Sara Stoelton Follow Me: An Excerpt from Her Diary

Follow Me: An Excerpt from Her Diary Sara Stoelton

“Follow me,” he whispered. How did I know that I could trust him? I hardly knew him. He was new at school and I only agreed to hang out with him because he seemed lonely. Yet, everything about him was inviting. His smile: glistening white and an example of perfection. His body: strong, warm and gentle. His voice: silky smooth, saying all the right things that made me blush and gave me butterflies. It was all almost too much for me to resist. But there was a glint of danger and mischief in his sparkling blue stare that made me hesitate. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his face looking confused, as if he were expecting me to take his hand and follow him immediately and without question. Had he given me a reason to not trust him? Every moment that I had spent with him so far had been more than perfect, it had been magical. I looked past him and into the trees he was asking me to follow him into. It was broad daylight, but beyond the trees there seemed to be endless darkness. A feeling of uneasiness settled into my stomach. He must have noticed my unease because in a gentle voice he said, “Don’t be afraid.” Stepping forward, he took my hand in his, interlocking his fingers with mine. The uneasiness melted away the moment his hand touched mine. The feeling of warmth and security spread through me. Smiling his perfect smile, we walked into the forest. I had been mistaken about the endless darkness. The shadowy path we had been walking opened into a narrow and sunny meadow. The scenery around us could not be more illuminated. The deep colors of scarlet, orange, and gold surrounded me. A slight breeze blew my hair around my face and ruffled the colorful leaves that remained on the trees, and made the ones that had fallen dance around our ankles. Through the openings in the branches above I could still feel the warmth of the sun as it shined down on us. Every so often I could hear a bird’s light sing-song voice in the distance. “It’s beautiful,” I half whispered, not wanting to disturb our peaceful surroundings with my hushed tone. “I know,” he said looking down on me, his blue eyes complementing the butterfly wings batting around his head. As we walked through the meadow and deeper into the woods, nature took over. Soon the whistling tones of the bird surrounded Will and I, adding to the soft steps of other animals and the sound of water flowing. Ahead of us there was a small stream. Drinking from the water was a family of deer: a doe and two fawns. As we arrived at the stream, they continued drinking, undisturbed by our presence, undisturbed by human nature. We watched them in silence.

It was so peaceful there. I no longer felt like I was in a world with seven billion other people in it. There, it felt like the only two people that existed were Will and I. It was a strange feeling, since not half an hour ago I was asking myself if I could trust him. There was just something about the way his hand felt in mine, how I was only too aware of his presence next to me, how I knew he was looking at me even though my gaze was fixed on the family of deer, that just seemed right. I blushed as the thought occurred to me. What was he thinking as he stared down at me, I wondered? Was he also thinking about my hand in his or how too aware he was of me standing next to him? Or was he wondering what I was thinking, like I was thinking about him? For several moments I was tempted to ask him what he was thinking, but I decided against it and instead asked, “Why did you want to show me this?” I looked up at him and met his deep blue stare. He had a small smile. He spoke softly as he turned to me, “You’ll see. I think we should be heading back now.” I glanced back at the stream. The family of deer had left; the chirping birds had gone quiet, and the leaves had finished their dance. “I guess you’re right,” I sighed, not wanting to leave the peaceful forest. “We can come back again, if you’d like,” he said, starting to lead me back out of the trees. “I’d like that,” I admitted. He looked over his shoulder and flashed me a smile. I could not help but smile back. After Will drove me home I decided I would call Henry and let him know I was okay. He was probably worried because I had not gotten a ride home with him after school that day. “Casey! Where were you after school?” Henry asked. “I got a ride with a friend,” I explained. “Oh. But you’re home safe?” “Yes, I’m safe,” I felt myself flush at his concern. “Good.” There was a pause. “How was football practice?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing. “Brutal. Coach was pissed about our loss on Friday. I think maybe it had something to do with you,” he spoke, mischief thick in his voice. “Me? What do I have anything to do with the team losing?” Was Henry blaming me for something I had no control over? “Well, I think you’re our lucky charm or something. I mean, the last two games you were at we kicked ass, but the one game you’re not at we get our asses kicked. You’re our lucky charm Casey,” he explained. I blushed again. “Thanks, Henry.” “So, if you’re our lucky charm, I guess that means you’ve gotta be at all of our games, rain, shine, or snow!” He laughed through the phone.

