Walking on Fire

Chapter 5

Chapter five

Julie Fescue

  I have been thinking a lot about life lately. Not my own personal life, but life in general. See, one little thing you do can change things for better, or for worse; not that I’m making a reference to a traditional matrimonial ceremony speech or anything…

 If you do something that most would consider “bad”, then there’s not much you can do to change what has already happened, unless of course sometime off in the far distant future they invent a time machine… but for now, I think it’s safe to say that we won’t be visiting our pre-historic ancestors anytime soon. On the other hand, if we do something, say, “good”, we could be loved for it or hated just as much, rendering us in a never-ending bittersweet relationship, maybe even suffering with a tuff case of internal conflict. People will encourage you to keep moving forward, while others will spit in your face and tell you ‘you ain’t worth a thing’, but honestly that is what makes life beautiful and undeterminable. Would people really be happy knowing exactly the way their life would go, from the moment they had the capability to think on their own? This is where I suspect the whole idea of “actions and consequences” began. If you change what you are about to do at a quick spur of the moment, then the outcome will shift in another direction as well, so choose wisely.

Life is an indefinite drug that people can use to their advantage but also ruin everything within it.

I guess that is why some people are said to be ‘High on life’.

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I was beginning to get a migraine from the air in the room.

It is currently intoxicated with the “fresh” scent of multiple cleaning products that are being used to wash away Fleur and I’s care-free lifestyle so that they don’t deem us irresponsible. ‘They’ being my wrinkly grandparents who should arrive anytime soon now.

It’s not that we live in a pig sty, ‘ha. Get it?‘ but my grandfather tends to be a little particular on how clean his surroundings are. He could use even a little spec of dirt, against us, telling me that I need to be more cautious or I would never survive in this world.

He thinks Fleur is a bit reckless and that she is a bad influence on me. He’s even gone as far as pulling me aside, away from Fleur’s ear shot, to tell me that I need to find a better place to live, but I think she heard anyway.

It’s really quite ironic though, since it was his idea to let me go out on my own at 18.

My grandma on the other hand is quite the saint, she was opposed of me moving out, which really leads me to believe that opposites attract. If this weren’t so, why would my grandparents even be together? Did they once have that cookie-cutter, cliché, thing people refer to as ‘love’?

At the end of the day though, I know my grandpa is trying to help me make the right choices.

Oh the Choices.

I snapped back into reality as I heard the volume of the radio in the kitchen suddenly increase greatly. The apartment was then filled with Elvis’s voice singing one of his most popular songs, “Hound dog”.

Quickly, I exited my room and went to the kitchen to turn down the music, knowing that the next door neighbor wouldn’t be too pleased to have her baby waking up right after being put to sleep.

As I walked in, I caught Fleur in the middle of the living room, on top the couch, singing into a bottle of air freshener.

“Hey, I’m turning down the music! You know what the next door neighbor told us last time!” I yelled loud enough so that I could try to get her to hear me.