Young Writers Society

I stood at the edge of the cliff. My head spun and the wind roared in my ears, but still I stood there, trying to prove my point.
"Honey," my mother yelled through the gale, "Don't do this, please!"
She and my father stood at a safe distance, accompanied by two police men. One was my uncle. Short and plump with a mop of straw colored hair, he looked nothing like my father. He was talking into a walkie talkie, looking at me worriedly.
The other one was unknown to me. Some new rookie fresh from the academy.
My parents had left me no choice. They never believed me, never even listened. But today all that would change. I'll prove my word to be the truth. The truth they don't want to face.
I looked down at the edge. I couldn't see anything beyond two meters, the fog blocking my usually perfect sight. The mist spread out before me like a cloud bank. It looked so solid, so real.
I looked back at my parents. "I'll prove what I can do!" I yelled at them. I looked down into the fog again, willing it to become solid. The concentration made me quesy and I stumbled. My mother screamed unnecessarily. I regained my posture, yelling for them to watch.
With bated breath I closed my eyes and took the step . . .

I fell...just kept falling, the wind whipping at my hair and blowing at the tears at my face. I was flying, the only time I ever would. This was my chance, my only chance to ever show them what I really could do. That I actually meant what I said, every word of it. I never kidded, never made anything up. Those stupid people with the walkie talkies crackling and my parents, who never believed in me. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact upon the rocks below that would shatter me into a million pieces. It never came.

*buh buh buh bummm*

I opened my eyes. I was suspended in a neon-blue room, hanging by by wires. I looked over at the window through which I could see my best friend Kyle. He was peering at a board of small different colored buttons through his square glasses. I let my legs drop and stood shakily on the blue floor. Wiping the tears from my eyes so Kyle wouldn't see, I disconnected the wires from my body hugging suit. Kyle loked up suddenly, alerted by the sharp sound of a buzzer in his little control room.
He smiled as I crossed to the door that seemed to melt into the wall. Once outside the room I breathed a sigh of relief. The ordinary wallpapered walls of Burt Industries stretched before her. Doors led off in various directions, but I turned to the first one on her right. It led me into the little control room where Kyle was sitting.
"Hey," I greeted him, going over to stand behind him so I could also see the little screen he was looking at. It was replaying the ordeal she just went through.
"That was great," Kyle said, typing away on teh computer. "We'll get top marks for this project."
"I hope so," I said, knowing nothing mattered more to her parents than her school marks.
"Where did you get this idea anyway?" he asked, referring to the scene.
"I dunno," I said quickly, trying not to think about how she really felt. "I just did what I thought."
"Virtual reality's great, isn't it?" he said, the sound of his fingers pressing onto the keys annoying me.
"Yeah, just great," I said scornfully.

I started to wonder... Where did that
really come from? Was that really
what was inside my mind? Sure I had
thought about committing suicide but I
knew I could never carry it out... Or
could I?...

*eastenders music starts to play...*

What was going on? I never knew he might actually carry out THE PROJECT, it was far too risky and we'd never quite perfected it before. And my parents, the police, they were all so real. I could see their tears, hear them crying. Of course, that's what virtual reality was, but still. The emotional scenarios were just not going to work.

*sorry guys I just had to do more!*

"Kyle...what happened?" I lay sprawled out in the floor in his basement, trying to sort out what had happened.
"You, uh..."
"I what?" He closed his eyes.
"I have no idea." The flickering lights of the halogen lamps on his computer desk softened, as if contemplating...

. . . the theory.
I remembered something vague about us discussing them.
Could he possibly know what I just saw? I wondered, standing up and bushing dust from my clothes. Kyle's basement was full of it.
He cleared his throat nervously, "Um are you allright?" he asked uncertainly.
"I'm fi-" I started to say, but a piercing pain shattered my thoughts and I stumbled forward.
In a flash Kyle was beside me, "What's wrong?"
I could hardly talk through the pain running through my head.
"It's starting again," I gasped. I fell to my knees as the crimson light blinded my vision and found myself . . .

"What's starting again?" He asked, a look of utter horror and befuddlement upon his face.
"You ivented this...this THING...you should know what happens after!"

"I didn't expect this!" I yelled at him angrily. The pain was driving me mad. Though the light was distorting everything, I could see Kyle was freaking out, but I couldn't do anything about that.
"We should never have done this," Kyle said, rushing to his computer. He typed the password and the pain drained away.
"Look," he said, turning back to me. "I don't think we should go on with this."
I shook my head to clear it of the last remaining crimson light. "It's not that bad," I lied quickly.
He looked at me doubtfully. I knew I couldn't do this without him.
"Were close Kyle," I said, walking over. "My memories are getting more vivid. I don't care about the pain if it means I can find out the truth."
"Memories?" he asked interestedly. I hadn't told him much about this project. Our deal was that he provided the equipment and the codes, as long as I provided enough money to keep it going.
"Memories," I agreed miserably.

