posted on 22-Jul-2002 6:27:20 PM by Koontz
Disclaimer: I do not own the television show “Roswell” nor the book series “Roswell High”. The television show belongs to Jason Katims, 20’th Century Fox, the WB, the UPN, and the sci-fi channel. The book series belongs to Melinda Metz and Pocket Pulse Books. I do not mean to claim ownership in any way, shape, or form.

Rating: PG - NC-17

Summary: AU. Tess and Liz have virtually switched places, but a lot of things are different. When Liz, as the fourth of the Royal Four comes to town, Max and the crew no nothing about their past or other aliens.



Everyone has a destiny. A set path. Something that, whether we’ll admit to ourselves or not, was chosen for us by something beyond our control. Everyone has one. It’s just sometimes we ignore it. But you can only run away from something for so long before you get tired and it catches up with you.


The gym is hot and humid. During the spring and summer months in Roswell, New Mexico the sun is blasting and the gym does a greenhouse effect thing every single day. With panels of glass as the ceiling and the better half of the walls, it cages in the heat and makes it nearly unbearable. And yet the senior “spring fling” banquet dance still prevails with a whooping three-fourths of the senior class dancing or sitting at tables with place settings that can only be described as quaint. Buckets of melting ice chips sit at each table, along with an ever filled pitcher of some fruity concoction, perfectly placed silverware sit on ironed napkins and plates with corny floral designs are at each place. It’s too hot to eat but guys in penguin suits stand between every two tables with platters of food. Isabel tells me the fall and spring banquets are really big deals, but I don’t get the point.

I pull a purple strap of my dress up and rub an ice cube against my breast.

A smile is plastered on my face, but I feel like I might throw up at any moment. Not that I get sick. See, I’m leaving. I’m leaving Roswell for better things. Tonight or tomorrow morning, before school starts again on Monday.

I’m not telling anybody.

I’m not.

I’m not going to tell Max.

I’m not.

Something warm touches my shoulder and something freezing rushes down my back.

I squeal.


Looking up, I see Max smiling. The corners of his mouth are raised just slightly with little half circles on either side. That’s his smile. If he’s exceptionally happy, you might catch a glimpse of perfect white teeth.

No such luck.

“No you didn’t.”

The ice is melting quickly against my back.

“Oh I think I did.”

There they are. The teeth.

I let myself smile, teeth biting lightly at one side of my mouth and chocolate brown hair falls over my eyes. Smug bastard.

“We got named Spring Fling King and Queen while you were gone. Tess and I, I mean.” I nod. Who else would “we” be? Max and I? Ha! Now that would be funny.

“That’s great,” I say, and stare at the shiny tips of his leather shoes. Their really tacky and
I think Tess might have made him wear them. But them I’m cynical.

His shoulders move up and down in a lazy shrug. “I guess.”

“Where’s Tess?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really care.”

I think they had a lover’s quarrel. Max cares. He just won’t admit it.

Why do I torture myself by continuing to reminding myself of this? I swear, I must love suffering or something. Actually that makes a kind of sick, twisted sense. I’ve suffered most of my life, it’s what I’m use to. It’s not shocking I force myself to suffer now.

Maria’s just announced that she and the band are going to take a break but the DJ will keep the tunes coming. (Her words not mine) That song by The Calling comes on.

“I love this song,” I say, but Max already knows.

“Yeah, me too.” He rolls back on his feet with his hands in the pockets of his tux. “You want to dance?”

My heart tries to do a back flip but falls on it’s obsessed butt.


He takes my hand and leads me out on to the metallic checkerboard dance floor. Little squares of light dance around us from three disco balls hanging from the metal separations on the glass panel ceiling. I can feel his hand on the small of my back like a radiator. Slowly I move my head so it rests on his shoulder, then press my face into the fabric of his lapel.

Max has a very unique sent. Part of it’s Estèe Lauder cologne, part of it’s Tabasco sauce, part of it’s kiwi shampoo, and part of it’s something… individual and precise, but I can’t name it. Lord knows sleepless nights have been spent concentrating on that instead of more pressing subjects.

It’s only when Max asks me what’s wrong with a sort of crack in his voice that I realize I’m crying. Damn.

All of a sudden my brain runs away but my mouth keeps moving. “I’m just going to miss you, Max.”

He laughs. “Miss me? We’re going to see each other tomorrow morning!”

A sob rises in my throat and I force it to stay there.

