of spouting out against men would get you in trouble for the unkind of fellows. Glaring was an act I clearly should have practiced more, my point being overlooked. Anger radiated out of my fingertips, dwelling on the ridge of my nose.

"Well let's see how it goes. We might end up best friends swapping inside stories." Briggs gave out a hand for him to shake. The gentleman in him acting now.

Tagert grinned an evil gaze.

"I popped that pretty cherry over four years ago. How do you like my sloppy seconds, bro?" His hands were in his pocket confirming no evidence of true or false.

Anyone cares to indulge me as to why cats were out of plastic bags? I was allergic to feline creatures.

We attracted a crowd of no grand scale, but a scale of mosh pit worthiness.

Heart races, acknowledge the pounding giving me.

"TAGERT!!!" Tamer yells from the sidelines. "Cool it man!" His grasp escapes the arm of Tagert as he stumbles out of sight.

"Sorry, man. My brother is just trying to get under your skin." His arms in surrender, giving up to Tagert's actions.

"He is just testing you. I know what he says isn't true. He would never touch a girl like Lae Lae." That look told me the truth. Nice to finally know I wasn't a screwing whore. It was getting pretty hairy there for a moment, predicting which way it was going to end. Man my life story was fascinating.

His stance soften as his figure began to approach mine. Tamer hugged my shuddering body, and I tapped his back in consolation.

"I'm sorry. Briggs." My voice low and toward the ground. My eyes began to water. The works of strength became thin, and I exposed weakness.

"I know Trae." Was all he said. He walked away from me and the scattering individuals. I lost him in the cold chill of the evening breeze.

"You okay Lae Lae? Tagert can be a real baboon!" His curse word made a degree in me shudder.

"Yeah, fine. Thanks, Tam." I nestled my head on top of my right shoulder.

"Let's go inside." We turned toward the opening in the tent. A slit welcoming the family of the curious crowd. We made our way back and there in front of me stood my sister. Tamer ran ahead and greeted her with a grand kiss.

I tried dodging around the merry folk. I scrambled my brain figuring another way.

"Wait! Lae Lae, this is my girlfriend I told you about, Aubrie..." His lips pulling apart from her saliva.

"Aubrie Ayn. Nice to make your acquaintance." I bowed my head with a little curtsy.

"Nice to meet you as well, oh you are so proper." Her voice clinging to a southern fried chicken accent.

"Lae Lae? Is that short for something?" I knew she would sense my façade of a calling.

"Tamer is the only one that calls me that." I smile shyly, hiding my real identity.

"My name is Trae Lae. A shortened version of a longer explanation." I glanced at her and I knew she saw me.

"Very pretty name for a young woman." Her accent vanishing and her proper upbringing returned. Nodding in agreement I hurried to excuse myself.

"Thank you for the compliment. This is Briggs." Nudging the boyfriend who wrapped himself around my waist.

"I've met with him before." Green swirls convincing me to run and hide.

"Please excuse us we must wash up for dinner." I turned my direction and headed for the car.

"Tracey Aliza. Is that you?" My cover blown. Oh holy shizzer!

Q

Of course not my nature to use such profanity. Exceptions are allowed in pivotal moments.

We entered the dining hall where the rest of the crew was setting up for the entertainment. Dishes grabbed to set the festive table top.

"It is my Amish name." Playful shimmy of the shoulders.

"What are you talking about? We just told you T R A E L A E." As if spelling it out would confirm certainty. I gave a look to Tamer, apologizing in advance for not confessing my true birth name to him.

"Yes, Aubrie. How in the world did you come to be here tonight?" My steps stopped as she came next to me gladly rekindling our sisterhood. Her hand in mine just like when we were children singing in the grassy meadows.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Hugging me, her excitement bubbling at the connection of throats. I thought I looked similar but when she looked, no resemblance was found of Tracey Aliza. Instead she tried to accept the updated version; Trae Lae.

"Very nice to meet with you sister. You do not know how many days I've sought out for you Aliza." My face showed seldom expression.

"Mama and Papa will be so happy to hear that I have found the lost daughter." Oh great now Aubrie believes I will return home.

"Rebecca and Levi mustn't know of your visit, Aubrie. They will claim you as an outcast for even mingling with me." I placed another white and gold plate down on the lavish dining table. Extravagant parties weren't in their price range, tonight called to be more.

"You have obligations back at home. I thought Briggs would have told you by now. He promised he would share with you the fine details of his trip. Of Malachi..." Her manner rose back to delicacy form. Voice spilling truth and honesty, in my mind I translated it to the recurring nightmares of disloyal loved ones.

"Aubrie Ayn, do not speak his name in front of others again!" My voice rang out more vulgar than I punctured for.

Silence shook the hopeful spirit she'd become. Immediately knowing I hurt her good intentions I tried to take those awful words from her conscious. It was around that time Briggs came back into sight. I lost the nerve to tell her the truth about our home.

We were assigned the seats given to us by age. Young to old, short to tall, skinny to large. Elephants in the middle surrounded by stick figures of people I acquainted.

My companion sat tightly next to me, his eyes wandered around the room. In search of someone to claim victim. Currently resting on the beauty queen who happened to turn gypsy.

Blinking ever so slowly at her, his dreams were becoming hers. I shifted my gaze as well, he returned a polite smirk and shoved his face with a turkey leg.

"Listen, Briggs. I wanted to tell you..." Before I could finish the excuse, he scurried off to the bathroom.

"You do realize he is a man, and she is a promiscuous lady." Truth be told from the occultist in white.

I began to realize a lot more than the obvious observations to say the least.

My vision blurry with hardship and humility. Had I done wrong and yet deserved this act upon myself?

His corruption blindsided the entire party. Brigg's monovalent work began to reach the ears of our guests. The gorgeous gypsy sat back down on her original seat.

