West Of The Moon

West of the Moon is the unofficial, temporary meeting ground for the members of Christendom's Guild of the Cross and the Quill. Sadly West of the Moon won't be in our future permanent web URL because a number of other selfish people already registered all permutations of the URL years ago without even consulting me. For that they shall pay.

Monday, June 26, 2006

"I Promise" 3

Good Morning from Maryland. I bring you the next part of the story. These sections are entitled "Proposal" and "Road to the Altar." As before, if you are just joining, please read the previous posts.

The sun was setting as the van pulled up to the theater. Orange light spread like fingers across the quiet town. The tiny theater had been the location of every spring play the college had held since the beginning of its drama department. It was simple, unable to be expanded, and constantly under the threat of being bought out by a neighboring landowner, one of the old families that had lived in the town for ten generations, since the Civil War tore the town apart. The theater was built around the same time, and had been upheld through the years. It was here that the plays of the college found their home.
It was also in this town that Francis was going to propose.
He had been planning it out, again, ever since he had actually gained possession of the engagement ring, about a month ago. His memory of the town and its charm inspired him to try to propose here. He named his eager adventure “Plan B,” this being his second attempt to propose.
He would first take Angela for a walk, along the town, stopping at the different stores, saying hello to locals, remembering old times. They would reach a certain bench, one which Francis could not forget, with a fountain in front, and a brick path leading to a church. Here he would propose, while she sat on the bench. It was perfect, flawless, highly romantic, and charming in every corner. All that remained was to convince the director of the play to allow Francis and Angela to go for an evening walk.
Francis explained his situation to the director, who, after much begging and promising, agreed to allow the couple to stray from the theater for thirty minutes, plenty of time for Francis to woo and propose.
They started off from the theater, walking down a path towards a small bed and breakfast. They discussed their parts in the play, went over lines, recalled previous roles and plays, many in which they acted together. Francis’s smiles were frequent, and he felt the ring in his pocket. He embraced her every so often, whispering that she was beautiful, that daylight itself shuddered in comparison to her on her worst days. It was about this point that they neared the bench, the site of the proposal. Everything was going as planed.
Unfortunately for Francis, the world was not aware of his plans, and the weather contended his mission. For since the vans pulled up into the driveway of the theater, intruders blocked the sunset: storm clouds which now loomed overhead. They were full from the heat of the valleys, of the lakes and streams, and now were prepared to deluge upon the small town.
Francis, oblivious to the atmospheric changes in store, set Angela on the bench. He took her hand into his as he stood in front of her.
“Angela, I’ve been wanting to do this for some time now. When I first saw you, that first day of school, I felt something. I didn’t know if it was a mere childish infatuation, or if it was sincere emotions. I ignored them for a while, then finally gave in. I’m glad I don’t stand a chance against myself, or else we wouldn’t be here right now.”
The first drop fell and splashed onto Francis’s hair. His mind registered it as water, as a raindrop, the harbinger that disaster was coming. He began to speak faster.
“I wanted to say this before, but circumstances, um, prohibited it from happening. Now I have my chance, my moment, to ask you this one question.”
He lowered his body, his left knee bending and pressing into the brick sidewalk. He reached into his pocket for the ring, safely encased in its velvet box. He began to withdraw it, noting the look of joy on his love’s face.
Then the rain began to pour.
It happened suddenly, like a flash rainstorm. Genuflecting in the midst of a downpour, Francis pulled the box out of his pocket, and opened it, exposing the gorgeous jewel to the amazed eyes of Angela. She swooped off of the bench into his open arms in one swift movement. They clung tight to each other. She pressed her lips against his kissing him hard.
“Will you marry me?” He finally was able to say it. All those years, all the waiting, the hoping, the praying, and the courting finally paid off.
“Yes, Yes. YES! I will. I will”
They embraced again as the water drenched them, causing them to shake with cold. They stood and ran back to the theater, laughing the entire way.

