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So, What’s Forever Anyway?

Sometimes I swear I’ve lived this life a hundred times over. Things are always the same, only slightly altered. We talked about that the night we walked the old town streets. Our arms were linked, our heads looked down, staring at our moving feet. Then you quickly pulled away.

“Circles,” you said. And I smiled as I watched you speak. The happy glow of Christmas lights shown across your face and the graveled streets.

“See, life goes in circles,” you motioned with your arms. Always so dramatic, so passionate

about the words that came out of your mouth. “Patterns.,” I remarked.

“Exactly!”, you beamed.

Why I remember that moment, that walk so clearly, I’ll never know. Then again, I remember almost all of our walks. I remember the pink and orange sherbet sunset, so beautiful it didn’t even seem real. I remember the crisp evening air and the feel of my very cold nose.

You ran ahead of me and laid on the railroad tracks. I thought you had a death-wish. I told you to get up. You wouldn’t until I joined you and I don’t know why the hell I did, but I did. And we laid on the tracks, our faces laughing up towards the sherbet sky.

Is it possible to fall in love in retrospect?

I promise I’ll get it right… next time, I think to myself.

But there was no next time, no second chance, no redo. Sometimes, there’s just a girl reading an unexpected goodbye email, late at night, desperately trying not to cry.

And sometimes there’s just a boy, with a backpack, and a car, and a cross-country road-trip back home, desperately trying not to feel the pain anymore.

It’s been two-hundred and sixty-three days since I last smiled at you. Two-hundred and sixty-four since you asked me to be your wife. Two-hundred and sixty-seven since you left, but who’s counting…

I suppose when someone asks you to marry them your initial response should be, Yes!, not,Why? But there we sat, with you smiling at me, saying you simply wanted to be with me forever. And something about forever, well, that’s where you lost me.

At least I thought.

See, when falling in love, that is, when you don’t know it’s love, things seem simple. But our love was anything but simple. It was extraordinary.

Our falling in love was sneaking into abandoned classrooms, just to watch the classics. It was BLTs without the lettuce. It was the beauty of Farsi poetry whispered into my ear. Our love was early morning Starbucks and late night laughing, books with hidden messages, letters and stories, happiness, sadness.

Our love was a compass, a journal, dresses, and scarfs. Our love was tremendously magical and would have been, could have been, a very happy forever. But the choices we make help determine our fate and without me, you met her. Wonderful, her. The one I’ve heard about from friends, the one who wasn’t afraid of forever. The shadowed girl from your dreams who you never could quite see, suddenly she shone.

As fast as time passed, the memory of you grew clearer with each day. Some forevers never

fade and I’ve learned that’s really nothing to be afraid of. It’s actually quite nice. So I stopped running and I began dreaming again, walking again, laughing again. I stopped pouring whiskey to the werewolves and instead went back to drinking in the world again.

Isn’t it funny how happiness has a way of finding the happy? I went through my days with a smile, until one day his smile met mine. He’s nothing like you. He prefers Tarantino to Aronofsky, coffee to tea, and facts to fables. And I love him, but I wasn’t the first. Somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘I love you’ I learned all about the girl that loved him before.

I learned about how they met, college like us. I learned about the adventures they went on. I learned about their happy times and their not-so-happy times. And I learned about the nine years she waited for him because he was scared of forever. When he told me his story there was some regret in his voice. “But then she met someone,” he said. “And then I did too,” he smiled at me.

As time has passed, and the seasons have changed, I’ve noticed that our love is…breaking

down walls, building broken bridges, and laughing at the things we cannot change. He and I seem to have rewritten our former protagonists’ tragic end. There is a hushed excitement I find deep within me now at the thought of a whole new story with him.

So, what’s forever anyway? Is it a memory? A lifetime? A commitment sealed with a ring? I’m still not entirely sure I know, but one thing is for sure. I’m no longer afraid. I think about this as I walk with him, our arms linked, and heads looking down. I squeeze closer to him, the air crisp and cold. He hugs me tighter and smiles.

A familiar memory echoes through the wind.

“Circles,” you said.

“Patterns.,” I remarked.

Featured

A wish.

I’ve spent the majority of my life lost in my own daydreams. But, I love it. Writing is a huge part of who I am and I’m so passionate about what I do that I want to share it with others. I believe that scripts, and poems, and short stories just sitting around in drawers aren’t living up to their full potential so I’ve made it a mission of mine to throw out into the universe some of what I’ve written. My wish is that someone, somewhere, will be able to connect with what I share and take away something positive from it. Hopefully, you will enjoy reading my stories as much as I have enjoyed writing them. xx Candice

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A Quick Hello & Thank You!

TTAHLOTO - Kloss Farms Illustration

(Illustration from my short story Tim Twisselman and His Love of the Ordinary.)

17200695_10209866938443515_119638527_o

(Twisselman Mine photo)

I want to thank all of my followers who read my stories and feel a connection to the words I’ve written. It means so much to me when I hear from you, and even more so when I receive photos like the one above! A friend came across a place called Twisselman Mine and shared their photo with me. Pretty cool!

