The clock ticking.

"Come here" Deborah Meyer said to her daughter, holding her arms open. The two women embraced Flora could feel her mother shaking with sobs while they embraced.
"I'm so sorry" Flora said.
"It wasn't your fault my love" Her mother replied.
"Where is Dad?" Flora asked that she hadn't seen him since she left for her interview.
"He's been out walking since we got the news" Her mother said.

Officer Stevens shook his head, it had now been 5 hours since Dennis Meyer's body had been found. He had just concluded the first interview with Flora and was reviewing the notes. As it was a suicide he wasn't concerned with looking for any suspects but something about the case just didn't sit right. Why would such a good kid end it all? From what he had gleaned from his interview with the next of kin and some of his friends, he didn't seem to have any problems. He just couldn't figure it out. He yawned and stretched his arms above him and leaned back in his chair. The something that was bothering him the most was centred around Flora his sister. Why had she immediately assumed he was hinting at murder? She was definitely hiding something.

The crisp fall wind was cutting and blustery, Martin pulled his jacket collar up tightly up around his neck and ducked his head down. Ever since they had gotten the call from the police, he had been walking. Through the park, down the street, up the street, out of the park. Just thinking. He hated himself. He hated the police who had made the call. he hated the dog that found him. he hated the rope that had taken his son's life. Most of all he was furious at his some for being so fucking selfish. Why did he do that? Didn't he know how much they loved him? Didn't he know how much funeral's cost? His heart was broken he didn't know how he could go on. The clock was still ticking but there was no time passing, he was no longer going towards anything. He stifled the scream he had felt rising inside him for the past 5 hours and walked on.

Questions.

"Alright, now I need to know everything." "Are you ready to continue?"
"Yes."
"Now please state your name." Said Officer Stevens a kindly middle aged police officer who had worked for the force for nearly 20 years. It had now been three hours since Dennis Meyer had committed suicide, and police were trying to piece together the details. This was the first of three interviews that Flora Meyer would have with Officer Stevens.
"Flora M-Marie M-Meyer" She said beween sniffles.
"Thank you Flora, now please can you tell me wether you remember your brother acting strange or out of sorts the last few days, maybe weeks leading up to this morning's events?"
Officer Stevens however kind and caring he chose to act, considered suicide an act of cowardice and a thing of shame and saw very little point in interviewing the bereaved sister just hours after the event.
"N-no I d-didn't." Said Flora mopping her bloodshot eyes.
"There, there" Said Officer Stevens patting her shoulder awkwardly.
"Only a few more questions and you can be on your way." "Now." he said in what he assumed to be a commanding but paternal voice; "Did your brother have any enemies? Anybody he owed money to? Did he do drugs or drink?" Officer Stevens asked, his bright blue eyes boring into her for answers.
Flora stopped sniffling and looked into the officers eyes with her own defiant brown eyes and said with more conviction than she had had all morning; "My b-brother was the kindest and most loving boy I knew and he just this morning threw himself off a balcony with a noose around his neck, and your asking me if anyone murdered him?!" Flora cried out, looking rather wild Officer Stevens thought to himself.

One rainy afternoon.

Flora and Dennis. Dennis and Flora. People always said they got along too well for brother and sister. Although most of the gossip centred around Flora. She was too quiet, too reserved. Didn't get out enough with kids her age. Dennis on the other hand was the families pride, won swimming competitions, did well in school, had lot's of friends and dotted on his little sister.
But Dennis had a secret. This secret was something so big it could never be revealed. He had told only Flora as to have someone to turn to, just in case. One rainy afternoon when the siblings were at their grandmother's house, hiding in the attic listening to the rain drum on the roof while they lay in a pile of old quilts, Dennis told Flora his secret.
"I can do magic!" Dennis said barely hiding the glee and wonder he felt inside. When he told Flora she understood immediately what it meant. "Don't be silly Dennis, you can't do magic!" Flora said haughtily. "I can so!" Dennis replied pouting. "Prove it then!" Flora said, thinking she'd caught him in his lie. So without another word Dennis sat up and stared directly at a shadeless lap that was leaning against a trunk at their feet. He stared at it so intensely and for so long Flora forgot what he was trying to prove. Until suddenly making her jump he threw himself back onto the bed with his arms crossed in a huff, "I guess that lamp's been bewitched not to move." Dennis said, clearly annoyed. Flora began to laugh but managed to stifle it into a cough when she realized he was serious.

The Secret.

'Where did you find the suicide note?"
"How do you know there was a suicide note?"
"Just tell me."
"It was on the bedside table, do you really need to know all of this?"
"I need to know everything."
Dennis Meyer had been dead exactly one hour before their neighbour's the Morrison's dog found him, hanging from the balcony railing swaying in the wind.
Deborah and Martin Meyer weren't the type of people you expected to have a suicidal son. Martin Meyer was an accountant, coached a swim team in his spare time and didn't have any weird fascinations with little children. he didn't beat his wife or kids and aside from the odd spliff in his college days didn't touch drugs. Deborah Meyer the highschool teacher, wasn't overly controlling of her children's lives and rarely touched anything stronger than tea except on New Year's where she famously knocked over the record player. Deborah and Martin were the rare exception in a couple who still loved each other after 16 years of marriage and two kids.

