The name's *Dezazzle Kabee*. Oh, and this is Jennifer Ryan.

It's been two months since i last blogged a story to you guys. Sorry for the wait. I still don't have a new story for this year. Today's blog will be something i wrote during those days of grade 9. I don't really have a title for it, but enjoy:


I go to a private school for uberly talented and special individuals. In other words, the people here are weird. First, let me introduce myself; I am Dezazzle Kabee and my specialty here, is the power of flying. I am considered one of those boring normal kids here at Super Pow High School. Even though my name has a touch of uniqueness, to the students and to this school, I’m a nothing. What’s really amazing is Jennifer Ryan. Such a gorgeous girl with an amazingly boring name. This girl is beautiful from head to toe. Her hair is as voluminous and shiny as a supermodel’s. Unlike my horse-tail hair, her’s is a lovely black mane. She inherits her mother’s doll face, with a pair of playful dark eyes, a petite nose and a flawless mouth. When her presence swifts through the halls of Super Pow High, every person turns and stares with awe. The stares follow her as she walks gracefully down the hall. I hate it when that happens because whenever that happens, I have to remember again that I’ve got nothing that she has, and what I have, she’ll never want. Jennifer Ryan is the magnificent goddess that everyone adores, but I personally think she just likes to haunt my hallway.

Today was one of those days when she just had an urge to pride herself of her beauty, so she decided to take a small stroll around the school. When she had just barely turned the corner into the hall where my locker is, I got pushed back by the people possessed by her. I got stepped on, my backpack got stepped on, and most importantly, my lunch got stepped on! My peanut butter and jelly sandwich was ruined by a crayola green high heel, and that girl wearing that set of stilettos didn’t even notice that her heel was planted into my sandwich. Jennifer tossed her raven-colored hair behind her shoulder and gave me a sweet, innocent smile. Before she completely passed by me though, she tossed me a white slip of paper. It was folded quite neatly and when I opened it, scrawled on the surface, was a small message:

Dezzazle, we need to talk.
Meet me at the back of the school at 11:50.

She was Jennifer Ryan. And I, didn’t care at all. 11:50 a.m. came and I ditched her like one of the only sane people too. Normally, if anybody got that kind of message from the queen of popularity, they’d be there an hour early to ensure that they wouldn’t be late. I didn’t see Jennifer the next day, and honestly, I didn’t care. It wasn’t like I had caused whatever had happened to her. On the day that she came back, her heels click-clopped all the way to where my territory was. She stopped there and tapped me on the shoulder. The world stopped. Everything and every person that was breathing that could see held their breath.

“Hi,” was all she said as she plopped down beside me on the floor. As shocked as I was, I managed to blurt out, “Why the heck are you talking to me?” She waited and then spoke, “I wanted to talk to you a few days ago, but you never came that time,” she paused, “I really needed to talk to you. Can we talk some more? Say, like after school? Same place?”

“What’s there to talk about? I don’t even know you! You’re Jennifer Ryan! Hellooo?” I answered rudely.

“Just because I’m Jennifer, doesn’t mean I‘m any different than you,” she said sadly and got up. She walked out the front doors of the school.

I just sat there for awhile. People that were staring started breathing again. I thought about what the most prettiest girl had just told me. And then, finally, it digested. I put all the pieces together. Just because she was pretty and everyone admired her, she was lonely. She had no friends. Most popular girls in chick flicks came with their very own two back-ups or side kicks. I realized that Jennifer had never had anyone follow her. She was always alone. I realized suddenly, that Jennifer Ryan deserved some respect. She did not befriend fakes for friends to solve her issues.

That day, I followed her commands and found her after school at the back. She sat on the cobblestone ground with her head buried into her knees. Her glorious hair was all over the place. I sat down beside her and patted her on the back.

“I just don’t get it,” I whispered as nicely as I could.
She looked up and I saw her vulnerability. Her eyes had this deep expression inside them and they looked lost. As lost as a boat out at sea on a storm. They were also wet with small tears.

“People always thought I was perfect. I’m not. They always thought because of my prettiness, I had friends. Wrong again. They just stare and follow me around, but never does anyone ever talk to me,” she tucked her head back into her knees. I felt empathetic as I warmed the ground next to her.

She started again, “ You were the only one that couldn’t care less about me. I liked how you ignored me. So here I am asking this simple yet complicated question: will you be my friend?” I didn’t say anything and she didn’t wait for my reply. “Can you switch places with me for one day?’ Her question caught me off guard. I squeaked out a “huh?”

“My special talent here at Super Pow High is the ability to basically, switch lives with someone for a limited time. Please?”
I’m not exactly sure what came over me, but I just thought of all those times I wanted to be pretty. I agreed, which alarmed me, after all, she just told me all those times she felt alone.

Just minutes after my decision, we made the switcheroo.