"Memories?" Kyle's soft, tan features suddenly hardened and he raised an eyebrow. "You lost your memories..."
"I didn't!" I felt trapped. Kyle was the only one who really understood me, who really understood who I was and what I fought for. He believed my memories had been lost way back when...in that life with the smiling blonde people. I remember tiny slivers of it, like the white Victorian house with the red trim, and a boy with blue eyes. Then, Kyle told me, I had fallen off a cliff, like the one in the virtual scenario. I had nearly died, but no, he couldn't let that happen. I don't remember anything before that, just the little tiny snapshots that only if I strain can I see, like stars s that you have to find the perfect focus on the telescope in order to find the beauty, the true beauty in it. These things just kept running over and over in my head, and I felt a small tear come down my cheek. I sank down into a grubby plastic folding chair, and silently sobbed. I wanted things to be the same, like whatever I had before. Life didn't have to be so confusing as it was for me, I knew that. Kyle knelt down beside the chair.
"No..don't cry...please..."

I wiped furiously at my eyes.
"I have to do this Kyle," I said softly, looking directly into his vivid green eyes.
"Fine," he said, "But that's enough for today."
I started to protest, but he shook his head. "You've already had enough for one day, any more could result in serious side-effects.
"Thanks," I said as he lead me back up the stairs and out of the dusty basement.
I stepped back into the dazzling light of the sparkling kitchen. Everyone knew Kyle's mom was a total neat-freak.
"Want some lemonade?" he asked, walking to the fridge and peering into it.
"Yeah, thanks," I said, sitting on one of the tall bar chairs.
Kyle and I haven't been friends for long. I was sort of new at school.

But he was friendly, funny, popular, and slightly good-looking, so it wasn't hard to become friends. My head was still pounding with an splitting headache, but I didn't complain. Kyle set two tall glasses brimming with homemade lemonade on the counter. My glass was slippery and wet with condensation, and I carefully picked it up and brought it to my lips, the sweet yellow liquid sliding down my throat with ease.
"Thanks."

"Pleasure," he said, sitting down next to me.
I slowly ran my fingers up and down the glass as he took a few gulps.
"So how's your dad?" I asked. Kyle's father was almost never around, owing to his high profile job in a law firm. He had to jet around the globe to meet clients and so on. Even though I haven't known Kyle for so long, I knew this bugged him.
"Oh, he's fine," he answered, looking at his half empty glass, avoiding my eyes.
"Glad to hear it," I said, letting the matter drop. I knew he was hiding something from me, but I let him. We weren't best friends or anything, so I felt like it wasn't my place to question him.
"How's it going between you and Matt?" he asked inquiringly.
"Great," I lied quickly.

Okay, since no one else has posted in a while, I'll go on.

Matt was different. Sure he was cool, popular and every girls dream, but the way he thinks and acts just isn't quite normal. Most people are totally oblivious to it, I know I was when we first moved here. He's so charming, and it was so flattering to think that someone like him was interested in plain old me. However, now that all the butterflies had escaped my stomach, he just seemed ... different.
I couldn't tell Kyle about this. I knew I'd get an 'I-told-you-so' for being so shallow.
"What time is it?" I asked hastily, just remembering something.
"Um," Kyle glanced quickly at his fancy wristwatch, "half past four."
"Damn it!" I said, scrambling out of the chair. "I'm late!"
"Late for what?" Kyle asked, also scrambling out of his chair.
"Practise," I lied, hurredly gathering my things and heading for the kitchen door.
"Wait," I said, "where's my bracelet?" I asked.
"Go," Kyle said, "I'll find it and give it to later."
"Thanks," I muttered, hurrying out.

A few minutes later I was walking through the empty street. I had walked this route so many times, I could've closed my eyes and leave my feet to do the work. I spotted the house I was heading for. It was big and fancy, something to really show off. I raced down the sidewalk to the little gate that paved the way to the glass front door. Blinds prevented anyone outside from seeing the interior of the house. The lawn was smooth and flawless.
I hurried up to the door and rang the bell. After a few seconds I rang it again.
When five minutes had passed I turned to leave, but stopped at the sound of a someone's voice.
"Hey, you're late," it said.