The days passed soon, quickly fading into memories, then being pushed away by more events. The happy couple grew closer than before, much to the marvel of their friends. Families were excited and plans were made. The date for the celebration of a new family, bridging two from different places, was to be held the month after their senior graduation. All rejoiced in the sight of love, of the happiness of the two together. They were not like other couples, always trying to slip away to be alone, but were active, retaining their bonds with the rest of the world. Even their schoolwork seemed to have improved, as several professors testified. A thesis was written, followed by another two days later. Only occasionally were they alone together, and then only in the open, outside on a bench, together in the Commons, or just walking together in the woods, often within a stone’s throw of one of their friends. They worked smoothly together, aiding in every aspect of their lives.
But some changed their ways; some who were rejoicing before now glared from behind the crowd. Plans began to form in the minds of men, or women for that matter, on how to destroy that which drove them mad. Envy had spread like a plague in their hearts; Satan had found a place for the night. And so the downfall of the relationship was concocted, a poison designed to elevate the bad and defecate on the good.
Therefore, the plot fermented, and the conspirators waited until the right moment, waiting to spill the lovers onto the ground in shame.
Meanwhile the couple’s courtship blossomed. They attended Mass together, one day even dedicating their relationship to Mary, Mother of God. They frequented the glade near the girls’ dorms. Often they talked, joking with each other. Sometimes they just sat together, feeling the love from the other.

The piano seemed new, but it could never be. The bench was empty, a rare occasion. The atmosphere was calm, even mellow. A strange quiet prevailed; even the sounds of crickets or the plumbing was absent. There was not a soul present.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps running up the stairs reverberated inside. A cheery young man turned the corner and skidded to a stop. He quickly sat down behind the massive instrument and waited. The sound of another set of feet clomping up the stairwell soon could be heard as a woman’s voice echoed off the walls.
“Francis? Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Angela turned the corner, her shoes clicking on the floor as she passed from hard wood to carpet. When he heard the sound, Francis froze, still behind the sheets of music. As she came closer, she noticed the shirt bent over the keys.
He looked up quickly with a smile. She walked over and stood behind him. He started to speak but she covered his mouth.
“Shh. Play. Don’t say anything. Play our song.”
“You mean the one I was playing when we met.”
“Yeah. That one. I never heard all of it.”
“Yes you have. I’ve played it all the way through.”
“Just play.”
He began to play. The familiar sounds of the piano once again filled the room. Francis’s entire body moved with the piano notes, holding some notes out, others shorter than the sound of a keyboard typing. A smile broke his face and he looked up at her. She looked down and winked. When the song finished, she let out a sigh.
“It’s such a good song. It feels happy, yet really sad.”
“That’s why I love it.”
“And it’s our song.”
“You know it.”

The dark seeded plan had grown deep into the ground. It was nearing the surface, ready to break forth, spreading poison into the heart. The wheel turned and the word was spread. It was the nastiest rumor created, one that would destroy forever the hope of a man, and the life of a woman. Hate and Envy, the two deadliest chemicals, mixed together to form a potion so powerful, that none who drank from it could survive unscathed. None involved in this cruel action could survive, if they were alive to begin with.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

To my Uncle Clive

See if you can guess who this is about.

“To my uncle Uncle Clive”

“At my first coming into the world I had been (implicitly) warned never to trust a Papist, and at my first coming into the English Faculty (explicitly) never to trust a philologist. Tolkien was both” – C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy

You stubborn fool!
You biased fool!
Why did you not see?
Why could you not open your eyes an inch?
All that was needed was an inch.
A light, beautiful light, such beauty,
Would have reflected off of your eyes,
Maybe this light would have swollen, engulfing your face
(such a kind face, a gentle face)

Why did you not listen to the Wiseman?
Why did you turn away?
Why did you ignore Strider and his fellow Writer;
Or why did you snub them in that club?

Bias killed you, Uncle.
It was the bias, the Bias
Damnable Bias that led to your doom.
Damned Bias, Damned prejudice.

Why did you not accept his hand?
Why did you refuse his love?
His holy hand, that spiller of beauty,
That hand of metaphors?
Those there like him believed so similar
To you, my Uncle
Why hate the beloved Faith
Holy Faith, held dear by the Writer
A Papist? John? Yes!
You couldn’t be one too, like him?
“No!” You cried, so loudly still.
Damn Papists

For your life, sweet Uncle,
Has become a tragedy.
You life sad, a song, moaned by a lion.
Why could you not embrace your lion,
That awesome creation, or the world he made?
Why didn’t myth begin and your lying fantasy end?

