He
Closes his eyes and counts to ten
One for every mile
Praying that everything will be okay

She
Chokes alone behind her bedroom door
Words cutting into her skin
Sobbing alone into her pillow

It's called love and, defined by Mr. Webster:
It is "a feeling of strong or constant affection for a person"
But for some people, it's much more than a word

This is my story for a challenge Laura made up. The story has to start with this sentence 'it had been raining all night.' And end with 'it had finally stopped raining.' So if you want. To do it that would be awesome. But anyways, here's mine.

i. The Moon
The moon is orange
It looks like someone snipped a burning match and hung it in the sky
Funny, the moon was always mine, while the sunset was yours
But this proves yet again we are one in the same

FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK, ARIA WAS TAKEN IN BY THE TOWN’S physician, Cad had followed the town’s sheriffs the whole way to the physician’s house. His hands kept shaking and he cursed every time he’d ever fumbled for an arrow. Aria, Cad wondered. How could she have learned all of those fighting techniques? She’d never shown me those… But then again, why would she? Cad glanced at Silas who was walking nervously next to him.

The next morning, I knocked on the door of the café fifteen minutes before it opened. Emily came and unlocked it, then locked it behind me.
“I can never thank you enough for taking care of things for me today, Walter.”
“I’m more than happy to help you and Ema any day, and you know that.”
“Even so, every time you do anything for us it overwhelms me.”
“Anything new I need to be aware of today?” I asked.
“Quiches are ten cents more this week. We’ve been pinched lately and everywhere else in town sells them for at least a quarter more.”

Musings I
I should have said more,
Made more of an effort,
Maybe it's just nerves,
Or maybe it's the way you look at me,
Your eyes soaking in,
Every inch of my face.
I want those eyes to stay,
But I want them to close.
Both thrilled and uncomfortable,
By your undivided attention.
I must have ADD,
For I can't sit still,
I want to move,
Closer,
I want to shift and to squirm,
Because that look makes me feel,
Makes me feel beautiful,
Too beautiful.

Sway back and forth to the rhythm

Match the colors to the notes

Golden yellow, deep blue--catch 'em!

before they whirl away into long ropes

of mixed melodies, stirring up a velvet-purple,

some orange, a little bit of sweet piano-poundin' pink.

Hear them horns a wailin', an' the bass soundin' out

them strong notes as melt into your soul.

This is Blues.

This is Jazz.

The colors and the melody...swirling everywhere.

You can't keep still, you gotta move,

chasin' the colors, dancin' to the beat.

The unicorn lay his
silvery mane, his noble horn
in the girl’s lap
going to death, to save her from a beating
from those men.

The weekend of the Havenwing Ball arrived. Usually when I returned to Uncle Oruc’s and Aunt Monria’s house after school each day I took time to join my aunt for tea or, if she was otherwise engaged, took tea by myself in the library with a good book to refresh me after my day’s work.
But on the Friday before the ball I raced directly to my room, hastily changed into riding clothes, and rushed to the stables, where that morning I had left a special request with the stable master to have two horses saddled and waiting.

I was drifting off to sleep, exhausted, when the noise of a prowler came from behind me somewhere. My eyes flew open and tried to focus on the dim outlines of the darkened camp. There were a few guards milling about, but the camp was otherwise still.