I’m leaving.

I am.

And I’m going to survive.

I’m going to survive without Max.

“Liz…?” He sounds sort of panicked. I don’t see why. He still has Tess. What more could he want?

“We’re going to see each other tomorrow morning. We are.” His voice falters just slightly. “Right?”

“Max I…”

Damn it! I have no control over my voice. None at all. I can’t stop it from sounding hoarse like it is. But at this moment I’m biting my lip because Max has to be positive I’m breaking inside.

The song in fading as Max pushes me towards the doors of the gym. “What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales through clenched teeth. “What’s really wrong?” he repeats.

“I’m leaving.”

It’s this moment my brain rushes back and hits my heart for working without it.

See, my brain is smart. My brain knew that this would be hell. My brain knew that telling Max would be the ultimate suffering and I wouldn’t be able to handle him watching me leave. My brain knew, and I guess so did my heart, but my heart ignores it. It just plain ignores it. My brain wants me to keep living, my heart wants is to say goodbye.

“You’re leaving.” He says the words slowly. “You’re leaving.”

I nod. “I’m leaving Roswell.”


When Max is nervous he becomes a parrot with rock hard abs.

I nod again. “I’m leaving Roswell. Tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning.”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath and stare at his shoes again. “I’m leaving Roswell, tonight or tomorrow.”

He wrinkles his forehead. “You’re leaving me?” He squints his eyes for just a moment and squeezes his fist at his side.

“I’m leaving everything.”

“But… but why?”

“Max answer me a question, alright? How long have you known, for sure, exactly what you are, where you came from, why you’re here? How long have you known for certain that if you make one false move someone or something might find out and that they might track you down and do… Lord knows what? How long have you known that the person who tracks you down might be the person that should protect you?”

He mumbles something incoherent, but I think he’s trying to answer.

“About a year. Ever since you met me. 342 days. I’ve known my entire life. And I’ve known alone. You’ve had Michael and Isabel and for a while now you’ve had Tess too. I’ve had no one. And I’m tired. I don’t want to hide anymore. Here, all we do is hide. That’s all I’ve ever done. I have to leave.” I take another breath and squeeze the silky fabric of my dress. “I just have to.”

He still can’t talk.

And frankly, I’m really freaking glad. I don’t think I would be able to do this if he could talk.

Standing up on my tiptoes, I try to smile. I touch the back of his neck, petting the soft hair there and then softly, my lips press his cheek. So briefly, it’s like a brush of air. “Goodbye,” I whisper and curl my hand around his cheek. I mean to pull away, but he grabs my hand and keeps it there.

I feel something warm fall down my cheek. My hand pulls away from his grasp. I want to run but I make sure I don’t. Instead I turn slowly and walk towards the door. Pushing open the glass, I pause, just in time to hear him whisper, “But you always said we were suppose to be together.”

I’m breaking even more.

So I run. My heels click loudly against the pavement and the sound rings through the quiet. Maria and the band are becoming quieter and quieter as I run farther and farther away. I get in the car, and buckle the seatbelt with shaking hands.

Max calls after me.

I start the engine and, maneuvering out of a parallel parking job faster then a human could, I drive.

TBC... *happy*

[ edited 3 time(s), last at 23-Aug-2002 2:45:00 AM ]
posted on 13-Aug-2002 4:01:01 PM by Koontz
Firstly, I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry it has taken me beyond forever to update this story, but something screwy happened in my registering process and I couldn't login. But, thanks, to Jen and Heidi I can now and here is the update.

Secondly, thanks so, so, so, so, so, so, so much for the feedback, you have no idea how many days you've made.

Chapter One

I was sitting in biology on a Monday morning in April the first time I met Max Evans.

Desk two up and five over from the door.

I was sitting alone. Max was sitting in the near the back next to Tess Harding. They made a cute couple really, her perfect blond ringlets and pale skin next to his striking near black hair and tan.

Not that I could think that.

It had been drilled into my head from day one that Max and I were meant to be together and that was that.

Tess was just a minor inconvenience. Like a fly on the brim of your glass.

Nacedo had told me to mind warp Max the first day. Show him us kissing and wait. According to Nacedo that’s all we would have to do. Wait. He would come, he’d said. He’d see that we had been together and that it was meant to be that way and just like that we would be together again. All I had to do was wait.

I hated waiting.

Waiting and hiding. That was all I ever did.

