Story 14 // Jump

She wiggled her toes at the end of the pier, looking at the rippling water with hesitation. The color was unreal--teal/blue/green/awesomeness that no paint swatch could ever emulate. The sun dipped behind a cloud, and she thought:

This is stupid, why can't I jump?

It's just a lake, come on. Just do it. Come on just jump.

No one is looking. Well, not yet. Get on with it. Get into the lake!

...

photo here

Sarah put on her sandals and got ready to leave. Why was it that every time she came to the lake she chickened out? It frustrated her, putting lines on her forehead as she clasped the left one. The red coloring had faded but these were by far her favorite pair of summer sandals, having never found a replacement for eight years running. Her style was a little different when not at the lake. She could usually be found in blazers, pencil skirts, and crisp button ups at her job downtown. But she turned into a boho-hippy whenever summertime hit. She just couldn't get enough flowy skirts and loose fitting tanks. Once she clocked out she changed into her off duty uniform. It was her summer alter ego. All she needed now was to convince it that jumping off the short wood pier into the lake was a good idea. One day.

After collecting her things she trekked inside her family's lake house and opened her laptop. She had promised not to work while on vacation here, but no one was currently in the small bungalow, so she decided to take a peek at the chaos of emails. Scanning down the list, she clicked about two dozen that were clearly spam but for some reason in her "important" section. Those sneaky emails, she thought. They may have tricked gmail but they didn't trick me! She kept scanning, clicking on semi-interesting titles, moving some to a file marked REPLY BY FRIDAY, keeping her ears perked up for anyone coming into the house.

She worked in media, but her true passion had always been film. She learned that it was a lot tougher to make it in the film world than in the media world, and she had a knack for media that pleased her boss but not herself. So she decided to take the money over a happy career path, since let's be honest here, she got paid quite well. Much better than when she was a PA on film sets. Fetching people coffee and moving apple boxes for twelve hours a day got her around $120. Sitting at a desk and analyzing analytics for her boss paid her that amount every two hours. She had already paid off her student loans and she wasn't even thirty. Life was good, for the most part.

Suddenly one title grabbed her full attention: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE FILM STUDIES MFA PROGRAM AT COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

WHAT?!?!

On a whim she had applied to Columbia. That alter ego, the lake house chick, she had applied. She had made a reel and sent it in, polished off her test scores, and crossed her fingers. She couldn't believe it. This was really happening. It didn't feel like reality.

She looked towards that short pier through the window, and quickly took off her bikini coverup. She ripped her sandals off and threw them without looking. She opened the old french doors that led outside and ran as fast as she could towards the lake. Without even thinking she jumped in.

She stayed under for a little bit, then emerged a new person. She was now her summer alter ego, living her true life again. And it felt good.

Story 13 // Fog

First off, I apologize for not being on top of publishing my stories. After my grandma's funeral,  creative writing just seemed to stop. I had a really hard time getting focused on personal projects and have instead been getting lost in books to keep my mind unavailable. But I need to wake it up and get back to this, after all, that's what she would say to me. And to stop procrastinating and to maybe run more. She was a great motivator, even now that I can't talk to her. So I promise to get back to work, and publish stories once a week as I originally planned. And maybe some personal inspiration too. We'll see. 

FOG

The pine needles crunched under her feet as she walked down the well beaten path towards the ridge. It was a very deceiving path. You would never know it lead to anything special. The trees loomed in on both sides, as if trying to hug each other. The air was muggy but cool, like a summer evening that breaks through the heat. Only a few birds flew by, most avoiding the narrow spaces between branches. She saw a nest up high on one branch, little babies sitting calmly under their mother. All of the trees were a deep green that no paint color could describe.

The path opened up a little to another walkway, leading to a moss covered cabin. It looked abandoned, or closed for the season. Either way, it seemed to be doing just fine by itself. The weeds had grown into teenagers and the vines had partially covered the front door, but the red coloring seemed to shine in defiance. It was just about the cutest little place she had ever seen. She pulled out her film camera and snapped a few shots. She could of sworn the cabin was smiling in the last one.

As she got closer to the ridge, the breeze started to pick up a little. Smells of fog and pine needles thickened, filling the air with a cozy aroma. Light peeked out from behind a few young saplings, and suddenly there it was.

The ridge.

The rock cropped out towards the valley below, steel blues and grays of stone as old as time. White and black moss peppered the surface, helping hikers not slip on the lightly dewed surface. The timing couldn't of been better. She got her film camera out once more, and took photos until her film supply was all but spent. Then she turned back to her backpack, and slowly lifted out an urn. She walked to the very edge of the ridge, making sure her feet were well placed before opening the lid. After checking the direction of the breeze, and muttering a few words under her breath, she opened it up and let it fly. The ashes joined the low hanging fog and together they watched the sunset from the best view in the world.