Sometimes....Life Isn't Easy

Part 1

A lone bench stood in the pouring rain. It was old and rickety with peeling paint. It was nearly impossible to tell what color it was. It could have been blue, it could have been green. Hell, it could have been hot pink.

As a lone man sat on the wet bench, equally as wet himself, he couldn’t help but think that this bench was quite a lot like people. You never really knew their true colors.

The man looked around until he noticed a tiny sign that marked this spot as a bus stop. He could hardly believe it was any such thing. If he had been an idle passerby he never would have guessed what it was. It was nothing like the bus stops in the city. But he was fairly certain the sign wasn’t a lie. So it was there, among the puddles and the peeling paint on the bench that he sat, waiting.

As was a habit of his, he began to think. Waiting, he had found over the years, was an ideal time for some good old-fashioned thoughts. Not enough young people around his age had thoughts these days. It was sad. He didn’t want to be like that.

So there he sat-cold, wet, alone, and bored, bored being the most prominent-and he wrote a little story. He often wrote fictional stories. But this one was more fact than fiction. And while the man had not paper nor a pen to write with, it didn’t make much difference.

This story was all in his head, written neatly and coherently for later use, if he ever did find someone who might care to hear it. But, running his fingers through his wet curls, he began to tell it to just himself for now. It went something like this:



Once upon a time there was a boy. He was a young thing, just nineteen years of age. Despite his limited years, he had already experienced more pain than any one person should ever have to experience in their entire lifetime. Nothing had ever come easy to him.

His family life had been hard, unimaginably so. He had no good experiences to speak of, like most children do. It had been one misery after another for him. That being said, it is no huge surprise that he left it all behind the day he turned eighteen.

And three months after that, he graduated high school. Up until then he had been living with a friend. But now that college was looming in the fall, he felt he should find a place of his own.

And yes, he did intend on going to college. Partially because he wanted to learn new things and meet new people. And partially because his mother never thought he could or would. He tried not to focus on the latter too much, though.

Instead he tried to make his college experience as great as he possibly could. Of course, it wasn’t easy. He was used to that. There were heavy books and harsh professors and seemingly endless examinations. But ironically, the thing that made finishing college the hardest might have been the easiest thing the young man had ever done.

Falling in love. If there was one thing in life the man could say was simple to accomplish, it would certainly be that. He fell so hard and so fast he barely knew what hit him.

It came about in this way: he found an apartment. It was small, but it was suitable for his needs. He moved into said apartment. His first week there, he was running up the stairs, two at a time, books in hand, lots of studying to do, and it was already past midnight. So surely you could understand the man’s rush.

Unfortunately, his feet couldn’t keep up with his schedule, and he missed a step and went sprawling onto the third floor landing. His books were spread out everywhere. And there was a horrible pain in his knee where it had collided with one of the steps.

And then there was a hand, not his own, who picked those books up. The hand stacked them all neatly in a pile by the man’s head.

The pathetic boy looked up and his big, blue, gullible eyes took in the sights of the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He was tall with a good build. And he had the kindest eyes in the world. They were green and they sparkled like diamonds.

Especially when he cocked his head to the right to grin at the man on the ground.
“Need any help?” he asked with a chuckle. Even his voice was kind. It was soft and sweet and sounded almost like a lullaby to the poor man’s ears.

“No…no…it’s alright.” The young man picked himself up quickly, ignoring the pain in his knee and trying to stop himself from blushing.

He didn’t think it was working too well, because the beautiful man then said “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Those stairs are the devil. I’ve tripped up and down them countless times.”

The man smiled a sweet little innocent boy’s smile and reached down to grab his pile of books. But the beautiful man stopped him. This time the bumbling idiot of a man noticed another glint, coming from the man’s other hand. This glint was from a ring. A wedding ring. A perfectly fitting golden band wrapped possessively around his finger.

The poor boy, barely yet a man, felt his heart break. All his wild and crazy fantasies were shattered. He hardly heard the man’s beautiful voice introduce himself. Luckily he still caught the name “Jonny”. But he didn’t catch the question that followed. The man called Jonny had to repeat that.

“I said…..what do you go by?”

“Um…Chris,” the skinny young man managed to stammer out.

“Well Chris, let me help you by taking your books up to your room.”

