last words: 9.48 pm

there was too much blood. I attempted to lift my head, then gave up immediately when a piercing pain sliced through my chest. my mind spun, trying its best to calculate as the thick haze of death began to settle in. at most, I probably had only 5 minutes left.

a few seconds passed as I lay bleeding on the dirt. I closed my eyes, then suddenly reopened them. a single thought flashed through my brain over and over.

“Caroline…Caroline..” I muttered weakly, fumbling in my torn pocket for my phone. Speed-dialing her number, I prayed that she would pick up.

“Rowan!” her familiar gentle voice rang out.

“Caroline,” I sighed, relieved. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, love….how are you?”

Grimacing, I answered, “I’ve been better. How was your day?”

I could almost see her dark green eyes shining as she spoke wistfully. “The usual. I miss you – when am I going to see you again?”

the pain sharpened. I tried my best to stifle a groan, but it slipped out.

“Honey? Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Hey, listen.” I spoke urgently, knowing my time was soon drawing to a close.

“Okay?”

deep breaths.

“I love you,” I whispered, as the agony grew stronger with every moment.

her voice faltered for a second. “Rowan? Are you-”

I cut her off. “I love you so much, Caroline Davis. I just want you to know that no matter what, I will always love you.” tears began dripping onto my cheeks.

I fought for breath. Just a few more seconds.

her smile leaked into her voice. “I love you more, Rowan Cooper.”

I savored each syllable, for it would be the last time I would ever hear those words.

“I love you the most.”

 

those were my last words.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mist

warrior

 

The mist shrouded the girl as she silently inched her way down the snow covered path. A mask stretched across her face, allowing only her piercing eyes to be seen, while her slender figure was sheathed entirely in black. The sound of the whistling wind snaked through the canyon, blanketing the terrain in an eerie atmosphere.

“Almost…there…” she whispered to herself, struggling to move forward. Her shaking fingers crept to the willow basket hanging on her arm, almost empty and without the abundance of food that her aunt had packed 5 days prior. Unfortunately, the empty basket wasn’t the only reminder of her lack of food – her stomach had been aching from hunger for hours.

She was on this journey. Alone. The forest through which she traveled was rumored to be thick with thieves and evil men. The frail-looking girl brushed these fearful thoughts from her mind with a shake of her hooded head. What was waiting in store for her was most assuredly worth trampling through the thick snow, sleeping on the cold ground, and running from –

A faint rustle shook the nearby bushes, reaching her finely tuned ear. She whirled around, her dark clothes swirling in the frigid air. Her numb fingers crept to her sword as she called out, “Who’s there?”

A deep voice snarled back, “Your worst nightmare.” Suddenly, two men in black leaped out from the bushes. Light gleamed on their swords; their blades aimed directly at the petite girl. this will be easy, they thought. But to their surprise, a large blade was unsheathed in the blink of an eye, and somehow that frail girl was wielding it. One of the men cried out as she knocked his sword from his hands, grabbed it, then unhesitatingly drove his own sword into his leg. The girl’s dark hair flew through the air as she spun, and with a right hook, her other attacker was out cold.

She yanked down her mask, her breath warming the air as she panted, recovering from the exertion. Bending down, she picked up the men’s swords & examined the hilts.

“Just as I expected,” she muttered, seeing the royal coat of arms engraved into the silver. With a sigh, she sheathed her own blade. A peculiar heaviness settled into her heart as she turned to face the path once more.

“Tell my father I said hello,” she whispered to the unconscious guards. Then, without so much as a sound, her figure slipped back into the foreboding mist.

 

 

muahahah plot twist – she’s a member of the royal family! why is she running away? what is she journeying after? and if she’s a princess, where did she learn how to wield a sword? idk if I’ll be continuing this one, so I hope you enjoyed reading :)

Born with it. (Part 1)

I was born with it. Simple.

I was born with the gift. The gift – the kind that the universe grants to one only once in many lifetimes.

everyone in society is taught and educated about how they have a soulmate – one who is the cause of their laughter, the antidote for their sadness, the love of their life. but that theory has never been completely proven.

until now.

if you could gaze through my eyes, you would see that I can perceive tiny, delicate threads connecting two people together. no one else can see those lines. just me.

I call them “strands of fate.” they can never be broken – they are made of a substance that this world has not discovered yet.

these strands are different colors depending on the two people – sometimes they are the color of the sea in a fierce storm, or the color of the honey colored light that filters through my window at precisely 4:12 pm on a Wednesday evening.

