How’s one able to trust,
When the world’s so corrupt?
Who deserves to be worshiped,
When no one’s wholly honest?
How can one be so naïve,
When one knows it’s make-believe?
Is it just human nature?
To be so simple and blind,
Accepting every answer.
Never doubtfully opined,
That perhaps it’s all a lie.
But, it, they cannot deny.
But should one rely on this,
The beliefs of a cynic?
They escorted Denny into this box of an interrogation room. Everything was grey and bland, even the table and the chairs. Denny was sat down in a cold metal chair and told to keep his hands on the table. The two men that escorted him in left and an oldish-lanky looking replaced them. He was holding a blue-grey file folder. The man closed the door quietly behind him and stood there for a second before walking over to Denny. He took off Denny’s cuffs. The man sat down in chair opposite Denny and stared at him for a few seconds before introducing himself.
“Hello Denny, my name is Dr.Peter. I’m a psychologist,” he said taking his round glasses off.
Denny didn’t reply and Dr.Peter just stared at him some more.
An older lady with frizzy hair stuck her head in gave Dr.Peter a thumbs up.
Dr. Peter cleared his throat. “Exactly how times have you been arrested Denny?” he said looking at the now open file folder.
“You’re looking a the folder,” Denny retorted, “You tell me,”
Dr.Peter looked Denny right in the eyes. “No, I would like you to tell me Denny,”
Denny rolled his eyes. “This will be my 5th arrest this year,” Denny said matching Dr.Peter’s monotonous tone.
Dr. Peter put the folder down on the table. “I’m here to help you Denny. I need you to understand that. I’m here for fun or to have a good laugh. I want to help you and you being uncooperative isn’t helping anyone,”
Denny blinked at him out of shock.
“Now,” Dr.Peter continued, “I would appreciate it you would answer my questions. Do you think that you can do that?”
Denny nodded still shocked by Dr.Peter’s reDenny.
“Alrighty then,” Dr. Peter said with a small smile, “You know that we got your parent’s permission to talk to you right?”
Denny looked at him like he was stupid. “I don’t have any parents,”
“I meant your guardian. You think he’ll come to get you anytime soon?” Dr.Peter asked.
Denny looked down.. “I don’t know. he might not bail me out this time,”
Dr.Peter was staring intently at Denny. “And why do you think he would hesitant to bail you out?”
“I don’t know,” Denny said as he met Dr.Peter’s stare, “Its not like I did anything that bad. I didn’t off anyone or anything like that. I just beat a few mailboxes and took a few drugs, thats all,”
Dr.Peter stared at Denny for a few seconds before saying, “You didn’t answer my question,”
“You know,” Denny ignoring Dr.Peter said, “He’ll probably bail me out in the morning. Yeah, he’ll make stay here tonight, have mel squirm a bit. He’ll hope I’ll realize how bad prison is and then maybe, just maybe I’ll change my criminal ways. I’ll go back to being a good ‘Straight-A-Kid’. But I won’t because that wasn’t any fun!”
Dr. Peter jotted things down in the folder.
He was just about to speak when Johnny, Denny’s guardian, walked in.
“Oh, Hi Dr. Peter. Oh, Hi Denny,” Johnny said.
“Johnny, You bailed me out!” Denny said ecstatically.
“Yes Denny I did. But can’t stay with me anymore,” Johnny said.
“Wh-what?” Denny asked heartbroken.
Johnny looked at Dr. Peter like he was unsure of what to say next. “You heard me! I have lost faith in you ability to do good.”
Dr. Peter gave Johnny a thumbs up behind Denny’s back.
Johnny continued, “I took you to make you do good again and betrayed me. You’re bad actions are tearing me apart Denny and I don’t believe you can change your ways,”
Johnny started to open the door.
“No, Johnny, wait! I’ll change, I promise I will. I’ll change just for you. Please, don’t leave me. I have no where else to go. How else will I pay for college if you won’t do it for me?” Denny yelled.
Johnny paused and then turned back to Denny smiling. “Do you pinky promise?”
Johnny stuck out his pinky.
“I do,” Denny replied.
Denny wrapped his pinky around Johnny’s. Johnny pulled Denny in for a big hug.
“Um, alrighty then. If you two are done- You know, I’m just going to leave,” Dr. Peter said standing up.
Dr. Peter walked out of the room.
