TheKeeper197

   The whole thing was just an excuse for some sort of education/charity tax write-off, but it was a legitimate gallery and it would look great on my resume, so what did I care. No one even seemed to care when I snuck glass of champagne off a tray and downed it in one go, despite the fact that I was one of the artists and the whole point of this exhibit was “showcasing the community’s talented up-and-coming creatives.” I even grabbed another after Katie left and I was forced to take on the gallery patrons on my own. At least I’m not a lighweight I thought, though really, what would two little glasses of watered down ch

   “Just don’t let anyone know you are coming, alright? We wouldn’t want them thinking I’m playing favorites, would we.”    Of course they didn’t want that, so Matias and Jaime didn’t say a word.    This could be a considered a questionable decision, of course. Most would think a teacher asking two of his students to meet him at the back parking lot without telling anyone a very questionable action, but they just didn’t understand. Professor Cortes—or Lucas, as they called him—wasn’t just a professor. Matias had only been in his clas

   It was far too early for this, but the Packrat couldn’t stay mad at his current target. He couldn’t blame him, either; if Ash waited much longer, the park would be overrun with people, and all the dewy, natural beauty that made his photos so lovely would be lost. Nothing gold can stay and all that.   Packrat’s dime caught the light and he quickly hid himself behind a tree as Ash turned towards it. The young man blew some messy brown hair out of his eyes but, not seeing anything out of the ordinary, knelt down next to a cluster of mushrooms and readied his camera. Well, no time like the present. This picture wouldn’

   There was a conversation going on between the passenger and driver of the passing Mercedes Benz limousine, but if any locals were to listen in, they wouldn’t be able to understand. The passenger’s Spanish was perfect, which was appropriate, for he was the Prince of Asturias. Or Spain, basically. His driver’s diction was equally perfect, for he had all but been raised to serve the prince, and such a servant couldn’t possibly have incorrect grammar. So they spoke, zooming through the English countryside, their conversation unintelligible to anyone who didn’t speak the same language they did.   As it turned out,

"Dylan...please stop!  You don't know what you are doing!  You aren't in your right mind!" Dylan growled in anger.  "Right mind?  Right mind??  I am in my right mind for the first time in god knows how long.  The last thing I clearly remember was in August...now it is December!  I have lost almost four months of my life and it is all your fault!" "No, that isn't true Dylan...these past four months were the first time you truly lived!  You held in feelings for me for years...you have loved me since middle school!  Don't you remember?" I felt small droplets on my face. Tears.  Dylan's tears. "I DO remember...I did love you...and I still do