Young Writers Society

George rushed into the midst of people at the Vancouver airport, his heart sinks as he thinks he might of missed meeting with Charlotte. It was late evening and the traffic had been a state for snails. As he ran through the crowds no one seemed to notice him.

Just before his worries got the best of him, he spotted her in the crowd, there was no mistaking her, she hadn't changed at all since high school. They ran towards each other and embraced in a friendly hug. As before, no one payed them the slightest bit of attention. He grabbed her bags and they stopped at a local diner for a chance to catch up.

They had not the possibility to visit each other in over a year since they graduated from highschool together, although they had seen each other briefly the previous winter.

George sat down opposite Charlotte at a table in the corner of the locally owned restaurant. Her face was sweet and intent on listening to what he has yet to say. They had often chatted to each other over MSN so they both knew what was going on in each other's lives. The last thing they had discussed was as to what George was going to dress up for Halloween.

They chatted about what was going on with Charlotte where she was currently living and George decided to turn the conversation to the experiences he was having in Vancouver.

"I went to a costume party last night here in the city."

"Nice! How was it?"

"It was a blast! ... So I dressed up in a suit jacket, a fedora and all in black too. I decided I needed eye make up to give myself some sort of presence for a costume than rather a fellow in fancy clothes, but alas, no one had black eye liner ... then  I had this sudden idea to put a design underneath one of my eyes like - "

Charlotte interrupts with a loud laugh and the exclamation, "Eye liner?"

George laughs along with her, he clears his throat, "So as I was saying - the design was like that of Alex's from A Clockwork Orange & since black eye liner was no where to be found, I found a fine Sharpie of mine and asked my brother Claude to draw it on and he did."

A slight look of concern flicks across Charlotte's face, "A Sharpie? Didn't that irritate your eye, I mean isn't that dangerous?"

"Nah, my eye was alright." George laughs, "my mum had the exact same expression on her face when she saw Claude leaning in front of my face armed with that Sharpie. Any how, people caught on as to who I was portraying at the party so my last minute costume was a success."

"Did you take any pictures?"

"No, I felt that my camera wouldn't be safe on a night flled with sin & debauchery."

The two friends both laugh at his last remark, as they both quieted down, George continued.

"Fuck," he exclaimed, " and all the girls there were either air heads, rich prissy idiots or whores.. I thought or rather just hoped for some girls who actually cared for conversation, but there weren't any."

"Aw," Charlotte laughs whole heartedly, "you're funny."

"Why?" George asked in mock shock. "I wasn't trying to be."

Charlotte shrugs. "You just are."

"Am I funny because I'm not into rich prissy idiots, air heads or whores?"

"Yup."

"They were all like within a year or two to my age, all going to university/ college on their parent's money, they were gorgeous, well some of them, but the prettiest ones - " George pauses to take a breath and Charlotte is laughing all the while. "- when they opened their mouths and spoke I realized that they didn't have any skills in the brain department! ... But for some reason I can't remember the end of my night for the life of me!"

"You're hilarious!" Charlotte comments as she ceases her laughter.

"Fuck," George sighs, "I miss making people laugh."

"Don't you have any friends here?"

George shakes his head no.

"You should hang out with Jeane." Charlotte reveals, "that'll be a riot!"

"Why?"

"Amber spoke to me!" Charlotte abruptly changed the subject. "Well, not spoke spoke exactly, but on Facebook..."

"Why?" George repated. "Why would it be a riot?"

"Because you could prolly make her laugh."

"Umm, what makes you say that? ... With the sort of stuff I'm telling you now?"

Charlotte's eyes look suddenly vacant, hazy as if her mind had drifted slowly away like a winter fog.

Charlotte? Are you alright?" George leans over the table and puts her hand lightly on her right shoulder, but to his horror his hand goes right through as if she were a hollogram.

"Mr. George Robinson?" An unexpected voice to his left causes him to shift his body to face a pale faced lady, presumedly the waitress, who held a single silver platter in one of her hands.

"Yes, that's me, but what is this - ?" George found his voiced to be silenced immediately as she put one of her slender fingers to her lips.

She placed the silver platter down on the table and his eyes immediately noticed what lay upon it. A single envelope lay upon it with his name scrawled across the front. With trembling fingers he opened it, a single line was written.

'Last night you made the living cry & tonight you made the dead laugh.'