Why, oh Uncle, Why.

Like Cicero before you
You reached close to your goal,
But the goal stayed far off,
For you held back.
Your yourself said you had to dive,
But you would not dive in.
So close you were to that ultimate goal,
Yet the Papist threat was too great.

Why, oh Uncle, Why.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


Naval Project #245268715 was originally conceived by higher-ups in the Government’s military chain at the goading of the Governmental Department for Scientific Exploration. NP#245268715 had for its goal the exploration of foreign solar systems with the intention of contacting other worthwhile life forms, with the understanding that the aliens would be the brethren with which to share the galaxy, to explore and discover along side of.

The project co-opted a large portion of the Government’s space navy. Using the latest technology in space travel, ships were sent off in all directions, pointed toward the closest stars known to have planets that would support organic life in rotation around them. Many of the scouting craft were comparatively small, and carried a crew of three.

One such craft, insignificant when compared with the thousands of other craft in the fleet, set off for just such a planet around just such a star. The ship was quick, dependable, and was known as Scout Craft #472-36-9.

The star, insignificant when compared with the thousands of other stars in the galaxy, only had one planet upon which life could exist. The planet was of medium size, was covered with oceans, continents, and was known as Earth.

The craft, the star, and the planet were all later deemed significant. This was due to all three producing the first positive results that the project found.

The three crew members aboard listened to transmissions of the creatures accessed from satellites in orbit around the planet. The crew members each represented a branch of the Government, military, science and governing departments. After the designated period of time for study, SC#472-3-9 returned home, and reports were filed for the executive officers of each of the crew members.


Naval Project #245268715
Lt. Galan, Military ID # 4289662

Report: On Governmental Standard Day 892 of Governmental Standard Year 241 we entered the target system. After five days of travel, assessment of all outer planets had been completed. On reaching the target planet, our party found definite signs of life, even advanced life. The inhabitants seem to have progressed past primitive weapons, but focus on ground or atmospheric installations. There was no sign of a space navy, though there were many satellites, most of which seemed to be used for carrying transmissions.

Analysis and Recommendation: This planet is of little value, and can be conquered easily. The most powerful weapons they seem to have are not contained, and therefore will destroy large areas of their planet if released. The target planet does not harbor the goal of the mission, as this race is not disciplined enough to share an appropriate understanding of such essential things as government and military. The planet is governed by many governments, and many of those lack the strength to put down any who dissent. This race is too weak-spined to be brothers to our race. If conquered, they may serve as an adequate slave race.


Naval Project #245268715
Rschr. Tirip, Military ID # 92848720

Report: We reached target site #425 on GSD 892, GSY 241. We spent a week in orbit, and attained much information on the people living there. It took the translation device nearly six hours to decode all the languages that we encountered. We managed to record many historical accounts, and all of our information came from orbital communications satellites.

Analysis and Recommendation: The goal of this project is not met in this people. I discovered, amongst other things, tales of cruelty among this people, as well as disorder and lack of enlightenment. There is still resistance to euthanasia, government abortions, and there is still a belief in mystical religions. The whole of this race has not yet reached a broad-minded and enlightened stance yet. They are promising, as many of them accept the necessity of a progressive mindset. However, they lack the understanding that they need an absolute power to enforce the liberation on those who will not accept it, for the good of society. In short, this race is too weak-minded to be brothers to our race. In time, they may follow in our glorious footsteps, and should be closely monitored in the meantime.


Naval Project #245268715
Government Observer #24811

Report: As per your orders, I accompanied Lt. Galan and Researcher Tirip on their expedition. I managed to cop their access codes and governmental passwords from them while they were busy drooling over all the data they had downloaded. However, the real success of my mission was in the findings that they found: a race much like ours before the blight of this accursed tyranny fell on us. In addition to the access codes, I am also enclosing all the information I found there on forms of government, as well as religion and documents of freedom.

