Part 4

This is the final part, it's been a long time coming. I still don't have a title and very likely never will. I 'm just happy to have an end to this project but expect to start up something new very soon. Currently I'm considering re-writing my short story based as a side story to Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried which was a project for my junior English class back in high school. A lot of my fellow students told me they enjoyed it and I enjoyed writing it. Tim O'Brien's novel is a really good read and I recommend it to anyone in order to see a good literary work on the Vietnam war.

Either way, this is the conclusion to my untitled short story. In my mind I went through multiple endings based on my emotions at the time of writing this but when I had a clear night I knew how I wanted this to end. Also to clarify these are definitely my thoughts and I had to pick a rational ending. Ask and I'll tell you some of my other takes on the ending. This is the shortest but most important part. I just hope you enjoy.

Part 3 of "Untitled Short Story"
By Chris Walker

Abby’s breaths seemed to become light panting. Her eyes were now looking at his lips then her eyes closed. Her head leaned in, cocked to the left. Matt made no resistance. This forever became the moment they first kissed. Both of their fantasies were coming true and their chemistry mixed with explosive efficiency. Their lust burned when kissing becoming something more passionate. Matt’s mind was frying. A few days ago this was a student in his class, now she was a lover. Abby’s mind however was frozen. She was finally with her older, manlier, gentleman. Her happiness was to begin. Kissing wasn’t enough. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to make love. Abby took off her sweater and shirt. Matt’s mind opened as well as his eyes.

His ears opened to the sound of Abby requesting, “Tell me you love me.” A moment of clarity struck Matt with the force of a sledgehammer. Matt’s breathing was accelerated, but his tongue was frozen stiff. A thousand or more thoughts raced through his head. He now knew the truth. When life begins to focus, nothing but clarity can be achieved. With his heart sunken deep into his stomach Matt said, “I… can’t.” Matt knew this was the right action to do although it was a lie. Of course Matt loved Abby but he didn’t want her to love him – not in this way. This love couldn’t be pure. A new perspective gave Matt the realization that Abby was a crutch. She was a metaphorical crutch that helped him deal with an inability to handle this world. He had only one question now. Was this truly the right thing to do? The answer came back the same as before.

Abby was taken back by Matt’s response. The hypnotic lust fogged her mind. His refusal to say the finishing key words broke the spell but only partially. Remembering Matt’s kindness made Abby lunge into his arms crying repeatedly, “Why, why, why, I love you; I love you. Why don’t you love me?” Matt was cornered and his only way out was the truth. If he told her the truth though, and the whole truth, he would leave himself more vulnerable than he ever had before in his life. If he truly loved Abby this wouldn’t be a problem.

“Let me apologize to begin with,” Matt stated. “I have just had an epiphany, a hell of an epiphany.” Matt laughed in disbelief of himself before continuing, “Abby, I care for you immensely. If my love were a river, the water of my feelings for you would flood until my river became an ocean. Life just sets rules. I can’t love you because you can’t love me. I’m your teacher and you’re my student. I’m thirty and you’re seventeen.” Abby’s red face gained a blue hue as she wanted to scream out all of her dreams of how age won’t matter when they’re older, but she remembers that now was the time for her to listen. Matt’s speech went on, “I don’t want you to think that I never thought about us, because I did. Only when I thought harder and deeper did I realized I was using you. I wasn’t trying to use you for something sexual but emotional purposes. Abby, I’m fucked up in the head! I’m neurotic, depressed, lonely, and fearful. When I am with you, all my flaws disappear. You make me forget about anything bad in the world… except for this. Then when I find you have your own troubles I actually felt good because you needed me. I didn’t think of myself as ugly or stupid or even as a depressed person. I felt like a hero, but now if I tell you what you want to hear will it really last? Were we really not just using each other? Abby you are a great person, truly. This romance just needs to stop, so we can finally stand.” Matt bowed his head and fell silent. He felt an immense pain in his chest. Through the stress he gave all of his effort to not appear weak.