Chris nodded and tried to remember to breathe. He could have sworn Jonny had just winked at him. All the way up to his room he tried to convince himself otherwise.

Taking the key out of his pocket, he opened the door and Jonny strode into the humble place and set the books down on a table near the door. Chris expected he would leave after that. But he just stood there, arms crossed. Chris got the feeling he was being watched, and he felt his face flush.

“So…..” he said stupidly.

“So….physics?” Jonny asked, gesturing towards the top book on the pile.

“Yeah….I kinda have a big exam I need to be studying for. I meant to do it earlier….but I just never got around to it. Until now, at least.”

He rubbed his head nervously. He had never been in a room alone with a man so beautiful and he had no idea how to act. Especially considering the fact that he was a married man.

“Well I know a thing or two about physics. Why don’t I help you?”

“Um…I don’t know…I’m sure I can manage…”

“Listen, Chris. I was a physics major in college. I really think you could benefit from my level of knowledge.” Again Chris could swear the man winked at him. He blinked a few times.

“Okay….if you are sure.”

“Excellent!” Jonny exclaimed. “Now…where would be the most comfortable place to get a serious study session on?”

Chris blushed in spite of himself but mustered up the courage to respond “my bedroom.” He was betting on the chance that he was being flirted with. It was a risky bet. But in the end Chris won the jackpot.

Jonny winked again, and this time Chris was sure it was for real. Then he followed Chris into the bedroom. Neither of them carried any books.



Part 2

Jonny had been right. He was full of knowledge. Chris had been with guys before, but not like this, and he had never gone all the way. But on that unforgettable day, as a young man of nineteen, he did just that.

And it was wonderful. It was the most amazing experience of his life. And when it ended when the sun came up, he cursed the star for all it was worth.

But Jonny made a promise. “Until next time,” he said to Chris, as he slipped on his shoes and left to return to his married life.

And he kept his word. Once a week, if not more, Jonny would show up at Chris’s door. Apparently his wife went on a lot of business meetings, and thus their relationship wasn’t going so well.

Jonny told Chris how lonely he got, sitting alone in his apartment. He whispered to Chris between kisses of how the young man filled that void. Jonny filled a void in Chris as well. The part of him that needed love and affection from someone, anyone. He had never received it at home. So, naturally, he searched for it in Jonny. And he found it, and much more.

Jonny was everything to him. His entire world. Whenever he ate, slept, and breathed, Jonny occupied his thoughts. Jonny told him that he was planning on leaving his wife. Chris felt his heart swell and he almost began to cry right there. Finally, someone that loved him enough to give up anything for him.

Until that fateful day when Jonny arrived at Chris’s door wearing a completely impassive expression. Without a word of explanation, Jonny told Chris that the relationship was over. When Chris asked why, Jonny acted as though it were obvious. “I have a wife,” he said.

“But…I thought…” the man broke off, tears forming in his eyes. He had yet to the value of not showing outwardly how badly someone was hurting him.

Jonny laughed. “Goodbye Chris. Don’t you tell anybody about this now, you hear?” he called out as he walked away. That was the last time Chris ever saw him. Jonny needn’t have worried about Chris telling anyone. At least not for a while. He was too ashamed.

He moved out of that apartment complex the next day. He moved to a new place, temporarily, until he could finish college. College. It quickly became torture. Every day was a struggle. Countless times he wanted to just give up and cry himself to sleep at night. There was indeed a lot of crying. But he never did give up.

He couldn’t. He still had something to prove. He wanted to have a diploma to wave in the face of his horrible mother. Unfortunately though, he never got that chance.

A few months before his graduation, his mom died. He drove out to the funeral and cried. But not for his mother. No, he cried only because she would never live to see him blow away all her expectations of him.

Feeling lower than ever, the poor man returned and graduated college. No one was there to cheer for him. Funny, he had once thought Jonny would be there with arms outstretched to congratulate him on this day. He shuddered to think how gullible and stupid he had been. Jonny was nothing but a tool.

A few days later, he packed a small suitcase, stuck some money in his back pocket, and left the city behind him. He took the first bus going south. He planned to stop at the next city over. But he fell asleep, and ended up at the bus’s final stop. A little bus station in the middle of nowhere with nothing but an old bench and a small sign to its name.