So like shit was I about to mind warp Max. It was boring and it was easy. Nacedo would just have to get over the disappointment.

And I didn’t like starting off our relationship with lies. A relationship built on lies isn’t going to keep standing. I should know. I’ve had a little experience. That was sarcasm, by the way. A little doesn’t even cover the ankle of my experience with lies.

Ms. Winthrop walks in. She was an old woman, short and wide, wearing a vintage dress with lilacs on it. She knew her shit about biology. “Class,” she says and wipes her glasses with the fabric of her dress and let them hang around her neck. “We have a new student, with us today. Elizabeth Parker would you please stand up.”

I do it and the entire class looks at me, assessing me. I don’t care anymore. Nacedo moves around a lot and I’ve gotten used to the new school process.

“Would you care to share a little about yourself?”

I look the old woman straight in the eye. “No.”

She smiles. “Fine then.”

Ms. Winthrop explains a lab the class has to complete by the end of the period, something to do with pig hearts, so I block it out. Then she walks to me. “I’m going to assign you a partner who can get you caught up with the class. He’s quiet, but he’s good at biology. I think he at least heard the assignment.” I ignore her last comment and watch her as she walks to Max’s table, talks for a few seconds, then walks back, Max now trailing behind her.

He sits down and stares at the table, silent.

How rude.

“I’m Liz Parker.” I’m being redundant but I don’t care.

He glances at my forehead. “I know. Ms. Winthrop just introduced you.”

“I’m Liz Parker, what’s your name?”

For a second he smiles, those half circles appearing and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m Max Evans. I guess I’m here to get you caught up.”

“Shouldn’t we get started then?” I pause, then decide I want to push his buttons. “I’m betting you want to get back to your girlfriend over there.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You’re in love with her.”

He only shrugs.

“So what equipment do we need?”

Glancing at the table with a bunch of… stuff on it, he says, “I’ll get it.” It doesn’t pass me that he deliberately passes Tess on the way back.

We make a good team although I refuse to touch the heart.

Max finds this very humorous.

“It’s only a heart.”

I stare at him. “Exactly.”

Readers, pay no attention to that innuendo behind the curtain.

“Oh come on.” Max lifts it out of the pan it rests in with gloved hands and sort of fakes a throw at me. This is enough to get me on the ground, my arms wrapped around my legs.

I hate hearts.

Max bends down beside me and hesitantly touches my arm. He holds his gloves in the other hand. My butt hurts from the fall. Why the hell is he touching my arm? But then what do I expect him to do? Touch my butt? Like that would happen. Not that I want it to happen, mind you.

“God Liz, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you’d have that desperate a reaction.”

Kids are crowding around us now, whispering.

I take a deep breath. “It’s fine. I’m…” For some unimaginable reason I glance at the heart sitting on the table. I whisper the word “fine” just as my head starts to spin, my stomach twists, and the world goes black.

When I wake up, I’m sitting in a sterile-looking room with whitewashed walls, crisp white sheets on a thin mattress, a toilet and a sink. It feels like a jail cell and my head begins to pound. My attempt to sit up leads only to my lying down again.

It’s stupid, but I wish Max was here.

He walks in with a paper cup of water.

“Oh! You’re awake.”

“You’re a genius.”

He smiles. “The smelling stuff they used didn’t even make you twitch.”

No, it wouldn’t have.

“The nurse tried to call your dad but he wasn’t home and you don’t have an answering machine yet I guess, so…”

I shake my head, smiling slightly at his ramblings. “It’s alright Max, I’m fine. I don’t need to go home or anything.” I might need to stay in the jail cell for the rest of the day, but I never need to go home. I hate going home. Home is just a house with some furniture the realtor picked out. I don’t have a home.

“Are you sure? Because the nurse said that if you needed to go home, because they can’t get a hold of your dad, that I could drive you as long as he called when he got home that you’re there.”

“Stop rambling, Max. I don’t need to go home. And even if I did, I have a car.”

The tops of his ears turn red. “Oh. Of course you do.”

“Shhh,” I say. “You didn’t know. And you didn’t know I’d freak so bad, so you have so reason to feel guilty.” He blinks. “So stop feeling guilty.”

He laughs, air just sort of moving out of his mouth with a little high-pitched sigh.

“Okay. Thank you.”

I nod, resting my hand on my forehead and close my eyes. Why the hell do I have a headache? I never have headaches. I can’t have headaches.