Analysis and Recommendation: These people could be most powerful allies in our planned coup. The revolution will need help if it is to fill the great gap left by our government. Many of the target planet’s nations would most likely aid us. I recommend that we contact them in secret, as if we do not convince them to join us they will almost certainly be destroyed by the Governmental military. On another note, I see that their race is on the same course that we are desperately trying to remove ours from. Already in the larger nations the governments annex all power to themselves, using it to kill off the very old and the very young. Many governments place all the goods in hands of officials, leading to a shade of the corruption that we are so familiar with. I think that these people are truly our brothers, if only our little brothers. They are stronger with the vigor of youth, but must learn from our mistakes. If our cause succeeds, I know that we shall not force them to learn, however. The chasm between our peoples is painful to me. As I see them careening to the unhappy fate of our people, I am filled with a great sadness.

Strength to the revolution!


Monday, June 19, 2006

"I Promise" 2

Here are the second and third part of the story. These parts are entitled, respectively, 'First Date' and 'The Promise.' For those who have just joined in, please read the previous posts entitled "'I Promise' 1" below.

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”
Francis looked up from his plate of food across the table to the figure starring at him. She was resting her head on her hands, holding them like a table for her delicate chin. Her red hair reflected light from the over-hanging lamp. She had let her hair down, something she had not been doing recently. She had also touched up her eyes and cheeks, giving her a warm glow.
“We’ve been dating for two months now. You’ve never even pecked me on the cheek.”
”Don’t you think that’s a little fast?”
“No, not really. I mean, not all girls at school think that the ideal way of dating is to keep the daters at arm length from each other.”
”I’m just not sure if I’m ready yet.”
“Not ready yet? When then? When we graduate? We’re out of here in three years.”
“Two and a half”
“Point is that we’ve got no time. We’re second semester sophomores for crying out loud. Now is the moment we live in.”
“Are you saying this on your own, or have your friends been blabbering to you again?” “Friends, but that’s not the point.”
“I’ll kiss you when we’re ready.”
She sighed and looked back down at her half eaten plate of food.
“Ok. I trust you.”
“Thank you.”
He continued picking at the food, scrapping his potatoes over his steak.
“Why are you taking it so slow? I mean, you hardly even hold my hand.”
“Do we have to talk about this now?”
“Yes. Otherwise, I’ll forget later.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Oh come on. I’m your girlfriend. If you can’t be straight with me, who are you gonna be straight with?”
“You really want to know?”
“I’ve just had relationship problems in the past, that’s all.”
“Like what? Did your ex have clinging issues or something?”
“Not exactly.”
”Well are you going to tell me or not?”
“Lets just say my last girlfriend moved a little too fast for me.”
“What did she do, hold your hand on the first date?”
“No, it’s not that …”
“Oh, I know, she tried to get you to kiss her hand.”
“Angela, that’s not it …”
“Or better yet, she tried to dance with you, with less than a foot in between the two of you.”
“She tried to have sex with me, ok?”
She sat silently. His eyes had begun to water and were starting to overflow down the side of his cheek.
“Oh. I, I didn’t know.”
“I thought I was going to be meeting her parents. We had been dating for almost a year and she said that I should meet her parents. So she drove over and we went in. I sat in the living room. She comes in, sits next to me and starts kissing. She whispers that they couldn’t make it, that we had the house to ourselves. Before I knew it we were on the couch, me shirtless. Then I lost it; I freaked out. I got up and started to put my shirt on. ‘I can’t do it,’ I kept saying. She said ‘I thought this was what you wanted baby.’ She tried to touch me but I shrank away. I just ran to the door. She drove me home and that was that. We broke up three weeks later.”
Angela stood and moved over next to him.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. We can go as slow as you want. I’ll wait for you. I really love you, and I’ll do what ever it takes to keep you.”
“Why would you want to be with a guy like me, with my past? I almost did it.”
“Almost did. Besides, if God can forgive, so can I.”
He wiped his eye, looked over at her and smiled.
“Who would have thought that we would be dating? Do you remember freshmen year? With your soda?”
“And you putting a spice cocktail in there? How could I forget. Or sophomore year, when I put that worm in your salad?”
“Do we have to talk about that?”
The laughter and smiles prevailed, and the happiness overcame the sorrow. The date ended when Francis’s car pulled into the girl’s parking lot. Right before she could get out of the car, he gave her a small kiss, not an elaborate one, but not an overly conservative one. Just right. She smiled all the way back to the dorm, whistling an unrecognizable tune.

