Characters

Each star (*) is a new character thing....
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*He sits hidden from the sunlight, yet still partly in it; an attempt to be comfortable but not fall asleep, and if he does fall asleep, it wouldn’t be the first time. His dark brown hair is in its typical ponytail rather than falling just below his shoulders where it naturally lays. The black sweatshirt that he always carries is around his waist where he sits. I still have no idea why he carries it, it could be three degrees out and he would ask for an open window. He practically generates heat. It’s a beautiful day out, and he’s not off to stock shelves after school, instead he will probably be found in the two acre year, sword in hand, being his typical show-off self. But then, I’ve always call him a show off, simply because he does things I never could, things years of practice taught him. Or, maybe he won’t even have the sword, but instead will venture into the trees in the yard and start up his photography again.
He sits there, carrying a middle name he despises and a mother he jokingly calls dad; if you ever see her you will learn why. Being the youngest and only son, he’s used to torture and makeup, and has even been known to put eyeliner on himself. His Joker Rose tattoo carries a story of brotherhood, and in it’s year on his arm, has seen breakups, arguments, and ink from his baby sister’s pen. And now, it is watching a silent classroom and a nap in the sun.

* For the longest time, all most of us knew was Brian had finally met someone. Finally. No name, no age, for a day or two we didn’t even know if it was a he or a she. Then, I at least, started to feel like a stalker. Still nameless, I learned she held the same twenty six years as he did. I saw a photo of her next. She is tiny. In the photo, her brown hair was pulled back, so I still have no idea how long it is. She was pail and fragile looking; the explanation for this came later, when I added that she has a three year old son to my list of knowledge. Slowly, I learned more about her. Her father lives in Florida, her son is a typical three year old, and then suddenly, she and Brian are engaged, how long have we known about her? She visited her father recently, who she hadn’t seen in, seven I believe, years. She has sunburn now. See? Stalker.

*He lays curled into the blankets of my bed, asleep as usual before going to work. His blonde ponytail falls neatly to his mid-back. Somehow, his sleep is motionless and peaceful after a hectic day. His glasses, which typically sit before his grey-blue eyes, sit carefully on his laptop while he rests. Two earrings sit on his right ear and a single bracelet on his left. My necklace is visible above his dark-grey shirt. A single foot is visible beneath the blue blanket; while sock bight against the black quilt he lay atop. His newly-added tattoo is visible at the base of this neck, his Pisces symbol surrounded by Celtic knots dark against his light skin. His angelic sleeping form gives the illusion he was a quiet-mannered shy, young man of twenty. I had learned that he was quite the opposite after getting to know him. His shy manner would show only the first time or two meeting someone, and then the fun-loving side would emerge. He had grown much since I met him, his childish-yet-too-adult manor had both matured and balanced; letting the child out when right, but still being his age.

*She rolled out of bed, well actually, it was more like a crawl, at six am bringing one side of her body over the other took too much effort. She threw her arm out and hit the button on her alarm to turn off the screech of music before it woke anyone else. Her face fell into the pillow as she lost the battle to hold herself up with one arm. She detangled herself from the blankets and fell with a thud to the floor in the process. She let out a curse of pain as her head hit the wood bed frame, knocking her dizzy for a moment. She pulled herself up and grabbed the first peace of clothing from the pile beside her closet she found. She smelt it, and after deciding it didn’t smell too badly, dubbed it clean, took the t-shirt she wore off, and pulled it over her head. She pulled a pair of jeans off the couch nearby and pulled them on, her pajama pants had been kicked off at some point that night, as usual. She then turned on the light above her head and looked at herself in the mirror. As she ran her fingers though her long blonde hair, she assessed the damage. Her shirt was a generic tank top. The once purple fabric was not faded to almost lilac. Her jeans had been tie-dyed from all the marker and paint stains. She shrugged. “Good enough for me,” she mumbled as she left the room.

*“Where the hell have you been?!” I shouted at the being standing before me. She interrupted my work, or attempt at work anyway, blinding me when she entered my attic workroom. I knew who she was instantly, because she hadn’t been around in days, and as soon as she arrived I felt a rush of creativity.
“Sorry,” she squeaked as she child began to play with her knee-length silver hair, twirling it nervously through her fingers. Her silver eyes dropped to the floor, as though inspecting her long light-blue dress. I rolled my eyes and returned to work. Who could stay angry at their muse when there was work to get done?

*She found her way, once again, onto the stage, the soft shoes on her feet not breaking the silence of the room. Her long auburn hair falls freely to her mid-back, held away from her face by a simple diamond clip above her left ear. Her knee-length danced around her legs as she made her way to her partner; rhinestones set in deep red glistening with every step. She reaches him and in that instant the music starts, and the couple flawlessly begins their well rehearsed routine.