Quizzical eyes on her, as the sounds behind her began to invade the dining tent. I documented the sound as I held my breath for more. The shuddering sound of the bones breaking making me realize he'd gone after Tagert.

I stood quickly catching on the tassels of the tablecloth, nearly taking the spectacular chef-d'oeuvre of food down with me.

I struggled to regain direction. I ran through the tent flaps, witnessing a whole other disaster in play.

Clenched fists full of hair and anger, rage poured out of the skull of my lover. His lips piercing through the pain. Five guys stood around taking turns delivering blows. Tagert stood afar choking on his smoke not wanting to get his hands dirty. I stood in appalling awe. Watched as horror began to grow in the in the thoughts of women and men.

The leaders left beaten and bruised. Commotion led the other elder men out and scattered the fight to a minimum fair one.

Luckily, the hero decided against playing victim. He got up after every punch, spitting the pain from his mouth. Tamer running in-between his brother's friends, defending the fallen champion.

I froze as Tagert through his own brother in the pit. Creations of a fair equal fight, a fight he suggested to begin.

Briggs staggered to the position next to his victor. He clawed his way up the side of the tent. Stumbling upon the rocks, rushing to his side to be an anchor.

"Thanks, Tamer." They punched each other's bloody knuckles.

"No problem, bro!" Aubrie took Tamer's arm as we led both of them to the Medical wing.

"This wasn't because of me, was it?" My breath clouding the cold air around us.

"Of course not! He ran his mouth off about the offense side of the Broncos!" He tried laughing up from his gut, like his ego it was also sore.

"Broncos? You were fighting over wild horses? Gambles on ranch cattle? Is every man alive immature?" I certainly was dissatisfied with his answer.

"Every guy I've met at least!" Aubrie gave a quick wink.

Briggs and Tamer both gone in their own humor. Shakes of their heads made it clear we had missed out on modern innuendos.

Aubrie and I glared at them as they both poked fun at our absence of the sporting world.

ѓ

Kissed my overlooked sister's cheek a goodbye.

Agreed with her we would stay in contact when I got back to school. She headed out with Tamer to the last touring town. I was headed to a town most elders would shine on with disgrace. I coincide that we went in opposite directions, my sister and I, but in coincidental motives we were both going up equal paths.

Our escape from the night led us far away. We headed to Utah where his Aunt claimed homestead. There were places in my mind I thought always to navigate towards, Salt Lake City, was one of them. Growing up in a small community lead you to believe the world was one way. Our rules didn't apply to the mongrels and hooligans outside our fenced in lives. There is much to put up for debate, but what I can say from experience, they lied about the splendor of the outlandish dominion.

Skyscrapers rose high up. Buildings with influential names and labels intimidating competition at each corner. The sidewalks and the people observant and in love. Hundreds and hundreds of them driving, walking around. They knew me not yet we were still connected.

Aunt Macee drove us all around town. She was a lovely lady. Dressed always in some sort of white, her long brown hair dropping through the tips of the breeze. She gave us a grand tour, showing us The Mormon's temple, we were not allowed inside without documentation of approval. We drove past the hospital building on a hill where she told me Briggs was born.

"My handsome baby nephew, 7 pounds and 8 ounces!" Smiles sweetly at us in the rear view mirror. "The 3rd floor, 4th window to the right." Points her perfectly shaped fingernails, manicured white and gold.

"Shame about my baby sister getting wrapped up with such a wretched soul. Briggs did get his good looks though." Caress the back side of her hand.

"Aunt Macee." Briggs obviously uncomfortable about her storytelling.

"Did Brigglee tell you, how she overdosed while in labor? How unstable and unfortunate could that young girl be?" She countered his nickname in plain view. Her words flooding images, of what exactly occurred the day of his birth. Briggs silently swallowing all potential to keep his reservations from her sight.

"Macee!"

"Oh! Come on it's all in the history books and yesterday's paper. How else is she going to find out? No one informed her of why you are the way you are Brigglee." Soft cheeks pouting out her lips.

"Trae Lae knows everything." Defenses growing clearer as speech of his once loved mother grew negative.

"Do I not get to mourn aloud for others to hear? Not a stranger to comfort my sorrows with sympathetic stares?" Melodramatic flings from her arms increasing the level of selfishness Briggs would accept.

"Stop bringing up remorseful memories of days that did not include you! You use that day as a pawn to play the pity card with people. Newsflash you couldn't have cared much less about my mother. Deep down inside I know you despise the fact I grew up under equal rooftops same as your kin." His breath hot and heavy his veins popping, calling for retaliation. "My mother died that day. And because of you I will always have the worst image of the woman she could have been. You have placed the most awful outlooks into my cranium making me believe I was grateful for her demise." Shifts in the back seat made me want to squeeze into the trunk. "In all honesty I wish only to have known her for one day, one hour, one minute. Before you plagued the portico of a mother I once imagined to be loving and loyal to my childhood." His outbreak shook me in a way that surprised everybody. The passion of his rage producing sweat on his brow. Fists tighter in a calm, controllable way.

"How dare you have an outbreak in front your new lady, Brigglee" Aunt Macee's grip on the steering wheel tight.

Pressure on the gas pedal connected it with the floor. Aunt Macee speed in the opposite direction. Curves and swirls of the road bringing us to an iron gated community. Long driveways making it clear no one welcomed guests, let alone the kindness of neighbors.

Victorian posts placed perfectly in front of the domicile. Grass neatly cut in comparison to outgrown branches perfectly tweaked. Strides to the front door seemed unimportant as my thoughts raced wild with childhood memories involving Malachi and Aubrie Ayn.

Transitions cut to present day showing me slide-show clips of the man I came to know, once the troubled boy I fended wayward from.

Did Briggs have insight to the skirmish of my thoughts? Squeezing tightly the fingertips I claimed identity to. I weakly gave a shy smile, shoving all aspirations into Aunt Macee's corridor. Acknowledged the brilliant artwork of artist names I would never know to memorize. I envisioned his home to be as his apartment back in Idaho; typical if not evident of some social status.

