Here I present you with a creative writing piece I did way back when. It may seem unimportant and slightly redundant, however, I found that it is sometimes nice to take a look at where you started compared to where you are now.

Prologue:

The stripped mattress-of-hay was anything but a disappointment to the fair-skinned beauty with crystal blue eyes. She had always felt fortunate to even have a bed. She had always felt blessed her mother left her and her sister in the care of their Auntie Katherine. Oui, she went out with friends most nights, but she worked all day long to support Iris and Isabelle. However, Iris was left to raise Isabelle and keep up their home.

Carefree and full of life, a chocolate-eyed young man is described; currently, the aerialist for Cirque Du Soleil. He was the truly fortunate one, grew up in a loving home with a mother and siblings whom always believed in him including a father whom worked all day, and always paid for the gigantic family meals, prepared by Mam while the children played, each night. He was living the easy life and never stopped to think what other life was about. All he ever cared about was joining the circus and having the freedom to be in one country for a night and wake up the next morning in another. He was always referred to as a “dreamer.”

Iris is the girl that raises her sister. Jack dreams of joining the circus. Chance, will one day, bring them together, but will fate pull them apart?

Iris:

The calendar proclaimed the day was April 21, 1963 and the Eiffel Tower proved we were in Paris but I felt as if my parents died ten minutes ago in the French countryside. The pain was still fresh in my mind. My auntie raced over to our home, where I was caring for baby Isabelle. Her voice proclaimed her sister and her brother-in-law were both killed in a fresh car accident. I twitched in remembrance. We rushed over to the hospital only to see my mother’s and my father’s lifeless bodies, the sorrow of my first ten years. For the first few years Isabelle walked around murmuring, “Where’s Maman? Where’s Papa?” I think she then caught on.

I was at my favorite place in all of France, L'histoired'unLivre, a shabby little bookstore on the corner of Avenue Kléber and Champs-Élysées.

As I was hunting in the never-ending labyrinth of stories, I heard the softest little whine “J’ai faim, I’m hungry.” cried the little voice.

Wearily I peeked down, where the noise was born, and there was my whiny younger sister, Isabelle. Oh yeah, I had to bring her along too! Within the thirty seconds I had left “Literature Land” I had come to know Isabelle’s legs were sore, she was very hungry, and L'histoired'unLivre had the very pungent smell of our very old basement.

I had heard enough; I gripped Isabelle’s small hand and stomped out of there, but not before saying “au revoir” to Pierre, L'histoired'unLivre’s owner.

Jack:

I have always believed the circus is where children’s’ dreams become reality. I base that thought upon my own childhood experiences that would be the reason I was employed with them. However, lately I had been feeling down. Garret and Sageio, my two best friends, had recently married. And I felt as if Maura and Cosette had stolen them from me. Alma had brought upon me the thought of finding a girl for myself, before; but now I’m actually considering. Today Alma has sent me for some raspberries, so I better go. She mentioned a farmer’s market up within walking distance of the tent.

Iris:

The market was abundant with organic fruits and vegetables. There were hordes of people surrounding me. Once again, I could barely hear Isabelle’s cry, even in the mess of people. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a raspberry stand bursting with fresh ripe raspberries. All of the sudden I had a powerful craving for raspberries. I tugged Isabelle in the stand’s direction, and asked her gently if she would care for some raspberries. Although, she refused due to the aroma of fresh baked bread wafting our way, I purchased some anyway. The aroma, however, was rich I felt my stomach yearn for it, just smelling it. But bread was too expensive, and we have no money to begin with. I purchased a petite basket of raspberries. I started for home with the smell of the fresh baked bread resting in my nose. When a man, looked about my age, with shaggy brownish gold hair collided into me. Salvaging what was left of my raspberries, which the man offered to replace, we exchanged apologies and he asked to see me again, his chocolate eyes starred into my soul and found my most vulnerable parts. I immediately wished to know more about the stranger, but another time. I had Isabelle with me and she looked weak, she hadn’t been getting much sleep due to recent nightmares of Maman.

