Any Way You Want It by Journey was the theme song for today's post ;)

Okay, I want to hear your voices guys! I am taking requests for artistic pieces on which I would do a testimonial. Pick my brain. Get my honest reaction to said pieces. It's not that I don't have material myself, but I would like to write about things that readers believe are artistic pieces of the world. Here's my schedule/themes if you would like a prompt to get started:

Sunday - Written Word of the Week

Monday- Modern Movie Spotlight

Tuesday- Timeless Tens & Twenties

Wednesday- Western Whittle-bitties

Thursday- Thirties: The Golden Decade

Friday- Fiery Forties & Fifties

Saturday- Series, Plays & The Fine Arts

And of course, you don't have to even look at my themes/schedule. Just send me a title and/or picture and that's that! I'll give a shout out/credit when I post the testimonial. But you only get one day to send me your requests! Send it to me by email: olivejuuice@gmail.com OR tag me on Instagram @olivejuuiice or find me on Wattpad byt the same name :)

Stay Pe@chyKEEN!

Olive♥

#anywayyouwantit #thewrittenandthepokenword #blogger #blog #requestsopen #testimonial #wattpad #wordpress #proseapp #film #classicfilm #classicmovies #art #painting #books #novels #thewrittenword #thespokenword #theatre #acting #artists #music

When asked what my favorite novel is, this one comes to mind. But being an avid reader and book collector (mostly Harlequin Romance) I couldn't say it out loud. I couldn't commit to the fact that My Very Own Murder by Josephine Carr was my favorite novel of everything I've read. Not that I didn't want to, but I hadn't read the book in question since I was pretty young (eighth grade I believe). I had found it amongst the many books in my town's local library back in Texas. I couldn't tell exactly why either. From the synopsis on the back cover you wouldn't expect it to spark a thirteen year old's interest.

"Free-spirited and freshly divorced, fifty-year-old Anne Johnson is living the good life. She spends her days in her luxurious, elegant apartment in Washington, D.C., cuddled up with a book in one hand and a martini in the other. Then, she hears a voice in her head, warning that there'll be a murder in her building in thirty days-and she must prevent it. Anne confides in Mary, the building's large-and-in-charge cleaning woman, and together, they plan a party to ferret out the would-be killer. But if they don't act quickly, the swanky soiree might end up being a goodbye party for both of them."

But the title itself, brought a heap of curiosity to the surface.

Curiosity killed that cat....But satisfaction brought it back!

...My Very Own Murder

I remember thinking, "Was she going to commit a murder?" "Was she going to discover a murder?" Or "Was she already dead and telling us how she ended up being murdered?"

Long story short, eight grade me thought it was hilarious as well as brilliant but I knew so much had probably went over my head. So I took myself to my local library and went to the mystery section hoping to surprise myself by finding the novel without any real effort. Safe to say, I had no luck.

My gut was telling me that my new hometown's library had this book and I was going to find it. I had to. I needed to know if the book I had read all those years ago was actually as good as I seemed to remember or was I just an easily pleased preteen with an unnatural relationship with curiosity?

One quick computer search and I had the book in my hand. I won't lie, I skipped out of the library to my car; welcoming stares and all.

Bringing the novel with me to work, I read it at low traffic times. I finished the book in four days. And question was answered pretty quickly. The book was hilarious, off-beat in the best way, a little bizarre, but was still able to keep you on edge of you seat at times. The main character astonishing! Not in a way one would expect, especially not I. A new discovery I made that obviously my younger self had not was that this character was me!

Every chapter I finished I could pick out similarities between her and I. And not like, Oh! We have the same hair color and eye color and she's my height. Oh no, it was her actions, train of thought, and quirkiness! The entire novel is a situation that if happened to me; I would no doubt go about it the same way. I would investigate, make a friend or friends very easily—who would no doubt join the search, and allow my confidence in my sleuthing skills to mistakenly take the sleeping pill meant for my much younger lover!  Besides, I've already cut my long locks into a pixie. I think I'm on the right path... To a nonchalant divorce, two grown kids, an intense talent for cooking, and a martini glass attached to my hand. Okay, so margarita glass, but that's the only difference!

[Like I said, can't resist a bullet list]

     ~Pixie cut [CHECK]

     ~Fifty years old [Halfway there!]

