Left out I see your stares across the room How you get upset when you can’t sit next to one of your friends and you have to sit next to me Because I’m not of your better friends Even though you say I am I see how you look at eachother when I talk Trying to say something to you But you don’t hear You’re too busy walking away Or ignoring me I see how you look at her in class I’m sitting behind you but I still see I wish I could sit with you But there isn’t enough room For 3 I don’t know if you thought I wouldn’t notice When you cropped me out of the photo I took of us I took the photo Yet you don’t want me in it I trusted my heart that we were friends Yet my heart believes in fiction I see the way you tell people About hanging out with the group Right in front of me I see how you post on your social media About getting ready for a dance together A pre hangout I was not invited to Yet you say all your close friends were there I thought we were close I see how you post Saying that you’re with your faves On your story Using the photos I’m not in While you still tell me we are close It feels as if I’m invisible in everything Going unnoticed And nobody is there to wonder If anyone is being left out

Meet Henry, a man whose life story is as eventful as it is intriguing. With a dexterous touch that belies his years, Henry's hands seem to possess a wisdom earned through decades of navigating antiquated machinery and crafting intricate works of art. His weathered face tells tales of a bygone era, where each line and wrinkle whispers of a life filled with both triumphs and tribulations. From his humble beginnings in a small countryside town to his adventures across distant lands, Henry's journey is a testament to resilience and adaptability in the face of ever-changing landscapes. Despite the passage of time, his passion for craftsmanship remains undiminished, a timeless quality that transcends the boundaries of age and era. Henry's life is a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit, a reminder that even in the most antiquated of settings, the pursuit of excellence knows no bounds.

I were antiquated clothes so some people think I’m weird My life is very eventful. This week I’m going to my grandmas house, I have cross country on Tuesday and I have church on Sunday. I love crafting stuff so we could say I’m dexterous. Anyways I’m Zebide and I am very busy. Listen trying to get a job is harder then it looks and to add to that my roommate Shayla is always bragging about how many jobs she has! Since people think I’m weird that also is part of the reason I don’t get hired. One day I was at the store and I saw a poster. It said “Calling all people who like to craft! Go to the old Warehouse at 3:00 on December 13!” I looked at the date and almost doubled over in panic! Today was the 13 and it was 2:50! I had exactly 10 minutes to get there. So I raced out of the store, got into my truck and zoomed of to the warehouse. I managed to find a parking spot and got out. As I ran over to the doors I noticed it looked deserted but I decided to go in and look. The doors creaked as I opened them and I stepped in. A cheerful man popped out of nowhere and asked if I was here for the crafting. I said I was and he led me to a room then closed the door and locked it.

Years later some people were digging in the ground to make a building when they encountered a skeleton. They took it to some scientists who examined it and said it was a young man around 21 that had died when the building exploded and caved in in the 1980s. They also found some remains of some tools but nothing else. This skeleton was called the mystery man and his story would never be completely uncovered.

In the midst of an exceedingly eventful city, there existed a character, lets name him Jerry, whose eccentricity was unmatched. His fashion sense was nothing short of antiquated, as he roamed the bustling streets dressed in royal purple Victorian-era attire, complete with a top hat and pocket watch. With his peculiar wardrobe and his penchant for quoting obscure literature, he was like a character plucked from the pages of a Jules Verne novel.

What truly set him apart, though, was his dexterous nature. He had an uncanny ability to manipulate everyday objects into fantastical contraptions. This gifted inventor was renowned for his ability to transform an antique typewriter into a machine that brewed perfect espresso, all while reciting Shakespearean sonnets. He effortlessly navigated through the cacophonous cityscape, his nimble fingers making swift adjustments to his curious creations.

Despite his peculiar appearance and outlandish inventions, the denizens of the city held him in high regard. They marveled at his ingenuity and adored the quirkiness of his character. In a world where the modern and the digital dominated, he represented a charming link to a bygone era.

Every day was an adventure for Jerry, as he delved into the town's forgotten corners and uncovered hidden treasures long thought to be lost to time. His presence was a beacon of inspiration for those who dared to dream beyond the confines of the ordinary, reminding everyone that in a world steeped in history and mystery, the most remarkable stories were yet to be written.