"See you two love birds at supper!" Giving us flimsy wave as she retired to her lounge room.

"Is your Aunt Macee going to be okay?" I hid behind his pulsating muscles.

"She's good! Nothing a vodka tonic won't fix. Besides she has been getting on my nerves lately."

"How long has that been building up?" I wondered, curiosity peeking through my words.

"Twenty-two years and counting." Simple as his smile was I was happy to do my part. Convey to him back to anodyne footings.

"A long time... explains the whole you ruined everything good in my life speech." Winked at his practical transition to their relationship. Briggs scrunched his face. "Don't worry I've had mine a time or two. One of the adolescent outbreaks received excommunication." Statements left to try to lighten the damped mood.

Kisses the top of my head, he understood and stopped visions of arguments swirling around his head.

"She'll understand one day." He promised himself. Hope to myself that it were to be true.

"You okay, Trae Lae?" Questioning my movements looking for the closest route. The towering structure above me swaying.

"I'm fine. I'm in need of some fresh air, excuse me." The arms dropped that held me solitary.

The backyard opened up and welcomed the view of the valley. In the midst of heat waves hovering above the city, I found a comfort in knowing that I stood above it all. Watching and spectating now that I was the object to look upon.

The sunlight making it difficult to see beyond the horizon. Fully knowing beyond the enchantment of the rolling hills, my family sat quietly at their wooden tables. Munching quietly at the aspect of existing there. Belonged to the namesake of my grandfather.

◊

We were sitting draped in one another's arms. He executed most of the coddling, while I contributed to his vulnerable demeanor. His aunt brought us hot chocolate, smiling at us; always. No apologizes quoted to each other as she scurried from the area.

He corresponds his paces, with fidgeting of fingers. I didn't say it out loud, I couldn't, not yet. There were times several times when self-doubt and autographed fiction aligned.

It didn't take long to get into the habit of each other. I clung to him and he gladly, if not happily took me as the golden prize he'd been gallant to nurture for. What association of prize I was, certain to obtain the title for such romanticism.

When you turn the corner and see that old familiar face and wonder how long it has been; days, weeks or moments? Missing you, was never part of the plan.

Loving me was indefinite.

Far out among the stars. Being in love with someone; I've heard of fairytales before, and the tragic princess always got her wonderful prince charming. Whether in form of frog or not. Your disposition didn't line up like the rest of the characters I was taught not to listen to.

I memorized the first time you strolled across the lone lobby; stretching farther into slow motion than I thought capable or even possible. My heart pounding loud at terrifying echoes in the surrounding area.

Will you wish with me for one minute?

The time it took you to get to me, for you to become mine and I yours. Did I close my eyes grasping the very minutes you were about to change for me? Let's go back to this time; where you were you and I was me. Witnessing the disruption; we became a part of what we were forbidden from, love.

§

We went to our days back at the university. Finals coming up and the semester coming to a close we were seeing each other seemed only in blue moons. The confrontations he experienced at the circus dinner were quite out of my comfort zone to handle. It seemed not to bother him, but I gladly gave him his space when he asked for it.

"I've been going to weekly meeting with the Branch President. Talking over the battles and betrayals of my youth." Announcement to me as I made my way to his chair. My thoughts about the Branch President made it hard not to fight with fury on my tongue. In agreement I chose to listen.

"What for? Aunt Macee trick you into this or something?" Forehead scrunched in curiosity.

"No, Trae. Even if she hinted at it a few times I went by my choice alone. This is for me. I need to confront everything good and bad in order to move forward. For the longest of times I found myself repeating the mistakes I already knew were wrong. I went in circles around my head, confusing my mood and what it REALLY wanted." I am glad he's been touched with the power of epiphany.

"Sounds very moving and inspirational Briggs. I am happy you are working out those tough knots in that big lug of yours!" Teasing with playful punches.

"I'm doing this because I would like to be the type of person your family would respect. One day visiting on premeditated visits." Trying hard to keep my form unreadable. So proud of the man who stood before me, strong in his maturity.

"Maybe if you come over here and show me how to do that French kissy thing. We can talk about intentions for the future." Pulling my knees to my chest in a defense, awaiting the likeable boyfriend I'd altercate my former name for.

Briggs saw the desire in my spirit and showed me tricks of his former trade. Snuggling in perfect harmony I fell asleep in a comfortable peace. His head jostled in-between my shoulder bone and the frame of the bed.

Serenity placated all over us, every inch of our bodies covered in ultimate desire of upcoming events in our future.

Dreams of wonders, cascaded by wishing wells. Blissful, the air swallowed us whole. Tingling sensations in our toes, rising up laughter in our guts. Promises of the future with a ring on top of his hand. I nodded gently, placing the smooth band over top of my tiny knuckle.

Scene changes and in a quick hurry I try to hide the evidence of our matrimony. I spin around to see my father's footsteps stomp toward us, fury in his movements. Grip ahold my white gown and wrist. Struggle to break his control, Briggs steps in to protect his beloved.

My father too strong for the both of us. His command firmer and taut. The hand he clutched popped out of place. The sparkles of the white gold ring lost to the sea. Levi plummets my head under the spring water. His duty to drown the defiant daughter was adjacent to succession.

Briggs wailing a blow to the right side of my father's cranium. Sending him down the cliffs and away from present time.

Above water Briggs, grinned wildly proud of the accomplishment performed. Throwing works of water up from my lungs. Occurrence to me I could have one life. But may I have both intertwining into one.

Now I saw it, the truth of the circumstance would fail the fabrication on the indicator machine.

Awoken from the quivers of shoulders. I want to flee far from here with him by my side. Close my eyes to eternity, just envisioning right now this moment with him. Wrapped into a haven I searched long for.