Abby was still full of tears. Tiny creaks of eye water trailed down to her chin, but her sobbing was becoming quieter. In just one night she gained her heart’s desire and lost it. She wanted to scream but felt comfortable knowing that Matt was telling the truth. This whole relationship wasn’t a question of ethics or morals. This wasn’t a question of love or hate. This relationship was a question – a basis- of necessity. The “necessity” was a double entendre of people needing other people. Matt and Abby both needed each other in coping with insecurities and pressures of merely being. However, human beings also delight in being needed. This fact carried Matt and Abby’s love to an unrecognized level. Maybe that’s indeed all love is. Now enlightened, Abby couldn’t find the proper words she needed to speak. Her mind was engulfed in a whirlwind of thoughts and questions. She asked herself, “Did age play a role? Was this really even love? Is this the end?” No answers came.

Abby turned her head. The clock read two o’clock a.m. She mentioned the time and went to lie down in the guest room. Matt had just now lifted his head. A surrealistic sensation covered all of his actions, and he just wanted to escape all thought. He turned on the television. Regardless of how much he tried, his attention was locked on to the memories of this past week. He recalled his invitation to the party, meeting Abby’s mother, sitting on the bench, and the kiss. All the pieces made a holistic perspective on life. Abby was lying down, but Matt was awake. The television set was on CNN. Some news story broke out about fire. Matt decided against television and went to his table to catch up on the newspaper. The front page had a story about soldiers dying in the Middle East. Matt was in no mood for politics after this week. So, his last option was to turn on the radio. His ears caught a talk show about police brutality. Matt quickly turned off the whispering radio then bowed his head in thought.

His mind flew off from his room. The time for clarity had passed. His neurotic nature now left him questioning the essence of life itself. Was Abby a crutch for his personal disorders or for tragedies found in everyday living? In a world constantly devastated with famine, disease, disaster, crime, and nameless atrocities mustn’t everyone need a crutch bracing his or her soul with love and all of love’s magic. An earth shattering thought such as this was enough to comfort Matt into a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow he would face the day with or without Abby.

Part 3

This part is where it heats up. If you come across this make sure to share with others. This is the second to last part. Anyways, hope you enjoy and be sure to leave comments as always. Now, I just need to figure out what to do after the last part.


Part 3 of "Untitled Short Story"
By Chris Walker

The majority of the party goers being underage and Matt not being much of a drinker, he passed the time sipping Sprite and watching the event from the sidelines. Occasionally, Matt was approached by one of his students. He or she would strike up a conversation. The student would ask what Matt (Mr. Whelchel) was doing at the party or what the feeling was like to be partying with stupid teenagers again. Matt kept the discussion light-hearted and humorous. He never gave any true details of his intentions.

After ten or so discussion- and absolutely no dancing or much movement for that matter- Matt began to notice a peculiarity. Whenever he did notice Abby, she was on the floor no longer than ten minutes before disappearing only to re-emerge a few minutes later temporarily flustered. No one else took notice because of the obvious atmosphere of a party and Abby quickly altered her essence to a pleasant, welcoming aura as she typically had. However, Matt had never seen Abby become repeatedly agitated or even once agitated. He didn’t know how to address the situation so he remained stationary, being a wallflower through most of the party.

His unmoving position was eventually interrupted. A woman several years Matt’s senior surprised him at his table. The woman was only dressed in a short black dress with spaghetti straps and the skirt portion ended soon around the upper part of her thigh. The woman’s hair was dyed blonde, easily noticeable because her brunette roots were showing her parting middle. She was very attractive for her age, although older than Matt by a length she elderly at all. She leaned over his shoulder with a glass of red wine in her hand and she whispered in a sultry voice, “You must be Mr. Whelchel.”

Matt wasn’t surprised by the fact that she knew his name, but he curious to who this lady was. He placed his Sprite on the table and slowly turned to his new acquaintance. He was a little taken back by her surprising beauty but felt strangely more comfortable after noticing a dull look in her eyes. He nodded to answer her question and adjusted his face to look as attentive as possible.

Her sultry voice now sounded inebriated yet still comprehensible. “Abby is so glad you came o this party. She says you’re her favorite sub she’s ever had. She even said, ‘I wish he taught English all year.’ I think she has a little crush on you, Mr. Whelchel,” she slurred followed by a chuckle. Her fingers patted Matt on the shoulder, and the other hand raised her glass to her mouth. After a sip she continued, “Now that I see you, I can see why.” Her expression matched her voice: sultry and intoxicated. Matt could see other men enjoying this woman’s company but not himself. Her aura was fun and even familiar.