And that’s where the story left off. Because the rest had yet to happen. Chris heaved a sigh, and using his suitcase as a pillow, lay down across the bench. It was nearly dark.

He wondered when the next bus would come. Probably not until morning. Just as he closed his eyes in a vain attempt at sleep, he was startled by the sound of a loud horn.

His head shot up. His curls dripped water down his face. Stopped in front of Chris was an old red pickup truck. It was pulled to the side of the road. In it were two men. One rolled down the window and leaned out.

“Need a lift?” he asked, smirking at the image of a thin man, soaking wet, trying to turn a wooden bench and a suitcase into a bed. Chris nodded his now twenty-two year old head and climbed in the truck.

“I’m Will,” the man continued, “and this is Guy. He doesn’t say much. But he’s one of the nicest men you’ll ever meet.”

“I’m Chris,” he replied, suddenly feeling chipper. Though he had barely met the two men, he could already sense that someday it would be them who would hear his story.

“Are you alright?” asked Guy, averting his eyes form the road for just a moment to flash a kind look in Chris’s direction.

“Yeah,” Chris said. “As a matter of fact, I am more alright than I have been in a long time.”

He smiled despite all that he had experienced. It was true, sometimes life wasn’t easy. And in his case, it was certainly more often difficult than not. But sometimes, even if only very rarely, it actually was easy.




THE END

Will's Secret Plot

Part 1

Chris drummed his long fingers nervously on the table. He tipped his chair back so the front legs were a couple inches off the ground. Will frowned at him from across the table.

“Don’t do that Chris, you’ll fall.”

“I will no-.” Chris started to reply but decided against it, remembering his previous experiences with chair tipping. Instead he just sighed.

“What is it today Mr. Martin?” Will joked.

“Well….not to say these weekly sessions haven’t been helping me work my way through this Will….but I feel like it just isn’t enough to talk to you about my feelings anymore. I need a new way of expressing them.”

“Well how about a song? You’re good at that, you know.”

“Thanks for saying that. But it can’t be a song. It has to be a way to express them in public…..but in secret….if that makes any sense.”

“You certainly don’t make this easy on me Chris.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris replied, sounding genuinely apologetic. Will instantly regretted his words.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. This is nothing I can’t handle. An odd dilemma, sure. But hey, that’s what I’m here for, right?”

“Every Saturday from 9 to 5!” Chris chirped.

Will cleared his throat. “Um..yes. Now, back to that dilemma of yours. I think I may have an idea for you, if you are up to the challenge.”

“I’ll try anything,” Chris said desperately. He leaned in close as if he wouldn’t get the gist of Will’s idea unless he was inches away.

Will tried not to look annoyed. “Yeah….well, I was thinking you could sing part of a song in a foreign language, you know? Write what you want to say in English and then translate it? That way you could sing your heart out but no one would ever know.”

“That’s brilliant!” Chris screamed. He jumped up in his chair, causing it to fall backwards with a loud clang onto the floor. He slammed his hands down on the table, causing a glass of water to spill over.

Will sighed and began to clean up the water as Chris danced around the room. But soon the dancing footwork turned into pacing. “Oh no…..Will…..what language should I choose!?” he asked frantically. “It has to sound just right….”

“Well how about one of the romance languages?” Will suggested, cutting him off mid rant.

Chris gasped. “French! It’s perfect! Thank you SO much Will!”

Will allowed a small smile to cross his features. He had to admit that although the people he dealt with were often a tad bit crazy, the end of session solutions always made him feel good inside. “You’re welcome.” He folded his arms neatly on the table. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s almost noon and I do have other appointments…..”

"Oh of course,” Chris said, slapping himself in the face. “How silly of me. I’ll leave you be now. Thanks again!”

There was the sound of bouncing footsteps and then of a door shutting loudly. Will let out a breath he hadn’t known he was keeping in. But no sooner had the door closed than he heard it open once more. He didn’t hear any footsteps, which told him that his next appointment was now upon him. And a few seconds later, a thin dark haired man stood silently within view of Will.
“Hello” Will said.

“Hi,” the man quietly responded. He swiftly picked up the fallen chair and took a seat. He wondered why the chair was often turned over upon his arrival. But he didn’t dare ask.

“So what’s on your mind today, Guy?”

