PROMPT THIRTEEN

2010

I can't believe I'm actually writing in this thing. I haven't picked it up since my birthday last year except to toss it from one packing box to another.

It's been ages since we moved back to Ashland, though. I guess I'm just not used to living someplace so close to dad and Nuala. God knows mom failed to take her sweet time deciding the next town she'd move us to, year after year, school after school. She'd just go wherever her heart called her to next so long as it was far away from dad.

But now we're back in Ashland, and for once I'm happy. Sort of. We moved into a three-bedroom house near Porter's Hollow, close to Memory Creek where Nuala and dad live. It's…okay. I mean, the house is nice and all, but if it weren't for the fact that I could see Memory Creek from my bedroom window, I'd hate it. I can easily go there whenever I want. Seeing as it's summer now, I spend more time there than I do at home.

I guess the woods call out to the part of my blood that's nymph. God, saying it like that, so freely, it's like lifting a burden from my shoulders. But even writing it out here isn't enough. Keeping that a secret for the past few years has been especially brutal, and while putting it on paper is somewhat freeing, I still can't tell anybody in person.

To be honest, I find the rumors around here to be quite annoying, even if they are true. Some of the teenagers here (always dumb boys) go by the house around dusk, trying to catch a glimpse of Nuala dancing, bringing stupid gifts for her to try and get a wish granted.

I mean, honestly, while Nuala possesses some powers, the whole wish-granting thing is a bit of a ruse. She can't actually make a person's wish for a million dollars come true. She can't exactly stop a person from loving someone else. She can only send influence into the person making the wish so that they think their wish is coming true.

It's a very tricky thing, but wood nymphs are tricky creatures. Makes me grateful I'm only a hybrid. I can't grant wishes or anything but I inherited my father's unusual looks and ability to recognize people's…what's the word…

Hell if I know what it's called. I just know I can get a feel for them, figure out what makes them tick and what will bother them or affect them. It's good in some instances, like when guys try to scam me or girls just want a fling.

And I suppose that left me thinking all girls were the same, even after Crystal. Especially after Crystal. But I won't talk about that tonight. That's an entry for another time, when I can talk about her without feeling sorry for myself.

I already feel bad enough for myself writing in this stupid thing.

Well, I'm sick of being inside. It's been hours since I've gone to the old Porter Bridge. Some girl has been pacing over there for a while, now. All afternoon, in fact.

I can't really see if she's pretty. Her face never looks my way, and while my sight is really good, it's not good enough to make any details out from here.

She's a larger girl, from what I can tell. Curvy. She wears her clothes well. It's a refreshing change from the stick-thin farmer girls Ashland has to offer. She's a brunette instead of a blonde, with reddish tints that look too random to be fake.

Her red plaid shirt and jean shorts look nice on her. Rather than those weird overalls some of the girls wear, and some sort of black shoes in place of running sneakers the plaza in town is so fond of. I kind of like her style.

Oh wait, now she's taking her shoes off and running water from the creek over her skin. Her skin…it's a strange color. Kind of tan in a weird way, like the Italian girls from New York City have, almost.

I wish she would turn my way. I want to see her face. I want…I want to talk to her.