The crisp fall air tickled Francis’s nose as he threw a stone at the dorm window. He had been standing outside this particular room for several minutes now, trying to decide on whether he should throw the stones in his hand and risk a fine or just walk away and wait for her at dinner. He knew she would prefer the rocks. She always found the rocks more romantic, like something from a medieval romance story. He was pleased to do whatever she wanted, anything to make her happy. So he threw rocks, rocks that were not just pieces of the earth, or some girl’s doorbell. These were rocks that symbolized the love Francis and Angela showed each other. This was how they saw it and this was how it was.
The window opened and a head popped out, like a curious chipmunk.
“Francis? What are you doing here?”
”Hey Isabel. Is Angela there?”
“Didn’t you tell her to meet you by the river?”
“Yeah, but I figured that she wouldn’t have left yet.”
”She said she had something to do first.”
”If she comes back, I’ll tell her you called upon her.”
“Could you do that? Thanks.”
The window slammed shut, just as a small gust of wind picked up. Francis picked up the basket at his feet, brought the jacket closer to his body, and walked down the sidewalk towards the woods. He passed the parking lot and stopped at the gym. He walked in and went into the weight room. Paul and Simon were lifting together, while loud rock music blared from the stereo. The room smelt of sweat and bodies straining against metal. After lifting a few waits and chatting, Francis left the room, exited the building and continued on his walk down to the river.
The trees had just turned their colors, and the forest seemed alight with burning branches. The rocks were slippery, the result of the early morning rain. A squirrel scurried out of Francis’s way, content with his simple life of forging and climbing. A bird swooped overhead, calling to it’s companions. All animals felt the coming winter; even some students seemed to act like the squirrels and gathered food into the cavern of their dorm room.
He rounded the corner and saw the marina. This was once just a piece of riverbank, overlooking the ancient river as it passed on its never-ending journey. Francis himself, along with some of his friends, had personally built a small dock. Here students could launch their canoes or rafts for an afternoon ride. Some fished from the edge while others used it as a diving board into the deep, murky water.
This was also a special place because it was here that Francis had asked Angela out that special day, after arriving back from Christmas break, sophomore year. She had said no at first, and then agreed to try a week later. They had been dating ever since, still pulling jokes on each other. They had acted together in three plays now, and possibly were going to act together in a fourth in the coming spring.
This had been his plan: once they had gotten comfortable there at the river he would propose to her, on the river bank. Then they would go back up the path to spread the good news. This had been the plan a few days ago. He had it all planed out, down to the minute detail. Then he went to get the ring. It was then that he found out about the jewelry shop’s policy on specialized rings: that he would receive a notice when the ring was completed, along with his bill. He would then have to pick up the ring at said jewelry shop. The problem was that Francis had prepared this event in detail, and had forgotten about the ring. He would not be able to get it at least until next month. Angela was of course still going to be at the river and he would have nothing to give her.
So he had packed a picnic lunch and brought it with him. He could not propose without the ring, but he could at least promise himself to her. His roommate told him that it was stupid and that the girl was ruining his life. Francis had shrugged him off and continued with his adjustments to his plan.
Angela then walked down the path, trying hard not to slip on the wet rocks. She called to him and he walked over to her. As he reached her they looked around them and seeing no one else, quickly kissed. She took his hand and the walked over to the prepared lunch.
“Well this looks very nice.”
“Thanks. I tried to make everything just the way you like it.”
“Aww, thanks sweetie.”
They sat down and ate. After the lunch was finished, they talked, discussing class and anything else to pass the time. Finally Francis gathered the courage and went in front of her.
“Get up.”
“I want to say something.”
“Oh my...”
He lead her up and took her hand. He went down on his left knee, reminding himself that his right was for God. She held her other hand over her mouth.
“Francis, what are you doing?”
“Fake proposing.”
“I’m making a promise to you, that I will love you forever, until the day I die.”
“Um, that sounds a little cheesy”
They both begin to laugh.
“Yeah I know. I’ll propose to you later. I’m just making sure you know how I feel about you.”
She knelt down in front of him and looked him in the eyes.
“I know you love me. I love you too, and will love you forever.”
Standing, they took each other’s hands and embraced. She went over to the basket and removed a napkin. Tying it around his finger, she murmured something.
“This is a makeshift promise ring. If what you say is true, this will stay on your finger until we’re married. The only other reason you can take it off is if we are not together anymore.”
“What about showers?”
She laughed. “Ok, I guess that too.”
“Thanks.” She gathered up the remaining materials from the picnic and walked with him up the path, towards the school.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

I am glad that people are planning on using West of the Moon this summer. I simply didn't have time before the end of the semester to get people together to discuss summer activities.