Johnny and Denny hugged for another five minutes. When they were done Johnny drove Denny back to his apartment. They celebrated Denny’s turnaround with Lisa, Mark, and Dr. Peter.
Your bloodshot eyes seem to scream at me whenever you look at me in that condescending way of yours. The spit that emits from your tongue whenever you speak makes me sick to my stomach. How can one person be so vile? Everything about you makes me feel dirty; your greasy hair, your ashen skin, your personality. But why should I be the one to have to shower?
It’s so hard to believe how there was a time when I loved everything about you. Your gorgeous blue eyes, so blue I wanted to swim in them and get lost in them forever. Your lisp that was especially cute when you talked so fast – telling me something before you believed you would forget it – your tongue got in the way. Your curly hair and your smooth skin. I loved you for your looks, but I loved you especially for how you made me feel. Your personality shined through the stars in the sky, indefinitely making you the brightest one. But now that sky is gray, and I haven’t seen a star in months.
I hate, hate, hate you when I used to love, love, love you and that still baffles my mind. I lay awake some nights just thinking about our past, trying to convince myself somewhere, deep down, I still love you. But then you walk in, in your drunken stupor and I remember all the reasons I do not love you. And I want to remember all the reasons I used to, but you never give me any reasons I should.
That’s how this all started; reasons. You bought the twelve-pack because you wanted friends at work and you needed a reason to throw a party. You threw parties every Friday since then because your “friends” needed a reason to hang out with you. You threw me to the curb and fell in love with alcohol, but I don’t know the reason for that one. I cried as I watched your headlights pull away, your star dimming by every sip.
I waited for you to come back. I hid your booze and suffered your blows. I did everything in my power to bring your shine back, but you only dulled mine. Now I’m done trying to fix yours, it’s time to find mine.
We were going to be married. We had our life planned out and now you’ve gone and drowned it in alcohol. How do you feel? Tipsy, I bet. You don’t care. You don’t care about me or anything. I’ve watched you hide your emotions and any type of feeling you may have under alcohol. I don’t even remember the last time you told me you loved me, and I sure as hell know you don’t.
Not only has this taught me about you, but this has taught me about myself. I will no longer fall victim to words that have no emotion and come from the lips of a drunk. Everyone says drunken words are the truth, but I believe if you’re intoxicated enough, you can’t decipher from the truth or what is made up. Your brain is a mess and I’m done trying to sort it back out.
Your shine was once the brightest in this cloudy, gray sky. I miss it. I miss you.
When you smiled,
I was in love with you.
When you kissed me,
I was in love with you.
When you screamed at me,
I was in love with you.
When you were being unreasonable,
I was still in love with you.
When you told me she was nothing,
I was in love with you.
When I caught you lying to me,
I was in love with you.
When I put my faith in you,
I loved you.
When you left me,
I was in love with you.
When I was in love with you,
I trusted you.
Lucky In Love
The first time we saw a four leaf clover was when I was four years old. Luke was six at the time.
“Come here Lauren! Look what I found!”
I ran over and we stared in awe at what he was holding. It was something we had only seen on a cereal box.
“Something good has to happen now, you know” he said. I couldn’t wait.
Our luck came that very evening. Luke was allowed to eat over that night, but that wasn’t even the lucky part. Like every night, my mother asked me what we wanted for dinner. Our answer was the same as always: double fudge ice cream. Unlike every night, my mother said yes. Luke looked at me with wide eyes.
“It must be the clover!” he whispered. We ate our ice cream gleefully, and fell asleep together on the couch, completely content.
The whole next week was spent out in the yard searching for another one of the miracle working clovers. Eventually boredom and short attention spans got in the way, and the clover was forgotten.
—————————————————————
“I can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow.” I whispered. We were laying in my backyard staring at the stars.
I thought about all of our memories together. It was so crazy realizing that we were growing up. It seemed like we were still just a couple of kids begging for double fudge ice cream. As he sat there idly playing with my hair, I couldn’t help but get choked up.
“I’ll only be nine hours away, Lauren.” he said, and I laughed a bit.
“You act like that’s not very far.” My voice broke on the last word. When he looked over and saw my face, his expression changed.
“Aw, don’t cry.” He wiped a tear off of my cheek.
“I’m not!”
“Don’t lie to me,” He tickled me, and I kicked and screamed until I was free. When I finally gained control of myself, he just stared at me for a minute before rolling over.