“Hey,” Max starts again, this time sounding a little doubtful. “Lunch is in like three minutes. You want to eat with me and my friends?”

I smile. “That would be great, Max. Thank you.”

I’m in. Not quite the way Nacedo had hoped, I’m sure. I think he figured Max and I would be making babies by now - it has been three whole hours after all - but I’m in. I’m eating with them. And pretty soon I’ll tell them the truth about everything.

“Do you think you can sit up?”

I nod and try again. This time, I can block the dizziness and the little nagging voice that keeps reminding me that it’s impossible for me to be dizzy, and sit up. My butt still hurts.

“My butt still hurts.”

He laughs. I try to glare at him, but end up smiling. Max is an idiot. No one should be able to make you smile so easily. “It does.”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head and offers me his arm to help me up. “Come on.”

The bell rings and he leads me to the cafeteria. It’s built like the gym and, because it’s spring, it’s still really humid. The school board hired brilliant architects.

We pay for inedible food and walk to a table near the edge of campus where it’s obvious no one but Max and his friends sit. I recognize Michael and Isabel from Nacedo’s pictures of them, and Tess from bio, but the other two are new to me. Of course I know now they’re Maria De Luca and Alex Whitman, but then I had no clue. I notice Maria is pretty. She has long, sandy blond hair and blue eyes that sparkle when she looks at Michael. Alex’s cute, but in a sort of hidden way. There’s nothing about him you can put your finger on as to why he’s cute, but he is. A little gawky maybe, but cute.

“Guys, this is Liz Parker. She’s new.”

No one says a word. Michael and Tess are glaring at me, Isabel is frowning, Maria and Alex just stare. “Uh… this is Michael Gruein, Maria De Luca, my sister Isabel, Alex Whitman, and Tess Harding. She’s in bio with us.”

I smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Still, everyone is silent.

It’s actually kind of funny but I force myself not to laugh. Obviously they don’t get new people very often. It’s even less often I’m sure, that Max is the one to initiate it.

I sit down between Michael and an empty seat next to Tess. Max sits next to me, giving Tess a look I can‘t identify. No, it’s not that I won’t, it’s that I can’t.

“So… I need a job. Anybody know of any openings?”

“The Crashdown needs a new waitress,” Tess offers.

I nod. “The Crashdown?”

Max says, “It’s a restaurant.”

“Tess’s parent’s own it,” Maria adds.

“Oh. Okay. The Crashdown. Could someone give me directions?”

“We hang out there after school,” Max says. “You can follow us in your car.”


He smiles, looks to Tess, then back to me. “Sure.”


Max was underestimating the Crashdown. It’s not just a restaurant. It’s a full-blown, alien-themed, tourist-centered 50’s style diner. The walls have bad paintings of aliens and spaceships, the booth seats and chairs have bright green fabric, the waitresses have go wear bobbing antennas on their heads and a dress with alien head pockets. Everything on the menu is named after some famous alien movie or TV show, every napkin dispenser and salt shaker has a little UFO design. The floor has a black and white checkerboard design and there’s a jukebox by the door forever playing tunes straight out of Happy Days.

You know what the really sad thing is though?

It’s the hot hangout.

At least it seems to be considering the amount of kids from West Roswell High sitting at various booths and tables. Even the Big Kahoona of the school, Pamela Troy is here, sitting with a bunch of her cronies. Max, Isabel, Michael, and Alex are sitting at a table in the back.

Tess leads me to the back room where Ed Harding is fiddling with and enormous calculator.


Mr. Harding looks up and smiles at Tess. “Oh, hi sweetie.” He stands up and kisses her on the forehead, then he looks to me. “And who’s this?”

I smile and she says, “Liz Parker. She’s new here and is looking for a job. I told her we might have an opening.” She pouts and you can see him turning into Jell-O as his self-control crumbles like old play dough. You can actually see it.

“We’re always looking for new people.” We sit down and decide I’m going to work Tuesday through Friday, after school until 5:00, with Maria and Tess.

I still cannot believe I’m going to be wearing that dress.

Nacedo rented a house in Max and Isabel’s neighborhood and because I “have no clue how to get there” they let me follow them to their house, then Isabel drives me to mine, showing me the way there.

We stop in the drive way and Isabel doesn’t make a move to get out of the car.

“Are you interested in my brother?”

She’s blunt, I will always give her that.

