About a Shirtless Man and a Sneeze

Oh, and there was a carrot.

Ready for this story??

Honestly, it could have only happened to me.

So, to begin, I need you to understand my level of laziness some days. I finished work at one job, biked home, walked the dog, and had to go to my next job. I was tired, and didn't want to put on my bike helmet (and therefore have to redo my pony tail- again-) so I decided to walk to my second job.

So my trip turned into a 15 minute walk, instead of a 4 minute bike ride.

As I left the house I realized I wanted a snack, and in the absence of an apple, I grabbed a carrot- a full sized carrot.

I'm walking to work eating my giant carrot- just like Bugs Bunny- when I realize there is a guy without a shirt on walking on the sidewalk toward me. Well, this will look silly. Oh well. Yum, this carrot is tasty. I think to myself.

I continue walking, and the shirtless man is still approaching. Now I can see his tan lines and the fact that he is reasonably well muscled. I look at my carrot. Damn, this is kind of embarrassing, and there's still too much carrot to hide. Oh well, at least he might think I'm healthy. 

I continue walking, and mowing down on my carrot. Maybe I can finish it fast, before I pass him. 

But this is when I realize, I have to sneeze.

OH GOD, NO. I think. (And yes, if you've ever had to sneeze while eating a carrot you know EXACTLY what ran through my mind.) The hot, shirtless man is a foot away from me, and I am going to sneeze carrot chunks all over him. oh God, oh God, oh God, no. PLEASE NO. 

I look around desperate for a way to bail out, to hide, and aside from jumping into traffic, I have no options. So, as the hot, half naked passes, I hold my breath (and my mouthful of carrot) and PRAY to contain my sneeze.

I do.

The naked man is a foot behind me when I sneeze. And it's just as I imagined it- except no carrot bits stuck to his abs- it was a forceful, loud, disgusting sneeze, and he turned to me in surprise.

I blush and he walks away.

Upon closer (carrot free) inspection, the stranger was not as attractive as my sneeze anticipating self had thought. He was shirtless, tanned and reasonably fit, but still a far reach from Ryan Reynolds- even so, I would have felt badly sneezing chunks of my snack all over the guy.

And all because I didn't want to re-tie my pony tail.

-Brandolyn

Snipit- The Tower of Arista

"Sometimes I don't know what's real and what isn't." Elaina's forehead creased as she looked at her bedroom. The room was cold, as always, but the large four poster bed with its bulging duvets and mass of pillows should have been an inviting sight, but tonight the thought of sleep made her uneasy. She pulled her dressing gown tight around her body and shivered. "I see faces in my dreams..."

"What faces? Do you recognize anyone?" Lilith looked to her Mistress with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. She hadn't remembered anything about her life before she came to Arista, and although Elaina wanted answers, Lilith and most of the Arista staff were afraid of what she might remember.

Lady Elaina shook her head. She raised a hand to her chest in an attempt to calm her pounding heart. "There's one face..." Her hand shook. "... every time I see him I wake up- my heart racing." She looked away from her handmaid, picturing the man who haunted her dreams. "His eyes are wild, and his hair," she paused, "untamed, and red like-" her eyes flicked to the empty fireplace and a shudder ripped through her body. Her skin seared at the thought. It was as if she could feel flames biting at her limbs as she thought of his hair.

"It's okay. You're safe." Lilith traced calming circles on Elaina's back listening patiently.

"I'm afraid Lil, I see him whenever I close my eyes. Who is he?"

Lilith rolled her shoulders back. She wasn't as tall as Lady Elaina, but she was tough, and not afraid of a fight. "Whoever he is my Lady, he cannot get you here." She offered her Mistress a smile, but in her mind there was a low rumbling; her own version of a growl, as she thought I'll make sure of that.

The World I Thought I Knew

I thought I knew a world of sleepless nights and unending prayers.

I thought I knew a world of hope and dreams coming true.

I thought I knew a world with a little boy named Dustin.

I have always had a very active imagination. I can see dragons in the sky, flying overhead with the robins, and am afraid of monsters lurking in dark places. I can even see fairies hiding in flower beds. And, as a very imaginative person, I often have incredible, fantastical dreams- the inspirational for each of my stories came from dreams.

But never have I known one of my dreams to be so agonizing, painful and heart-breakingly convincing.

A few nights ago, I dreamt of waiting. Months of waiting and praying for approval to adopt a little, wide-eyed boy named Dustin. I remember of each prayer, each fit of tears, and of each sleepless night as we- my husband and I- waited for an answer.

I dreamed of meeting that little boy; 4 years old, trying to convince me he was actually 13. I dreamed of holding him and laughing with him, choosing him, and more importantly, being chosen in return.

I dreamed of the congratulatory phone call and how we had to hire a taxi to pick him up because we were too excited and nervous to drive safely.

Then I woke up and Dustin was gone. In the amber light of morning, my world shattered when I realized the perceived months I had spent agonizing over that little boy, were a figment of my imagination.

I cried when I realized: Dustin isn’t here, he was never real.

And yet, I remember him.

I remember the race car pajamas I had bought for him, and how he had a missing front tooth. I remember how he had wanted to call me “Moma”, because although I wasn’t his mother, I was pretty damned close.

I remember it all- not as a dream, filtered by a haze of sleep clouded memory- I can remember the smell of him, the sound of his voice and the weight of him in my arms.

The memory of a night’s fantasy has struck me dumb. Days later, thoughts of him still bring tears to my eyes. How can I have dreamed so vividly that I have imprinted a fiction on my heart?