Kim’s Story: Part 2

Kim’s stomach did a somersault, churning up all of the butterflies inside, He remembers me after four years?! Kim rolled her eyes at herself, but it seems Connor picked up on it.
“Have I got the wrong person?” He asked, almost disappointed, “Sorry, I could’ve sworn we used to sing together in year 8 Geography.” He turned to walk away and the cat finally gave Kimberley her tongue back.
“I can’t believe you remember me!” She blurted, bashfully, “I mean- Hey, um… Sorry, I just couldn’t be sure it was you.” Lies, Kim thought to herself. But Connor had changed, he was less of a boy, more a man. His shoulders had broadened and it was obvious he worked out. But his eyes were the same: playful and rebellious.
Connor must have caught her checking him out, because he chuckled, blushing slightly. Kimberley may as well have turned into tomato, she went bright red.
“You’ve changed too, Kimbo.” Connor said, laughing as Kimberley grimaced at her childhood nickname.
“Thanks, I think.”
“It was definitely a compliment,” Connor explained, blushing once again.
Woah, hold up, Connor Campbell just complimented me. Kimberley’s internal dialogue was taking over again. “I could give you a few compliments too, Mr. Campbell.” Kim thought aloud.
“You know you actually said that?” Connor asked, his grin practically splitting his face in two.
“I do now, sorry,” Kim’s cheeks flushing with colour, while she tried to keep her cool.
“You sure do blush a lot, Kimbo.” Connor stated, somewhat mockingly.
“It’s a disease,” Kim said, trying to be witty. And failing.
Connor took a step closer, so close that Kimberley could feel his breath on her forehead, He must have grown.
“Infect me,” were Connor’s only words.

KIm’s Strory: Part 1

This is the start of a fictional story based on a good friend of mine. She’ll probably hate me for this but hey… 

She turned on her heel, looking back at the shallow lake behind her. It was a dark shade of aqua, so very dark that on first glance, one would think it was black.
However, this wasn’t her first glance. Kimberley had lived in this town, of around 200,000 people, for her entire life and she knew this area like the back of her hand. But better.
Kim looked up, suddenly alert. The action caused her unruly hair to take an even more unusual shape. She searched the scene, with her eyes, wondering what had startled her.
At that moment a motorcycle roared past, and the rider, donning dark jeans, a leather jacket and a black helmet, shouted something seemingly inaudible.
He shouted once again, and his voice, carried by the wind, swiftly reached Kimberley. “How’s life as a ginger?” His voice spoke, or perhaps screamed depending on opinion.
“It’s not ginger,” Kim replied, easily aggravated, “It’s strawberry blond!” A hint of playfulness completed her tone.
The bike, a Harley Davidson it seems, came to a sharp halt. In one swift manoeuvre, he had turned the bike and it was speeding towards Kim.
Any normal seventeen year old would be terrified, but Kim knew better and stayed exactly still, watching, waiting. As the rider disembarked off his vehicle, removing his helmet and taking the key from the ignition, Kimberley was taken aback by his good looks, though if you asked her she would refuse to admit such a thing.
“Hey, I don’t know if you recognise me, I’m Connor Campbell,” he introduced himself with a half smile adorning his lips, “We used to be in Geography class together. Kimberley, right?”

I My Life Was A Story, I’d Be The Author

No one else I going to write it for you. It’s up to you where your tale takes you, that’s why I’ve always thought it best to stray away from relying on others – if you want something doing properly do it yourself. You’re the one that decides what action you’re going to take. If you’re part of a team take your task and do it properly because no one else will do it for you, and if you don’t do your task properly no one else will do their own properly meaning the whole project will be unsuccessful.
Yet somethings can not be done alone. For example, you can’t stop global warming alone, but if everyone did their bit we would soon see the difference.
If we all recycled, reused and reduced the world would be a better place. But not all people listen, so if one person that didn’t usually recycle, reuse or reduce began the world would be a better place, and one-by-one people would begin to listen and maybe they will help make the difference.
So if you think that you can’t make a difference you’re wrong. Completely, absolutely and utterly wrong. You are the difference.

I know that I contradict myself a lot in that text but what I’m trying to say is the environment can’t write it’s own story, we have to write it.