Writings and Mindless Wanderings

The letter from my book:  “Aleksei, old friend, I am writing you, once again, to warn you. You seemed to have not responded to my previous letters, or taken heed to their warnings. I have tried telling you time and time again. This is not something, in which you want to mess with. Your girl cannot stay here. Harm will come upon her, if you do not act further. She does not belong. If you trust me in any way, then you must believe me when I say that she has to go back. Time is not something that you want to mess with. Furthermore, I do wish you the best and the most happiness forthcoming. Please do not make a mistake that you will regret. Any longer, and I fear that she will parish from this time.             All the love,              Barnabus Moreau”

"See you soon" he said to me after we hugged in the street I smiled sadly and waved, wishing the time could skip to two weeks The past few weeks play in my head like a picture I hoep that when you go back, you try not to kiss her. I never thought I'd like you, just thought I liked the way you held me But it turns out I like you, and all the things you tell me. I tried so hard not to like you, I liked to keep up my wall But then you look at me with that smile, and all I can do is fall. You hugged me tighter than ever while we were dancing real slow I told you that I'll miss you and you whispered "wait for me to come home."

The lights surrounding us are so bright So bright that they are blinding I used to not care about the lights Only the blinding light from your smile But now I only want the sun to set To hide away the light So I can finally see

In one moment I'm so blissfully happy Then the next, you leave me in pain. And I'll never understand if you mean the things you say. I'll never forget what you did Or the things you said in May But I feel happier knowing you could never make me happy for longer than a day.

A Song for the Gamblers The screaming and crying, hysterically laughing and sirens express all the times I tried Internally trying to fight all my demons, it seems that I've lost again this time When will the cards show, the different side to you I know I'm starting to realize that maybe its time to  Fold All the pages you skipped over Start a new story I'm through and I'm older Be Bold The cowardice you showed  Proved that you're guilty It's time to stop cheating You Showed Your troubled past and how you felt But if life's a game, you can't blame it on the hand you were dealt Now Fold You need to stop you hurting before you gamble your life away Just Fold

Dear Ms. Epstein, I’m currently looking to publish my YA debut novel  I Remember When.  I think you might find an interest in this, because you said that you were looking for new voices in fiction. My book is reminiscent of the film  Midnight in Paris  as well as the book  The Mortal Instruments. My story is about a strong-willed girl with an old soul and affinity for the past named Evelyn. She has recently moved to a new town, and began working at an antique store called “I Remember When.” The owner of this store is an old Russian man with a temper named Aleksei. She is constantly being bothered by a frustratingly obnoxious man named Isaiah who is insistent on annoying Eve throughout her day.  One day, Eve goes into the closet of the store and finds a mysterious letter addressed to Aleksei from the 1960s from a man named Barnabas Moreau. This man is warning Alek to “stop messing with time” and to “keep the girl from harm.” Eve gets back to work until she goes to the back r