He had his guess towards this woman’s relationship to Abby but could not confirm his thoughts. At that moment, sitting blankly observing the detail of the lady standing before him, he received one more clue. Her eyes were the exact same shade of green as Abby’s. The likelihood of an aunt having the same shade were slim but a –

“Mom, what are you doing?” Abby shouted strutting towards the other two.

“Merely admiring the teacher you flatter so greatly,” Mrs. Woolridge replied.

Abby’s face faintly blushed. She mumbled a few words under her breath before saying, “I’m sure he doesn’t want your kind of admiration. I’m going totake him outside to see the rest of the decorations.”

Matt’s eyes bulged after hearing Abby criticize her own mother in such a manner. This tiff did solve a few mysteries to a certain percentage. Without hesitation Abby grasped Matt’s wrist and nearly drug him away from everything. Matt didn’t understand what he bore witness to, but he was beginning to already draw his own conclusions. The two found themselves outside on a stone bench under a tall oak tree. A few leaves clung to branches fighting to chill of late autumn. The red and yellow leaves mixed the appearance of the grass below the feet of the two humans surrounded in the seclusion of the outdoors.

Abby sat quiet staring at her feet. Matt turned his head to the left. Now, more than ever, he noticed how beautiful his student was. Her inner beauty was magnificent, but her outer beauty was amazingly equal. Abby’s skin was flawless. Her cheeks became rosy colored in cold and her lips were entirely kissable. Matt dreamt in that moment over twenty different approaches to a kiss. His dreams left a real taste in his mouth. When her eyes met his, he lost his breath and dropped his eyes.

“I’m sorry about my mom,” she said looking nervous and playing with her fingers. Abby had a flustered expression again. In school she never seemed to be easily embarrassed, but now her appearance matched the feeling of awkwardness she felt inside herself. To Matt all she appeared to be was human. Somehow faults attracted Matt and since Abby initially appeared perfect, he now knew the whole reason as to why he foolishly and entirely loved Abby. The only feelings more foolish than those were Abby’s enhanced love for Matt.

Abby’s most vulnerable side had been exposed. When Matt didn’t laugh or stay away in fear she felt comfortable and a great deal of overwhelming acceptance. She felt safe. In life people seem to only need to hear one sentence… everything will be fine. Matt was a walking example of that very sentence, at least in Abby’s eye. The two leaned into each other for a warm embrace. With her head bowed Abby whispered, “Thanks Matt.”

The day was still young. Abby went back inside and Matt followed. Now the party was more alive. Abby dragged Matt to every part of the festivities and introduced him to every person with which he was unfamiliar. All new acquaintances welcome Matt with a warm smile. Although a good party may seem mundane to some, Matt took solace in the comforting notion that he was somewhere he belonged. The best time came when Abby was allowed to open her gifts. Abby’s friends brought her cards, money, inexpensive jewelry, and even goofy socks (which Abby loved), but her favorite gift was indeed the one given to her by Matt. Reminiscent of the day he was invited to this event, Matt purchased an identical sweet to the one Abby’s friend Rose gave Abby before Rose left town. The only difference between the two sweaters was the new sweater was the exact same shade of green as Abby’s eyes. Everyone took notice and Abby’s face lit up almost taken back by the beauty of her gift. Abby adorned the sweater immediately and modeled it for the masses. Compliments rained down like star light. Abby ran to Matt to bestow a friendly hug and kiss upon his cheek. From there the night continued in that same joyous fashion.

Everyone felt high and had a genuinely great time. As day became dusk, dusk became night, and people began to leave, but Matt and a few others stayed. Abby’s mother made little appearance until the late hours of night. Her presence quickly became known. With a strut that physically matched her drunkenly slurred vocabulary, Ms. Woolridge approached Abby and Matt shouting, “It’s a real shame that I am envious of you two because what you two have is sick! You, Mr. Whelchel, with your perverted eyes, I should report you to the authorities and restrain you from ever going near my daughter!” Those lashing words were followed by a splash of red wine staining Matt’s shirt and wetting his face. Matt was so flabbergasted that he was rendered completely immobile.