In the midst of our commotion of love I sought out if he undoubtedly would accept the framework of my life story. He wanted more from me than I could give. Would it ever get easier choosing one over the other? In the reality of my choices, I made my choice a number of months ago. Fastened next to Briggs as he slung his arm around my torso.

We had tests to take and papers to write, but that could wait.

Thoughts of us floating around our breathing mouths. I scrambled to look at his warm structure. His shirt dangling over the bed post. It seemed simple and somehow we accepted the simplicity as a sign to run free. Good timing always on our side. Briggs and I choose for ourselves where this goes.

Ś⅜

I comforted the worries, tricks played on her troubled mind. Hold onto her, hushing the cold wind blowing in on our warm day. She stood an activist in the middle of a speechless crowd. The voice you heard sweetly singing to praise your soul.

She spoke, her limbs enveloped around those of which I owned. They mocked the indifference in her, making my attraction more surreal. It was as though the more they scorned her the more my magnetic field increased radius.

Wishes that I could in some degree make up for the past anguishes made by a more reckless version of Briggs Byington.

Nuzzle my head in her neck, replaying those moments of our first greeting. Trae's innocence abounding from her, the inexperienced girl making the attraction harder to bear. Simply giving in telling her the whole kit and caboodle. Hopes that something would trigger a code word, passing me onto the next level.

Now I realize the interpretation of desperate need to confess turmoil. It was not to gain access, but for her to win admittance into mine. A negative pull to the attraction of her positive retrospect.

No one approached the glory of the biblical leper, they all assumed she would turn out to be. I had to have her, when no one else would claim her.

Catastrophic wisdom making me a lodestone to the force around Trae's manifestation. Breath taken from the lips I once kissed with others. The twine of flyaway hairs engulfed in the afternoon wind.

Trae Lae, I love you...

st

"Briggs!" His name being called for the 4th time. Focus shifted toward me, eyes in obsessive blazes of purpose. "You want to take a break? You zoned out there for a couple moments." Study notes to the side. Book slammed to an abrupt close.

"Yeah. I'm good. It's just, there is something I am in need of telling you." Maneuvered folded legs to crisscross over mine.

"Go on..."

"You will tell me the truth, the whole truth, so help you God!"

"OK!" Intrigued by the game he wanted to play.

"Do you wish you didn't open that door on Halloween, when I came knocking?" A slight grin grew on his face.

"Yes. Instead of opening it, I wish I busted it down to see your handsome face sooner." Two can play at this childish game.

"Good answer. Next question. Have you always had this quirky interpretation about you?" His pointer finger tapping the edge of his chin.

"I could pledge foolishness. Yes, final answer. My mother would gasp at the attraction you have for me, dear Briggs."

"Noted. How long did it take you to realize I'm the one for you?" Grinning wildly.

"The committee members are tending to their gardening. Looks like we may need to wait and see on that result."

"Trae Lae Livingston do you hold resentment for the fact I left and went back to your home town without your blessing or permission?" Eyes fierce letting me know the seriousness of inquiries.

"I did. I do not now."

"You understand I only obligate your best interest in mind, right?"

Nod.

"Good! I am in calamitous need of explaining something to you, you see about your brother..." The connection of momentary happiness suddenly gone in a whirl wind of sibling rivalry.

"Please! Enough, Briggs. The game was fun, although I am in no mood to converse about lifeless matters." Almost chocking as a quoted to my brother as lifeless matter.

"Trae Lae, wait I have to tell you this, he is... I mean Malachi is..." Briggs gently rubbed up on the edges of elbows.

"He is a figment brother of an imagination of a life I once lived at a different time. Nothing more." My stern voice leading his eyes to quiver and ripple with water.

"Okay, Trae." Agreed to disagree. His wallowing spirit to rescue something I hid far enough away even I could hardly remember all the facts and evidence offending me most of all.

"Let's make a new journey to somewhere we've ceased to come upon. Our toes the compass showing us where our heads have not led us. In our minds we can follow the heartbeats of our true loves steps. Taking us far away from harm and hurt. The silhouette of our beings glowing in the moonlight against sandy shores and desolate islands yet to be discovered. Come with me Briggs and let us be our own captain, with the treasure map to life scrawled on the blankets of our beds. A voyage awaits in my hand I'll lead you to the vessel. In time we will find ourselves old souls amongst the waves of young adults, wondering where the time has gone. Wishing for easier moments, like chores in the old country; building houses, baking bread, quilting for visitors." I assured him of the best possible scenario. He loved the tales I told him about adventures like this. Every moment making memories and interpretation of dreams we wish to convey openly.

The past may have destroyed the ideas of who I once was. Presently, my reality had little to do with fate or matter of fact. The future, oh how the future smelled so sweetly of daisies and warm honey.

Briggs stood aglow in the florescent lights in the media center. How he believed every word I wished to tell him. Hardly wondering how we would make our grand voyage together. Not worrying about specifics, but mainly believing in the possibility that one day not far off, we would have our chance to sprint freely together.

"I love the way you speak to me. Your words flow at me like butterflies, so gentle and kind most of the time." We smiled in accuracy to our romance.

Making today a dot in time to recollect.

Ţ

Figured I better keep finances in order. I scoured the Rexburg County for help wanted signs. Briggs convinced Sloan to hire me at his family's diner. Nothing like bussing the filth of tables to remind yourself what the good life is. Second week into this lovely over paid job, my sister Aubrie Ayn stopped by.

"Trae Lae, a chick up front asking for you." Sloan tapped on the kitchen door queuing presence in the front of the house.

"Okay, be right there!" Wipe the soapy hands off on the apron.

The restaurant was an outdated version to look like a 50s milkshake shop. The colors striped red with silver. She stood next to the jukebox, picking a song to play.

"Hi, Aubrie Ayn." Her smile growing wider as she turned.

"How have you been? You need to get a cell phone." Center of my abdomen hugged tightly.