I stare at the cheep red curtains hanging on the inside of the windows by the door. That was a question I wasn’t going to ever ask myself. I mean, yes, in a way, I would always be interested in Max. Nacedo had practically brainwashed be from day one that he was my mate. But was I attracted to him? Could I imagine going to the Crashdown, having a burger, talking, and then going to a movie?


Isabel smiles at me. Not with happiness, but with a strange kind of respect. I don’t think she expected me to be so candid.

“Don’t… don’t do anything. Alright?”

I really can’t help myself. “Why?”

“It’s complicated. There’s Tess and… well, see, Tess Harding is sort of my friend and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“Sort of your friend?”

“Well… you know Alex, Maria, and Tess? They’re sort of… new to the group. It’s not that I don’t like them, they’re definitely my best friends but… Max, Michael and I were together for a long time before three became six. You know?”

I shake my head, looking at the leather fabric of the seat between my legs. “My father and I move around a lot. I’ve never known anybody long enough to even really call them friends. So, frankly, I can’t relate, but I feel for you.” I pause and crack a grin. “But, I don’t have a chance at becoming anybody to you do I? I mean I’m even more new!”

We laugh, but she doesn’t deny that I’m right.

Nacedo has a theory that once everything is settled (AKA Max, Isabel, and Michael know who they are, what they are, and what they were and accept it) things are going to be just like they were.

I’m not that naïve.

I understand that, even if they do accept it, I’m still going to be outside their group. A person who hangs around, helps out, but isn’t really there. And I’ve acknowledged it.

I don’t care.

“Listen Liz, do you need any help with homework or anything?”

“It’d be nice to know what I missed when I passed out.” It’s true, but I’m saying this because I don’t want to see Nacedo yet.

There’s no reason you can put your finger on that I hate the man that raised me so much.

But I do.

I don’t like talking to him, I don’t like going home to him every day, I don’t like knowing he’s the person who made me turn out how I’ve turned out, whether that’s bad or good. The superficial part of it is I’ve never seen his true face. He claims that the skin of his real body can’t withstand the amount of oxygen in the air of earth, but whatever.

“Why don’t we both go back to my house,” Isabel says. “And I’ll work with you on what you missed and you and Max can do your bio homework. He told me you guys are partners now.”

“Is it permanent, now?”

“I don’t know. I guess… I mean, Max seems to think so.”

We drive back to the Evan’s home with engaging in small talk the way there. When we get there a blue Ford SUV is in the driveway next to Max and Isabel’s old Jeep. I ask her if her parents are home. She shakes her head. “No, that’s Tess’s car.”

“Tess drives a SUV?”

She smiles. “Well it’s Tess’s father’s car.”

When we walk into the door the first thing I hear is moaning, the first thing I see after a gigantic grandfather clock is Tess straddling Max’s waist, their mouths entangled.

She’s not my girlfriend, my butt.

Isabel slams the door and Max and Tess spring apart like a thrown slinky. Max wipes his lips on his arm and stares at the wall behind Isabel and I and Tess fixes her hair as she stares at plaid fish-shaped pillows on the couch.

“Max… Liz is back to work on homework with me. I told her you’d be happy to help her with bio being her partner and all.” Isabel’s words are loud and pointy.

Tess looks directly at me and interjects, “Max is my partner.”

I try not to glare, smirk, or be sarcastic and it works pretty well. “Well then, if Max would be kind enough to at least give me the homework assignment, I’d greatly appreciate it.” I glance at Max. “I don’t need him to be my partner.”

He clears his throat, looks to Tess briefly, then to me. “Ah… sure. Come on,” he says and runs upstairs and toward an open door.

“I’ll meet you in my room,” Isabel says and walks the opposite way down the hall. I follow Max into his room. The first thing I notice is it smells good. Sort of fresh and warm. Books are stacked neatly on shelves, except for one which is covered with books on biology and chemistry and science so haphazardly it’s obvious he consults them a lot. There’s a desk-top computer sitting on his desk next to a funky lamp and a phone that’s not plugged in. His bed is unmade (and has been for a while) and looks strangely welcoming. Various rock band posters cover one sliding closet door; Weezer, Blink-182, Linkin Park, Limp Bizkit, Counting Crows, what have you surround one enormous poster of Dido. The other door has a mirror covering every inch.

Max bends down and searches through his backpack for something. He pulls out a piece of paper and scribbles something on it, then hands it to me.

“This should help,” he says.