“Well….things just aren’t going so well, I guess.”

“Anything specific you’d like to share?”

“No…well…um…maybe.” Will gave him an encouraging smile. Guy almost smiled back, then continued. “It’s my look. I haven’t been feeling so great about myself lately. I look all wrong, I think. I don’t think the fans are interested in me anymore.” He stared at the ground ashamedly.

“I think they like you just fine. But if it would help your confidence level, you might want to consider making a change.”

“But what kind of change?” Guy questioned. “It’s not as if I can help how my face looks.”

“That may be true, but there are other physical things you could change about yourself. For example, have you ever considered dying your hair?”

“My…hair..?” Guy absentmindedly felt the top of his head. “I suppose I could do that.”

Will grinned. “Good. I think you might find that a little change is just what you need Guy.”

“Yeah. Okay, I’m done now. Goodbye.” And without another word he quietly stood and left. There was no slamming of the door this time. Will chuckled to himself at how different Chris and Guy were from each other.

-*-

“Ohhhh, you know I love you, you know I love you soooooooooo.” Chris sang out loudly. “Hmmm….now for the translation….” He flipped through the pages of his newly purchased English to French dictionary.

He searched for every word and wrote it down on a scrap sheet of paper. He cleared his throat and read from it. “Oh, tu sais que je t'aime, je t'aime bien.” He smiled. He thought it sounded pretty good. He tried it again, singing this time. “Ohhhh, tu sais que je t’aime, je t’aime biennnnn.”

He smiled with satisfaction. He thought it really did sound good, great even. He couldn’t wait to sing it to Jonny. It would be like a confession, without anyone ever having to know.



Part 2

Guy looked at himself in the mirror. To him his blonde hair was like bright headlights shining into sensitive eyes. He cringed a little. It had been a week, and nobody had made any positive comments about his new hair color. He didn’t feel any better about himself. If anything, he felt worse.

He thought he might feel better if there was some way he could know what his fans thought of his new look. He pondered how he might go about doing this. Suddenly a brilliant idea came to him.

“I know!” he exclaimed out loud. “I can check those forums….coldplay…ing or whatever it’s called, and see for myself what the fans think of this hair of mine!”

Hurriedly he dug his laptop out and opened up the internet. He quickly typed in the proper web address and in minutes was scrolling through the various threads. Finally he came to the one he was looking for and he clicked on it eagerly.

He read through a couple pages and felt as though his heart might break in two. They hated it….they all hated it. They didn’t even disguise it. He couldn’t believe he was reading these words.

He quickly shut off the computer. He felt as though someone had stuck a fork in his ego and yanked it out of him. He had now officially reached an all time low. Not knowing what else to do, he called up Jonny, who agreed to let him come over.

For a while they talked, until Guy whined about how his throat hurt from talking so much and Jonny agreed to run to the store to buy some tea for him. While he was away, Chris showed up at Jonny’s door prepared to sing his song to him.
He knocked, but there was no answer. So he just entered, knowing Jonny wouldn’t mind. “Hello?” he called out. But there was no answer.

He entered the living room and called out again. This time he heard mumbling. He looked around and noticed a lump on the couch covered from head to toe in blankets. “Oh there you are!”

“Mnnffmmmph,” said the lump. “I’m sorry I caught you at a bad time, but I have some new lyrics, if you….want to hear them…” he stuttered. There was another set of mumbles and Chris shrugged, figuring it was Jonny giving him permission to continue.

He cleared his throat. “Okay…here goes. But I must warn you, it’s a little…different than usual. And I wrote it especially for you. It kind of, well, it describes how I feel about you. Here goes…”

He took a deep breath and sung loudly and clearly. “Ohhhhhh, tu sais que je t'aime, je t'aime bieeeeeennnnnn.” Suddenly the lump shot up, causing the blankets to fall away and revealing a blonde haired Guy.

“What did you just say!? Did you just say you love….me!?” he screeched.

“Well…not exactly…”Chris stammered, completely shocked.

“You don’t fool me!” Guy shouted, pointing at him. “I took French in high school! You just said you loved me!” He threw off the blankets from him and jumped off the couch. “That is it! I am dyeing my hair back to black RIGHT NOW!” And he stormed out of the room.