Luckily, he didn’t have to take any action because Abby intervened. In a quiet storm Abby’s eyes struck Ms. Woolridge like lightning. “This party’s over,” Abby growled. With the same simplistic force she grabbed Matt’s hand and they trolled out together. All the witnesses stood paralyzed in awe. When the door closed behind Abby and Matt, the only movement was Abby’s remaining friends throwing away their cups and ambling to the exit.

Matt directed Abby back to his place as merely an attempt to escape what had just happened and to change clothes. Man’s nature did make sure he noticed the girl of his dream sitting before him on his couch. This wasn’t his fantasy though. In his imagination Abby would have been happy. In reality she looked melancholy. Matt tried to think of something to say, but his mind couldn’t muster one syllable. So, he remembered earlier when the two sat outside and how comfortable and natural the world was. The only logical approach to take was to sit down next to her. The two stood perfectly still matching breaths and sight of the carpet, but then their hands laced into one another’s. This moment was the epitome of their relationship.

Abby spoke, “Matt, I’m so happy to be here right now.” That statement left her tearful. Her emotions flooded out into a rambling, “I just can’t stand my mom; I want nothing to do with her. I don’t want to look at her or look like her. That’s why I spend so much time at school and work. The only reason for that party was because she ruined my sweet sixteen.. Oh Matt, if you didn’t come I don’t know what I would have done.” She buried her head into Matt’s chest letting out sobs and continued, “This wasn’t even the worst day, but I just couldn’t handle it. The way she treated you, looked at you, and – Matt please don’t make me go back.”

Matt just sat there. His mind was trying to make sense of all the events that lead up to this moment. Somehow he thought that he had all of the psychological issues. Abby was supposed to come along and save him from years of loneliness and depression. “Uhm, you can’t stay here as long as need be. Where is your father? Inform him so a guardian knows,” Matt told her in a calming coo. Abby nodded and dialed the phone before handing it to Matt. Abby’s father wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t know the tension of desire between Abby and Matt. Nothing was said to worry Mr. Woolridge, so there were no worries. Matt sat back down, turned to Abby and sighed out loud. Abby heard him and looked at his eyes. Her eyes caught a glimpse of his soul. She discovered all the personal details that made Matt’s life. She deduced his awkward nervousness, his insecurities, his good nature, and his loving heart. Somewhere in his eyes was a young high school boy that never left. Abby’s childish crush became a romantic love.

Part 2

Decided to give some time in between parts... well let's get right into it.

Part two of "Untitled Short Story"
By Chris Walker

Matt took his planning period to get a snack. The teachers’ lounge was down two halls. Matt has had a nervous walk his whole life. The thought of others watching him made him feel nauseous so he kept his head down. When he walked he counted his steps and tried to avoid stepping on the larger than normal spaces between tiles. In forty steps Matt entered the teachers’ lounge. He approached the vending machine and watched the dull metallic coil unwind to release his potato chips. He dropped down to pick up the bag then arise, turn about, and leave, but he found in front of him the principal Mrs. Erin Miller.

“How are you this fine afternoon, Mr. Whelchel?” asked Mrs. Miller with the most professional tone she could conjure.

“Oh, I can’t complain,” said Matt as he was straining to meet her eyes.

Mrs. Miller strayed past Matt to the coffee-maker to pour a cup. With a provocative voice she then stated, “I’m very happy you agreed to substitute for a second week at our academy. The faculty has had no complains; usually a few of our more snobbish faculty always find something to complain about. All I have heard about you was that you’re a ‘good listener’. I suppose I should then inform you of a position opening next year in our English department. It would seem that Dr. Kendall is retiring. Say this next week could be a good opportunity to prove your worth.”

Matt stood amazed. His expression showed interest, but his eyes didn’t show much. He was fixated on the pantsuit that Mrs. Miller wore. Her clothes turned her into a powerful figure that seemed more than human. Matt remained speechless as Mrs. Miller walked out the door with mug in hand. Matt left as well. Back at his classroom he sat behind the desk and drew up plans for the quiz he would hand-out tomorrow.

To himself he tried to estimate the scores of his students. The two football players in the corner of his first class would both get eighty percent; they were both smart but not smart enough. In his second class, Emily, a smart girl who reads excessively, will lead the pack with a ninety-five percent. Abby will get a perfect.