He had a cute laugh: loud, but not obnoxious like some laugh. Sometimes if you got him laughing hard enough, he would snort. His laugh was also contagious. Eventually, I began laughing too. “Well, if you’re wrong about this lucky charm thing and I sit through all of those games and you guys still lose you’re gonna get it!” I warned jokingly. “Oh, is that so pip-squeak?” “Hey! I could take you out any time any place!” “Ha! I doubt it!” “Oh shut-up,” I smiled. Henry laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Casey,” he said hanging up the phone. Henry has always cared about me. I care for him as well; however, I think I care about Will more. I feel as though I should tell them about each other, tell Henry that I am interested in another boy. I am scared of their reaction. Perhaps, I can live in this fantasy for just a bit longer before I tell either of them. Yes, that is what I will do.

The Mask Sydney Sweeney

The endless swarm of thoughts and feelings that were caged in the back of her head were the final strain on her sanity- she inevitably snapped. It was the girl who was supposed to walk around with a smile graced on her lips, with the constant cracking of jokes to entertain those around her. The girl that was never anything but content- seemingly unnerved and fine. Her thick, plastered mask did the job. She convinced the people around her in masses, putting on a show as she had for many years now. While she lived her life, surrounded by friends, like she had no cares in the world- behind her facade, she was insufferably alone. The girl sat on her bed, surrounded by crumpled sheets and tear-stained pillowcases. She huddled in the far corner, surrounded by her grey walls that felt like they stretched for miles. Despite the biting cold she felt, the solemnness of the walls comforted her. With her knees brought up and tucked to her chest, she rested the side of her flushed cheek on her bony knee. Her grey eyes were brimmed with salty tears, threatening to fall- but, she sat there, totally and utterly numb. Her mind dimmed down to a quiet buzz, her motivation to care for the previous thoughts that destroyed the last of the sanity now gone. Her heart ached as if she had suffered an innumerable amount of heartbreaks or a stab to the chest. Her limbs were sore from the hours of trembling, the anxiety and stress never letting her sit restfully. She sat there in her room, completely vulnerable- a state that she was beyond embarrassed to be in. The only relief she had was that no one was there to see, except for her and her inner demons. Her ability to keep all that grief locked away within her tiny body for such long periods of time was beyond anyone's understanding. The girl straightened her back and leaned against one of the cool, gray walls. She stifled the sobs that threatened to rack through her body, knowing that one by one they would rip her mask in half. The girl swallowed the tears and the sorrow for the night and carried herself to her mirror. Looking up, she stared at her sad excuse of a reflection. Sunken eyes, disheveled hair, red nose, flushed cheeks, chapped lips. She gripped the edging of her dresser, hunching over in anger. Why did she have to feel this way? Her grip on the dresser was so strong, her knuckles turned white, and her arms grew weak from the locked elbows holding herself up. She glanced back up at the mirror. She chewed on her bottom lip, leaning back in defeat- the reflection won today. It always knew how to get the best of her. Crawling back into bed, she buried herself in her blankets. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, they would block and protect her from the world. And as time passed, the girl had to compose and conceal herself once again. She had to readjust the fragile mask. The girl shushed the thoughts to a murmur and put them far in the back of her head- where they had come from. This had become a sort of routine for her, bottling everything up until she completely broke down, just to box it all back up again. Soon enough, the girl was back on her feet. Her tear-stained cheeks had faded to her usual rosy tint, and her eyes raised and cleared its glazed look from the tears. She shook out her sore limbs and took deep breaths to calm her achy heart. She combed her hair back to its tamed, wavy state. She made her bed and looked back at the walls she had thought stretched on forever, but they ended only a few feet from where she had sat. She went on with her clean up routine, not realizing a mask can only be used so many times until its purpose becomes futile.