     ~Divorced [Have to date to even have the opportunity...]

     ~Two kids [Got two dogs...Practice makes perfect!]

     ~Cooking talent [CHECK...out my Instagram @olivejuuiice]

This is my saddest list yet. Jesus help!

If you haven't read this novel. Go find it! Read...even if for a good slow cooker chili recipe (It came out fantastic when I tried it).

To those who are wondering, how can this be my favorite novel...It's not. I don't have one. So, I'll leave you with one of the most memorable quotes from the novel:

"I felt downright beautiful, even if I wasn't. That is, I often felt beautiful when I was alone, not when I was the object of a man's gaze."--- My Very Own Murder by Josephine Carr

I'm all out of time...not really. But this is it for Sunday's Novel of the Week post

Being a straight-forward and blunt person, particularly with my opinions, I can't resist what I'm about to say next.

I hate Romeo & Juliet

Excuse me, I apologize, that's maybe too strong a word. For those who are the faint of heart I'll rephrase.

Romeo & Juliet is my least favorite of the Shakespeare plays... [*whispers* Of all the plays I've seen, sorry Shax]

However, I am a walking, living, breathing contradiction. I've seen nearly every film adaptation and more than my fair share of play productions of this script. Just to hammer home my contradiction-ness (is that even a word?), my hopeless romantic side makes itself known as I bitterly hope at the death scene that somehow the underage couple live rather than die an overdramatic death. Can't help to remember how happy I was when Taylor Swift did exactly that in her song "Love Song" (back before she became a sell out and I loathed her).

Pardon my rant, let's get down to the spotlight for today's theme: Series, Plays, and The Arts, Romeo & Juliet.

But not just any old Romeo & Juliet production (I'm going to get fed up writing their names). The production I attended took the cake of every R&J I had encountered in my twenty-four years. My testimonial today is going to be on,

Wolfbane Productions'

Romeo & Juliet

Now exactly what was so amazing that it caused this reaction out of a hater like me? [Can't deny myself a good bullet point list!]

     -The Advertising

     -The Writing/Adaptation

     -The History

     -The Venue

     -Free Admission!

Five stars—ahem— points, and so much to say about each one. Let's begin!

Wolfbane Productions is literally a hidden jewel in the mountains of Virginia, at least as seen in my drive on the long winding road to get to Appomattox, Virginia. The advertising for this production had to be able to grasp the attention of potential customers in such impacting way. The next several bullets will expand on exactly why. The main piece of advertising that drew me in was self-made trailer of the play. I'm a sucker for attention getters, and Wolfbane did an unexpected yet gorgeous job on the trailer. Don't believe me, you can check it out for yourself. The link will be included below.

My favorite points on the list, The Writing/Adaptation and The History are connected heavily. For a hater like me I say it made the story several times more enjoyable. I love a good twist to any long standing, universally known story, and Wolfbane gave it to me! From Wolfbane's Producing Artistic Director, Dustin Williams, we got an even deeper conflict than two feuding families. Williams stayed true to Shax's vision of star-crossed lovers, feuding families, and tragic deaths while adding in a heavy realistic point in our country's history, The Civil War. As watched the performance, I saw how Williams changed a despicably sad love story into a historical fiction with such strong foundation of facts and history. In doing so, left Shakespeare's work as a mere outline or rough draft. An original script and production had been born. The writing was so well done that I had a brand new feeling towards the mention of the words, Romeo and Juliet!

"I began working on this adaptation of Romeo and Juliet two years ago, fully intending to simply set Shakespeare's script in the Civil War times. But it soon grew into a completely new realization of the classic story. (On that note, if there are any Shakespeare purists in the audience, you have my sincerest apologies). As we got deeper into the history of this town and read more about the lives people lived in the village, I began to understand it would be a disservice to not step further into their world. Although the production is a work of historical fiction, several characters are inspired by actual historical figures. Juliet's story is based on a young lady whose father, the ambassador to France, was jailed for his confederate leanings. She and her mother moved here to be with relatives when a young soldier came back on recruitment, met, fell in love with and married the young lady." --- Dustin Williams, on Wolfbane's Romeo & Juliet

The love of this version's Romeo & Juliet lasted four years from 1861 (the beginning of the war) until 1865 (the end of the war) and the deaths of our two lovers. How gorgeous is that!? In the midst of a national war and being a member of families on opposite sides their love persevered. I'd take this version over ole Shax's any day.