Emily.

It was dark in her room, or was it even her room? She couldn't tell. She felt something crack under her bare foot, a sharp pain shot through her as the shard sliced the underside of her foot, she felt the warm blood begin to leak like tears of an adolescent heartbreak. "There goes my last coffee up." She thought slightly annoyed with herself. Light flooded the room casting it's fluorescent glow across the dangling beads and feathers hanging from the ceiling of her closet apartment. Suddenly feeling the pain intensify in her foot and remembering the consequences of blood on carpet, she threw her saxophone on the futon and sat down next to it to nurse her wound. After she had tended to her foot and threw out the guilty mug, she sat on the window ledge and watched the sun rise over New York City, the sky the same hue as her bandaged wound.

The end.

"What?" He said bewildered. In his shock he had let go of her. He just stood there staring at the eyes he used to know so well. "You should go." She said finally in a dead voice. She stood exactly in the same spot saying nothing as he got all his things, put on his coat and went to the door. As he opened the door to leave, he turned around and seemed to be on the verge of words but changed his mind and left without saying anything. The door snapped shut with a sharp click but she didn't move. There she stood not moving for a long while, finally she awoke from her trance and turned and saw the two empty sherry glasses. She picked up the delicate crystal glasses and held them in her hands feeling the outlines of their delicately carved patterns roll over her rough weathered hands. Then one by one she threw them against the wall shattering them completely. Then she ran upstairs, threw herself onto the guest bed and cried herself to sleep.
It took them a week to find her body. Nobody missed her silent ghostly presence collecting the paper every morning. It was Tom coming to get his mother's sherry glasses who finally found her. She was still lying on the guest bed, next to the dried lilac clipping on the bedside table, the glass still had water in it.

A lost hope.

Tears started to leak from her eyes as she looked at him, she fought them back but them came anyway; "I waited for you for so long, I waited under the lilac tree everyday until sunset then cried myself to sleep every night you didn't come." The tears were flowing like a river now, "Finally." She continued, "I gave up. It was a week later I heard you were engaged to Sarah. -So I married Tom, he was crazy about me and everyone loved him, everyone except me." He just sat there, letting her pour out years of emotion. "I told myself I had stopped waiting for you but I never did. I never realized it, but Tom did. He saw me slowly return to the lilac tree, he knew I never loved him and that I never would. So one day he just stopped trying to make me love him, I woke up and he was gone." She was screaming again, "I wasted my whole life waiting for a man who didn't love me and ended up pushing away the only one who ever did." He sat there in silence when she was finished, she was now standing in front of him, empty sherry glass clutched in hand. After a moment he stood up and pulled her against him, "Please forgive me, I was a coward I was scared to meet you and my parents wanted me to marry Sarah and..." He trailed off as she pulled away from him, "I'm dying." She said with no hint of emotion in her words or on her face.

The confession.

It was late. They were both sitting in her living room, chatting about the weather. The sherry was making them both more friendly. She crinkled her nose as she giggled at something he said. Some of the sparkle in his eyes had returned. As she giggled he stopped talking and stared at her intensely. "What?" she said mischievously. "I used to love it when you did that." He said staring at her so intently she had to look away. "Why did you come here?" She asked suddenly, still avoiding his gaze. "Because...when I heard...I needed to know...to see you...I could't help it..." He stammered, "I thought we could be together now..I lo-", "SHUT UP!!" she screamed, standing up quickly. "You don't love me you don't!"
"Yes I do, We can be together now, I thought it had all worked out." He said quietly grabbing her hands. "I love you I always have." he burst out finally.

The Park.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" She said finally. The night was still young, it was barely past 7:00, plenty of time to get some fresh air before the neighbourhood got dangerous. "Sure" he said and grabbed his coat. After a few minutes of awkward fumbling she allowed him to help her with her coat and they left. At first they walked in silence through the sad park built in memory of some forgotten civil servant, but in the cold november air they were moved to speech. If only to break the oppressive winter silence. "Do you still dance?" he asked. "No." She said, "I did for a long time until i realized i was only doing it to escape myself." He knew what she meant, so he couldn't respond. They were back in a heavy silence soaked in what he wanted to say. She broke the silence only when it got close to the point she was trying to avoid, the point she had been hiding from for the past 20 years. "Should we head back?" She asked. "Yea, I'm frozen" he said too eagerly. When they got back she showed him to his room. Once he had come back into the living room and they once again faced each other in silence, she knew they could no longer avoid it. "Would you like some sherry?" She asked before he could get a word out. "Y-yes... okay" He said, not knowing now how to broach the subject.