Matt’s day was mundane throughout the rest of his classes. He led discussions that got off topic regardless of his efforts. He could be blamed for a portion of movie debates, but he still was able to lecture and give notes about Hemingway’s life. Ah, Hemingway’s life was simple poetry, similar to his writing. Matt stayed after class for only a few minutes before driving back to his apartment. He made himself some soup and sat in front of his television. His apartment was minimally decorated, only his own bedroom had any posters. His living room had an enormous entertainment center with ten separate video game systems. The television set was an impressive liquid crystal display high definition screen that stood above forty inches. Matt could spend days sitting in his recliner escaping into the digital world video games created for him. He unlocked the gate to a new universe with the press of a few buttons. Sometimes he merely opened good book though.

Today the world was inescapable. When he went to wash out his bowl his cell phone rang. The caller was an unfamiliar number. He didn’t mind answering because of the possibility of an emergency. When he answered his face exploded with a look of shock but not dread. He knew the voice immediately. Abby was on the other line. Matt cleared his throat and began pacing. He felt light and unbalanced but the footsteps kept him grounded.

“Hey Mr. Whelchel,” Abby greeted Matt with perky sound.

“Hey Abby, you are welcome to call me Matt now. School is done for the day and I get tired of formalities,” Matt mumbled into the receiver end of his phone.

“Oh, okay then, well, I just wanted to know if you were really coming to my party Saturday and if so, then you should know that we’re having it at the recreation center at my church, St. Michael’s off of Third Street. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, I will be coming and yes I know where that is. Quick question though, where are you calling me from?”

“This is my cell phone; I know it must sound noisy because I’m at work. I work as a hostess at the new Applebee’s they opened up last month.”

“Wow, all those extracurricular activities and a job. I’m very impressed.”

“Whatever keeps me away from home. Anyways, Matt, my break is over, try and show up around three on Saturday. I’ll see you in class tomorrow, bye!” Abby made sure to add extra emphasis to his name before hanging up in a rush. Her last sentence made Matt feel young again but not in a good way. He opened and closed his flip phone a few times before saving Abby’s number with a few button presses. The only words that deeply shook Matt to his core were Abby’s statement about avoiding her house, but the thought didn’t dwell on his mind too long. His inner high school student was telling him to prepare for a date on Saturday. Sure it was only a party dragging him out on Saturday, although Abby personally invited him. That was the key.

Only a few highlights of any importance occurred between that day and Saturday. Matt woke up every day to drive to the academy badly drumming on his steering wheel, waiting for a warm greeting from Abby. He did receive one every day, some warmer than others, His walks through the halls still forced him to keep his head down. One day he mistakenly wore pants that were too short and taught the class sitting down. That day was particularly appalling because as he was exiting the building he spied Abby talking to an equally impressive student to herself named Jeffrey Bennington. The situation wasn’t aided by the fact that Jeffrey was quite a handsome young man. So, no surprise should arise when Matt spent several hours trying to find the perfect gift to give to Abby the next day.

Matt’s gift made him feel prepared. Saturday was his day to bask in the glow of Abby’s welcoming presence. She would want to spend every second of her birthday with him. Matt’s driving was hurried; he was extremely anxious to arrive at St. Michael’s and see Abby. When he did arrive he parked far out in the more remote regions of the parking lot so as to not fight for a close space. Much like his driving, Mat’s walk was hurried. He looked up to see the banner and balloons: Abby Is 17! Celebrate!

He immediately noticed the color of the balloons. All of them were green and brown like Abby’s eyes and hair. Matt could hear the festivities from several yards away, and if there were a particular scent for fun he could have smelled that too. As Matt approached the door he felt a tremble shudder down his spine. His newly familiarized uneasiness was making reappearances. Matt wanted to turn back, but more of him wanted to see Abby.

He reached the point of no return. His hand clenched the door handle, and he entered. Matt immediately took notice of all the people at Abby’s party. He knew she was a likeable person but did not truly know what to expect. More signs of nervousness ripped through Matt’s body. His right leg began to shake, and he was forced uncontrollably to place his right hand in his pocket. Matt shouldered Abby’s present and marched through the building with a bowed head. Although few noticed him, Matt saw quite a number of his students. Matt mostly had trouble finding adults, even when he did, the adults he found were well past his age. Matt felt further and further out of his element. He went straight to the gift table, he set his gift with the others, and he went straight to an empty chair at an empty table to sit.