William's vision was given life through some very talented actors a few even from Broadway. In addition, they have THE best Mercutio I had the pleasure of seeing. The actor Patrick Michael Joyce did a phenomenal job. I cried when he died, while singing, I might add, Holy, Holy, holy. Not just because it was devastating scene but because the guy could act, he held the audience captive and gave comic relief with spot on improv when needed.

The venue was a definite change in stage or lack thereof. It was outside! On a landmark site no less, Appomattox Court House, a national historic park with a overly large tree as center stage. The actors running through and around the audience only strengthened the pull into the productions world.

Okay, you're wondering, exactly how did I get to see such a riveting play for zero dollars and zero pennies. My former college and dace team friend is the costume designer for Wolfbane Productions put me under family and friends and I received a free ticket. Not only that, I got to meet several of the actors at the after party. Score! I knew she could sew but my girl has immense talent that is finally getting put to use and fully appreciated. There is a link below to more pictures. And yes, every article of clothing was sketched, measured, cut and sown together by my close friend Rebecca Myrie.

I do apologize for posting about this play so very, very late after it closed, but I have no doubt that Wolfbane will be putting this on again in the years to come.

Links/ Sources 

Wolfbane's Romeo & Juliet Trailer:

Wolfbane's Facebook Page for more upcoming events:

https://www.facebook.com/WBappomattox/

For more photos of the production and costumes:

http://www.newsadvance.com/the_burg/features/photos-wolfbane-productions-romeo-and-juliet/collection_8e1c82fe-4acd-11e7-a10e-f71936fe955d.html

I’ll go ahead and get this out of way. I am obsessed with this film. It’s pretty new to my list of favorite films. Yet, although new, I’ve watched it four times and I’m actually watching it as I type up this entry. Let’s hope it doesn’t impede our discussion.

Directed by Otto Preminger, we have the Noir Film, Laura (1944) on topic for tonight.

I’ll include a link of a full synopsis at the end of the entry, but here’s a quick one courtesy of Turner Classic Movies:

A police detective falls in love with the woman whose murder he’s investigating.

Straight to the point, yeah?

Now, just like with every film I encounter (and fall in love with) I have to Triple Threat it—meaning I have to watch three times, pretty simple. Everyone knows the familiar saying, Third time’s the charm. [a favorite cliché of mine, I must confess]! Yes, this Triple Threat is a rule for me however, with this film it turned out to be a privilege. After my first viewing I had the urge to watch it again.

Let’s back up to the very first time I watched. I have to admit, I am ashamed and a trifle bit annoyed with myself for watching it while at work on one of our rare busy days. For shame, Olive! I know, I know. But the experience from watching wasn’t dull in the least. FUN FACT: I am boy crazy. (Bear with me if you will) I am a sucker for a handsome face and deep voice. (Tall, dark, and handsome—another favorite cliché.) This description alone could very well describe this film in a nutshell. Tall, because it, admittedly, went over my head in my first viewing. Dark, because it was a classic Noir Crime Film in Black & White; shadows surrounding every shot beautifully. Handsome, pertaining to the lovely weaved dialogue. Handsome dialogue and a handsome leading man.

The meaning of the word slapped me in the face as the opening scene where we encounter Lieutenant Mark McPherson, played by the delicious (pardon my boldness) Dana Andrews. I was smitten! I remember saying out loud, “Well hello there you beautiful sexy beast.” (Okay, so I whispered it.) At this point, I had made up my mind, if the film wasn’t that great, I would watch it, just to watch him! (A fantastic attention getter, Otto.)

I have another confession—I am a little silly in the first viewing of films. I poke fun at bizarre connections I’m pretty sure I only make. For example, when Mark talks to Waldo Lydecker of how he wrote an article about a previous murder of a victim with the last name Harrington killed in the same manner as Laura Hunt. My silly thought came forth, “What does the murderer got against people with last names starting with H!” The answer? Nothing! I was way off. Throughout the first run—the entire time, I kept asking, “How the hell did Mark fall in love with Laura.” The tallness of the film; Mark all of a sudden was jealous, punching other men, and ended up kissing the dame.