"Cell phone? Too noisy!" I wiggle out of her embrace, giving a soft smile in return.

"Everybody has a cell phone, Tracy Aliza. I mean Trae Lae." Correction to my real name with my pen name. I gave a smile in acceptance.

"What are you doing? Is Tamer here too?" Glances made behind her to find no Tamer, and thankfully no Tagert.

"Sadly no, I came alone. I wanted to talk to you about something, if you would allow me to do so?" Aubrie's voice shrank in size and the sound of it became squeaky.

"Sure, give me 10 minutes!" Untie the apron from my waist and hang it on a hook. I find Sloan and ask permission to leave early. His posture agrees and accepts my absence.

"Let's get out of here!" I wrap my arm around her and stroll onto the apartment complex.

"Perfect!" Excitement quickly motivated us to get through the cold breeze.

"Here it is!" The door opened to the living area.

"Wow! So this is what a dorm room looks like? Pretty spacious, this place is gigantic!" Coincidentally, the rest of the inmates stumbled in behind us.

"These would be my roommates, Aubrie." A slight wave, and an awkward smile in their direction. They complied to my guest and I the same.

"Oh, roommates must be fun! Do you ladies share everything?" Thrilled to learn more and more about this obscure habitat we called home.

"Everything!" Slyness in her smile; Ashlee.

"Except for manners, I assure you." Discreet glares at her comment.

"Come on I'll show you my room, Aubrie." Squirming out of the odd predicament.

Enter the corner bedroom to find books in the place of magazines, corrupted television series replaced by classical symphonies.

"What did you want to speak about?" Piles of clean clothes removed from the bed.

"I wanted to talk about why you left. Malachi's accident was troublesome for all us, especially our father." My blood ran thin and it began to heat, the temperature began to rise.

"It wasn't difficult for him. He chose Malachi's exit." Blinds yanked open clashing on the window. The day became a windy war.

"Your information is foolish, sister. Papa would never want any harm to come to Malachi!" Tears swelling in her eyes. I began to realize that her truth and my truth were far apart.

"Tell me not that I have flaws in my own memories, Aubrie Ayn." I glared outside at the pale pavements, painted with tiny raindrop imprints.

"You were there, when he laid on the hospital bed? When he took his finale breaths?" Her palms gripping at her throat, grasping the knowledge of my part of the truth.

"Yes, I suppose father and mother took me out of the equation." I sat beside her on the platform. I made motions to comfort my idling friend. Arms flat next to my torso unwilling to give comfort.

"He's alive." Aubrie's somber cries whispers now.

"Who is alive?" Fingers tangled in one another's prints.

"Malachi." Malachi. Malachi. My brother's name drumming in my ears, piercing veracity.

"No, Aubrie! I saw his life taken from him. Those in turn you call mother and father. I saw him wavering, inches from death. I heard the machine flat line, the beats of his heart nonexistent." Tumbled to the floor. I found the bedpost a structure to help steady the statement.

"Trae Lae, you are improper on his behalf. He is married with a son. Also another one on the way he plans to call in memory of you." Truth overflowing; I could barely recognize my own identity in those memories by his bedside.

"That cannot be..." Brain aching for information.

"Our father claimed it a miracle. God granting him a second chance at a new beginning. The Bishop agrees, forgiving Malachi's transgressions in contradiction to the church."

"Of course he would." I whisper carefully under my breath, not letting her hear the doubt in my voice.

"I thought Briggs would have told you. When he came to visit our family, Malachi introduced him accordingly. They struggled with understanding and at first refused to meet with him. Malachi insisted they meet the man you intended to spend your life with." Aubrie now hovered above me, like she was the eldest sister catering to the cries of younger siblings.

"Briggs knew all this time, and hesitated to mention it to me?" Crumbles from present time, I sought out comfort in the cascading shadows of moonlight.

"I thought you were taking your time adjusting to the new information. If I had known you didn't know, I would have told you at the circus." Shook my head violently, my thoughts deceiving everything I ever knew to be true.

"I'm happy to know of Malachi's survival." I gain my composure, and look for the poise lost.

"You must come back to Whitley County to visit?" Aubrie's voice escalated in excitement about the forthcoming of my reunion.

"I suppose for a short time I will." My hands trembling with the belief Malachi could be alive, walking around, breath in his lungs. Feeling as if I'd been the one who abandoned him at the hospital.

Ultimately confused and highly dazed, there was no proof in my memory that told me he would survive. Not an ounce of troubling wonder kept me seated as the doctor disconnected the life support. I ran out on the only friend I thought I had.

"I will see you in a week's time. Safe travels sister." Bow in grateful farewell.

"I will inform them of your pending arrival! The young sisters and brothers will be thrilled to see you." She smiled a mile long.

"Best let it be a surprise!" Nodding her on her way. She reflected the nod in agreement to mine. Off she went to the borders we were raised. Back to the country where my brother made his livelihood, a clan in tow.

Pacing the 5 feet of room I claimed as mine over the school year, it worried me so that I could have been so blind. My father planting his survival as a way to communicate a miracle. Declare justice for his somnolent son.

Briggs, how could he not tell me. Unless the missed communication of the earlier week made it certain this was the news of my brother I refused to accept. Still, my knowledge of the breathing body made me quake.

In our hometown he raised his own children. The very place that suffocated your soul. Now he found God, given a second chance at life. Beckoned at the call of duty asked of our father. Was it I the one to betray my own brother?

How could they not tell me? Those years wandering around in disarray? The moments I slouched cold and alone, abandon what I thought was a stand against the wrong doing of my patriarch. Instead I left because of what I thought were the wrong doings of my Lord.

Ũ

Blue skies opened up for short time in a long desperate while. The welcoming symbols of spring showing up. The air grew brittle breathing in only increments of heat. Our time together inched by daybreak and evening, thinning in size as he prepared his journey for adventure.