So, I held out my hand and announced, “Iris.”

Jack:

On my way to the market I spotted a flyer, for our circus, then another, and another, and another. I was unsure if that meant the people adored us, or we were desperate for an audience. Soon I found myself at the market hunting for fresh raspberries when I noticed an elderly woman operating a raspberry stand. I started for it when I collided with the most exquisite girl I had ever seen. Her overall appearance just oozed with benevolence, her wavy light-brown hair fell just below her lower back and her eyes, blue like my younger sisters, back in Ireland. When we hit she dropped almost everything in her grasp, except a younger girl’s hand. It was apparent she recently visited the raspberry stand; she dropped a whole assortment of berries as well as a few books. She salvaged what she could of her raspberries. I apologized, as well as she, and she held out her hand while shouting something I couldn’t hear over the pool of people. I went to shake but when our eyes really met I stood frozen like a fool. She held her hand out while I starred then she just put her hand by her side and dragged the younger girl away with a look of disappointment seeping through her glowing cheeks. I stood in the mess of people still stagnant, people of all different countries rush around me like an obstacle. I returned to Earth feeling dismayed, whyhadn’t I returned her booksor asked her name, I hadn’t even said my name. With, what was then, a feeling of disgust I looked through her books one appeared to be a journal filled with sketches and thoughts. It also had a business card in it from L'histoired'unLivre. I purchased exactly 53 raspberries, as Alma clearly instructed, and continued towards the tent, but not before stopping at L'histoired'unLivre on the corner of Avenue Kléber and Champs-Élysées.

Iris:

On my way home I noticed many flyers for the circus. From what I can remember, mother used to take me there quite frequently. Now I find it hard to recall the big blue and yellow circus tents. In my moment of impulsive thinking I decided I would visit the circus and take Isabelle as well, it had occurred to me she had never been. I also thought about him. But what’s the point, I’ll never see his dashing smile again. When I made it home Isabelle and I scrimmaged up loose change from below the saggy couch cushions, and in Auntie’s dresser. We gathered fifty euros by the end, just enough to get two tickets. The following night, the debut of the circus, I carefully braided Isabelle’s hair and dressed her in her finest hand-me-down; she looked so beautiful, innocent and youthful. I was as well modeling secondhand fashions, from my mother. And so, we started off for “Cirque du Solei.”

Jack:

A fellow named Pierre at L'histoired'unLivre told nothing valuable about my mystery girl except her name may be Iris, my mother’s name, and she frequently goes there. He refused to confess more; he did however mention something about if I would like to see her I would have to up for an adventure. Hello? I’m in the circus, but my only fear was time we were leaving for Germany in three days and had only one small clue of where to find her. Alma interrupted my thoughts and hurried me to rehearsal.

Iris:

The tent was just as I remember, pointed top, the somewhat rounded base, and the blue and golden yellow stripes that filled my dreams since I was seven years old, when my mother last brought me here. Isabelle’s eyes widened and sparkled at the sight of the stripes and for once in all my life Isabelle wasn’t whining. In fact, she said nothing at all, her jaw was just dropped and it remained down the entire performance. Her absolute wonder was just so touching. Then an aerialist became center stage and I felt my cheeks turn to rose bushes as he flew past me. Our eyes met once and I felt as if I’d known him my entire life.

Jack:

Gliding through the air the air was the only thing in the world that could take my mind off of Iris. When I preform with my ropes is the only time I feel truly free. Otherwise there’s always someone to tell me how it’s done. When I was a boy my first trip to the circus with my mum followed me. All my dreams have been filled with strong men, bearded ladies, and acrobats.

“When I grow up I will run away and join the circus!” I had always boasted to my poor mother. She had just always replied with a phony, “And runaway you shall!” I knew in secret she had always wanted me to become something productive like my brother, the doctor. But he hasn’t seen the world. Sure, he’s married and has a large paycheck; however he never seems as content as I was with puny paycheck and no companion.

Once again, Alma interrupted my thoughts and exclaimed, “show time!”