Be sure to leave comments or find any typos or just leave questions or predictions.

Preview of the short story

So, I kept talking about posting my short story on here. Well, truth is my addiction has gotten the better of me and I have yet to actually type the entirely handwritten story. Ideally, I wanted to type the entire story and proofread the piece when I was done. I may still but I wanted to keep the blog somewhat updated every now and again so I had to put something. So now, is the first part of my short story. This is the first two pages. It is a work in progress as anyone can tell because I haven't bestowed a title for this work. Please be sure to leave lots of comments and expect the next part in some time. Enjoy...

"Untitled Short Story”

By Chris Walker

Matt couldn’t carry a beat. Well, for the first two seconds the sound resonated mirroring a simple tune, but shortly thereafter the minute song would fall to shambles. This did not deter Matt from drumming aggressively on his steering wheel while awaiting his coffee and bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit in the drive-thru. Matt was always a late sleeper and never much of a morning person. He couldn’t even be described as remotely awake until the engine of his royal blue 2002 Subaru was on and his Radiohead CD streamed out of the speakers.

Matt dressed appropriately for his job, a long-sleeved button-up shirt with matching tie. Khakis adorned his legs covering dress socks inside of dress shoes. This was professional attire for a substitute teacher. He loved his job – well enjoyed would be more accurate. In fact, whenever someone asked Matt about his career-choice he replied every time by saying, “I can’t complain.” Matt thought he received more joy from his job than most, and he would be correct. However, the monotonous feeling of sitting at someone else’s desk seemed to increasingly make his time as a teacher feel hollow.

For now, the drive-thru didn’t stir much emotion until he realized his car had been idling through three songs on his CD, not moving a foot. Matt reclined. He tended to think more than he spoke. People have complimented him more than once on his ability to listen. Maybe teaching attracted him because a great teacher can both speak well and listen equally well.

While reclining Matt could observe the morning scene. The sun had yet to rise on this cold November day. No trees were around to share their different autumnal colors. All Matt could witness was his own face in the side-view mirror of his car. Matt could neither be described as ugly nor sexy; he’s somewhere in between. He has been clean-cut ever since his sophomore year in college. Since turning thirty years old though he could barely keep from having a five o’clock shadow. His thick eyebrows made him look menacing but his eyeglasses gave him an intellectual appeal. All-in-all, he was complacent with his look.

Students weren’t agreeing. Today was Matt’s third day teaching junior English at a privileged private academy on the east end of town. The tuition and standards of the institution were ludicrous. Matt could’ve cared less because his pay for this week was going to be more than he had ever received in the past, and the teacher he was covering for was expected to be out for next week as well. His real complaints came from the students’ inability to hide their snide remarks about his appearance.

Matt gave up on his hopes of getting his breakfast in order to make the trip to work on time. Teachers had to be in the classroom much earlier than students in order to prepare schedules, read mail (both print and electronic), and make handouts. Matt was excited because his classes were almost through with Ernest Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms. One of the more appealing aspects of his job was the opportunity to see a glimpse into the mind of tomorrow’s America by being in the front row of literary discussions in his class. Ernest Hemingway was Matt’s favorite writer, so he felt more than average excitement, but he also knew that he need to ask questions that Sparknotes couldn’t answer.

The first class of the day was nothing spectacular. Too many kids in high school stayed awake too late and, like him, seldom eat breakfast. This, of course, leaves the mind too weak to discuss Hemingway’s simplistic story-telling or how A Farewell to Arms is more autobiographical than the average reader may know, unless the student researched more than necessary on Sparknotes, or if the student is Abby Wooldridge.

Abby Wooldridge was Matt’s favorite student. She was the smartest, brightest student Matt had the pleasure of teaching. She was involved in Beta Club, National Honors Society, Spanish Club, Book Club, Quick Recall, and a few others. Through all of that, she could maintain a four point zero grade point average and walk into class with a great figure and smile. Matt had only wish he was in high school still so his boundaries were a little more open to her. She never made rude remarks about; Abby just greeted him with a warm smile and a pleasant, “Good afternoon, Mr. Whelchel.”