My thoughts on the matter were equivalent of those he tried sharing with me; blank. Wanting to say more than my soul would allow, somehow I found it in my body to reject all usage of verbal communication.

Sitting silent in the corner of his bedroom, wallowing in self-pity as he packed and unpacked his navy blue duffle bag. He nipped at my attention span as I stared at the corner ceiling reminding myself we come into this world alone, so we might as well do our duty for life solo.

Imagining the window in the bottom of our cellar. Rusty nails poking themselves inward, begging to be replaced. The smell of yeast and barley rising in my nostrils. Tears filling my eyes paining the way I once lived and left behind. Quiet as a mouse I dapped the weakness drops leaving crevasses of my eyes. No more room for regret. No more room for old beginnings to come forth. The life I chose was that of a modern establishment. Banished from the ideas I grew with, the family I called home was none I was born into. No matter the determination or begging for repentance, my claim on the world was one that went against my community.

My thoughts in instant frantic mode.

"Tell me, was it the confliction of interest or the hardship of truth you lollygagged on the news of my brother's marvel?" My legs pacing back and forth making certain to him no intentions of playing the good cop.

"I would have told you! You didn't want to hear it. When I came back from Indiana you were struck in terror of just the news of your sister. I held onto the truth promising I would expose his secret to you the next couple days." His knuckles popping white with worry and torment.

"He is my brother I thought dead for years and you saw him living within minutes of approaching my homeland." Studying his hollow eyes, there was a small part of me whispering that he had done right by me. Quick to ignore the subconscious yearnings.

"Trae Lae, I would have told you. I would have confessed it to you firstly, only knowing that it would make the merger of your understanding easier to stomach." The strands of his hair dangling out in open modesty.

"You did not though, Briggs. You kept the secrecy of his breath a hidden façade. I overlooked your spontaneity to go running back to the community I abandoned. I recognized in you the will to do this for me. To mend broken edges of the mirror I once saw as my reflection. But...my brother. You had knowledge of this for weeks. My remorse growing thicker and heavier every minute I knew of this treachery you kept from me. I forgive you, although I no longer am seeking refuge from your kindness."

"Trae Lae! Come on! I understand you are troubled and are very annoyed with me. We are alike in so many ways you and I. I love you. Every part of you a mystery I have to find clues too. Wanting you to be whole, I call an act out of love not out of vengeance. If you thought otherwise of my behavior you are the one in the wrong and I have nothing to apologize for. You accept that or you don't. I'm going on that Europe trip, whether you decide to take my accounts into consideration. Best to leave you to dwell." His confession of interest led me to denial, a down a dead end street.

My hollow steps echoing to myself I had made the wrong decision. His suitcase already packed and no means for stealing his adventure away from him as he had mine.

∨

The plane began to board passengers and I found my seat next to Ashlee. I was still her boyfriend in my mind. Trae Lae would be my girlfriend when I got back. She needed space and I wondered if it were time I gave that gift to her.

She insisted I go and still I longed for her voice to convince me to stay. I could have made that decision on my own, but I didn't think it was my place to point verdicts.

Leaving without a hopeful goodbye, whispering on interests I wished to share with her. I saw the deceit in her eyes. My trip to Indiana flaw worthy. I hoped I did the right thing as I acted in that a charismatic mindset.

Turbulence on liftoff made me wonder if I made the correct choice in going overseas.

Aunt Macee gathered I would not be her boy to toy with any longer. Newspaper package arrived for me enclosed with a confessional apology. Behind the sorry, a bond booklet full of diary entries, those titled by none other than my mother, Scarlett James.

Broken pieces of the red bindings of my mother's journal fell on the ground. I opened to page one and read thoughts she once felt. Her words filled with despair, but somehow I loved the way they were spelled.

Her penmanship perfect in size accuracy. I saw the divots and swirls of letters I wished I'd known more. Sentences of her hopeful mind and terrible temptations laid out in perfect sequences along the lined paper. Scribbles of her furious words with none other than black and red ink. Stains of curiosity lingered at every dog-eared corner. Phrases sparking something I had never insisted on believing before, that my absent dead mother was once a normal well-mannered woman.

Flipping through careless notary scenes I found myself at the beginning of the last entry. Breath taken from me I shook my head in disbelief. This was the ending of her journaling, the conclusion in which started the destination to the completion of existence.

"Darkness surrounded the light around me and at once I knew I would never be safe from its grasp. Suddenly taking over the body I claimed as my own, turning my skin, hair, blood, tears and lastly my soul as black as it was. The drug doing more than creating a haven for me. It swallowed me into a world I recognized not. Dealing out the lies and betrayals I was always warned against. Immobile, the lingering hope to once have the clarity of being normal. I ran my fingertips over my bulging abdomen. A boy lived and grew strong inside me. His heartbeat far stronger, even wiser than I could ever hope mine to be. I hope one day he would understand the person I was before the miscellaneous bad choices. For if it wasn't for the obvious avalanche I put myself under, maybe I would enjoy the vision of a man I willed for you to become, son."

Her last words untangling the belief she was corrupted and an evil doer. Sobs tried to invade my personal space as I felt completely irrelevant. Tiniest physical creatures had no comparison to the way my entire reality unfolded. I stood seven again, my birthday right around the corner a milestone in my life I can always remember. My aunt made a grand display of her material affection for me. My mother's presence occupying the presents she tried to persuade with. Wrinkles upon her aged face retold the horror stories I couldn't help but try and wipe clean.

I tried to see Scarlett as a friend, as she walked toward me bearing a hug and not a monster truck. Her palms open with hope and understanding, instead that off racecars and candy. I loved that about her, she asked for nothing in return and simply stated this was her way to accept the boy she once carried. I couldn't recall her image until finding that long lost photograph the edges nearly burnt away with sisterly anger.