Iris:

When the man was no longer airborne, I’ll admit I was disappointed, considering the clowns just replaced him. Throughout their skit of repeatedly squirting water in one another’s faces all I could think about was the graceful mystery aerialist, where had I known him from. I wanted to start jotting down ideas into my journal but panic rapidly overcame me when I couldn’t find it. I began to mentally retrace my steps, but I kept getting interrupted by an image of the aerialist’s face, his soft skin and thick hair.

Jack:

Time stood still. Not a single clock ticked, not a single eye blinked. I had found her, sitting in the third row of our sad excuse of a tent with all the screaming children and miserable parents. Deep in my heart I felt she deserved better, but what could I give her? In my still moment of bliss I realized I had to at least converse with her before I throw away all of my options. So, almost instantaneously, I made the decision to see her immediately after the show. And then I started to fly again, as I took my final bow I looked at Iris, she seemed to be searching for something, her journal, frantically.

During the crowd’s final applaud Iris stood with her younger sister and headed for the exit.
“Iris!!!” I roared.

My circus mates just stared at me as if I’d gone mad. There they were, her crystal eyes, fluttering her thick eyelashes, she looked up. We all stood in the center of the ring as we waited for the pools of people to pour out. She patiently remained in the bleachers, I ran up to her before anyone could tell me different.

Immediately, we both cooed in unison, “Have we met before?”

I was the first to respond, “Yeah, my name is Jack. By any chance, is your name Iris?” I then pointed in her the younger girl’s direction, “Is she your sister?”

Iris:

His chocolate eyes met mine, and in that moment my heart skipped a beat.

I felt clueless, “oui and oui,” I had foolishly said.

“I have something of yours.” His thick Irish accent sounded.

I never imagined I would see him again, so in my absolute shock I murmured, “Is it my journal?”

Jack:

“Pardon?” I couldn’t quite make out what she was trying to surface. “Would you like to talk in my dressing room? Alma, the stage director and my best friend, can watch your sister for a while.”

Iris:

I hastily agreed and a tall female with green eyes like clovers and shoulder-length golden hair took Isabelle away for a moment.

His dressing area was small, yet still larger than my one-room home. He scavenged through drawers in his chestnut vanity, to finally pull out my brown faux-leather journal and a few other books of mine.

Jack:

“Do you want to see something?” I asked shyly.

“Vous, sure.” she questionably answered.

Iris:

He led me into the night. On a grassy hill underneath a willow tree, where we talked, danced, and he even serenaded me with the greatest love song of the time, “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You” by Elvis Presley. He wasn’t a bad singer.

Jack:

Underneath the willow I asked her about her journal, why were there so many drawings of girls in odd clothes? She explained it was all part of her dream to become a designer, she knew tomorrow’s fashions today. I didn’t understand. She was seventeen years old, and her eight-year-old sister’s name was Isabelle. Her parents died in a car accident in the countryside and she cares for her sister, beside her aunt. I was in love.

Iris:

He was nineteen, his parents didn’t approve of his childish circus ways. He always had to live up to his brother, the doctor, and his sister, the perfect housewife. He loved music, and dreams meant everything to him. He spoke of how it felt to run away, the excitement, the adventure, and the sort of emptiness at first. I was in love.

Jack:

Her body fit perfectly between my arms. As we snuggled under the moonlight, she got up with a sudden jolt.

“My aunt!” she shouted, and ran down the hill and to the tent.

Iris:

His arms were wrapped around me when I realized Auntie Katherine did not know I took Isabelle to the circus. Therefore when she soon got home she would be apprehensive. So I dashed down the hill towards the tent for Isabelle. Alma handed over Isabelle with a smile on her face; I wasn’t sure what that meant.

I was sprinting home with an exhausted Isabelle in my arms when I heard him shout something about the Eiffel Tower.

Jack:

I never wanted it to end like this; the next day was my last day in France so I shouted to her the first thing that came to mind, “Meet me at the tower tomorrow night at seven o’clock!”