Finally finding his voice, Chris called out after him. “NO! You’ve got it all wrong! I love JONNY!”

Guy didn’t hear him, but someone else did. Chris turned to the door and his eyes widened as he saw Jonny standing open mouthed in the doorway. He had no idea what to say. So he did what he did best. He apologized like crazy.

“I’m sorry Jonny, I’m sorry! Really, really sorry. I was way out of line." Jonny just stared. “This may just be the worst day of my life. Worse than that time I walked in on my parents- OH GOD!"

He cried out in horror of the memory and of what had just happened and tired to run past Jonny and out the door. But Jonny stopped him. “Wait Chris.”

“What is it Jonny? I think I have already been humiliated enough for one day.”

“You shouldn’t be humiliated for that. I should be the one humiliated. At least you had the guts to admit your feelings, in one way or another. I never could have done that. Until now.” He kissed Chris lightly on the cheek. “I love you too, you fool.”

-*-

Guy gave himself a once over. His hair was now black as the night once again. And so was his confidence. Somewhere along the way, he had gained it back. But certainly not with any help from Will.

Upon thinking of the man he frowned. He called up Chris. “Are you ready to go?”
The reply was so loud it could be heard by any other people had there been any standing in the room. “You bet I am!”

Twenty minutes later Chris and Guy pounded on Will’s door. “Will!” Guy called out.

“We’d like a word with you,” Chris added.

Will cautiously opened the door. “What seems to be the problem you two?” he questioned.

“We have a bone to pick with you!” Chris said, jabbing his finger into Will’s chest.

“Yeah!” Guy added.

“What’s the trouble?” Will inquired.

“The trouble is that because of you, I temporarily lost all of my regular fans and gained one I didn’t want….Chris. As soon as I dyed my hair he like, fell in love with me. He sang to me…in French. “

Chris opened his mouth to protest but figured it was a lost cause, since he had already attempted to explain the truth of the situation multiple times to Guy. “And because of you I got nervous and my love confession came out all wrong. I was so worried about the French pronunciation that I didn’t think and I blurted out my confession in English!”

Will sighed and rubbed his face. It was late. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Listen, Chris, but aren’t you with Jonny now?”

“Yeah…”

“And Guy, don’t you have your ego-I mean-confidence, back?”

“I certainly do.”

“Exactly. And what you guys don’t know is that this was my secret plot all along. I knew things would turn out this way.” He smiled smugly. “Now, do you have anything else you’d like to tell me?” He glared at them.

“Thank you,” they both mumbled, and then rushed out of there as quickly as they could.

Will closed the door and laughed. He hadn’t had the slightest clue things would turn out that way. But that would remain his little secret.




THE END

Fear Me, December

Fear me, December. Your ominous aura is no match for my sunny disposition. You think you can ostracize me, but you are not as powerful as you think you are, and I am stronger than you believe me to be. You think you are in possession of the most powerful forces of them all, but you are sadly mistaken. I have a plethora of traits that are far superior than the measly, morbid things you bring to this figurative table.

Here is a little tip. Life is more powerful than death. Even as you try to weigh others down with the cold, the dark, and the bleakness of your being, trying to make us want death, even yearn for it, I am working my magic. Your malevolent ways don't stand a chance against mine. There is a little trick I like to use. It is called positivity. This quality is an interesting thing. It has the unique ability to help people endure all sorts of ordeals. It is one of the central forces driving us all to want, to need, to live.

I have been told ever since I was young that I have plenty of this positive spirit. I see other people sometimes who are not so lucky. So I share some of my spirit with them. Sometimes they are reluctant to accept it, but in time they will warm up to me. And that is something, December, that you can never provide. You are in no way synonymous with warmth, are you? You try to make up for that by invoking your wrath upon the innocent population. But I will not stand for this any longer.

At first things were okay. An occasional cold day, perhaps some chilly winds here or there. Sometimes there would even be snow. All of this I could handle. It only mildly interfered with my daily life. But then you crossed the line. You did the unthinkable. You took away the daylight.

Did you think I wouldn't notice? Or did you think I would simply relinquish my position all together? Listen, I may be positive, upbeat, joyful, and sometimes even giddy, but that does not mean I am a pushover. There is a reason I was given hair the color of a golden sunset, or eyes as blue as the sky, or a smile that brightens up the moods of hundreds of people every day. It is so I can improve the life of a poor soul who is feeling badly. And you, December, are trying to destroy all that I have worked so hard to achieve.

