a wise friend today told me I should write some more. (okay so I had a mental breakdown at school and skipped class to cry in the hallway... :) because I need an outlet. *shrugs*

this was just born of the random thought "sparks flew like july" . I don't have a plot yet but I might try to work it into something. But I'm proud of it... I dunno why exactly. I just am.

Sparks flew like July.

Minutes ago the early November air danced with snow. The white flakes fluttered around my face, perfect and crystalline. They stuck to my startling black hair, dotted my navy blue hoodie and stung against my skin with the bitter bite of winter.

I had been sitting on the ground. The grass underneath me was soft, not yet engulfed in the icy treachery that was taking hold of North Dakota for another long, agonizing winter. It was the summer before I was to graduate high school and get out of this city - this state, this climate.

In my lap was a thin book with pale, clean white pages. In my hand was a pen, poised to write genius that never came. My brother had given me the book three months before when he moved to school.

I was lying across his bed while he packed when he plopped beside me, smirking. "Little sister, are you going to pout all senior year?" Even now as the frigid snow graced my face in silent greeting, I could feel him gently shove my shoulder, leaving warmth in it's wake.

I shrugged. "I might."

He chuckled and reached around me, grabbing something from his night stand. "I got something for you." He announced, sitting up and dragging me with him. I caught glimpse of his 'present' and almost laughed. He'd tried to wrap it in navy and white dotted wrapping paper. It was a lumpy mass. I had no idea what it was. He extended his arm toward me, smiling crookedly. The action made his overbite painfully obvious and yet more endearing. "I wrapped it."

I laughed and tucked my leg under my body. I flipped the misshapen package over in my small hands, searching for where Charlie had taped it. Then I found it. There was a thin line of tape near one of the larger humps. I gingerly slipped my finger under the lip for his benefit and pulled it off. The paper crinkled angrily under my fingers as I pulled it out of the way and soon I held in my hands a book. It's cover was white and it's spine a dark grey. Frowning, I flipped to the first page. It was empty. As was the second. I looked up at him. "It's empty."

He chuckled again, casting his eyes toward the blank pages before meeting my gaze once again. His dark brown eyes were gleaming. "Write your story, Anna."

Thunder shook the ground, violently jolting me back into the present with a scream of lighting.

If anyone is reading this and reads Julie... I started the next chapter, I really did...but honestly I don't know that I can write that story anymore. My beliefs and ideas and things have really changed and if you want to discuss that, send me a PM and we'll talk, but things have changed and the story and everything... it doesn't seem like reality. and that's what I want at least to a degree. so yeh. review.