Iris:

Jack’s voice echoed in my mind. As I raced home though back alleyways. I made it home seconds before an exhausted Katherine. That night, after I put Isabelle in bed, I dreamed of him.

Jack:

She flooded my dreams. A nightmare she hadn’t heard me, and a dream we lived together until we both passed in our late years.

Iris:

The next morning Isabelle raved about the “sympa, nice” lady that cared for her at the circus; how they saw the “grosse, big” elephants, and the “assez, pretty” costumes. She also had questions about the “garcon, boy.”

I told her about how we ran into each other the day we bought the then spoiling raspberries. And how talked last night, and fell in love almost instantaneously. It was over her head, it was over my head! But I still wished to see him again; then all that was left to do was go to the tower tonight.

Jack:

I awoke the next morning feeling rather ill, could it have been heartbreak? Or was I just sleep-deprived due to my late night chat with Alma about Iris. We, or at least I, went on forever about Iris, my love. Alma wasn’t the nicest; however she was my only family, or at least the only person who could stand my squeals.

Iris:

Katherine had actually been home late that afternoon. I happened to be fixing a salad fit for a rabbit when she burst through the door with tears pouring out of her eyes.

She began to thank me for all the years I cared for Isabelle, and then she bawled she’d be home more often, “every night,” she pleaded.

I felt warm pools of salt water forming in my eyes as well.

Jack:

That night after the show I ran to the tower on hoping Iris had heard my cry. The full moon that surrounded by the purple sky was rather promising; however, Iris’s “good girl” presentation was not. Either way I was there, waiting.

Iris:

“I’ll do it! Wait, I don’t know…” I whispered to myself as I trudged to the farmer’s market for that night’s dinner.

I miss Jack. I thought to myself. But what if he wants me to go with him, to I don’t know, other places… I can’t just leave Isabelle. Then I thought of my sobered up auntie whom vowed to care for Isabelle as thought or can I? I sped home with groceries in hand and tossed them in Auntie Katherine’s direction.

Ihollered, “Headed for the tower!” and well, I headed for the tower.

Jack:

I began to worry; I’d been scanning the streets for over an hour and still no sign of Iris.

Iris:

When I reached the tower I worried I wouldn’t find Jack. Much like the farmer’s market the Eiffel Tower was crowded with tourists as well. Then I saw him standing in the middle of all the commotion, directly under the tower, I ran for him.

Jack:

After hours of people watching ridiculous tourists, I saw her running in my direction. She jumped into my arms and kissed me.

Iris:

I did something I had only dreamed about, I kissed him. The moon lit the purple night sky creating the perfect scene for a romantic movie kiss. His lips were soft like the way my father used to talk to me. And I felt safe in his grasp as he spun me around, it was all truly magical.

Jack:

I’ve never felt so satisfied, all this time I yearned for her touch, my body ached for her love and then I had it. Time yet again stood still, the city of love had worked its magic again. Then I had something to ask her.

Iris:

He put me down and time started to move again.

“I have to ask you something.” He said timidly.

Here it comes. I thought to myself.

“I’m leaving for Germany tomorrow, but I could never leave you.” He continued, “Will you run away with me?” he asked hesitantly.

Jack:

“I can’t imagine life without you,” she urged, “but I also can’t imagine life without Isabelle.” She went on, “I’m sorry, Jack, I can’t just leave my life. I’ve lived here for seventeen years. I can’t give it up.”

Iris:

He was angered at first, possessed only by his own rage he shouted, “I WOULD GIVE EVERYTHING UP FOR YOU! I would do anything for you. You keep my world on its axis… I love you.”

There it was, the moment of his truth. He in fact loved me too… but I still turned away. With my miniscule heart, my weak spirit, my meager drive, and my cowardly courage… I let him go. I couldn’t leave Isabelle and I couldn’t leave with Isabelle. How… feeble of my thoughts.