You want to cover up the sun and replace it with clouds. You want to cover up the green grass with an eternal blanket of white. But this I cannot allow. I will warn you one time only. If you do not cease these wicked deeds you are committing, I will not hold back. I will unleash all the good cheer and happiness that I hold within my lanky frame. So fear me, December. For I, Christopher Martin, have been brought into this world to give joy to others, and I am going to complete my assignment to the fullest.



THE END

Humble Beginnings

Germany, 1920, under the Weimar Republic. The country is experiencing severe economic depression, and as a result their currency(marks) is basically worthless due to extreme inflation.



The feeling of dissatisfaction in the air was almost palpable. The German people were on edge and often it seemed as though they were riding on a thin line between quiet discontent and outright rebellion. But not everyone felt this way. Some were quite happy with their surroundings. But most of these people happened to be innocent toddlers who were just generally pleased with everything in life.

Two such toddlers lived across the street from each other in a small town. These two toddlers, two scrawny little boys, became friends in the typical way. One was playing a game, and the other wanted in on the fun.

The first young boy, with dark hair and big brown eyes, sat square in the center of the road. A bucket sat at his side. But this bucket was not filled with water. It was filled with marks, bundled together in one hundreds, each bundle tied together with string. But the boy had no clue about any of that. All he knew was that he was about to have some fun.

Smiling to himself, he dumped the bucket upside down. He picked up one of the bundles and laid it in front of him. Then he laid another next to it, and another. At first it looked as though the boy was crazy. But after some time, his thought process became clear. He finally took one bundle and placed it on top of the others. Now it was quite obvious. The boy was building a tower and the previous bundles had been the foundation.

The boy’s eyes sparkled with glee as he added more and more bundles. Finally, there were no bundles left. The boy inspected his work. He laughed out loud with joy. He was clearly pleased with his accomplishment.

“Wutcha laughing about?”

The boy’s eyes grew wide and he stood up in shock. His face relaxed a little when he saw the appearance of the speaker. He was just another kid like him. Scrawny, dirty, and obliviously happy. There were some differences though, the most noticeable in the face. This boy had bright blue eyes and curly blond hair that needed a trim.

“I was just playing a game,” the first boy responded cautiously.

“A game? A game! I want to play a game! Can I play too?” questioned the second boy at top volume.

The first boy’s expression turned into a frown. He wasn’t so sure he wanted this exceptionally loud stranger to be a part of his fun. “I don’t think so,” he responded coldly.

“Oh….” The second boy’s voice drifted off. His eyes grew wide with the kind of disappointment only a child could feel. The first boy felt a pang of guilt. He didn’t mean to make the boy feel bad.

“Okay,” he said quietly, “you can play with me if you want to.” The change in the second boy’s expression was immediate. “But you’ll have to bring more,” he added, gesturing towards the tower of money.

The second boy clapped his hands together with excitement. “Oh I have lots and lots of that!” He practically sprinted across the street to a house that the first boy assumed must be his own. It wasn’t long before he was once again in sight, this time with his scrawny little arms carrying multiple bundles of money that reached almost to his chin.

The first boy’s chocolate eyes widened with joy as he saw all of the wonderful brown stacks. To the adults they were just useless piles of paper, but to the two boys they were building blocks; something to keep them entertained for countless hours.

The second boy was in front of the first in no time. But unfortunately his balance was not so good. In an attempt to stop mid-run, he tripped and fell directly onto the tower, the money he was carrying scattering all over the street. His face contorted into a frown and he looked like he might cry. He made no attempt to stand up. “I’m so sorry,” he cried. “I ruined it!”

The first boy just stood there. He considered his feelings. He thought he would be mad, but he wasn’t. He realized he was actually more entertained than anything. This boy was funny. He let a small laugh escape from his lips. “You’re funny” he proclaimed in a typically childish way. He gazed at the damage. “We can just make a new tower. It will be bigger and better!”

The second boy wiped his eyes. He stood up slowly and allowed himself a small smile. “Okay.”