The first few minutes walking in her high heels made me feel confident and glorious. Than came lunch and I just did what I normally did and made my way into the busy cafeteria. I knew Jennifer was lonely but I went through the whole lunch without a single hello or hi. The students would just stare and carry on with their normal activities. As I walked out of the cafeteria I passed a group of guys. They just stared and looked me up and down.
‘How rude,’ I thought to myself.

The whole school day went by and I was left to meet Jennifer who was in my body at the back of the school.

She was flushed. She looked beautiful. And she was in my body! She had applied makeup on my body’s face. She made my body’s face look flawless. I don’t want to brag, but hey, I looked spectacular! Amazed, I just stood there silently till she started to talk.

“WOW, that was so great! I had so much fun! You’re life is great!” she exclaimed.

“You’re life sucks. Like really. Today was horrible,” I replied.

She just giggled. “We’re switching now, close your eyes.”

I did. I shut them tight. I really wanted this to all end. Her life was terrible, just terrible. I had my eyes shut for awhile. I felt nothing so I finally I opened my eyes. Jennifer beamed.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to stay like this for a little while longer…Okay, I’m done.”

She closed her eyes. I felt her concentrating hard and then I felt it. There was a tingling feeling and it crept up my skin.

It happened quick, the switch was done.

“Dezazzle! Open your eyes!” the switch was done.

I sighed, relieved to be myself again. Jennifer Ryan practically knocked me over and gave a huge hug and squealed.

“OMG, so now that we’re friends. We can do this all the time!”


The End.

So there you go, my fellow fans. :)
And just to keep you guys in the "know", (not exactly sure if that makes sense, but i think i've heard it before) i'm currently beginning on my new short story for the grade 10 year.
Hope you guys are ready to read soon,
~ML.

The Colored Brick Wall

This is some pretty old stuff that has never been published. It’s one of those stories I write every year to see if they’re any good. This is the one I wrote when I was in grade eight during the month of March in 2009. It’s pretty mushy, romance-y, perhaps a bit cheesy, but to be honest, I never got what was “cheesy”. Anyhow, the idea isn’t too unique, but the message in it is one every person, guy or girl should realize. Enjoy.

The Colored Brick Wall

“Romeo, save me, they try to tell me how to feel,
This love is difficult, but it’s real.
Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess,
It’s a love story, baby, just say yes.”

-Taylor Swift

Confusion tortured me while I had a headache. He is someone I have real fun around; he is a great friend; he is everything I’ve ever wanted. But no, they tried to keep us apart; they wanted us to fall apart.

Love. It’s like a drug. It hurts you at times, but yet, it feels so good.

Love [luhv] loved, loving
-noun
Definition 1: A feeling of warm, tender attachment or deep affection to another person.

I remember the first day I saw him. We were by the huge, beautiful fountain in my hometown park. My imagination was soaring that clear-sky day, and everything around me seemed to glow like the ending of a fairy tale. Then, he caught my eye. He seemed so perfect; dressed cute, seemingly without effort, with perfect hair, and most importantly, a genuine smile of bliss that showed through his eyes. He was laughing with some toddlers, and showing them magic tricks. The giggling, laughing, and little squeaks from the young pre-schoolers seemed to influence even me. The moment was bittersweet. After all, the kids weren’t laughing because the tricks fascinated them; he acted so ditzy and cute, it was excruciatingly hard not to make a sound at all.

I was a nineteen year old ordinary teen working at a summer camp, as an instructor’s assistant. I loved kids, especially such joyous ones, so when I saw them all happy with him, it made me all happy too. I was a shy girl, but I walked over and greeted the kids. They gave me a great bear hug, and the boy, eighteen or so, looked at me with such sparkling eyes, it gave me the tingles. Very cliché, I know. After a while, the toddlers left with a cheerful heart, he turned to me.

“Hey. I’m Jake, but you can call me tonight,” he smiled.

I breathed out, giving him a look. Perhaps, it wasn’t the best or charming pick-up line, but those few words led to the beginning of a “Once upon a time…” fairytale. Every second we spent together, I treasured.

But then, the storms began and the trees began to fall. The castle was being invaded by horrible, and mean trolls.

Things changed after we met The Parents. They didn’t like us together; in fact, they detested and hated it. But for what reason? Only one. Because we weren’t the same skin color. I thought by now, of course, with this new generation, why would anyone, especially our parents, have anything against it? They were fine with us being friends, but not together.

“Racism is man’s gravest threat to man – the maximum of hatred for a minimum of reason.”
-Abraham J. Heschel

I didn’t think it was even possible, that my parents, be against pure love, just for one stupid reason: Racism. I asked myself: What happened to Martin Luther King’s I Have A Dream speech?; What happened to Rosa Park’s stand against discrimination? So I may have darker skin than him. So what? Why does it matter?