The first year he was gone was the hardest, the circus didn’t come at all that spring, and therefore I couldn’t see him. Rather than facing reality I thought of things to numb my mind. I told myself stories of how I was a rich girl whom lived with her mother in the big city, we were the wealthiest family in town… the lowest thing was I believed it. The way I acted, it was almost as if my mother died all over again. I denied all of reality; I sat in the house staring at the ground for hours at a time and fantasized. Of course, there were always times Jack snuck into my thoughts, those were the hardest days. Those days I often wondered if Jack thought of me like I did of him.

Jack:

She knew me in ways I didn’t even know myself; she was the perfect version of me. Without her I became the definition of depression, much like before. Except this time it was worse. Maybe it was because I knew my perfect fit existed but I couldn’t have her. Soon after she denied my request that she travel with me I was unable to perform. I lost my job, but not my family. My circus-mates kept me like a stray kitten. They couldn’t bear to see me on the streets starving, but they also couldn’t bear to see my mushy- depressed-self attempting to “fly” through the air, or scratch their new leather sofa. I sat in on rehearsals but more than not I thought of Iris; I craved her presence. I soon wondered if she thought of me the same way, I did say I loved her.

Iris:

For two years I sat in a depressed mush. Then the circus came back in town.

Jack:

Alma informed me we were going back to Paris and I started to live again. I began to sleep, I began to eat, and I began to dream again. Iris was the only thing keeping me going, and the thought of me having a chance of seeing her again made my heart melt. I was practically her puppet.

Iris:

I was the first to buy a ticket to the circus, I had a dress and I had a plan to see Jack. Everything I did from the time I heard the circus was back was all part of my plan. I told my auntie about Jack and how he might ask me to travel with him and how I might agree. She had sobered up, who else took care of Isabelle while I sat in my own sorrow?

Jack:

I was backstage the first night back in France; I watched every act and scanned the crowd for her. There she was, in the exact same seat as the first time, she looked a little sickly; her once flawless face was now concave and pale green in color.

Iris:

I questioned my plan when I saw Jack was no longer the aerialist. But during the final applaud I stood and cheered for Jack, Jack, the ex-aerialist for Cirque du Solei, Jack, my love. The rows cleared but the artists did not. I ran down to center stage and Jack kneeled.

Jack:

“I simply refuse to lose you again. I don’t wish for anymore sleepless nights, or joyless events. That is why I am asking for your hand. Iris Catherine, will you be my new adventure?” I had the entire thing planned since Alma informed me of our trip to France.

Iris:

Tears snuck up in my eyes, and a smile crept to my face, “Oui! YES!” I exclaimed. And then I kissed him just like before, only this time with friends, family, watching. I couldn’t have been happier, until he broke the next news on me.

Jack:

“I’ve been re-hired to Cirque and we’re no longer going to be a traveling circus. We are going to set up a permanent tent in the United States. Would you like to start over there? If disagree, I will stay with you.” I verbalized.

Iris:

“Without you, I was nothing. Starting over is exactly what I need. Oui, yes, of course I will travel with you.” I agreed.

Jack:

I was ecstatic she agreed. And we recapped our last two miserable years underneath the same willow tree that night.

Iris:

Within a couple of days I was packed, I said my goodbyes, and I was headed for America. Auntie Katherine was for once in her life happy for me , and Isabelle made it hard to go but I knew she had Auntie The Circus set its tent up in New York and soon after that they set up another in Las Vegas and then Southern California.

Jack:

Through those years Iris and I followed the circus and ended up here in Orange County. We suffered thorough silly fights about the rent on our one-room apartment, or me forgetting to pick up Peter and Nora from school. But we always held together. I always wondered what our glue was, was it the vows we exchanged on our wedding day. Or was it something more? Like, did fate really want us to meet that April of 1957?

Epilogue:

Iris’s and Jack’s grandchildren sat in awe throughout their grandparents’ story. The romance and the suspense of how their family came to be was truly fascinating. Yet the part their grandpa said about fate was beyond their young heads, when the story was finished Nora’s children sat pondering what fate really did plan out.

And so we march on, the believers, the dreamers, the doers, the seers- all flowing as one on the path that fate presented us with, destiny. As we flow we walk with the thought of fate reminiscing through the shadows of our minds.