“Let’s find a four leaf clover.”
I smiled at the old memory. We searched in silence before Luke took a deep breath and looked at me.
“I’ll miss you a lot.” he said.
“I’ll miss you, too.” I handed him the clover I had discovered.
“You found one!” His face lit up. He looked at it, twirling it in his fingers.
“You’re my best friend, right?” I asked.
“Forever and ever.” He pecked my cheek and I stood up.
“Come on, college boy. Let’s go inside.”
We had double fudge ice cream that night.
—————————————————————
Luke was coming home! After four years of occasional visits and missed phone calls, my best friend was coming home for good. When the time finally came, I was holding back tears. The minutes passed by at a pace so slow it was cruel.
At last, his car came into view. I ran outside just as he pulled into the driveway. I tore open his door and pulled him out.
“Whoa, Lauren, did you miss me?” He had no idea. I held him in my arms as tight as I could, and he returned the favor.
After dinner that night, I looked out the window to see him sitting alone. I stepped outside to join him, shivering a bit from the breeze.
I saw an orange glow by his hand, and smoke was pouring out of his mouth.
“Is that a cigarette?!” I demanded. “Luke, are you serious?”
He smashed it into the ground and stood up.
“I’m sorry, Lauren. I don’t know why I started – I just – I’m really sorry.” He looked at me with pleading eyes, begging my forgiveness.
“You have to quit right now.”
“I will. I’m done, I swear.”
I walked over to him and he hugged me.
“Ew, you smell.” I plugged my nose, pushing him away. He laughed and hugged me tighter.
“At least I have an excuse!” We laughed, then got quiet.
“I missed you a lot, Lauren. Like a lot.” he said exasperatedly. His arms were wrapped around my neck, mine around his waist. He broke away first with a sudden burst of excitement.
“Look what I found! It was just before you came out. I was just sitting there playing with the grass and I found this!”
He reached into his pocket and delicately pulled out a clover. Not just any clover though, it was a four leaf clover.
“Oh my God!”
“I know! I saved it to show you.” He thought for a moment. “You know, I’ve never found one of these without you around.”
“I guess I’m just lucky.”
We looked up into the night, just in time to see a shooting star fly across the sky.
“I guess you are.”
I closed my eyes to make a wish, and he did the same.
“What did you wish for?” he asked me.
“That’s a secret, silly.”
“Fine!” he nudged me.
“I’ll beat you inside!” I shouted and shoved him out of the way. He chased after me, both of us laughing.
—————————————————————
We were at John and Grace’s house, laughing even more than usual. We had all been a bit “over served”, but our house was in walking distance.
When they were too busy laughing to notice anything else, Luke leaned in and whispered “I love you.” and kissed my forehead.
It was one of those moments when you realize how lucky you really are. I looked back and wondered how it happened, how things ended up this way. I never would have thought this is how my life would turn out. When people say you should marry your best friend, they’re not lying.
I took hold of the four leaf clover necklace that he’d gotten me on our first anniversary. I looked at him. He was mine, and I had never been more completely, and utterly happy.
—————————————————————
“I’ll be back, babe.” He said, picking his keys up off the table. He kissed me lightly then left for the store.
I went out back, pulling my sweater tighter against the cold winter winds. I had been planning on finishing a book I was reading, but before I could even sit down, I spotted a small clover patch. Curious, I walked over and sat down by it. I checked every single one, but none of them had four leaves. I don’t need any more luck, I thought. I have everything I could have ever asked for.
I got up to read once more, but was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing. As I walked inside, I checked the clock. It had been over an hour since Luke left, which was strange since he’d only gone for some milk.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Is this Lauren Overly?”
“Yes.”
“Ma’am, there’s been an accident.”
I went numb.
“You need to come to the hospital immediately. Your husband is hurt.”
I dropped the phone and frantically searched for my keys. I sped through the traffic, tears streaming.
“Where’s Luke?” I screamed, stumbling through the doorway.
A woman in white guided me down a long hallway to his room.
“Luke?” I choked.
“Lauren.” I knelt beside him, taking both of his hands in mine.
“I love you, Lauren. So much. You’re my best friend, right?”
“Forever and ever.”
A faint smile ran across his lips as his eyes fluttered closed for the last time. The beeps of the monitor continuously slowed until they were one monotonous noise. I sobbed into the bedsheets until the woman in white told me I had to go.