I still do not know the reason why they are different colors, but I hope to know someday from Them. For now, I live quietly with my gift – I have been instructed not to tell anyone, not even my own family. I know that They mean well, so I will follow Their command.

So I do not tell my best friend that the soft eyed, brown haired boy she is in love with is bound by those strands to another girl.

I do not tell the barista at the coffee shop that there is a soft blue thread tying her to the shy, awkward boy that comes in every so often just to see her smile.

I do not tell my parents that they are connected to each other by a silver thread that can never be broken – a clear sign that the plans of the universe had worked out. I love seeing their thread sparkle in the light – it gives me hope that maybe someday, I will find the person at the other end of my thread.

Every night, before I fall asleep, I hold my glistening strand carefully in the palm of my hands. It is of a color that I have never seen before – there are no words to describe it. if you care, it is like the passion of two lovers, the beauty of a rose, the calmness of a lilac sunset all combined together.

and every night I whisper:

“someday…I will find you.”

***

 

GUYSS I’M SO EXCITED FOR THIS SERIES!! I hope you enjoyed reading the first part, and please leave a comment telling me what you think! your feedback means the world to me :) have a wonderful day!

 

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Blogger Recognition Award

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ahhh! guys! I was nominated by my lovely friend from https://adventuringirlblog.wordpress.com for the blogger recognition award! so much gratefulness for her ~

well, let’s get started!


Rules –

  1.  Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  2. Write a post to display your award.
  3. Give a brief story of how your blog started.
  4. Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.
  5. Select (up to) 15 other bloggers for this award.
  6. Comment on each blog to let them know you nominated them and link to the post you created.

The Birth of Thee Adventurette

I started my blog about 2 1/2 years ago, in September of 2014. I vividly remember being inspired by Malala’s story of using her blog and writing to reach out to struggling girls all over the world. I wanted to be able to do that – to at the very least, inspire my readers and make them smile. Hopefully, I’ve been able to accomplish that :) Thee Adventurette started out as “Live. Laugh. Love.” and evolved over the years. I wouldn’t be here without my faithful readers! xx


Advice for New Bloggers

hmm, this might be a little difficult. If you are a new blogger, I encourage you to blog about your passions. Don’t think that you have to conform to the mainstream in order to get likes and views – that shouldn’t be the reason why you are blogging in the first place! If you truly care about something, you shouldn’t care about other people’s negative opinions on it. Just keep blogging regularly, interact with your readers, and be yourself! cliche advice, I know – but trust me, it works.


Nominations!

here are some lovely blogs that I simply must nominate! (if you’re not here, that doesn’t mean you’re not a fabulous blogger ;)

The Wallflower Girl

Antonio Kianos – The Pathfinder Blog

Rayne – The Bus Stop

The Sea Calls Us Home

Nazarene Teen

theamigirl

https://damonmm2000.wordpress.com/

From Inside

It’s Just Lexi

https://heightflight.wordpress.com/

have a lovely day!

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Not That Simple

hey guys! sorry I haven’t posted for a whole month ahh – life has gotten way too busy! so, to reward you guys for being patient, here’s a little story for valentine’s day :)

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she loved him, and he loved her…but it wasn’t that simple. nothing ever was. and nothing ever will be.

she was the sun — an endless ball of fire, energy, and passion, blazing into infinity. a bit on the wild side.

and he was the sky, calm, steady, and reassuring. ever present. holding her up. accepting her flaws.

it seemed like they had been with each other since the beginning of time – no one really remembered when they met. but they were quite the dynamic duo, fearlessly pacing through each day and night – she was always in the lead; he was always at her side.

“opposites attract,” everyone said knowingly of the pair.

“peanut butter and jelly.”

“fire and ice.”

“sunshine and rain.”

“peanuts and popcorn.”

“we’re just friends,” they responded, laughing. but everyone knew they existed only for each other.

they thought they would be together forever…but it wasn’t that simple. you see, life has a tendency to pull apart the most committed and dedicated of lovers.

— eventually, the sky became too distant from the sun, who in turn, became too fiery and unmanageable without him to keep her in check. no one could handle her; no one could reach him.

so they faded from existence, each completely lost without the other. the universe cracked at the seams, and their story was gradually forgotten.

never to be relived, and never to be told again.

 

 

 

9.22 pm

“Miss? Are you alright?”

