From The Ward

The angels. They're coming. I can feel them now. They're everywhere: surrounding us all. They're going to come here one day. I don't know the day, or the hour, or even the week or month. All I know is that every day they get closer. Every time you close your eyes and take a breath, they creep closer to you and everyone else. They're hungry; can you hear them? They're practically licking their lips.

Some people think angels are supposed to be benign, with halos and harps and good news. They haven't met The angels. They will never know what they truly are- not until it's too late. You and I, though, we can take precautions. We know what is coming. We can do something about it. Help me. I need help.

Just let me out of this cage, let me out of these bonds, and we can run from the angels together. We can come up with a plan that will save the race and save us. We can run together and be safe and not worry about the angels. Please, please just let me out. I need to be free. I can't stand this any longer.

They told you I'm crazy, didn't they? They're wrong. They can feel the angels, too. They can hear them. I've seen their faces when I talk about the angels. They're as frightened as you are. As I am. As anyone who knows the danger truly should be. Can't you see, just standing there is doing nothing? Helping no one! You're no good if all you can do is stand there and look at me like that. I know it sounds crazy, but just listen. Listen.

You can hear them, too, can't you?

So let me out. Let me out! I have to stop the angels. Every time you blink! They're coming closer! Can't you feel them? They're practically breathing down your neck. They scare me. I need to get out of here, I need to get away, I need to figure out a way to stop them. I need to run from them! Please...please...help me.

The angels are coming.

Final

Final.

The very word brings fear to a college student's eyes and trembling to his knees. It brings aching to his hand. It produces a migraine and nightmares for a week.

It is the final word, the final grade.

College students either don't sleep at all or dream of sleeping through finals. They know that the grade they receive for this, their final assignment, may decide their future forever.

Food is a rare luxury. Any free moments a student has are spent worrying about finals or trying to remember the answer they forgot. Every word said in class leading up to a final seems of utmost importance- perhaps the difference between failing and passing.

Students who typically sleep through class set their alarms an hour early, just to make sure they can hit the snooze button and still make it to class on time to take the biggest test of the year.

Teachers grin evilly, knowing that they hold all the power. Students cower before them on Finals Day. There is not escape.

Homework is neglected for studying. Assignments are failed, but no one cares as long as they are studying for the final.

Meals are skipped. Notebooks are seen on everyone's lap. Drinks are barely touched, seeing as students don't have a free hand. They are occupied with books, pencils, and notes.

Computers slowly disappear, and are replaced by pages and pages of printed notes, usually accompanied by a highlighter in one of an assortment of bright, garish colors.

There is no safe place. No rest.

Sleep? Who does that during this most stressful of weeks?

Finals.

Be afraid.

Be very afraid.

Instant Replay

The net swung with the impact of repeated bashings. The crowd was on their feet, cheering wildly, and yet, to Kaley, everything was still and silent. The players seemed to move in slow motion toward the rotating ball, bumping, setting- here it came, rotating slowly, white and perfect. High enough to spike, low enough to tip. In a split second, Kaley had to decide. Three steps- left, right left- pow! The ball suddenly flew into fast descent and landed on the floor on the other side of the net. The other team groaned and, without warning, the yells and cheers of the crowd washed back in to Kaley's ears. She stood tall, jumping and cheering with the rest of the team. One point more and they would win.

Whoever says volleyball isn't tough, Kaley thought, should watch one of our games.

The after party was amazing. All the players were in highest spirits. The game had been close, but they had managed to win by two points exactly. The only thing left now was celebration, and everyone was doing a great job at that. Only Kaley felt truly out of the celebration. She was happy, yes. They had won, yes. But still the thought of the last point weighed on her. It hadn't seemed right; something had gone wrong. But what?

The last point replayed in her mind. She saw herself going up and up toward the top of the net. As a short player, it was hard to block, but she was one of the best players on her team, and so was expected to at least try. The ball had been coming down, circling in the air slowly, almost as if it was waiting for her to clear the net. When it finally did connect with her hands, it did go straight down- but on Kaley's side of the net. Kaley had swung her arms wildly and only just managed to get the ball back up in the air. The setter had dived for the ball, which was only a couple feet off the floor, and pushed it up just enough for Kaley to get under it and free-ball it back over the net.

It was the other team that should have gotten that point, but it was as if they were all frozen, amazed at what had happened. The ball went high, plenty high enough for a player to get under it. And yet, somehow, it had fallen to the ground, touched by only one player, who dove for it at the last second.

Kaley smiled. Perhaps it wasn't so big a mystery, then. The other team had been in awe of the quickness with which Kaley and her teammate had acted. That had to be it.

Either way, they had won. They had.

Fair and square.

The Club

"The weight of this situation is really pulling me down here, guys."

"I know. Totally."

"I mean, she's turning eight! That means we have to include her in our eight-only club. I don't want her to be in our club. We made it eight-only just so that she couldn't join!"

"Yeah. Why couldn't she like, turn eight next year, after we make it a nine-only club?"

"Totally."