Just then, I realized it wasn’t that I didn’t need any more luck, but that I had run out.
Aslan’s Country by Liz Capps
America is such a splendid place! Susan and Peter shall be having such a marvelous time there this summer! Alas, Edmund and I, once again, have been sent to endure yet another summer with our cousin, Eustace. I do admit that he is considerably more tolerable now that he has visited Narnia. My heart longs for adventure, not being confined in a dull house all summer!
If I were in Narnia, I could be aiding Peter and Edmund in combat to keep the giants from invading our land. I could be sailing through uncharted waters, or romping with the great lion himself! Somehow, I cannot find it within myself to be satisfied or content here. Eustace was called back into Narnia while he was at boarding school. Would it have done any harm for me to go too? Why must one grow too old for all the extraordinary things in life?
Every night, Eustace and Edmund come into my little room. We stare at the painting of the Dawn Treader, and talk for hours of dear old Narnia! Edmund always recalls the White Witch’s treachery, which never fails to bring a shudder at the very thought. I try to remember everything Aslan ever told us, and of course, we never tire of hearing Eustace’s account of his experiences as a dragon! Somehow, I feel that a piece of my soul still lingers in Narnia, never to be reunited with me again.
“Edmund!” I call, as the boys begin to exit for bed.
“What is it Lu?” He inquires.
I wait until I can no longer hear Eustace’s footsteps in the hallway before I respond. “Why hasn’t Aslan shown himself to us here? He told us that he was here too.”
“Oh Lu, brighten up. You remember that Aslan always said ‘things never happen the same way twice’. Do you really expect that things will occur here just as they do in Narnia? Besides, he didn’t tell us when we would find him here, just that we could.”
“I know. Even if he had told us we would see him again soon, he calls all times soon. What shall we ever do? I don’t think I could live another day without seeing dear Aslan.”
“Have faith Lucy. You have never doubted Aslan before, so why start now? Trust him Lu; he has never gone back on his word before. Remember when we were still ruling over Narnia? Aslan would go away for years, but he was always there for us in times of need. Maybe you could try what Eustace and Jill did. Call out to him.”
I do not return a comment; instead I lower myself onto my bed. Edmund exits and his last words finally begin to sink in. I could call out to him. Perhaps Aslan would answer if I called! Perhaps he even wants me to call to him.
“Aslan!” I whisper, pausing to search for the right words. “I miss you terribly dear Aslan.” A large yawn breaks my concentration, and I find myself nodding, trying to stay awake. Suddenly, I begin to have this strange prickly feeling, rather like chills, only sharper. My bedroom begins to dissolve and in its place, rolling hills and a large stream rise up. Trees surround the area and continue for as far as I can see, so I conclude that I must be in a vast wood. “Surely,” I mumble, “It is not Narnia. Aslan said…”
A low growl rings through the trees cutting my thought short. Turning, I see Aslan standing before me, towering above on an enormous rock. His soft, golden mane blows in the breeze and a shaft of sunlight shines brightly around him.
“Child!” He growls in a low voice as he descends from the rock. “Why have you come to doubt me. I have never left you. Every passing hour, I was by your side.”
“Oh Aslan!” I exclaim running up to him and burying my face into his mane. “I was jealous that Eustace can still visit Narnia.”
“Dear one, your answer is a very good one,” the lion said with a piercing gaze. “Go on, and leave such things behind you.”
“Yes Aslan…” I whisper, a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. Then, a new thought surfaces and steals the smile right off my face. “But Sir, why haven’t you shown yourself to us back home? You said that we could find you there, but we haven’t seen you.”
“How long must I remain with you dear heart? You must not only learn to know me, but also my father, the great emperor beyond the sea. Come, dear one, climb on my back. I have something to show you.”
Without a second thought, I pull myself onto the back of the great lion. At once, he bounds off into the trees. He travels at speeds at least four times faster than a horse’s gallop. Aslan navigates his way between the clumps of trees so efficiently, that I have no doubt; he has run this course many times before.
At last, the trees begin to thin out, and the landscape opens up into an expanse of prairie. Aslan does not stop there; he continues on until the terrain turns mountainous. Trees, once again, rise above us until at last we come to a stop in a clearing at the base of a towering waterfall. Mist falls softly upon me and coats the surrounding landscape with pools of water. I finally notice the reason Aslan has brought me here. A grand throne sits in the middle of the clearing, but crowds of animals and people are swarming around it; they block any view of the person sitting on the throne (If indeed it was a person). Then something else catches my eye.