I was sixteen, and he was nineteen. We were so young. All we wanted was for people to accept us for who we were, and believe that skin color doesn’t matter. Those times were dark and dreary. I still remember that time when our parents got our immediate family and relatives to rebel against us. Our parents tried everything in the book just to bring us down. They didn’t have many supporters though. I guess they just wanted for us to be happy. For months, we had to survive through the pain. Months don’t seem much, but at that rate, if our spirit, hope, and faith, wasn’t there, we might have done what everyone expected: fall to pieces.

A year or so had past, I started to give in more and more. I began to put on lighter make-up, just so I would look paler. He realized quite quickly that I was trying to hide from who I really was. As soon as he understood, he took me one sunny afternoon, for a ride in the ocean. We went scuba-diving, and I must say, everything was so beautiful. I wasn’t the best swimmer, but I tagged along and had the best view I’ve ever experienced. The view underwater was nothing like what was up on land. The fish were magnificent. They looked like what him and I were suppose to be: carefree and fun, like how it was before. Finally, he pulled me away from the loving water creatures that captured my gaze. His fingers intertwined with mine and he gently pulled me up. Up above, he held onto my hand, and whispered something into my right ear, “Remember the fish you saw? Did you notice how colorful and gorgeous they looked?”

I peered into his warm blue eyes, trying to unscramble the reason of his words before he said them.

“Compare yourself to the fish. Just like them, you are colored, and just like them. You are beautiful in your own skin. You should always know, that you are amazing and special to me, no matter what others think. You deserve better. Promise me you’ll never be ashamed of who you are ever again.”

It was then I realized how big of a mistake I made. I looked down at my feet. I nodded, without a sound. Loving yourself is the first step to self-confidence. And I learned that the hard way, but I got through it. He taught me the greatest lesson.

I love my skin, and I’ll never even think about being ashamed of it, because it makes me beautiful and who I am today.

AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. The End.

So yea, this may not be my best work. But I wanted to update something before I leave for vacation.

Happily Never After

Here's a poem i wrote during science class. Yea, i know. Should've been paying attention to the teacher, but i rarely write poems, so it's actually a good thing, i think.

The hiss of silence
it kills
deafens me
forces me to believe reality.
He said,
Let go.

Spread out,
vast distances,
once filled with the bond of you and me.
It's crazy,
unexplainable.

She said,
don't go.
Tears slowly fall,
the puddle of regret.

He said,
I'm sorry
drops her hand.
Gravity takes it instead,
and she continues bawling.

Love,
a strong force.
Never meant to do any harm.
But it was never guaranteed
because
he said,
Goodbye.

bad dreams, and great nightmares.

Sometimes, my dreams can, and will get out of hand. It's almost like i can't control it, but it's crazy how the stories my mind can create are just so weird.

Let's see:
Two nights ago, i was yet again, lying down on my bed, sleeping. I might have looked unconcious, but my dream was just unravelling.
There i was, with a family of vampires. My best friend's. The atmosphere, was tense and not at all mediocre. Something, was going to happen. I stood there, panicking, as the pace of the vampires increased. They were setting strange statues up, some radish, and a cake of licorice. Nevertheless, the anxiety was still there. It got darker, outside the small, wooden, cabin. The moon's light seemed to shine greater than ever. The family of vampires were stressed, yet the passion did not fade. It was almost time. The leader of the clan looked up at the moon and smiled at me warmly. She arranged the system we were going to sleep in. I, being the human, would sleep next to her, as she was the most powerful. On the other side, would lay my best friend, Neta. And next to Neta, was the husband. Lightning gave away, and as it struck a hill, a werewolf howled to the blue moon. I quickly fell asleep under the leader's protection. It wasn't to long though, before a weak knock came at the door. The leader quickly put on her fierce mode. Surprisingly, the one who entered after the knock was a young girl. She looked like a rag doll, very pretty, but undoubtedly wearing makeup. She walked in giggling and spoke in a strange, alien-like language. She held in her petite gloved hands, a fat purple book with a picture of Barney on the cover. She was still blabbing on and on and on about nothing, when a creepy cackling was heard by Neta. It was time. Another some one came in. The leader pushed me off the bed, and i hit the floor soundlessly. A forceful impulse caused me to roll under the bed. My head was touching the bottom of the bedspread. I was scared out of my mind. I held my breath, and as quietly pushed my body, moving my head farther away from the bedspread. I didn't want my physical movements under the bed, to expose my being there as a human. I watched through the slit of light given by the space between the bedspread and cold floor. It was a goblin. It was an ugly creature, with a mask of white and red and a hat of two pointy things. It was wearing grotesque pajamas, with green and poo-brown vertical stripes. On it's dumpster-green shoes were rotting jingly bells that made a stupid sound when he danced around. He chatted with the vampire family, his focus on them. Then, his hypnotic yellow cat eyes left them, and made there way down to mine, under the bed...

Alright, okay. So it was a dream after all. I, if i do decide to type it down, probably will exaggerate and stretch it with a few details. Now, truth be honest, wasn't that an interesting dream? I don't even like Twilight all that much. Weird, eh?