Tim Twisselman and His Love of the Ordinary was a story that I really enjoyed writing, and it makes me happy that others have enjoyed it as well. I love when you guys write in and share how a story or blog post has made you feel. Your support and kindness means the world to me, so thank you again.

Behind the scenes I have been busily working away on a new short story and screenplay. (Apologies for not posting as often as I used to, but there is still writing going on every day!)

Until I post again –

Here’s to finding the magic in the every day, and the extraordinary in the ordinary. 

The Way Things Went

The Way Things Went - Illustration.jpg

“Hello”, was all she said, and he was immediately hers. Of course, she didn’t know that yet, but somehow when she softly spoke that simple word he was captivated. It was as if he felt alive, truly alive, for the first time in his life and all he wanted – more than anything – was to hear her speak more of those simple words to him.

So he asked her for her name and she gave it to him with a smile, and as she walked away he quietly whispered it to himself, as if speaking any louder would awaken him from a dream. Not before long she accepted his offer. He dressed up to impress her and brought her over a flower. That first date turned into two, and then three, before four, and after that he stopped counting because by then she was his.

Between lattes and breakfasts, dinners and laughs, life seemed so wonderful until a thought came that stopped him in his tracks – what if it doesn’t last?

She stopped in the middle of the story she was telling and reached for his hand, “Is everything alright?” He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded his head, and she smiled with that smile she gave him when they met, and yet – to him her smile seemed to not be as bright as he once remembered…

He glanced at his phone and took a look at the time, and he told her he’d take her back home.

“Oh”, was all she said.

Silence.

He drove her home and kissed her goodbye and she thanked him for the lovely night.

Two days passed and sometime within those forty-eight hours, between work, chores, and the things that fall between, he seemed to care a little bit less about checking on the girl who once told him ‘hello’.

As he laid in bed that night, just before he fell asleep, the darkness of the room was illuminated as his phone lit up with a message.

Are you alright?

Of course he was alright, why was she asking? And with that question her simple words no longer seemed so simple. I’ll call her tomorrow, he thought to himself.

Then tomorrow came and went without a text or call, but he got busy with life and friends and all. Another week passes before he saw her again, and when he finally did she hugged him real tight; but this only triggers in him the reaction of fight or flight. A shift change happens, as she feels him pull away and all night at dinner she wasn’t sure what to say. So, she adjusted her dress, and played with her hair, she said you looked handsome, but you seemed not to care.

By the end of the night when he dropped her off at home, she wore a crooked smile, to offset her sullen tone. “Goodbye,” she simply said.

Then life went on, and the leaves changed colors, he was once again just another fish in the sea swimming along with all the others. But, there’s no point in wallowing, so he went out for the night. He drank beer with the boys and all felt right. And somewhere between all the laughs with the guys, his eyes fell upon a beautiful blonde. She noticed him as he walked up to greet her. He took a seat and made nervous laughter as she gave him a simple hello…

End.

Have You Seen the Grumpy Goose?

“A girl approached a boy and sat down on the grassy green Earth beside him.”

Have You Seen the Grumpy Goose? started off as a silly little story I made up for a close friend of mine who wasn’t in a particularly pleasant mood one day. On days like those, I would playfully tease him by referring to him as a Grumpy Goose. I wrote the first half of this story and asked for him to write the second. What we ended up with was a perfectly wonderful tiny story about friendship (and a loveable grumpy goose).

Tim Twisselman and His Love of the Ordinary

Tim Twisselman and His Love of the Ordinary - Illustration.jpg

“Tim was not lonely, he was in fact, quite content. Still, something was missing, but what that thing was wasn’t exact.”

The idea for Tim Twisselman was spawned while on an impromptu road trip to San Francisco with my ex high school sweetheart. This all started because I had been in a bit of a creative rut for a few months and was having a hard time writing anything with any sense of life behind it. So my best friend, and aforementioned ex boyfriend, thought it would be a good idea to get away for awhile. Had I not succumbed to this off-the-cuff mini vacation Tim Twisselman would have never existed.

While falling in and out of sleep in the passenger side seat of his silver Honda Civic, I peered out the window and caught a glimpse of a sign labeled Twisselman Road. I thought it was an interesting name, but didn’t give it much thought until later. Once in San Francisco, after a long day of exploring the city, we stumbled across a very peculiar interactive museum called Musée Mécanique. A lot of their unique penny arcade games further spawned my idea for creating a story involving either puppets or a Claymation-style type story consisting of flawed characters.

I decided to begin writing a story of a character named Tim Twisselman who lived quite an ordinary life, unaware of how unhappy he was, until he met someone who suddenly helped him see his life as extraordinary. I wanted to write a simple short with a fantastical element that dealt with love and taking chances. And that’s just what the story of Tim Twisselman and His Love of the Ordinary touches upon.