“Mr. Tumnus! Caspian! Mr. and Mrs. Beaver!” I exclaim. “But I thought they were…” I don’t dare finish my sentence. I just can’t bear thinking of these dear friends deaths.
“Child, in my land they have been given everlasting life. You look not upon ghosts, but living, breathing, children of my father, the most high. They may have died in Narnia, but in my country they shall live on.”
Sitting with my friends, we began to talk of the golden years of Narnia. While we talk, my stomach begins to growl ferociously. Noticing my hunger, Aslan sticks his immense paw into the stream and catches some fish. Finding some dry wood, he starts a fire and cooks the fish. He hands them over to me, without taking any himself, or offering any to the others. When I present one to Mr. Tumnus, he graciously declines, and tells me that now that his home is in Aslan’s country, he no longer needs worldly vitals; instead, he has the living water and the bread of life.
Trying to comprehend what he had said, I search my mind for where I had heard those two terms before, the living water and the bread of life. Suddenly, an old memory surfaces in my mind, from shortly after my first trip into Narnia. Professor Kirke calls us into his study and after hearing our story, he tells us his tale. He talks of a man who claimed to be the Son of God. As the memory fades, I grin; at last I have the last piece to the puzzle of Aslan’s identity.
Unfortunately, the time soon comes for me to return home. My heart hangs like a stone in my chest. I remind myself that this will not be the last time I see Aslan! He truly is in our world by another name! Now that I have visited his country, I finally understand how to build my relationship with him back home!
The moment I find myself back in my room, I run straight to Edmund and Eustace. I tell them all that has transpired. First thing the next morning, the three of us go to a bookstore and with what few coins we have, we purchase a small bible. We resolve that each night before bed we will read a little of it, and once school starts back, we shall take turns ‘owning’ it.
They want me to believe.
But I just can’t.
I try.
I try so hard.
But it’s never good enough.
They want more.
Sing more.
Pray more.
Read the bible more.
But I don’t have it in me.
And because of that,
I feel so guilty.
Guilty that I can’t be,
What they want me to be.
That I just can’t help,
But be skeptical.
But they don’t seem to understand,
That I’m suffocating.
They want me to believe.
They shove it down my throat.
But I can’t swallow,
I can’t breathe.
I’m dying to believe.
But even that’s not good enough.
What do you believe?
Nothing
Where have you been?
Nowhere
Do you love?
Define it.
Why are you like this?
I’ve made myself this way.
Why?
Other people.
How so?
I put too much hope in them
Do you hate then?
I feel nothing.
Are you depressed?
I am not?
Are you happy?
I free.
How can you tell?
I threw away the faith destroying me.
There’s a house on top of a hill with bright flowers of nearly every color. Beside it is a woman dressed in a loose fitting dress. She’s sitting cross-legged in the grass and twiddling a golden sunflower in her lap. Her long brown hair falls like thick rope over her shoulder; she’s very pretty. I try to call her but she doesn’t respond, she just twirls the flower in her hand.
I sit down beside her and she hardly glances at me before smiling and holding out the flower in a tiny, dainty hand. I reach out to take it, but it’s cold, almost metallic in her warm hands. She smiles again, and then turns her head to the clouds. I can’t tell exactly what she’s looking at, but she seems to be waiting for something. I break my eyes away from the sky for a moment, and I see him; on the other side of the hill there’s a large man walking towards us. His face is blurry, and he’s wearing a long white coat that falls to his feet. He’s coming closer; I need to warn her.
I try to reach out and shake her, but her skin burns me like an iron. I look up and he’s looming over me. I feel his calloused hand grasp my shoulder and pull me into the sky.
*
I open my eyes and she isn’t there. Where is she? The houses walls are suddenly dull and cracked and every time I look away the flowers catch on fire.
Where am I?
*
We’re flying. I don’t know how, and I can’t see what’s holding us up; but me and the woman from the garden are flying right over the house. She looks at me and smiles. Her eyes are like giant, shiny coins. I’m about to smile back when I see it; the hem of her dress is on fire.
*
“Good morning, Jonah.”