Anyway, anybody who's reading this thing, pass on the word that West of the Moon is alive and kicking!

I'll post something here myself sometime soon.

God bless. I hope you're all having a good summer

John Jalsevac

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

"I Promise" 1

Welcome back to the return of the West of the Moon blog. I saw that others were preparing, and I knew I had to jump in on it. So here is, what it think, is one of the best things I've written. Or at least part of it. It is a long story, so I shall submit it in parts.

Remember that movie I made for the JPII film festival, about the guy wandering around, moping about his dead girlfriend? Do you want to know their story? After I wrote the screenplay for the movie, completed the storyboards, and chosen the song, I still couldn't get the characters out of my head. I wondered what had happened to them to make them that way. I'm obsessed with writing about love, be it true or faulty (see my "The Green Ribbon" for a classic example, and "House Carpenter," forthcoming). Of particular curiousity to me is what causes people who are in love to "fall out" of it? Is there such a thing as "falling out of love," or is it simply that love did not exist in the first place. I feel that the couple in this story were truly in love. Well, you shall see what happens. Its "a little bit happy, a little bit sa-aa-add." So without further ado, I give you the first two part of the story, 'Introductions' and 'Confessions'

“I Promise” By Matthew Rose

The sun warmed his back as Francis walked outside. It was a bright and sunny day. There had been very few days like that since he started school, and he had to enjoy them while he could. He did not want to see the clouds that always covered that warm sun, those clouds that rained and ruined his day.
Francis was a freshman in all aspects of his appearance and in all manner of acting. He walked with his head up, looking everywhere. He did not know anyone and quickly lowered his gaze when someone walked by. There were not many people here; Francis had arrived early and it seemed that there were no other freshmen on campus yet. It was just as well; He was in no mood to make any friends, much less answer a bunch of annoying questions about his life. He reached the Commons and opened the door. As he walked in, the clouds covered the sun, blocking all light.
Inside the foyer of the building, there was a coat rack and a piano. The entire foyer looked polished and buffed, as if to shine like the now hidden sun. The piano, on the other hand, looked abandoned. Francis walked over and opened the cover. A spider scrabbled out of the way, across a maze of cobwebs. Francis blew, rippling the webs against the metal of the piano. Closing the cover, he went over to the keys. He plunked a few notes off and sat down on the bench. He scooted it forward, placing his feet on the pedals. Testing the keys again, he began to play. The notes of the piano filled the air, circling like leaves in the wind. They floated around the building, filling the corridors with beauty rivaled only by the greatest of cathedrals. Francis’s hands moved slowly, then quickly, constantly sure of their destination. His entire body leaned into the notes, pushing with physical delight in his ears. He closed his eyes and let the music take him to a place far away, to the dark woods, then through the open sea, and then into the arms of a mother.
Francis slowed his finger work and stopped. He opened his eyes slowly to look in front of him. Across the piano from him was a girl. She stared at him, resting her head on the palm of her hand.
“What ‘cha playin’?”
“George Winston’s ‘Longing/Love’”
He stood to leave, trying not to look at her.
“Where ya going Mozart?”
“I have to get back to my dorm. I forgot to do something.”
“Really? I’ll walk back with you.”
She began to walk towards him. He went to the other side of the piano, keeping the instrument as the boundary between the two of them. She tried to go back over to him, but he moved back over to the other side.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you wanna talk?”
Francis could not help but look up at her, just once. He felt that feeling again, that feeling that he felt last year. He had been starting senior year and that girl was a junior. Not the girl he currently was starring at, but a different one, one that made him feel nervous. They had dated, going to a movie or dinner every other week. Then, around Christmas time, she drove him to her house. He thought he was meeting her parents; she knew they wouldn’t be home for hours. She had him in a compromising position, and he felt trapped. He had thrown her off of him, repeating over and over “it isn’t right, not right.” She finally relented and drove him home. He would not kiss her goodbye. Three weeks later they broke up. She started dating some guy who would give her what she wanted. That was the last Francis saw of her.
Now he was feeling the same internal pains he had felt when meeting his ex-girlfriend. What did this girl want? Why won’t she leave me alone, he thought.
“My name’s Angela. What’s yours?”
He finally got to the door and opened it. She moved past him outside, looking at him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m, um, going back to my dorm. I forgot something.”
“Forgot something my foot. You just don’t want to talk to me.”
“No, I seriously have to go”
”You wanna date me; you wanna hug me...”
“Please. I hate that movie.”
“It is a piece of crap, isn’t it.”
It was at this point that Francis realized that he was walking with Angela in the middle of the walkway, heading towards the guy dorms.
“So Francis, where are you from?”
“Maryland. Baltimore.”
“I’m from West Virginia.”
They were standing outside of the dorm. Francis’s hands were in his pockets. He lifted his gaze from the ground up to the girl. She spoke first.
“I guess I’ll see ya ‘round”
“Yeah, sure”
“By the way, you suck at the piano.”
With that she turned and strolled away, whistling the tune she had only recently heard on the piano.
Francis went back into the dorm and opened the door to his room, walked in, and sat on the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and looked at the clock, then up at the crucifix he had hung up in the room earlier.
“Here I go again.”