I found myself fantasizing, she spoke softly and told me she loved me. I half-heartedly smiled, she was an angel I found myself guarding on that day. As I opened my eyes to see her once more, she strolled to the back patio. I tried to follow, pleading with her to bring me to her Heaven. In time, we will be together once again, a bright light absorbing her indefinitely.

ώ

My concern fluctuated from high alert to unresponsiveness. Arriving at the absolution if I met any familiar wondering eyes, I carelessly would brush them off with a shrug of my shoulder. My target, the objective in mind stood 5'10, brown hair, weary eyes, and a scar on his right cheek from fishing as a child. A stride in his quaking step, you knew when my brother came around all the woodland creatures hid.

Malachi tugged crates of produce from the back of his yellow old pickup. Aubrie Ayn began stacking them onto the bare shelves. His figure a mirage in my mind. I stood there out of place, for hours it seemed like, watching as he went about his cultural duties. He aged in the sunlight his hair almost gray in comparison to my taint locks. His ghostly appearance making it certain he changed from the guy I once knew to a man standing solid.

I went alone stalking the very ground on which I found my brother's body in mangled confliction. No orders being transmitted to headquarters to inform them of pending arrival. I merely took a bus, a train, a plane, anything that would move me along the state lines to get back in front of our Amish souk.

Eyes darting every which way to make my appearance invisible as possible. Fight the outrage in my bones to stay a spectator. Unpleasant thoughts about calling out his name. Aubrie Ayn skipping to finish her chores, ideas of a pleasant Rumspinga holiday still in play.

The sun's position fluctuating in a matter of moments. Dusk was approaching, he made movements to pack in the feed for his farm animals as the day grew old. I watched and waited impulsively making a commotion so we would meet eyes.

A tourist group from the modern town nearby stopped in for a treat at the simple life. Baffled at their arrival he took a direction towards the edge of my hiding place. Nearly knocking me clear off my feet. His glance double-taking my contemporary wardrobe. Halting only momentarily. Eyes wavering from the work at hand. Staring in disbelief now, he was the one in hostile shock.

My brother's expression wondered how I stood before him costumed as an outsider. Aubrie Ayn giving a cheerful wave. Malachi never looking back to whom I was in fact waving too. His glare went deep beyond any recognition of loyalty.

Aubrie's voice singing out in a friendly welcome. Malachi, moved back to the pickup. Dragging my young sister in hurry to evade the predicament. Consoling his standoffish attitude Aubrie pleaded with him to rebuild the broken bridges burning bright in my oval eyes. His eyes only envisioning ashes upon ashes he had walked through to get to the present time in his life. Adolescent faults left behind for good; did that include yours truly?

I indeed became the one pointed out as a leper.

Triturated object left beside the tracks of rubber. Merely passing by me on his way back to the old country. The brother I thought I once knew, moved counter to the livelihood I'd chosen over this community. One that shunned the idea of my brother's past habits. Along down the dirt road kicking up mud; was I the one to defy him. Was I not the one to claim his life worthy of notice? Silence struggling to survive my words falling flat out in the dusty wind. His tracks blown away in the whispers of summer. His eyes glaring back at me through the rearview mirror with curiosity in dilated pupils. Left to find meaning of life all alone with blind folds, travelers coming on it by happenstance or common luck.

My brother the walking miracle, transforming back into the old ways of Amish traditions.

He knew I'd come for the vision of him. Miles not making an impact on the absolute mind. Time trekked to find the life living and breathing I once knew all on its own. This boy transformed into a version my biological father would gladly pat on the back. Hands shaking the strong man he was revived as. Pride quiet in a hush tone would enter my father's heart as his once troubled son, maneuvered into the prospect of respected soul.

Over the conquest of troubling days, bent up angst, the worry building so far up inside me, I became half of a whole. Memories of him haunting me to warn me away from the pleasures of the new world. Making the choice, as he confirmed to me his opposition. Briggs clearly noting the demise of my one true self. Making the necessary adjustments to surge myself together.

It's somehow alike to the movies that have no sound in sight. Quiet vulnerable words you wish to share with the other characters only having the silence make arguments for you. You want to reach out and touch your long lost friend. Deliberate well enough you can't afford to go back, mingling with past relations. You must move forward and I believe that is what he recognized as he drove off to the Amish territory.

Χ

Separation was good for the both of us. It held great potential for each of us to grow individually. I convinced myself that maybe we could begin an ideal connection. Briggs sent a postcard from ultramarine every week at the Europe abroad tour. The exact one that my dear roommate joined. Ashlee ceasing to get the hint of our relationship status.

Trying to hush my own fears, fellow roommates shared pictures and videos of them having wild excitement. While I stayed on the home front studying theories. Sure it was part of my doing. I had no desires to follow my gorgeous boyfriend half way around the world to the most romantic destinations on the planet. What girlfriend would want that kind of hot mess? I certainly refused to believe I wanted that.

The acute results for not going may sound standoffish it is the truth nonetheless. Though the answer may very well astonish you please keep in mind I come from a community where small minded thinking is advised. Ha, there I go again letting a past life rule the present one. My life is simple here in the dorm room. Life for me was never about simplicity. I caved in for every chance at typical enjoyment. I felt I wanted this space from my obligation to be with him. I somehow felt suddenly that maybe I would fill the empty hole inside. Veracity be told, the gap felt less empty when surrounded by him. Asking Briggs to venture off with his previous playmate made me want him more. A jealous manor or not.

The way out would be easy. The path paved clear for a nice summer's day. Flashbacks of the cold silence Malachi provided me recognized I didn't belong here. It would be easy to vanish, disappear and start over new. Some place I could establish. Another property to declare a loveable household. I'd leave a note with a comment or two. Even though my speechless messages to him now are so comforting. I saw in the moments the time for a grand escape would be now.

Gypsy, the word popped into my mind as a flickering notion of what my life could become. My family isolated my existence. My whole upbringing a default of the sorrows of mistakes made yesterday. They would never ask me for repentance. Acceptance that I no longer sought out their domineering approval.