The two boys got to work quickly, stacking bundle after bundle of money. Their young faces displayed intense concentration. The first boy bit his lip, deeply focused, and the second boy’s brow actually began to shine with sweat. The sun began to dip behind the horizon. The boys raced against time to complete their structure. The last bundle was placed on top just as they both heard their mothers calling to them. Time for little boys to come inside and wash up for supper.

The two boys gazed at their achievement with sincere satisfaction. Then they turned to look at each other. The voices of the mothers called out again. Their expressions turned frantic. Neither one wanted to leave their building behind. They looked from the pile to each other and back again. Suddenly, they both exchanged a mischievous smile. Simultaneously they dove into the pile, knocking it down. They collapsed in a heap of dust and giggles.

The calls from the mothers came again, more urgent this time. Both boys jumped up quickly, grabbing bundles until there were none left. They hurriedly took off for their respective homes. Before disappearing inside, each looked back and smiled. A silent promise was exchanged in the form of smiles. Tomorrow? Same time? Yes of course. I can’t wait.



THE END

With A Little Help From Your Friends

Chris leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face in frustration. Nothing was coming out the way he wanted it to. He had so many ideas, so many melodies bubbling out from every corner of his brain. But not a single one of those tunes sounded good enough to him. He had little phrases bouncing around his mind as well; little poetic couplets that seemed to work in his head, but did not have at all the desired effect on paper.

He leaned forward and violently crumpled yet another sheet of paper. Nothing he wrote would ever be good enough. He felt as though his brain simply was not functioning as a creative tool any longer. Now I have lost the only thing I am any good at. I am completely useless now.

He laid his head on the table in defeat and felt tears start to build. He was hopeless. A hopeless failure. A complete and utter loser. He allowed the tears to flow freely, soaking his face and the table with his self-deprecation.

Suddenly he heard the creaking of a handle turning and a door being opened. He mentally cursed himself for being so careless and quickly lifted his head up, trying to dry his eyes. But it was too late. Guy had seen, and Chris knew he had. He dropped his hands from his face in surrender. There was no point in trying to hide it. Guy's large, chocolate brown eyes grew even larger.

"Chris, what's wrong?" His voiced ached with concern. In a moment he was standing before Chris's shrunken figure. "Chris, what's wrong?" he repeated, more softly.

There were a hundred million ways to answer that question. Chris chose the simplest one. "Everything," he mourned. His voice cracked, and Guy could tell that he was about to start crying again.

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered lovingly. He reached out and embraced the emotionally decrepit man. He held him for a long time before slowly releasing his grip and taking a step back to view the tear stained face of his friend. Guy's eyebrows knit tightly together in a worried frown. "Please tell me, what is it that has made you feel so horribly?"

Chris did not want to talk but Guy's gentle down compelled him to spill his heart. "I cannot write a single decent song. I am horrible. I am awful. I am dreadful. I am the worst song writer there ever was. Nothing I write comes out the way I want it to. I am incapable of writing anything better than what I have written previously. And even those songs are rubbish."

"Chris you-"

"No Guy. I should just stop trying, because the end result will undeniably be terrible. I am the worst songwriter. So I think I'm just going to give up and-"

He was stopped mid sentence by a hard slap on the face from Guy. He stood, his mouth hanging wide open and his blue eyes wide with shock.

"Shut up. What the hell are you rambling about?"

"I....but-"

"No," Guy interrupted sharply. "You are an amazing song writer. If even one person loves what you do you are a success. And you have at least three people. Three people who not only love your songwriting, but also just plain love you."

Chris's eyes once again filled with tears. Guy looked stricken. "Don't cry," he pleaded. He took an involuntary step forward.

Chris abruptly stood and held up his hand. "No, no," he replied in a shaky voice. "You do not understand." He pointed to his eyes. "These are tears of joy."

"That is a relief." Guy once again pulled Chris into a tight embrace. "Remember," he whispered, "that there are those three people that love you for you and everything that you are. Even your girly expressions of emotion."

Chris laughed and it was a relief to Guy to hear that the usual happy-go-lucky Chris had returned. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Guy simply nodded and broke free from Chris's hold on him. He turned and headed for the door. "That's what friends are for," he said as he exited the room. The words echoed around the small space, enveloping Chris. He smiled. Yes, that is what friends were for.



THE END