The movie ended and I found myself asking again, “When and how had his love for this dead woman manifested?” There were no signs, clues, warnings— so obviously there wasn’t any straight out dialogue from Mark saying when he fell in love let alone saying was in love with her. However, I made myself realize that I was half conscious in a sense when watching it, I mean, I was at work for goodness sake. And I couldn’t help but giggle every time Lydecker said the word “very”.

A month went by and I had attended to correcting add multiple titles onto IMDb. I cruised through Netflix and saw Laura in my list. That question resonated within me once again. I knew I had missed not just some but all the clues! I went back to IMDb and quickly found the film seeing it had won an Oscar. It was time for my second run through of the film. This time I was in the quietness of my living/dining room laying on my body pillow in the middle of the floor with my boy Bear and Oliver slathered over me fast asleep. I sadly report, I didn’t get the answer to my question. Still drooling over Andrews, I instead focused on the facial expressions of Mark. Maybe I would see something. Indeed, I catch a glimpse here and there. But my focus was not clear at all. I was all over the place. It felt as if that month had put me back to my initial reaction as the one of my first viewing. I shouldn’t have waited such a long time in between viewings. Even the universe thought so as I remembered buying the LIFE magazine issue that came out about Film Noir. There on the cover was Mark and Laura (Dana and Gene)!

The very next night I shut all the lights off, took up my comfy zone on the body pillow and started the film again. I was going to get the answer to my question! I reminded myself that it was the 1940s and it was custom for them to speak fast and have an accent that the decade itself alone owed. So, I watched the expressions and listened carefully. I figured out it was the old geezer Lydecker that was tripping me up. He could stand as still as a statue but his mouth moved faster than the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. And what do you know. He spoke all the clues right out in the open. Mark helped in the small flicker of his eyes in response to Lydecker. For example, when Lydecker confront Mark on how he put in a bid on the portrait of (the presumed dead) Laura.

BINGO! Big ass clue…

And I never heard it until my THIRD time of viewing the classic film.

Third time is [definitely] the charm!

The clues were finally revealed to me of just how Lieutenant Mark McPherson and fell in love with Laura Hunt.

*  He sat there and didn’t interrupt Lydecker’s retelling of how they met. He even stopped writing in that little black notebook.

*  He basically lived in a “dead” girl’s house. Even had Bessie (Laura’s housemaid) working and doing what he asked as if he was master of the house.

*  Sorry, gotta mention it twice— He was in her house all day and night. Reading and re-reading her letters and diary. Drinking all her liquor. Going through her vanity, smelling her perfume, looking in her closet. Then falling asleep (all this in one night). It was like he just wanted to be near her through all her possessions because she was already dead. [I wish the audience was able to see a few of the letters or diary entries.]

*  Then the big clue I mentioned previously. In addition, with Lydecker basically doing a reverse interrogation on Mark about having dreams of Laura as his wife and having babies! Mark is such a hothead; him getting all mad, holding his (or rather Laura’s) whiskey glass like he was going to crush it in his grasp!

         >SIDENOTE: He has the biggest hands I’ve ever seen on a man! I actually felt bad for Shelby (Vincent Price) and his solar plexus.

*   The only dialogue that clearly stated the answer I was looking for: “You better watch out, McPherson, or you’ll end up in a psychiatric ward. I don’t think they’ve ever had patient who feel in love with a corpse.” — Waldo Lydecker. Mark, with a face like thunder, tossed back another shot of whiskey.

All in all, at least Mark McPherson was a real man who didn’t deny his feelings. That’s very rare these days (at least in my neck of the woods). And it only makes me love him all the more.

Well that is all for this Friday’s Fiery Forties and Fifties. I’m always taking suggestions on anything of the written and/or spoken word. So if you have a book, poem, movie, video, or art piece you would like me to give a testimonial about go to my facebook page:

Olive Juuiice Facebook Page

OR

The Written and the Spoken Word Facebook Page

Just click the blue button at the top of the page that says “Request a time”. Remember I have a theme for each day. So you have crazy amounts of choices out there.

Stay PeachyKeen!