I look at the paper. I think you are my partner, but no guarantees. When you and Iz are done, come get me. Tess will be gone, is written on the paper. I glance at him, nod, and walk to Isabel’s room.

“Did Max give you notes or something? I’m not a science wiz like he is, but I can probably help you.”

“He didn’t give me notes.”

I’m grinning like and idiot and I know it.

“Well what did he give you then?”

“He wrote me a note saying to come get him when we’re done and Tess is gone.”

Isabel snorts. “He’s such a putz. I swear to God he’s afraid of Tess or something.”

I sit down on her bed. “I don’t know, I think it’s kind of sweet. He wants her to know there’s no competition.”

“I don’t know, I guess. So, what classes did you miss?”

After two hours, Isabel had successfully crammed Calculus, English History, and American Lit. from the past eight months I’d missed into my brain. It probably helped I’d taken in all the information the last five minutes of lunch.

I walk back downstairs where goggle-donned Max is sitting in the middle of the living room with a bunch of test tubes, beakers, and an enormous chemical rack, half of the tubes filled with boiling chemicals. He’s dripping something green into something red which is turning it an inexplicable purple. I seriously want to join him.

Biology has never been my strong suit because it so often has to do with dead animal parts, but I’ve locked myself in my room for hours doing experiments with chemicals and little pieces of my tissue.

I sit down next to him. After dripping three more calculated drops of the green stuff into the red stuff, Max looks up and smiles. “Hi.”

“Can I join?”

Lifting the goggles off his eyes, he says, “I thought you didn’t like science.”

I shake my head and carefully lift up the now purple liquid with tongs. “No, I hate biology, but chemistry’s bomb.” I move the beaker slightly and read the label. “What is it now?”

He laughs and scratches the back of his head, stretching. “I don’t know. That was the point.”


“So should we get to it?” he asks and begins capping some of the test tubes. He looks up. “Biology?”

“Oh!” I smile sheepishly first at my own brilliant alien memory then at my enormous vocabulary. What is it about him that makes me such a freak? Is it that he obviously has no clue that we’re meant to be together? I mean I didn’t make an instant connection past that he looks like all the pictures, but it would be nice to know… I don’t know. I don’t care. Or maybe it’s that he’s extremely good looking.

I don’t care.

“Right, biology. Right.”

He smiles. “Right.”

Eventually I have to go home.

Max is in his bedroom talking to Tess on the phone.

I don’t care.

The drive home is easy and Nacedo is waiting for me when I walk in the door. “Good evening, Liz,” he says and I notice he’s twiddling wood.

Twiddling wood!

“Good evening, Nacedo. Did you have a good day?”

He nods.

“You disobeyed me.”

My gaze darkens. “No shit. Mind warping Max was a bad idea. When he finds out that it was me, Max - and Michael and Isabel for that matter - are going to hate me. How am I going to expect their trust if I lie to them at the beginning?”

Nacedo carefully inspects whatever the hell he’s made out of the wood, rolling it with his fingers and showing it to himself at all angles.

“You’ve already lied to them, not telling them everything you know today.”

The bastard’s right, but I am choosing to ignore it. Maybe I haven’t. Maybe I’ll call them tonight and we’ll meet at the rock and I’ll explain everything.


Maybe not.

Without any type of response, I walked upstairs and into my room.

It was empty except for a matching set consisting of two bookcases, a desk, a dresser, and a full size bed with plain white sheets, a plain white comforter, and four plain white pillows, two with shams. On top of the bed was an enormous pile of crumpled pieces of paper and beside the bookshelves were seven big boxes of books. After moving all the books to their proper places on the familiar shelves (with my mind, not my body) and slowly twisting the molecules of the paper balls into lamps, candles, a fan, a computer, a phone, and various other knickknacks and putting those in their appropriate places, I laid down. The sheets were white because Nacedo expected me to change their color as well, but this time I didn’t.

People always match despair with the color black. The truth is, any color can mean despair. And white is easier to match then you’d think.

To Be Continued - FEEDBACK!!! *bounce*

[ edited 1 time(s), last at 23-Aug-2002 2:42:20 AM ]
posted on 13-Oct-2002 3:58:46 PM by Koontz
To anyone who's replyed or simply bumped my story:

I know I suck. Things are just a little tuff on the homefront right now and writing has been put on a hold for the moment. You're all wonderful and I'll keep trying to get chapter two to a place I'm happy with.

Love you all,