I'm going to try and write one story each week. They won't all be good, but they won't all be bad, and they'll be damn short. Here is number one:

A long, long time ago, in a place not very far from here, there lived a boy. and there lived a girl. and they were in love. They lived in their own paradise, a place where they had grown up together and spent night after night running beneath the stars. When they were finally of age, they rushed to the altar and married with the widest smiles they had ever smiled. It only took a year before her belly began to swell and baby books appeared on their shelves. The boy worked hard every day in hopes of being able to give his child a better future. When he wasn't out at work, he was in at work, preparing a room with fresh paint and building cribs and mobiles. The girl kept herself busy with excersises and small adjustments to the house. She invited her friends over for tea and sat in the living room, chatting excitedly about all the possibilities. She wanted a little girl, named Taea, with bright red hair and a brain that wouldn't quit.

The boy came home from work in a rush one day. His boss had given him a promotion, exactly what he needed to make his girl and his child comfy. He was so excited, he slammed the door open and screamed "honey, I'm hooooooome!" He hadn't noticed his girl on the floor, leaning up against the couch and sobbing into her hand. He rushed to her and knelt beside her, his knee making a soft squish as it hit wet carpet. He looked down and saw red flowing from his wife out onto the carpet. His eyes welled up and he grabbed her tightly, his crying as silent as hers was loud.

The doctor said that it was a simple miscarriage, nothing too out of the ordinary. She thought to herself, "not out of the ordinary? I... I can't do it. Doesn't that count for something?" He thought to himself, "I was so ready. I was so excited. But was I really ok to start someone's life?" They headed back home, silent the entire way. When they arrived the boy began to take down the baby decorations. It was a slow process, taking the child-safe locks off of cabinets, peeling decals off the walls, but he stopped at what was going to be the baby's room. He stared. He couldn't do it. So he closed the door and walked out of the house.

It had been three months since she had heard from her husband. She spent her time either in bed or going out to get groceries. The television was constantly on, the lights constantly off. The bags under her eyes looked haggard in the pale flickering light of late night television shows. One night a knock came from the door, then it creaked open. She didn't move, just sat and watched the pretty lights. A pair of strong arms rested on her shoulders and a furry beard stroked her cheek as the boy leaned down and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she woke up the next morning beside her husband. She smiled. Not because she wanted to, but because it was what she was supposed to do. She hated him. She hated the fucker that abandoned her and left her to stew in silence. She hated the fucker that made it feel like she was alone. She hated the fucker because it was her fault, and she knew it hurt him, and she felt guilty. He didn't blame her. He knew it was just chance. It was hard to look at her though, her face a combination of everything he hoped for and everything he feared. He could barely even touch her, his fingers brushed against her skin and it felt like fire. She was his pain, his lovely, lovely pain.

She needed to feel that pain. So she started to cut herself. The boy never touched her anymore, he wouldn't see the scars. It felt too good, some pain that wasn't all in her head. It cleared her mind and made her feel refreshed for a few minutes. After just a couple weeks she was ready to go outside again. She put on a sundress and stepped into the sunlight. She got downtown when she noticed people staring at her. She couldn't figure it out, her face got red and she looked down at herself, looking for something wrong. Then she noticed a trail of blood at her feet. The cuts on her legs had opened up as she walked, and now blood was flowing down her legs. It was startling, looked too much like- in a daze she stumbled on, trying to find a place to sit down. She spotted a bench across the street and stepped towards it. She had become woozy, though, and she fell forward, putting her body right beneath a rushing bus.

The boy didn't really do anything anymore. He didn't even know what to do. He had smashed the TV, he had quit his job, he didn't really even eat anymore. He would wake up late, go sit on the couch, then go back to bed. But one day he picked up the phone and made a call.

Two weeks later he walked into a tall, skinny brick building. The lobby was plastered with eggshell paint and a couple chairs scattered the back wall. To the right was a wooden desk and behind that desk was a squat lady with cateye glasses and laboured breathing. "Hello" muttered the boy, "oh hello there! You're the fellow who called a couple weeks ago, yes?" he nodded. "Well great! we've just got to get some paperwork out of the way, then you'll be good to go!" With that she smiled wide and hurriedly waddled out of the room. The boy stood there, his legs softly shaking in anticipation.

He stepped out of the building, a package in his arms. He called a cab and crammed inside. As the driver rushed away from the building, he peeled the soft blanket from the face of his new family, revealing frail red hair and a toothless grin. "Hello Taea, so glad to meet you."