OliveJuuiice

Sources:

http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title/81004/Laura/

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0037008/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1

Netflix (Laura is on there now, go watch!)

I love themes so I couldn't resist adding themes for each day of the week, a post falling under said theme of the specific day. I hope to be able to post every day pertaining to the theme whether a twenty page entry or just a picture...you can always expect something. If I fail, please don't hesitate to let me know. I may just be doing research for a future entry...

Here you are my lovelies ;)

Sunday - Novel of the Week

Monday - Modern Movie Spotlight

Tuesday - Timeless Tens & Twenties

Wednesday - Western Whittle-bitties

Thursday - Thirties: The Golden Decade

Friday - Fiery Forties & Fifties

Saturday - Series, Plays & Music

Stay PeachyKeen!

Olive Juuiice

Writer's Block

"It's the most rough, depressing, irritating feeling I've ever experienced but I also feel excited because then I know a breakthrough is coming very soon. Scenes begin to play in my head...yes they are scattered but that's the beauty of my writing process it's a puzzle - I love puzzles- and I get to put the pieces together. The edges are already glued in place all I have to do is fill it in!"

_______________________________________

What can I say "about" this blog. It may enlighten but it may also confuse or bore you. It depends on YOU as a reader and the subject I pick at hand.

I am not trying to teach anything whatsoever! I don't care to teach. I just like to share common ideas, themes, intellects, and so on.

At times, yes, this may seem like a random blog and it very well may be. However, I will rein in the subjects I touch on. And it may start off slow in the beginning but...bear with me...if you please.

As you can see the name of this blog is basically the "About" that you need to know. Focusing on The Written Word, such as, books, plays, quotes, other blog posts, etc. and also The Spoken Word, such as, movies, TV shows, videos, etc.

At times, yes, it may seem as if I've turned into a film or literature critic but I assure you It's only temporary.

So enjoy, hate, love, or wonder about The Written and Spoken Word.

The way the incident happened was terrible.

Yes, it happened

I can’t change it.

But I can prevent it from happening again!

Guffaw!

Me!?

Dramatic? I think not.

For what I’m partaking in, is just self-defense.

C’mon! Don’t tell me you never considered it.

Oh yes, you have—until some friend gave you a look of pure disgust while commenting,

“You know how dumb that sounds” Or “So, you’re just giving up?”

Finally you agree and take in the embarrassment and they give you a sympathetic hug,

“Don’t worry your day will come.”

I’ve walked that exact path. But I just laughed in their face.

“Giving up!? It’s called determination.”

Determination to protect oneself. I pushed them away,

“Don’t touch me. You know nothing of me and my decisions.”

Guffaw!

Did I hurt their feelings? I truly hope so.

Maybe they’ll get off my back with those damn guilty trips.

Guffaw!

They think pitiful words will change my mind.

So simple minded.

It only makes my determination stronger.

Don’t try to change me—

I’ll sever the cord that holds our friendship together.

You think I’m being unreasonable?

Guffaw!

There’s reason behind every action, “my friend”.

Evening

Friday, October 25

Camelot's Halloween Dance

Mr. Banks's POV

Allowing myself to be suckered into chaperoning the dance was easy. I just had to play up my newbie teacher role who had no idea what he was getting himself into. I made sure I was present at every school event. The way she had been running through my mind lately wouldn't allow me any other choice. I had to be where she was whenever possible. However, no matter how bad I wanted her, I couldn't be greedy with her. Greediness only led to rash decisions and sloppy mistakes. I couldn't afford those. I could not—would not—lose her. That's another reason I had to make sure I was chaperoning this event. My eagerness took over eleven days ago and I did things that showed my hand earlier than expected. But I couldn't fight it. I couldn’t fight the urge to touch her; her hair. It was time to set things back on the right track. Her trust in me had to be concreted tonight.