I crack my eyes open and light floods over me. There’s a large black man sitting across from me and I recognize him immediately; he’s the man who took me from the garden. I want to ask him about the woman but my throat is so dry I can hardly speak. The man is watching me while he taps a blue pen on the clipboard in his lap.
“Another bad dream?” He asks. At first I want to say no. How could it be a dream? Everything felt so real; I was there. But I look down at my shirt drenched in sweat and the bed sheets spread wildly around my legs and I know the answer. I nod my head slowly.
He immediately begins scribbling notes on his clipboard, and for a moment all I can hear is the scratch of pen on paper.
“Was it the woman in the garden?” He asks, not looking up.
I nod again, feeling the cool sweat against my chest and forehead. I need to ask him what happened to her, and after a moment I finally found my voice:
“W-where is sh-she?” My voice is dry and cracked as if this is the first time it’s been used in years.
The man sighs, placing the clipboard on the bedside table. The light reflects off of his bald head, and he suddenly looks much older.
“She’s dead, Jonah.” He watches me with a weary expression. It takes a moment for me to realize what he’d said. Dead? But I was just with her a few minutes ago… Anger began to fill my chest. What did he do to her?
The man noticed my expression, and continued on as if expecting this reaction. “We didn’t do anything to her, Jonah. She died in a plane crash-“
I shake my head rapidly, pressing my palms so hard into my ears that I’m sure I might crush my skull. He’s lying. He has to be. He places a hand comfortingly on my shoulder; the same hand that rescued me from the garden so many times. I press my hands harder into my ears but he continues patiently.
“My name is Dr. Johnson. You’re Jonah Green, and the woman from the garden is your mother-“
I’m yelling. I’m screaming as loud as I can but I can still hear him.
“Your mother is dead, Jonah. You were with her. You were in the plane.”
*
I’m having the dream again; the dream that me and my mom are flying, only this time it’s different. This time we’re flying through the clouds and I can’t see the house or the hill covered in flowers. The woman glances at me and smiles. Her hair is no longer in a braid, instead it falls smoothly down her back. She looks nervous. She’s wringing her hands, watching the clouds through the window. I look at her hand and notice that she’s wearing a sunflower shaped ring on her pinky. She’s twisting it anxiously around her finger. It’s the last thing I see before everything goes black.
I wake up, or I think I wake up, and the smell of smoke floods over me. Where am I? I can hardly see anything through the rubble. Two large hands grab my arm and I hear him yell something to someone a few feet behind me. I’m suddenly yanked up and as soon as I look at my surroundings I know where I am; the house on top of the hill. It’s engulfed in flames and smoke is wafting from every crevice, but I recognize it anyway.
I suddenly realize how quiet it is. Where’s everyone else? I look anxiously through the rubble but I’m the only one here. I step over the mounds of debris and walk towards the house and when I turn I see that the plane is also covered in leaping flames. I can hear murmuring behind me, and when I turn around I see a crowd of men and women in white coats approaching me. I look back to the plane in time to see a spark catch onto my mother’s dress. I watch the flame climb up her side and I know only too surely that there’s nothing I can do; she’s gone. She’s… dead…
*
“Describe it for me again,” Dr. Johnson asked, pausing from scribbling notes to peer at me from over the rim of his glasses.
“Me and my mom were flying on a plane,” I began routinely. I immediately heard Johnson’s blue pen scrawl once more against the clipboard and I continued on. “And we crashed into the house that I used to walk to in my dreams.”
“And..?” He urged, watching me expectantly.
“She died,” I said, trying to keep the cold from my voice. He grimaced, but didn’t say anything. “There was nothing I could do,” I went on. “And the dream that I was having before was just a dream. She was never waiting for me in the garden. She died on the plane.” I said practicably.
Dr. Johnson nodded grimly. “And why do you think that you dreamt that she was waiting for you?”
I paused; he’s never asked me this before. I thought for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. “Because I wanted to think she was still waiting for me. I didn’t want to believe she was really gone.”
He continued to peer at me for a moment, then sighed and placed his head in his hands,
“I can’t let you go, Jonah.”
“Why not? I’m better now!” I argued; I was sure they’d let me leave this time.
“No,” He said tiredly, rubbing his temples. “You’re not better. You’ve been muttering about the woman in the garden every night this week.”
Creative Writing II/Creative Writing II Honors 
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