The situation was indeed grave. Charlotte, the most dumb girl in the world, was going to be eight soon. And she was going to want to join our club. We had started the club a couple months ago, my two friends and I. We were all eight, and we all had birthdays in the same month, so there was no problem thinking of a club that would keep her out and us safe from her. Now, though, we had a problem. She was eight- and we were doomed.

The next day at school, Charlotte bounced up to us and announced, "I'm in your club now. I'm eight!"

Like we didn't already know.

"Yeah, but Charlotte, we..." I stalled. What were we going to do to keep her out of the club?

My buddy Ryan stepped in. "We're redesigning the club. It's not going to be official for a couple of days. We're making drastic changes. We can't tell you what they are though."

"Totally. They're like, top secret and stuff." Good old Alison.

"Well, whenever you get it ready, I'm totally in it. I'm eight now."

Thank you, Captain Obvious. (Lee Dumb.)

That night, Ryan, Alison and I were thinking hard. What on earth could we do to keep dumb Charlotte out? We were wracking our brains.

Then it hit me. Actually, it hit all of us. I think we were probably all staring at the calendar.

We all talked at the same time: "The club has to be November-birthdays-only!"

"Only November birthdays should be allowed!"

"We all have to share the same birthday month!"

We all stared at each other.

We are brilliant sometimes.

Homework: The Simple Solution

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More relaxing down time

Patient Problem? Part 2

First dates are awkward at the best of times. Hardly knowing someone can go one of two ways; it can lessen the awkward air, or it can make the awkwardness so thick you can slice it with a fork. With David, however, there wasn't a single dull moment. Airica was kept on her toes and laughing all through dinner. In the movie theater- an unexpected treat- Airica was shushed several times by other viewers for her sudden, inexplicable bursts of laughter. She claimed later that David had been whispering riff-track-worthy sentences to her, but of course the disgruntled others really didn't care what she said. It wasn't until David dropped her off at home that things really began to seem like a first date- awkward and silent. David could only stare and smile. Airica looked at him and smiled back, suddenly shy and hesitant.

"You are so beautiful."

"David..."

"I mean it. You are. I've never met anyone like you."

"David, I've only known you for one day."

"But I've known you for weeks. Ever since you patched me up...I've...I've been following you, Airica. I've gone to the hospital every week since the accident. Only two of those visits were for follow ups. The others were to see you. I got a job near the hospital. I stay late and get there way early to see you. I watch you on Tuesdays. I know they're your days off. I want to spend every minute for you. I think you're amazing. Airica...I think you're in love."

"David-!"

"Just listen. It's true. I really do believe that I have found the one. I think you're it. I love you, Airica. I want to spend the rest of my life getting to know you better. Please let me."

Airica stared at him, suddenly shocked and scared. "David, I had a good time with you. I really did. But...you've been following me!?"

David nodded, a small smile on his face.

"You can't- you can't do that. That's not right. That's stalking someone. You could- I don't know, but...why did you do that? Why didn't you just talk to me first?"

"I wanted to get to know you when you're around other people before you were you around me. I know how you act all the time now, and I love it. Please, Airica. Please." David knelt and pulled a ring out of his pocket. No case, just a single ring. "Airica, I truly do love you. Please, marry me."

Patient Problem? Part 1

Tuesdays were the only days Airica truly had to herself. Every other day she was fully dedicated to her job. She worked almost ceaselessly. Being a doctor at the biggest hospital in the United States was taxing, and there was a constant need for her skills. Every day, Airica worked nine-hour shifts with no break, took an hour to eat and get a short nap, and then took on another ten-hour shift before heading home to sleep for the remaining four hours of the day, only to head back to the hospital for another shift.

Tuesdays were predominantly filled with sleeping and catching up with her few friends and her family. She loved her job, yes, but it was hard work, and she loved being able to rest and slow down for a whole day. It was during one of these blissfully calm Tuesdays that Airica met David. Airica had gone to a small, locally owned coffee shop to relax and read for a bit. David sat down opposite her at the two-person table and stuck out his hand.
"Hey, I'm David. What are you reading?"

His voice was deep, and a British accent was obvious in his speech. His face was jovial, full of life and purpose. Airica put her book down, surprised at the suddenness with which David had addressed her.

"I-I'm Airica. Nice to meet you. I'm reading...um..." She stole a quick glance at the spine of the book, suddenly forgetting what it was she had been reading. "Oh. I'm reading 'Les Miserables,' by Victor Hugo. He's brilliant!"

David looked impressed. "Who knew that doctors liked such ancient books? I thought all you people read was surgical magazines and thank-you letters from patients."

Airica blinked. "What? How did you know I'm a doctor?"

David laughed, an amazing and sincere laugh. "Well, that's probably due to the fact that you stitched me up after I was hit by that truck. Remember that? My car got clipped and I spun out, hitting my head splitting it pretty badly."

Airica smiled. "Yeah, I do remember that now. Wow, that was you? I guess you look a little different with a healed forehead."

"All thanks to you." He smiled.

Airica blushed. "You don't have to thank me."

David winked. "Didn't have to. Wanted to. And I was wondering...you want to go to dinner? Say, in an hour?"