All of us chaperones were in the hallway so we could actually hear each other. Music loudly pumping, lights flickering, and students dancing wildly all on the gym floor it was definitely crazy but even with all that I had made sure I knew if she was there or not. It was fifteen after she should be along any minute. She was the type of woman who showed up fashionably late. Just as predicted she, along with her two best friends, entered at the opposite end. Her friends' costumes were obvious—John Smith and Pocahontas—but hers not so much unless you knew her well. I had made that a priority. Her favorite music artist was Rihanna and Julia had the looks for pulling off the costume. Her long dark hair was extra wavy. She sported the bright red lipstick which only highlighted her enticing mouth. How I wanted to feel hers on mine. She topped off the ensemble with overalls over a tank and platform heeled boots. I knew I was staring so I looked away. But my human nature got the better of me and I couldn't resist a second look. My God! Even with those plastic looking overalls she looked enticing. Patience, Brad, all in good time.

*******

Julia's POV

The only thing I hated about school dances was how hot it could get. I quickly exited the gym to go across to the cafeteria for some punch. With ladle in hand, I sniffed the punch. I knew it was the same as every year but sniffing anything going into my body was a reflex. Can't be too careful these days.

"The hell!" Was my reaction to my arm being pulled and the ladle crashing to the floor. I was ready to give this person a piece of my mind until I came face to face with Morgan. I wasn't scared but I wasn't exactly not scared. All of a sudden, he was hurriedly taking me back to the gym. It was a slow dance and he pulled me in close. I struggled a little but he held fast.

"What do you want? Another dance lesson? We already did The Nutcracker, but I love repeats."

"I get that you don't want to talk to me after what happened—"

"You damn right!"

"—and you don't have to," he continued, ignoring what I said. "Just hear me out. I was set up."

I actually laughed. "Oh, really. So you were set up to physically assault me."

"Listen, okay! Yes, I got kinda handsy but I was setup. He told me you liked me and seemed to be all for it."

"Eh...what? He who?"

"Mr. Banks. Who else?"

"You're stoned aren't you? Or maybe the punch is spiked."

"You're not listening to me. It's like he brainwashed me or played me like a video game character. And remember right after, he just appears out of nowhere to save you. I know people think I'm all about good looks and it did take me a while to piece it together, but it makes sense if you just think about it."

My mind began to churn and run through the memories of that day. I looked at Morgan's face closely this time. He seemed to believe everything he was saying. But I still had deep suspicions. The words he was using; "brainwashed", "setup", "video game character". It's like he was making up his own conspiracy theory. Throughout my thought process, he had begun to rant again.

"Then there's what he said after you left---"

"And here I thought you were going to apologize. All I've heard from your mouth is crazy. Just forget about it okay." I tried to leave his grasp but he held onto me.

"Hold on. H-hold on a minute."

"Uh-un. I think it's best if you just leave me alone."

"I'll leave you alone after I tell you everything." He was relentless but so was I. I never gave up trying to get out of his grip.

"Seriously, stop. Quit it!"

"Is there a problem here, Miss Garibaldi?"

"Yes. No. I mean, I'm fine."

"We were just tal---"

With his eyes never leaving mine, "I don't believe I was speaking to you." He turned his eyes on Morgan. "And aren't you supposed to stay off school grounds? Surely, you didn't forget the terms of your punishment, Mr. Scott?"

"Trust me. They were made pretty clear. I just thought I'd apologize in person."

I noticed the way Mr. Banks's jaw ticked.

*******

Mr. Banks's POV

The physical pain I wanted to inflict on this boy. Only a slow agonizing pain would do for him. I shook from the amount of force it took to keep my hands from showing him what happened when you touch what was mine. An image of my nails piercing his throat and severing it from his body—the heat, the blood, the relief. Take a deep breath. You are Bradley Banks. Brad Banks. Mr. Banks.

"That must have been some apology. Excuse me, but I would like you to take your hands off her." My hands shook so I stuffed them in my pockets.

"Come to save the day, again? You always seem to be around at the perfect time." He stepped closer before whispering, "Well I don't buy it."

If I couldn't kill him I would find another way to make sure he didn't step foot in this school. Playing up my respectable teacher role I made my next statement clear, "I advise you to walk away, Mr. Scott or things will only get worse for you." I whispered back what I hoped would spark the reaction I needed to do the job, "You got me?"

He reacted fast, first shoving me back into a few students and following up with a punch. There wasn't enough force to knock me off my feet but no one knew that but me. I landed on the floor with a loud thud. The music stopped and students crowded around. My immediate response was to look at Julia as my mouth filled with the taste of liquid metal. She started towards me but was intercepted by Principal Hannigan and the security guards whom he instructed to escort Morgan off the premises.

