The First Time - Original Writing

"I...I'm Marcie," the girl introduced herself, nervously, deciding, for now, to be happy that it wasn't what she feared.

" You all have very pretty names. I really like yours." She said looking towards

There was just something about her, as soon as I laid my eyes on her I just knew I fell in love. I guess it’s true what they say you can fall in love at first sight. But at first I felt like I just wasn't good enough for her, I felt like if I even tried I would just embarrass myself. But the way she just worked on that hardwood floor just gave me goosebumps and shivers going down my spine. When I isolate myself with her four countless hours it made me forget about everyone else in this world it felt like we were the only ones.

"Do you know anyone yet?" I asked, only somewhat curios, but mostly distracted by the way she looked away and bit her lip when I asked about her.

“Hi Emily, Hello Mrs. Jorgensen, I’m Mrs. Hyre, Emily’s math teacher.” Her voice was soft and calm.

She could see how that assistant lost her professionalism while working with him. His face was a work of art that drew you in and screamed aristocracy. From his high forehead to the nobel slope of his nose. Melody’s eyes followed the path of his light freckles sprawl across the bridge of his nose and fan out onto his impossibly high cheekbones. Said cheekbones created deep valleys in his cheeks that shadowed beautifully in the not so forgiving light of the first class cabin.

“‘Name? What name?’ She asked, touching me on the shoulder. I told her my name, and she

She was gorgeous. Her eyes were the color of emeralds, their radiant green a beacon for lost

Normal school day, same itchy blazer and tie, badly ironed button up and brand new too tight black shoes. books? check. food? check. badly done assignment? check. Internal monologue running as I try to remember everything so I don't get scolded at in front of a whole class, grabbing the disgusting food mother has made me is the last thing I wanna eat right now but it'll have to do.

“Hello! My name is Ellie. I will be guiding you today around this trashy, old school,” she joked.

Always my seat. And she was of course, staring at me. I noticed during class the little things she does. Push her hair back, grabs and twists her ears until they turn red, picks at her spotless fingernails and scabs on her hand until they bleed. Usually this is when she tells the teacher she has to clean up the mess she’s made. You’ll be lucky if you see her in that class after one of those, otherwise she disappears into the walls of the school, her body receding, swallowed by the colours in the area. This happened day after day, one day after another. The crowd of people would disappear when I would look at her. The other kids I mean. Her eyes the Gatorade ones. They would just stare at me. Look at me and stare right at my face. The look she gave me was usually vacant. Occasionally she would let her emotions spill out like paint spilling on a fresh clean paper. I would see the glass inside of her, the real girl, the shattered one the one who didn’t live to shop, hang out with her friends, squeal over guys. The one who truly believed she was broken, she wasn’t safe and no one could help her anymore. But just as quickly as it came it would disappear like the a fault or glitch in the system. She would go back to the standard usual glacial look and quickly avert her gaze. I would just sigh. We never actually interacted, until the day she came up to

"nice, now all you have to do is go sit next to her, and start talking to her. you can do this loki, no backing down, no retreat." i thought to myself. I took a big breath of the cool October air, and marched myself to where she was sitting, put on my biggest, goofiest smile, and through all my nervousness, i spat out it out.

But he was beautiful, delicate as a flower but sharp. Grey eyes that seemed to see everything with a straight aristocratic nose between. Full pink lips that were slight bluish from the cold rain that begged to be kissed warm.

With her head resting on my chest as she was still cuddled up against me, she gave me that look with her golden brown eyes that would make the lyrics to Marvin Gaye’s “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” true for me. For a brief moment everything seemed to stop, until she quickly pressed her soft lips against mine. Breaking the kiss to stretch her arms out before she hopped out of my bed and skipped along to the bathroom around the corner.

However, the thought of seeing Joan shortly ameliorated his distress. It would be a quick visit, nothing more than a kiss and the exchange of a few words, because Perceval had another long and trying day ahead of him guarding, patrolling and who knew what else.