Jump



One-foot foreword, land, bounce, and …
Paige Greene giggled with joy and giddiness of zero gravity, her new found power. She landed gracefully and lightly on one foot, just at the tip of the towering light pole, that was slipper with rain.
The light pole, that had been dead, sprung to life. It cast an orangey light on the poorly lit street, and as Paige noted, was the only light on that night.
Paige giggled again, feeling free and feather light, springing from light post to light post with cat like dexterity and grace. She squinted her eyes in the rain to look for her pre-destined path through her little night adventure. It was the same she took every night, even before the zero gravity, sighing in her mind at something she thought would be impossible from her apartment window.
Her mother would be worried if she dared venture into her teenage daughters room. The dark posters of teenage hood loomed on every wall and in the night would seem even more reproachful then in their usual morning state. Therefore, Paige settled, she will most likely not venture in there at all. She shook her head, and giggled again.
Paige discovered her zero gravity, one night before bed. Again another lonely night, looking out her window and wishing she could be out there. Paige was not wealthy. In fact, her parents were flat broke, and though she was an only child, they always complained of how expensive it was to raise children. Paige was not greedy or superficial, and she learned to not want to have things she couldn’t.
Accept for this. Paige extended her arms to glide to the next light pole. Her foot almost slipped and her stomach leaped at the sudden danger, her eyes flew wide open. But her wiggling arms helped regain balance as landed sloppily on the pole.
Almost falling reminded her about the real danger of being out that late and in the rain. Every other time she had sneaked out, and first tried to unbeaten path up high on the light posts, it had been on dry days. She never tried to use zero gravity in well-lit places. She feared that it would only add to the freakish treatment that being the outcast in a private school, on a scholarship had already gotten her. And the sudden release of energy filled her with joy. She wished and prayed the sun would never inch over her shoulder again.
In a puddle just below the sign pole she had landed on, Paige caught a glimpse of her reflection. The cold rain had washed her eyeliner out like no other water could. It drained down her cheeks like tears.
If tears of sadness are clear and warm, she thought then tears of joy must be cold and black. She laughed at the dark thought and added as a lighter note and sweet too as she tasted the sweet and fresh rain on her face.
She laughed and giggled harder and harder at everything. Her problems seemed so silly now, as she danced high above the world dressed in her pajamas. The only thing she could legitimately worry about was what her mother would say when she came home drenched in rain. She giggled harder.
She landed on the next pole blissfully, and slipped gracefully on the light post she meant to land on. But she did not wiggle her arms, or try to grasp on. Dreamily, she realized that there was no need to hold on; there was no need to be scared. When it was her time to fall, who was she to deny it?

Mrs. Greene walked quietly into the room of her daughter. Though she told her daughter to remove the posters, and that she hated the room, Mrs. Greene secretly loved it. The room had the odd feeling of being lived in, and Mrs. Greene loved to soak that in every night as she walked in to check on her little sleeping angel.
But that night, there was not faint breathing, no feeling of being lived in. just the steady drumming of the rain on the glass pane windows, and a chill that reached past her bones. Mrs. Greene didn’t scream, she want hysterical. She sat gently on the bed and looked out of the window, sighing and wishing she could be out there.

Muffin Meadow



There’s a nice place, out far from and problems or conflicts, and a soft breeze gently combs through the tall trees, with a loud shhhhh of a mother rocking her baby off to sleep.
And if you stand just in the middle of the meadow, you can see so far. The tall oaks, and a back drop of the quiet and majestic chocolate mountains. Looking at them gives you the feeling that they know everything and understand how the world works. They have lived so much that they too have retreated to Muffin Meadow.
If your tired from the long journey through the Very dark Forest you can take a little rest in the velvet purple grass, soft and welcoming as anything is, and watch the chocolate bunnies prance merrily through the meadow, and weave in and out of the canopy of trees on the other side of the meadow.
And if you close your eyes and listen carefully, you can hear the soft woosh of the chocolate river, a little ways down from the center of the meadow. It rushes from the runoff of the chocolate mountains, and at its edges grows the big chocolate muffins. They grow like bushes, and rim the river, for as far as you can see it run, directly in to the big forest, where just at the edge, grows the most delicious blue berry muffins you have ever seen.

Directly opposite to the Very Dark Forest, there is a small brilliant forest that rounds the huge quiet chocolate mountains. There, behind many of the trees, there is a little cottage with a piping chimney, and large pots of petunias at ever window. The curtains flow open and free too, the weather at Muffin Meadow always stays between 79- 60 degrees Fahrenheit. And the curtains in question always stay flying at the windows like little checkered cardinals, fluttering in the soft breeze around the little house. That’s where I live.
Every morning, I rise with the buttery sun, and walk out to the fields, to prune the muffins. If I have guests, who are always invited, I take just a bit of purple grass and a bit of muffin back for breakfast. The grass makes an awesome tea.
After your all set, and your tummy stops its rumbling, we head out to find the little cookie garden, that is hidden behind a few trees, and I keep as a small secret to surprise my guests. Then, we’ll head out westwards to the Candy Apple Orchard. The man there is very nice, and lets us pick as many apples as we want! They are all dipped in bright red candy and taste perfectly crisp and cold every time.
Maybe if its winter, we could watch the snow fall gently and sugar coat the entire meadow in silent beauty. Or if its summer, we could watch the light show provided by the mysterious lighting bugs. In the spring we could pick pie-mushrooms, by the twilight glow, and in the fall we could see the brilliant sunset.
Whenever you want you could stay. When ever you want you can go. But always remember, I’ll be right here, happily tending to my little plot of land, my little plot of joy, waiting for you to come and visit. Always here, at Muffin Meadows.