His angry cries rang out as I got to my feet. Hannigan came and assured me that he had seen what had transpired and that he would deal with it accordingly. I nodded while watching Julia out the corner of my eye explaining to her friends what had happened. After Hannigan instructed the students to continue where they left off I made my way over to her. To her friends, I politely asked to borrow her. Taking her by the elbow I escorted her out of the gym. Morgan was still in the hallway barricaded by the principal and security guards. He saw us immediately and Julia seemed to be put off by his presence so I stepped in front of her to block the view.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She seemed to be staring through me like he could still see her. Grabbing her chin lightly with my thumb and forefinger I turned her attention towards me. "Did he hurt you in any way?"

She shook her head and said no sounding as if she were short of breath.

"Let's get some air, hmm?" I directed her outside putting an arm around her waist. Once outside I reluctantly released and stood before her. "Just take a few slow breaths. I know this can be upsetting after what you experienced earlier." She rubbed her arms. "Cold? Here." I slipped off my coat and placed it on her shoulders. "Better?"

"He was saying all this stuff...I couldn't really understand."

"Stuff?"

"That he was brainwashed. That's why he did what he did. Something like that. It sounds crazy to me."

"Yes, crazy, indeed. Perhaps we should make our way back inside?" I agreed, before reaching for her elbow. She avoided my touch.

"He kept talking about you. That you said something to him after I had left."

I didn’t like that she was questioning me. I didn't like being angry around her. Biting the inside of my cheek, "I did. I told you I handled him."

She wasn't letting this go, "He was freaked out and that's what I'm saying, not him."

I couldn't take this. Her defending him. "He should be." My response was calm, even as she raised her tone.

"He should be!? What the hell?"

It just seemed as if she was questioning my judgment, my authority, my reason for doing what I did in the first place. For her. Everything I had done; everything I was going to do was for her. Could she not see it? Did she not have any fondness for me at all to help her realize just how much I cared? Her questioning me released some of my anger. She would see the real me for just a moment. It was reflexive really.

"You want to know what I told him after you left?"

"No, I---"

"I told him to stay away from you. And if he decided to approach you in any way it would be a bad idea." She stared at me. And for once, I had no idea what she was thinking...what she thought of me. "So...maybe he is freaked out. And yes, he should be, because for once in his life he won't get away with anything. Now, I suggest you get back inside."

"Oh yeah. Don't wanna miss all the fun." She replied sarcastically.

I stopped her before she could enter, "You know you can talk to me, right? I mean, about what happened. You'll always have me." I could never resist my urges when it came to her. I immediately bent to kiss her cheek. Having forgotten about my busted lip, I winced. Noticing the smudge of blood on her cheek, "I'm sorry, it seems I've gotten my DNA on you." I rubbed it off softly with my thumb. She looked taken aback but not frightened. "Shall we?"

     You know that feeling you get when someone is staring at you? It’s incredibly annoying. What about when someone is staring at you from behind? You get this tingling feeling that borders on intense fear, right? This past week I had been wishing for annoyance rather than fear, but fear is what I got. It had been going on every day, all day, this prickling feeling on the back of my neck. Of course, I would just tell myself I was paranoid. That there was no one following me from home to school and back again. Or, that there couldn’t be someone looking through my window or standing over me as I slept. If anything, it would be an angry spirit, not a real person. Then came Friday night.

     It was late, past curfew actually, when I came home from a night out with friends. I was exhausted, so I went straight to my room and flopped on the bed. The next morning I was awaken by a strong aroma of ammonia. By feeling around with my hands, I knew I wasn’t in my room any longer. My room had wood floors not plush carpet. Then that same feeling I had felt this past week returned, only stronger. I hadn’t been paranoid. Someone had been watching and following me and that same someone was standing over me. I could feel their presence. I dared myself, and opened my eyes.

     He stood there, over me, this stranger. A smile crept on his face and he squatted, I guess to get a closer look. His reaction seemed to be just as mine was, surprised. He couldn’t believe he had me here—with him. Carefully, almost painfully slow, he reached out his right hand towards my face. I panicked; my breathing now hurried, and sat up quickly to scoot away from him.

