She had a woman’s swagger at twelve-and-a-half. Hair: strawberry-blonde, and I vaguely recall a daisy in the crook of her ear. She was an inch taller than me, two with the ponytail; smooth cheeks and darling brown eyes that marbled in luscious contrast with her magnolia skin; cream, melting to peach, melting to pink. She beamed like a cherub without the baby fat; a tender neck; pristine lips that would never part for a dirty word. Her body--of no interest to me at the time--was wrapped from neck to toes with home-made footie pajamas, the kind they make for toddlers, but I didn’t laugh; the girl filled that silly one-piece ensemble as if it were couture.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: singing paranormal coming-of-age puppy-love perfect-girl
it was unmatched life experience that bestowed in her eyes the sultry gleam that separates women from girls. although she viewed her “life experience” like bruises on a peach, men of all ages still found ways to see past the indications of damaged goods long enough to offer her a drink. hell, it was less than an hour ago that one such man called her “gothic perfection” and cried on her shoulder. her boyfriend agreed that a crazy life can “grow a girl up quick”; it was only last november that she turned seventeen.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: suicide gothic thriller emo
sometimes life isn’t worth the pain. i’m going for a swim. goodbye, my love.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: romance death suicide thriller drowning tattoo teen
94 was a good year to be twelve. Star Wars still had two more years as Box Office King, cartoons were still hand-drawn, and the Disney "D" still looked like a backwards "G." Words like "Columbine," "Al Qaeda" and "Y2K" were not synonymous with "terror," and 9-1-1 was an emergency number instead of a date. At twelve years old, summer still mattered. Monarch caterpillars still crawled beneath every milkweed leaf. Dandelions (or "wishes" as Mara called them) were flowers instead of pests. And divorce was still considered a tragedy. Before Mara, carnivals didn't make me sick.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: romance nostalgia paranormal coming-of-age 90s
The night seemed suddenly defiled by the absence of music, as if the silence itself was injecting a sickness that only another song could cure.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: music singing perfection coming-of-age siren
Judge that boy if you must; for debauchery, for objectifying innocence... but before you finalize your verdict, oh innocent reader, I beg you to scan again that last stanza. What you and I overlooked in our cloud of perversion and nasty objectification was the unrestrained joy of a little girl playing dress-up for the very first time.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: judge beauty perfection coming-of-age narrator puppy-love
What’s so beautiful about girls?” I would implore.
And the secret society of adults would reply with a smirk and wink as if I was merely a boy who couldn’t possibly have the mental maturity to comprehend such grown-up concepts as love and bleeding vaginas; “You’ll understand someday, James.
Tags: growing-up coming-of-age puberty puppy-love the-perfect-girl
You know that moment when you hug somebody, when your heart feels warm and high in your chest and tingly? When you feel just for a second like a baby in a womb... that nothing matters? That's how I want you to feel. That's what a girlfriend should do, I think.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: paranormal-romance castle hug rooftop puppy-love the-perfect-girl
Every time I think about that girl, my mind commits a sin.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: perfection catholic coming-of-age puppy-love
But in the end, black can never be white, one plus one must always equal two, and Mara Lynn was a normal little girl.
Jake Vander-ArkTags: beauty fantasy paranormal-romance fiction logic young-love
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