Lilac scented memories.

"Hullo." He said, grounding his toe into the step at the door, his hair was thinning but it was still as dark and messy as it had been twenty years prior. "come in" she said curtly, he looked up and they grinned at each other, "Welcome" she said more warmly. Just like that he was back in her life. Instantly the pain of twenty years of regrets ebbed away and she was left with the warmth of his presence.
They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, listening to the steady drip of the faucet. He slowly turned the mug of tea he had given him around in his hands. The light flickered. "Tom left me." She said finally."I know..." He said after a pause, "That's why I'm here." The sound of his steady deep voice brought memories flooding back, memories she had suppressed for years. Memories of a kiss, a day, a night, a lilac bush. Somehow even while listening to his voice, it took her a moment for his words to sink in. His wide green eyes searched her face for a reaction as he watched his words come over her.

Something of time.

The knock on the door echoed in her ears and pulled at each one of her frayed heart strings. After 20 years the dull ache in her stomach still intensified. He was here. She couldn't run, she couldn't hide, all she could do was continue playing the part that was set out for her. The part he wanted to see her play. She wouldn't let him see the damage he had caused. She answered the door after she placed her broken heart and regrets and unspoken words in a far away place, where they could be forgotten. He re-entered her world not knowing the destruction he had caused the first time he left.

The man.

The car was filling up with gas His pipe line had worked, finally he had managed to do something right, he thought. Then lamented aloud; "and it's the last damn thing I'm ever going to do!" Which finally resolved him to take his life. He thought back on his life as it began to slip away from him. The years of medication, the years in rehab to get off the medication. The woman who he had loved with all his soul who had left him to go back to her husband. The attempts at writing a novel the publishers would buy. Carlos the closeted gay man who lied and told him he was an agent. His mother the only person in the world who loved him, murdered. Life hurts, death doesn't, he thought foggily as his life finally left him.

An amble through rambles.

Filling up on gas. It seems like something so small and pedestrian couldn't be missed, but it was things like that, that he missed the most. Sometimes he would get a wiff of petrol from his cell window as a car wizzed by, he would begin to think about her and that week so long ago they drove up north together. That was the thing prison really took away he thought. Not just your freedom, but the little things too.

xoxo

Keep Calm and Mischief Managed.

Thank you for the stories you posted in my contest! Now aside from the title being something cool I saw on a t-shirt , Loveable Scamps is up to some mischief too! From now on I'll be posting short stories that will hopefully capture your interest. Feel free to comment or email me stories of your own and let me know what you think about my posts! The first post will be up soon!

xoxo

Sentence story winner

He sat in the room with the perriwinkle walls, staring at the phone. Time moved like molasses and the shadows grew long. He was waiting for her call. He wasn't usually the type to act this way. In fact, she had him doing all sorts of things that were out of character.

The contest is now closed and thank you very much to those who entered! It was a tough decision but the use of the word "perriwinkle" won me over in the end. Congratulations Milsterino, I hope you take this story further than you have at the moment!

xoxo

CSN Giveaway!

Yes, yes you read correctly! Loveable Scamps are holding our first online giveaway! CSN stores is offering a great prize to the winner of my contest, all you have to do is write the opening sentences to a story and post it in the comment box for this post. If you don't know CSN stores, they are a chain of stores that sell everything from an L-Shaped desk to cute jewelry pieces! The contest runs until March 10th at 12:00 am. The only rules are the following:

1. The entry must be your own original work, plagiarism is not cool.

2. You may post as many as three different entries

3. Racist, sexist, homophobic and anti-semtic statements and remarks just don't jive.

4. Before you post your comment/story leave your name and email address so I can contact you if you win!

5. Please be creative! Entries about how much you want to win don't count.

I will contact the winner by email and give them the details of their prize, also the winning post will be published on my blog, so good luck and good writing!

xoxo

Small, Cute...and good for your heart.

My name is bean. At least that's what everybody calls me..well that's what my friends Quiche, Max and Mily call me. My real name is..well that's not important, but Quiche isn't actually named Quiche I mean who wants to be named after egg pie? Max isn't max but who's keeping track anyway? The reason why I'm running through the snow is because it makes it glitter. No I am not drunk or high, thank you very much! I'm just lonely. Running makes you forget.


xoxo

Happy Valentines Day

So Valentine's day is here and so are the sweets and roses that usually come with it! I know some people aren't too keen on it, but I like it as a time to celebrate my friends so I made them valentine cards and with the help with my friends baked some valentine's day cupcakes. I don't have the cake boss's touch but they were most delicious! I Hope everybody has a great valentine's day!

xoxo

The prettiest things

Sorry for the quiet during the last few weeks. Here are things that are pretty to me. Fresh pics to come!

xoxo