     “What do you want with me?” I was afraid to ask, but I figured he would kill me anyways, so why not get answers from him first. But the response I got wasn’t even mere words; instead, he sat back on his hunches and started to hum. The tune was disturbingly familiar. Then he gave the tune a beat by patting his thighs and snapping his fingers on occasion.

     “I’ve been looking under rocks and breaking locks. Just tryna find ya…” he sang. Literally, he sang those words to me. There was my answer. He was nuts! And I was terrified. I had to suck it up. He was definitely mental but I could get answers from him. But before I could phrase my next question he got to his feet and chuckled in a bashful way then continued, “I’ve been like a maniac, insomniac. Five steps behind ya.” So he had been following me. That was my second question. Suddenly, he winked at me then left the room. I heard a sounded click. Would he come back? I wasn’t sure, and so I didn’t want to move. Then I spotted the natural light from a window. There was my opportunity. It was either take it or leave it.

**********

     He had been gone for an hour or so and I had turned into stone—I couldn’t move. I was afraid to do so, because—I knew—if I moved a muscle he would return. But I had to find a way out. That should be my main priority. Besides, I wasn’t one of those weak girls who expected to be found and rescued. I rather be Annie Oakley than Sleeping Beauty any day. Automatically, my fear dissolved and I was on my feet scanning my surroundings.

     To my surprise, it was a gorgeous room. Made for a queen. My eyes landed on a spiral staircase in the far right corner of the room. Why did I want to go towards the stairs—the unknown—instead of the window on my left that led to my freedom. I wasn’t usually stupid but I was a risk taker. “This is not the time.” I spoke out loud to myself. But I had already made my way over and stepped on the bottom stair. “Just a quick look then I'm out of this karaoke bar.” At the top it opened up to an expansive library. Row upon rows of books lined the wall of built-in shelves. My curiosity got the better of me and my thoughts to escape were left unnoticed. Approaching one shelf, my hand immediately reached for a book that had my favorite label. I couldn’t resist. I was so entranced that my ears didn’t pick up on someone else in the room. Until I heard the humming.

     I turned to face the hummer clutching the book to my chest as if it would grow into a soldier’s shield. The tune was unfamiliar but the lyrics registered as a plea and a promise.

     “How I wish you could see the potential, the potential of you and me. It’s like a book elegantly bound but, in a language you can’t read. Just yet.” I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding as he came closer. I was…relaxed. Even though it was incredibly creepy, his singing was just his way of talking to me. Just another form of communication. Why was I rationalizing his actions? He kidnapped me and here I was thinking…

     “You won’t hurt me.” It was a question until I spoke the sentence. I knew he wouldn’t. He gave me an anguished look and shook his head. “So you’ll let me go? I won’t say anything because you didn’t and wouldn’t hurt me.” He suddenly came forward and I shuffled back only to feel the shelves pressing into my back. I gasped as his hand came up and settled on my cheek.

     “You gotta spend some time, Love. You gotta spend some time with me. And I know that you’ll find, love. I will possess your heart.” It was the same song I could tell but he wasn’t “saying” what I wanted to hear. He wanted to keep me prisoner and make me fall in love with him. No, this was not going to happen. My fear had dissipated and I knew it wouldn’t return because anger had taken its place. I shook my head aggressively and pushed the stranger away from me.

     “No! You can’t keep me here and you can’t make someone love you. Look, I won’t tell the police of you let me go. But you have to let me go. If you don’t then the police will come themselves and then I can’t help you.” Did I just say help him? Well, he did need help. He obviously wasn’t in the right state of mind. But he didn’t listen to a word I said. He just began to hum the first familiar tune. Then came back to me, both hands on my face. His eyes connected with mine and silently begged me to listen.

     “You could be my it girl…Loving you can be a crime.” He stepped back abruptly and grabbed his own head, “Crazy how we fit girl. This is it girl.” Dropping his arms he sighed, “Give me twenty-five to life.”

     “You have got to be kidding me!?!” I yelled at him then suddenly calmed. “You know what? You’re on your own. I’m going to walk right out that door and you’re not going to stop me.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Because, like the good cliche love line goes, “'If you love me, let me go.'”

TO BE CONTINUED...