Matt appreciated Abby’s presence in class and recognized her for her delightful poise after class. “Hey Abby, I would just like to say thank you for keeping the class discussion on track today,” he said standing up from behind his desk. She turned around, her books in her arms. Matt immediately noticed her exquisite brunette bangs overlaying one eye, complementing her emerald irises. Matt felt a little uneasy, almost as if choking on air. Flashbacks beat his brain like a drumming recalling his less than gloried days in high school. Nervousness had never left him, but now was different because he was now cooler, older, and vaguely powerful – mysterious even. “Hey, that’s a nice sweater,” he expressed reclaiming his calm.

Abby beamed a bright smile. She gave a microscopic curtsy and replied, “Oh, thanks for noticing Mr. Whelchel, it’s an early birthday present from my friend Rose. She can’t make it to my party on Saturday because she’s going to be out of town all week starting today.”

“I see,” Matt said surprisingly. “Your birthday is coming up… seventeenth?”

“Yes sir,” she confirmed followed by a giggle. Suddenly her tone became much deeper with a hint enticement. “Ya know,” she began while swaying with girlish charm. “You can come to my party on Saturday.”

Being polite and maybe a little flattered mixed with just a touch of excitement Matt thoughtfully said, “I would be honored to attend the party of my favorite student.” Abby was overjoyed; to hear not only an acceptance but to be called Matt’s favorite student was worth more to her than any amount of money could be appraised. Nearly skipping out the door, Abby walked away with a piece of paper on which seven numbers were written – Matt’s cell number. Maybe Matt could’ve waited until their next class together to get the specifics of the party, but he may have wanted to know sooner or he may have thought of Abby as “special” enough to call his phone and the two of them could talk. Matt did know that if his reason was the latter, he should reevaluate his thoughts. The only problem was that each time he considered the situation his mind was trapped on Abby’s beauty. Her emerald green eyes, her brunette hair, her ruby red lips, her womanly figure were all seductive to his mind. Age or professional problems didn’t even cognate. Matt was left sitting behind his desk with his mind aflame. Obviously, he knew what he had just done and how his appreciation of a simple invitation was receiving too much recognition. Somehow the awkwardness of a high school boy flooded back in a rushed haze. He felt unbalanced, paranoid, and skittish. Everything was unfamiliar, so he focused his thoughts. His mind summoned up images of Abby. Quickly he found himself at ease knowing that someone wanted him. The awkwardness faded. Abby became a double-edged sword.

Updates to My Views

Okay, so I just got back from Red River Gorge. I love this place, it's merely a large system of forests along a canyon carved out by Red River out in eastern Kentucky. If you live in the area, you should definitely go out that way. The gorge is located about an hour east of Lexington in Pine Ridge. This little paradise of nature is well worth the drive for anyone.

So, why do I like this place so much? I have just built this history with it. About two years ago my grandfather passed away in the middle of July. July is full of birthdays in my family. The ninth is my brother's, the twenty-third is mine, and the sixteenth was my grandfather's. So, his passing was quite an upset for everyone, including myself. My birthday wasn't exactly the past day for me, but my brother attempted to make it somewhat happy for me by taking me on a road-trip at 2:30 in the morning. Although, I tried my hardest to stay awake on the ride down there I did not succeed. Maybe Beck wasn't the best artist to choose as our soundtrack on the drive - at least for staying awake. I believe waking up as we approached the rough incline added to the adventure - maybe.

My brother and I arrived and made the small hike just in time to catch the sun rise. I've shared pictures of my own adventures to Red River Gorge always taken at sun rise. Catching this wondrous scene is repeatedly my goal for every trip I've taken to this untouched serenity. Upon finishing my latest trip under the piloting capabilities of my friend Caleb (I didn't have to drive!), I can no longer saying that Red River Gorge is untouched.

I wouldn't label myself as an environmentalist or even much of a nature lover based upon my lifestyle at home, but I the observation of litter scattered throughout the campsite I used was unavoidable and frankly disgusting. I found bottle caps, plastic cups, and even a pillow in the limbs of a tree! Three friends and I were able to camp, start a fire, drink, make pancakes, and hike all without littering. As corny as it sounds, "We took only pictures, and left only footprints." Where did appreciation for nature go?