ῧ⅚

Trae Lae's luggage packed and piled. Mounted on the welcome mat. I waited for her to see me run into my arms and give a comfy kiss. I missed the way her tangled hair smelt like mint and honeysuckle. I wanted so vastly to twirl her about like in the old movies when love was special and easy.

Long flights bringing me back to this front door. Tapping on it to see if she will open her heart to me again. I wonder where the matters of my spirit have taken her. Do they bring her soaring finding peace among the clouds? Does it vary in size as she lays her head down to sleep at night? I am hopeful of things unseen. Things I want to bring to present and leave all past where it should be.

I tried to use my words, all coming out in a noiseless matrimony. Wants to inform her of the long journey I'd taken. Not just in Europe's borders, but the one commenced as I opened up the red leather cover. A witness into a world I always hoped to understand. After finishing the briefs side notes of each tale, I longed for absolution and thusly granted such a whimsical wish.

Her vision always casted downward a means to avoid eye contact with potential people. I throw my bag on top of hers waiting to see the surprise in her eyes. I longed for her to notice me in a minute and welcome back the man I tried to be for her. Coming back now I hoped she would gladly hold onto the rugged hands of the man I started developing into.

When she finally took the time to look up all I saw in her expression a mass display of confusion.

¥

I opened the door for the final time that semester. Suitcases in tow, I piled my remaining possessions into a plastic bag. Though the circus had dispersed for the year, which is where I found my place. The community of circus acts found refuge on the acres of Montana land mass.

Footsteps trekked toward the dorm room.

"Excuse my belongings scattered in your pathway." Tossing each item over the next trying to make room for the fellow. Instead the grungy looking guy tossed a green backpack on top of the pile. I'm not a skeptic for judgments to be passed but honestly take a shower dude your scent could make babies spew.

My arms weak from the tugging of bags. I tried to wiggle around the enormous outdated choice for luggage. Tipping it over I heard a small chuckle. A picture had fallen out of the pocket. When I bent down to pick it up I knew whose bags toppled over.

BRIGGS BYINGTON.

The flight tag clearly marked for landing less than a couple hours ago. The outline of Briggs' broad body implanted his cross-country shoes in the way of my migration approach. Breathing calm in front of my lifespan. He gathered all matters of my being into his. Clutching onto me, causing interception in case I tried to flee. His strong eyes connecting with mine, too proud to look away. Engulfed in an inaudible bond.

"What are you doing here? What about the backpacking tour?" My voice struggling to sound stable. He shook his head politely.

"My entire excursion was overwhelmed by the apparition of you. I had to come back, to see you and set things right between us."

"You're knowledge of my departure today is right as rain." I slowly strolled my arms down the sides of his back.

"That isn't the information I received. In fact there was not any information to go on. Even though you clearly are vacating the apartment today." Helpless and annoyed, no messages were sent his way during the duration of the expedition.

"I just knew if it were me, and I were in your position I would have no reason to stay either. I would have probably packed up and gone back to my aunt's house. Trae Lae you and I are of the same kind." His lips igniting electricity with mine. "We are essential for one another's company." Starry-eyed, he pressed deeply into my kiss.

"Trae Lae, you are the other half. The purpose I choose to live for. With you all days cease to be gray, the rain never clouding on our parades. My dreams of reality only include you. I will fumble with my words forever if you would just let me tell you one phrase of harmonious value...I love you." His round eyes spoke truth into my soul.

I love you, Briggs. Mouth the words I lustfully devoted myself too.

Cuddles in an upright position, my vision blurry. Trembling tears fell from my pupils to think I wanted to leave behind the only person who wanted me for all I have been, past present and hopeful future. We met again at the same spot of our first meet cute.
Ž

Next chapter following our love story begins with a bottle of whiskey and a baby bump. Joking, only joshing you worrisome observers. It starts with an opening applause as we made our way on stage.

Our welcoming bows perpendicular to the crowd. Performances for no one other than ourselves. Making bounding leaps and twirling ripples as the crowd soared with excitement.

Briggs and I, ultimately in sync. One another's body and structure keeping careful tabs. Our movements in unison, copying that of our partner. We took our sturdy layout of actions. Sweet smiles radiating the hot heat of love we knew as true companionship.

Hearts pounding as the past flees from our fingertips. More than empty spaces to store our new beginnings. Worries and deceit of yesterday contradict us no longer. Movements guiding us through tangible corridors of amorousness and correct conscious state.

Onward we made our way to the next possible adventure of our ever bright lite paradise.

Cheers! You've completed reading about the circus in me.

Thank you! May yours be better lived!

Start of a New Beginning.

Obligations

Firstly, to my wonderful endearing husband Keenan, your support and appreciation is monumental.

Thank You.

To my son for always having nap time in accordance to my writing episodes.

Thank You.

Dee, my delightful humorous father-in-law, who took special interest in my writing and believed in its abilities.

Thank You.

Uncle Philip for teaching 7th grade English classes about prepositions.

Brent Taylor, may I call you Brent? From Teen Eyes Editorial for perfecting my written word.

Thank You.

To specimens I observed while on my adventures at BYU-I, who fell victim to my storytelling.

You're Welcome.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo Credit: Divine Photography

Author of The Tangled Tears

S.M.'s origin of script commenced at the earliest of eons. Growing copious ambitions to be a novelist. Exploration of choice roads in making this goal complete. Deliberating self-publishing the best way for her, bringing into print The Tangled Tears; a novel in 2013.

Proclaimed to a livelihood of a dream catcher. Imaginative power fueling her inspired projects; more Young Adult novels in route.

Clean of ink stains and paper cuts, she dabbles in scrap-booking & wood crafts, and enjoys cooking.

S.M. lives in Idaho with her husband and son.

www.sbjarnson.blogspot.com

