I know I never get reviews. And only on one story did I get a few, but I guess the story was too lame for anyone to like. And I guess this story will never even get a few hits. And I guess this story will be so boring, that eyes will scatter away with boredom. I have warned you, I have told you. You might as well go pick up another story with much more reviewers and readers. I told you, I warned you, and I have nothing else to say as an author. Have a boring day:

I don’t really remember people very well, not even my family or my friends.

I don’t remember their names, the days we spent together, their faces, and their attitudes… I just can’t remember.

But I remember one person so well; it would be just like yesterday I met this person.

I remember her because of who she was, what she did, and everything she touched. I remember her so well because of her outstanding originality. It was sheer uniqueness, so different from anyone else. And I remember her well because of what she did for me.

Her name was Pepper.

And I have every single detail in my mind, like marker streaks on my paper.

The day was not sunny, nor raining.

It was just cloudy and dull and dreary as ever.

The wind blew against the creaking doors and the small trees swayed in a ballet motion. A stack of books pressing against my ribs and the side of my left arm, as my right shoulder held the sling of my pack.

Such a normal day, with such a normal weather, and this city would never change.

My life would never change either.

A bell rang from the distance, piercing through my ears, and signaling that the day was to be begun as usual.

Yes, a usual day.

Except that I tripped and fell over something, something utterly experiencing for me since I never fell.

The books underneath my arm slid out like snakes and smacked against the sidewalk, but I myself was slipping and too busy putting my arm out to catch the books. I flew forward and spun, wheeling around and landing on my side.

That’s when I saw her.

She was standing in the gleam of moonlight… but it must have been my imagination since it was not night at all. Still, I remember her pure radiance and the wind catching the hem of her skirt and tugging it a little. Her hair swept across the air like a brush, and so black I thought that it must have been painted. The slender figure, so petite and delicate, it seemed as though if I would touch her she would shatter to pieces.

She wore stockings high up to her knees, one blue and one orange. Her shoes were purple and smelled like lilacs, but rather then a perfume scent, more like a natural scent.

She had been tramping along the fields and gazing out to the brown earth for quite some time, as I had been laying on this floor gawking at this mysterious and strange girl.

I was afraid to breath, afraid to move, afraid to even flutter an eyelash, afraid that she would turn around and see me.

Why was I so afraid?

And as though she heard my thoughts, she spun around.

Her movements were not nimble or swift, nor clumsy or hesitant, but like a graceful fish dancing in the water. Her hair swept around and her eyes must have been closed before, for now they were slowly opening, revealing the blue moonstones twinkling nearly sadly behind those lids.

I couldn’t move.

I was merely astounded, merely bewitched, spellbound, enchanted, captivated…

After a minute, her eyes suddenly blinked and she somewhat finally realized I had been lying there all along.

“Hi, are you hungry?” Her eyes opened wide with warm greeting eyes, both ambitious and curious.

What an odd question to ask, the remarkable thing that made me remember her.

“No, I just fell… and I can’t really move my leg.” I stirred my left leg, wincing at the tiny pain.

Her reaction… is quite slow. After counting five seconds under my breath, she suddenly moved forward to help me up, “Oh mice! Let me help you.”

My weight is heavier than hers, maybe ten times more. How is she to pick me up?

She arched her precious body and lent me a hand. What was I to do? Refuse?

I took it.

It was like touching snow. Her hand was as smooth as ice, cold as ice, and so white like snow. Angelic almost.

Her movements were graceful, but yet slow. Her body, like glass, and precious, but yet bent and twirled carelessly. And her face like the perfect angel, but the blunt words coming out so randomly like picking up a card from a scattered set on the floor.

“Pepperonis, we should get to school now.” She tilted her head slightly.

There was so much… mystery about her that I could not explain. I could only keep my strides slow and allow her to keep up with me. Every now and then, she would stop and gaze out to the open, past the pine needles and branches; into the daydream world I yearned to look into.

“What’s your name?”

For a second there, I forgot she was asking me.

“Oh. My name’s Chaco.”

A smile tugged at her lips, a thin line slightly curved and still something to crave for more than ice cream.

“That’s such a nice name. Guess what my name is.” She skipped playfully.

Since when did people guess names?

There were so many plain names around here though; I guess it would be easy.

“Jane. Mary. Sallie. Terri.” I shrugged easily.

Turning her head to see my face, and so I could see her face, she only shook her head gently with that playful smile.

“Pat?”

Her head leaped back abruptly, her hair trickling to her ankles, and she let out peals of odd laughter, absurd but still something so unusual and mysterious.

When her head returned to a normal position, her smile was wider and gentle as ever.

“Pepper. My name is Pepper.” She took out her hand.

Only businessmen shake hands. But I took it anyways.

After her wild shaking, she handed me a pencil.

It was not a yellow pencil, but a pencil with curves and circles and triangles… and organic shapes splotched with mellow colors.

“Why do you give me this?” The school was coming into view now, I wanted to rush in and escape the oddness of this young girl. But she clung on to me, and our force of gravity was as attractive as ever.

She sighed silently, “I think pencils should be more interesting, where I used to live, they had these types of pencils.”

Wherever you used to live, it must have been a planet of aliens.

“Where did you live before?”

“We moved here just yesterday, it’s my first day of school. I used to live in Texas.”

Oh. Texas. I’ve heard of that place. I think.

“I think you will be late, you can go ahead.” She stopped at the flight of steps.

Unsure, I took one step forward. She did not move. I took three more steps. She still wasn’t moving.

“I have to go to the office first, I hope I see you later Chaco.” She waved, then strode toward the left.

And all I could do was stand there. And ponder.

It was only the first day.