The alarm clock rang loudly, a constant buzzing that resembled a swarm of wasps closing in on a kill. Francis fumbled around as he tried to press the Snooze button, finally succeeding. He rolled out of the bunk, banging his toe on his desk chair. His roommate stirred and mumbled some vague threat. Francis bit down on his finger as he walked towards his closet. He put on his running shorts and went out of the room towards his bike.
The morning air was crisp, but not too cold to move. Francis knew he still had at least another month of good mornings to ride in. He peddled down the path,, turning up towards the street. He took a right and drove down to where the girl dorms stood. As he passed one, a faint voice called his name. He skidded to a stop and looked around. He saw a figure on the porch, looking out at him, waving. He waved back and walked his bike over to the figure, a girl with arms crossed around her chest.
“Fine day for a ride, isn’t it,” he asked.
“Seems to be. Otherwise, why would you be out this early?”
“Right. Can you really kill a guy for trying?”
“Yes, but not you. You’re just not worth it.”
“Not worth it? Now it’s personal. Why not?”
“You think you’re the center of your own little universe, and every girl should bow down before you. If your brain was as big as your ego, you wouldn’t be in this lame school.”
“Lame is it? This coming from the runner up for class president two years in a row.”
“Exactly. These people wouldn’t know greatness if it came up and bit them in the butt.”
“I just think you should be more sympathetic, that’s all.”
“Bull. Go ride your stupid bike.”
“I will; I’ll enjoy myself while you complain.”
Francis saddled and glided down the hill, towards the gym. He lifted for about ten minutes, then rode back. As he was riding past the dorm, he noticed that Angela was still sitting there, sipping coffee. He stopped and waved. She didn’t move. He turned and coasted over to her.
“You’re still out here?”
“I’m trying to decide if it’s a good day for a ride. Some idiot mentioned it to me, but I didn’t believe him.”
“Sooner or later you’ll learn to act human. Until then, you have fun scratching the fleas, with all the other dogs.”
“Oh, that’s an original. Why don’t you just say it.”
“Fine. If you weren’t evil incarnate, you’d be kinda attractive.”
“Really. Do I remind you that much of your mother?”
“Bye Angela”
He turned and biked off. He didn’t look back at the girl, the girl that scorned all men, all advances for any relationship. She had remained single for two years, not surprising since she rejected every boy that came her way. She had earned her nickname. It was well regarded that she would never marry, probably just go and become a nun, living the rest of her days without men. She would be completely happy. So thought the entire campus.
So it was probably for the best that no one, especially Francis, saw her wave goodbye, and whisper under her breath, on that not so warm morning “I love you too.”

(I will post a new section of the story occasionally, as seen fit by myself. The parts to follow may be combinations of parts, as was this one, or it may be a single part. I wish I could just post the whole thing, but the blog doesn't work well with 12 page stories.)