Michael C. Davis walked slowly down the abandoned street. In reality, the street was not empty, but its normal residents had been ushered outside the perimeter for their safety and the safety of secrecy. It was not that Michael approved of dishonesty. On the contrary, he was a strict advocate for plain and truthful words. However, sometimes words needed to be avoided. It was like yelling “fire” in a crowded theatre. Once word got around that there was a raging flame, it would never be controlled, despite the fact that it was simply a tiny spark to begin with.

Everyone had forgotten the mysterious man by the time they made their way back to their base of operations. Still, he haunted Raven’s thoughts. She didn’t know why, but she knew him, and she felt she should trust him. And yet, he had foiled their plans on so many accounts, and he was nearly stalking her. In fact, he seemed to think that she should remember him.
It’s always the most important things that you forget first.

They had told her she couldn’t die. They hadn’t told her how much it would hurt. She was used to hunger, used to cold, used to loneliness, but she wasn’t used to dying. It was something that happened to others, something she’d do to others, not herself.

I: run
I tend to run
headlong
into plans
without checking to see if they'll hold
and then
more often than not
I fall
face first
onto the toppled debris
I still run
fall
but now
caution drags at my heels
keeping me from running too hard
but if I run
truly run
I might fly
someday
instead of lying here
crumpled, and trying to be safe

HANNA TOOK a deep breath. She stood outside her parents’ door. She heard her mother talking to someone on the phone. She waited till there was a long silence, and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” was the answer.

Hanna walked into the room, only to see her mother, still on the phone, sitting on her bed. Mrs. Anderson held her finger meaning be silent, I’ll be off soon. Soon, Mrs. Anderson got off the phone.

“Who was that?” Hanna asked.

“It was you coach,” said Mrs. Anderson.

“Oh..” Hanna quietly said. Mrs. Anderson laid her head on her pillow.

Yes, my hands are in the air
Above my head
Closed eyes wide smile

Yes, for now they're in the air
All in my head
Closed mind wide smile

Yes, right now I'm in the air
Around my head
Closed mouth wide smile

Yes, my feet are on the ground
Above the core
Open eyes failing smile

Yes, for now they're on the ground
All in the core
Open mind failing smile

Yes, right now they're on the ground
Around the core
Open mouth no smile

I shut my eyes. "This won't hurt, right?"
"It shouldn't."
I tightened my grip on the chair. "Promise?"
"I would if I could."
I open my eyes just a crack. "Y'know, sometimes lies aren't a bad thing."
The smile. "It'll be over soon, okay?"
I nod. "Okay." I lift my hand to make room for the hand I wish was there to hold.
What if?
The fear. Then the thought.
---
Fear.
Then light.

Once there was an astronomer speaking on the subject of earth. He described the ways of gravity and centripetal force and how they keep the planet in position in space. Afterwards a little old lady walked up to him.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” she declared. “The earth does not hang in mid-air. It rests on the back of a turtle.”

The astronomer, learned man that he was, calmly pointed out the problem that then there would be nothing for the turtle to rest on.

“Oh, you just don’t understand,” she replied. “It’s turtles all the way down!”

Notes: One of the most difficult essays for me to write since this summer. And what I have been working on for two months, practically every day. I don't expect it to be very good (but I learned SO much about John Adams, oh my - I will NEVER forget who the second President of the US is. Never.) and I don't expect much people to comment, but that's okay. I know there are faults to this, comment if you would like to make my day. :) God bless you all, each one of you! -Megan

P.S. This is my first try in HTML footnotes.
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