The question I am posing is layered. Initially, I would like to discuss littering. Remember the public service announcement for Keep America Beautiful- the one with the Native American crying at the end (it's linked here)? The image of being the society that destroyed the beauty nature just strikes me as a slap in the face to my ancestors and as we being jokes to our descendants.

I have the hardest time understanding what is so hard about picking up your trash or throwing the trash away when you are done. For nature enthusiasts who are most likely out for a hike, a walk to the dumpster is surprisingly too far. The lesson, and frankly my opinion, is PUT AWAY THE TRASH. A simple step, the same step to preserve the cleanliness of a room, could help preserve the illusion of nature we desire every once in a while.

The second layer that I believe plays a role in enacting my first grievance is that the appreciation of the simplistic beauty of nature is just lacking. I enjoyed approximately ninety percent of my trip this weekend. The ten percent was ruined between small bickering, rough sleep, and leaving early cutting out a trip to hike up the natural land bridge. One scene I can distinctly remember was when all the tents were broken down and the group was taking its second trip back to the car. Caleb was not willing to gather the rest of the supplies and the other two members of our party was in an equal rush to return home. The clock was only on eleven or twelve.

I knew no one was going to want to hike to the natural land bridge because I kept suggesting one last experience. In that one brief moment I tried to breathe in everything I was going to leave behind for several more weeks or longer (no one wants to camp in the winter and hiking is a pain with ice involved). When I found myself alone and knew that even the other campers around us were killing the experience with radios and super-sized camp sites I felt like no one was appreciating the beauty of a dieing planet.

Maybe I'm not the best advocate for appreciating nature seeing as how the life I live is fairly artificial, but maybe my words being honest and humble will make somebody take a hike. When that person does, I hope he or she takes a pause to breathe.

And pick-up his or her goddamn trash!

Chris

PS My short story is coming along nicely but my pacing has slowed down. The story is not a novel but a longer story than I've written in a while. I will post it here, but in parts. I hope everyone reads it though, the content is mature but I expect the themes to come across nicely.

The First Blog of a New Service

Well, I really just wanted to fill in this space. So, in the sense of journaling I'm just going to try and type for a significant number of minutes or until my hands start cramping. I think now is a great time to try and blog again because I am transitioning back into the real world after a long weekend. Today is a Wednesday, hump day, and I'm actually feeling good.

This weekend was great for several reasons. Most importantly, I got to fix my laptop which is my tool for typing all of these long-winded words. I had a virus on my computer that was generating spyware-type advertisements and completely corrupted my internet explorer. Fortunately, I use Firefox, which I highly recommend, and was able to do basic functions until I had the money to fix my laptop. The best part though was that my dear friend Steven and his brother offered to fix my laptop for free as a token of gratitude for helping Steven through a tough part in his life. Thanks Steven!

Another great event from this weekend was that after fixing my laptop I spent the entire night goofing around at the waterfront with my friends Steven, Damien, and Mary but also with Steven's "cousins" (family friends). That time was great but Steven is kind of a jerk towards fish. Regardless, I had a great time and ended the morning with some Krispy Kreme donuts! As anyone knows, I have problem pacing myself when Krispy Kreme is involved. Finally, I went to sleep at about nine in the morning. I woke up only three hours later but I got to hang out with my brother which is always great. We shopped at Target, talked about life, and health. I had fun before going to Beef O'Brady's to watch some NFL game with two undefeated teams. (Go Tom Brady... ehh I don't care.)

My next eventful day on my Fall Break had me going to my doctor to clean out my ear so I can hear again. Basically, I paid twenty dollars to have a super soaker stuck in my ear. In a messed up sort of way, I can of liked it. I spent the rest of the day watching Outlaw Star on DVD - awesome animé. Tuesday was just homework. So, everything trailed off on Tuesday...


Until I went to work. I haven't really appreciated by Gnarls Barkley (St. Elsewhere)album until recently. I can safely say that I haven't been the happiest I have ever been in my life and my thoughts have been a little bit less than depressing recently. These are just thoughts, so I fitting listened to "Just A Thought". I immediately started coming up with some short story. I'm not quite finished but maybe I can wrap it up tonight. That's when I knew I had to start blogging again so I can remember how much I like writing.

Regardless, I need to get ready for work now. Thanks for reading and expect a lot more in the future.

Chris