Everything in Amerie’s life may appear exciting and eventful as a princess. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. She gets tutored in the morning and learns about the truly antiquated regulations set on her and her people. Boring lectures. Expected to sit still. The books. She hates it all.

The only time she feels alive is during her training. Her mind clears from the fog that formed during her lessons. You can’t overthink when a sword rushes towards you. The physicality and movement also draws her to fighting. Dexterous sword handling is required for Allaver soldiers. The fiercest warriors learn from her kingdom, and she loves it being one of them. She loves learning different weapons and using them in her practices.

Being fifth in line for the throne, people tend to think that would make her disappointed or jealous, but relief floods her body every time the word ‘fifth’ is mentioned. If she could train and be an Allaver soldier or guard for the rest of her life, it would be a fulfilling life.

Too bad that wasn’t what the world had in store for her.

Today was eventful And fitful With antiquated And dilapidated Feelings Which are disastrous And dexterous At the same time

She’s the kind of girl Who makes anything eventful Always the main character
With her there’s never a dull day

She tells gender roles off As antiquated A rigged game of monopoly She doesn’t even bother to play

Change doesn’t intimidate her It energizes her Delightfully dexterous She can’t help but carve her own way

She feels at home No matter who’s in the room She keeps her insecurity At bay

Wow, this girl sounds amazing! Charismatic and fearless! I want to get drinks with her Today!

Alas, she doesn’t exist

She’s just the version of me
I wish I could be I’d love to meet her too Someday

His normally perfectly tousled blonde locks were horribly disheveled with bits of leaves and twigs stuck amongst his curls. His once dexterous fingers, that could make a violin sing, were all broken and bloodied. His body was curled into the fetal position and he was wearing an antiquated blue dressing gown, that was now stained with his blood. It was clear that whatever had happened to Charlie that night had been eventful.

*read part one first

—————————————— You are in your imagination world again. “You’re back.” Says the girl, so close to your face that you jump, startled. She steps back, and reveals the landscape behind you. You’re on the edge of a forest, but you can still see the scratchy field stretching behind you. “Would you like me to answer your question?” She asks, and you nod, slowly. “I need you to help me find the golden giant” She whispers. You let the words echo in your ears, And you nod again, more determined this time. Then you step into the land of wood. As you crunch through the deep yellow trees, You watch as the girl aimlessly whittles a branch. You hadn’t noticed her antiquated leather bag until now, but it’s probably where she got the knife. Her dextrose hands flick and curve in rhythmic motions. Time moves faster in you imagination, (everyone knows that) and the sun, soon slides quickly down the sky. As the sky colors and darkens, you walk on- silently except for the shrk, shrk, of the girls blade. Earlier on your walk you had tried to engage some simple conversation, but the girl had been confusing to talk to, she seemed to change, like a shapeshifter, into different forms: tall, leader like, reserved, hunched shoulders, then long strides, then cheerful talk, then suddenly silent.

But even in this eventful exchange, you had learnt the girl’s name. Arum. And so you walked in the quiet forest with the girl named Arum.

I make quick work of the antiquated lock, the thick metal rattling open and dropping with a clunk. I leave it there and will make sure to put it back later.

That’s the trick—making it like you were never here. I smile at the ease.

And Doc said tonight would be eventful.

I shake my head and tuck my steel pick into the leather kit and slip them into my inner jacket pocket, the one closest to my heart. I doubt I love anything as much as this tool kit. Everyone and everything else has let me down. My cracking tools haven’t failed me yet.

I slide my nimble fingers over the outer frame, feeling each bump and divot, calculating.

Stuck tight.

A quick spray of oil and a slice through the thick coat of paint, and the outer hinge swings open—the contents mine for the taking.

All I need is ten seconds and it’ll be like I was never here.

It’s the easiest score this week. I’m already calculating my take. If this goes to plan, I’ll only be three jobs away from my goal and my freedom.

I’m halfway in the room when the switch flips and the light flares bright. I freeze, my eyes trained on the shotgun that’s trained on my face.

The woman’s cool blue eyes take me in, dressed in all black, my red hair swept into a bun, her finger calmly on the trigger.

“Right on time,” she says, voice clipped.

Doc was right.

Eventful indeed.