I snapped to attention, quickly glancing around the tiny coffee shop – the only coffee shop, in fact, that existed in my tiny town. I’d been drowsy, lured to sleep by the golden smiles of sunshine glimmering through the antique windowpanes. “Sorry,” I blurted, looking up – and stopping.

she looked at me over her tinted, jeweled sunglasses with eyes so blue I thought I might drown in them. reaching out a velvet gloved hand, the flawless woman touched my arm. “Are you alright, darling?” her voice had a touch of an accent as she repeated the question.

normally, I would’ve been creeped out. I mean, this woman looked like someone from…well anywhere but here. 2 seconds were all I needed to sum her up. fancy purse, perfect makeup, jewels across her throat – she’d fit in a lot better posing next to the Hollywood sign than standing over the cracked and scratched coffee table that wobbled when you leaned on it.

“Um…yes, I am.” I stirred my macchiato as the lie tumbled out. without a second of hesitation, the movie star worthy woman pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down with perfect grace.

“Tell me all about it,” she declared.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, as well as I do, that your heart is weary.” the stranger sipped her drink that had seemingly come out of nowhere. figures.

I, on any other day, would’ve run out of the shop a longgg time ago. but there was something about her that compelled me to stay. so I did.

“I can’t let go of him.” the words escaped my mouth as easily as a breath of air. “Even after everything that’s happened…I can’t.”

she looked at me over her sunglasses, legs crossed like she was at a photo shoot. a whiff of Chanel perfume washed over me as she leaned across the ancient table.

“Darling,” she whispered, “not everyone you lose is a loss.”

 

and then I woke up.

 

 

8.07 pm

he stared at the worn, loved journal. breathless. he knew the girl whom it belonged to, but he gingerly lifted its leather cover anyways. his eyes fell on the first page, covered in familiar, neat handwriting. swallowing, he began to read the words.

“I miss you.

There’s no other way to put it.

I miss you from the bottom of my heart, and with all of my broken pieces. I miss you so much and so intensely that it feels as if the sky caved in on me and drenched me with all of its glittering stars. I miss your soft eyes, your soothing voice, and your strong arms as they embraced me. You didn’t know it, but when you held me, you held my whole world together. I knew falling in love with you, of all people, was a dangerous risk. But you hugged me so tightly that all my broken pieces stuck back together. You loved me so fiercely until all I saw was you; all I thought of was…

You.

And now, watching you look at her the way you looked at me. It feels as if the wispy, gray clouds have enveloped me in their haze of sadness. No, not sadness. What I feel is more than sadness. It’s as if the sun has refused to shine, and the moon no longer illuminates the velvety darkness of the still night. It’s like living life without laughter; living in a world without color.

  I don’t want to miss you. But I do. Not missing you is as impossible as breathing without air. It’s a feeling that is always present, no matter how occupied I am.

  So if you ever read this, I hope you know how much and how deeply I loved you, and still do. I miss you, and it cuts me to know that you aren’t missing me back.”

– november 2016 / 8:07 pm.

the boy let out a shuddering sigh, laid the journal down, and looked at the gravestone with the familiar name etched onto it.

  “I miss you too…” he whispered. “But now it’s too late.”

The Old Choir Room

 

It’s just a room. In fact, it’s a choir room, tucked away in the farthest corner of the old church at the intersection. In this room are empty black chairs, arranged in a semi circle, with empty black music stands in front of them. The air is usually heavy with dusty silence.

It’s just an old choir room. It has been almost completely forgotten, if it were not for what happens once every week.

Once a week, the old choir room comes alive. 15 young people, none alike, fill this room each week. They bring with them black cases of all sorts of sizes: big, small, medium. In those black cases lies power, the power that revives the old choir room and brings it to life again.

Every week, the empty black chairs are filled with young people.

The music stands are crowded with sheet music.

And best of all, the air is no longer silent for the next one and a half hours.

Instead, it is filled with the sounds of string instruments, of the sounds of young people playing their heart out. Each of them is so different and unique, but they all share a common bond: their passionate love for music. Why they chose such a dusty, forgotten choir room to practice in is an intriguing question, perhaps one that we will never know the answer to. They could easily have chosen some other room – one that is more convenient to practice in and isn’t so old. But all we know is that, once a week, the old choir room comes alive with MUSIC.

And the legend of the old choir room lives on.

 

That Girl Over There