Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ramdom short story I whipped together for content for the newsletter. My comment from Deviantart:

"Short story I wrote for my guild on Gaia. It started, basically, with the thought that I myself am always in the middle of everything--I'm not really picky about anything ^^; So I branched off of that, and before I knew it, this story was taking lots of random twists and turns. Totally unexpected piece, but I like how it turned out.

If you read the entire long, rambly thing, then kudos to you, and thanks!"

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I used to always consider myself to be medium.

I was the middle child, keeping the peace between my two eccentric sisters. Never too cruel, never too kind. I wasn’t particularly fond of anything, but enjoyed doing many things. I wasn’t loud, but yet wasn’t quiet. I wasn’t pretty, but I didn’t consider myself ugly.

Middle Melissa, sandwiched between two star children in a popular, productive family. I was the unnoticed one, the fixture that always just was, never causing trouble nor excelling and soaring to the top with flying colors. I simply slid along, minding my own business. But it was all I ever needed.

I suppose I can say that I never really thought about what I wanted until I met Henry Walker. That boy was an enigma. Half the time he never showed up for class, and the other times he worked the least of anybody and still pulled off the best grades. Henry had all the answers, the looks, and the mystery that any girl alive would be attracted to solve. He was quick and he was charming.

But he only spoke to me.

When Henry did come to class, he always sat behind me, even if other desks were available. If the teacher blabbed on about something negligent, he would lean close to my shoulder and talk with me. I always felt obliged to answer, so I always did, even if it didn’t make sense. Other girls fawned over him. Other people could hold more intelligent conversations, and others liked things that he was interested in. Somehow, I felt badly for him. Didn’t he know he was basically speaking to a brick wall?

But I suppose Henry was strange enough to do just that, anyways. Still, if others tried to talk to him, he would merely smile and nod and not direct the conversation anywhere. Deflated, the other would eventually give up and retreat with a shrug. Then Henry would bound up to me and ask how my gym class went, what class I had next, and if he could borrow my English book.

Gradually, I guess I began to open up. His random philosophical questions, his laughter and prodding for my opinion on things… All were like fertilizer, and something began to stir and grow inside me. Less and less I began to question his motives, and simply enjoyed his company. And in less time than I ever would’ve expected, we were like old friends, goofing off and smiling in the halls, fighting, and then making up again with more laughter.

For once, I didn’t feel expressionless. I was always white, a clean sheet of paper in a dusty old sketch book. But Henry was my 46 pack of crayons, doodling on me every day and giving me life. I had color, I had spirit. And most of all, I was happy, and I began to dream.

It wasn’t so bad in the middle. Everything was just right there. I wasn’t a star gymnast like my elder sister, nor a child genius like my younger; I wasn’t a famous politician, like father, nor a much-sought doctor, like mother--I was myself.

But even more than a spark of life, Henry gave me one of the world’s most influential gifts.

He gave me music.

I remember one day in particular. It was the middle of spring, and Henry had asked me to come outside with him during lunch break. Unsurely, I stepped outside and waited by the designated waiting spot, a large oak tree, until I heard the sweetest thing. It was a sound, clear and beautiful, and exotic and wonderful, drifting through the forest until it reached my ears. I peered down the wooden path, but saw nothing, except the beautiful, haunting melody that seemed to materialize before my eyes and dance.

Before I knew it, my feet were following the sound with an airy lightness and joy that was foreign to me. And when I finally found the source, I smiled wider than I think I’d ever smiled. Henry was poised on a tree branch above me with his flute, fingers flying across the instrument with expertise. His eyes were closed, and I remember thinking to myself how peaceful he looked then. And so, for the rest of our lunch break, I rested against the base of the tree and listened to Henry playing for me.

It wasn’t long after that that I decided to take up piano. I wanted to create music such as Henry, and I wanted to play for him someday as a sort of thank-you. But I was easily frustrated, even if I guess I was sort of a natural, for I was playing simple tunes not too long after. My teacher often praised me, and that also made me feel better. With the encouragement of my teacher and Henry, and even the admiration of my family, I was able to stick with it. And boy, am I glad that I did.

Piano helped me with so much. Confidence, friendships, and it helped me nurture creativity. But I wanted more. I became interested in guitar, and then percussion, but I really had a knack for trumpet and loved it’s metallic sound. I also started composing my own songs, and recorded them on a simple 8-track recorder.

So much has happened since then. High school, making new friends, progressing with my music, and falling in love with Henry, which is another story in itself. Once I finally got over the fact that I did have a chance with him, that I wasn’t just some pity case and that we really were close, mutual friends, I couldn’t help it. Everything he gave me, the way he made me feel… I realized all these the day I was first asked out by somebody. I was ready to date, ready to love at last, but I hesitated at last. I knew there could be no one else.

That dream is realized today. As I stand before you, on the night of my wedding day, telling you my simple life’s story, I am only wondering why. Was it destiny? Do soul mates really exist? Henry Walker, I don’t know what your problem was or why you did it, but I hope someday you’ll tell me. But for now, it’s just enough for me to be Mrs. Melissa Walker. So thanks.

Wow, thank you so much redface It basically came naturally to me out of the blue, and I just scribbled it down. It's been awhile sicne I've had a random burst of inspiration like that sweatdrop But seriously, thanks!