My original intent was to write the most voted for idea, but since i don't feel a lot of passion for that idea, i decided to put it off a little. I am doing the idea that takes place in modern times. I had a lot more scenes and stuff for that idea. I hope you guys will enjoy the short stories i will write using that idea. Anyways, enjoy i'm sorry if it sounds harsh or something. I forgot to post 'nanowrimo story' as my title

Origins
2000, Texas
Clear skies are seen, blues and whites. My soul is not clear. It is cloudy, dark. For one reason, or another, thoughts of my brother swim through my head. I can still remember that day.
It is ten years ago. 1990.
I am fifteen, doing homework, listening to mother’s rapid Korean. She is on the phone, and finally gets off. “Great news,” she says.
“Yes?” Father asks. He is sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper. He does not stop, but continues to read.
“Samuel is coming over, and he is bringing over a girl.”
Samuel is the oldest brother, and he is a role model. “A girl?” I ask.
“Yes.” Mother is giddy, happy. I smile. A girl! Finally Samuel is serious about someone. At the time, Samuel is twenty-three. He is single, and does not attach easily to people. The fact that he’s serious about someone means a great deal. “I bet she’s a beautiful Korean girl, the type that mothers would want for their sons to marry. I hope she knows how to cook Kim chi.”
Kim chi is my brother’s favorite dish. It is spicy cabbage. “When is he coming over?”
“Today.” Mother runs into the kitchen and begins to bustle around with plates and dishes, creating every single food that one can imagine. My youngest brother and I continue to do homework.
Finally, nighttime arrives. Everything is ready for Samuel and his mysterious girlfriend. Doorbell rings, mother, a huge smile on her face, runs over to the door and opens it.
I watch as her face changes. She continues to smile, but her eyes are different, no longer glitter. What’s wrong? I wonder. It doesn’t take long to find out.
Samuel enters, stress of traveling is seen on his face, and following Samuel is a white girl. A white girl! My mind is in shock. How could he do this? Date a white girl? My cheeks turn red. “Mother,” he begins. “Father, this is Julia.”
“Nice to meet you Julia,” mother says. “Its nice of you to bring over a guest, now where is the girl you wanted us to meet?”
He looks confused, I notice. “This is the girl,” he finally replies. Mother switches to Korean.
“She’s white! She’s not Korean. What are you thinking?”
“I love her though.” Samuel replies in Korean.
I study Julia carefully. She is tall, red-haired, with blue eyes. In an odd way, she is pretty. Unlike many of my white friends, she is not wearing the mask of confusion. She understands what they’re saying, my brain screams.
She, however, stands there respectfully. Why is she acting dumb? I ask myself. I know she can defend herself. She, however, chooses not to.
Twenty minutes pass, and Samuel, along with Julia, is finally seated at the table. Immediately, my brother dives in for Kim chi. Mother doesn’t show Julia any respect. She speaks in Korean to my brothers, my father, and me. She never says a word to Julia. That meal passes too slowly, and there is still unsaid anger in her rapid movements.
Julia fidgets, and speaks in English. Mother ignores her. The message is clear: you’re not welcome here. You can’t ever be part of the family.
Later on, I am excused, and I go upstairs to do my homework. “Excuse me,” I hear someone say. I turn around and see Julia.
“Yes?”
“Can you tell me where the bathroom is?”
“Sure,” I point down the hall. “Its to your right.”
“Thanks.” She begins to walk
“Julia?” I call out.
She stops and turns towards me. “Yes?”
“Why are you dating my brother? You’re not Korean.”
She laughs. “Do I have to be Korean to be with your brother?”
“Yes. Mother is not happy that you’re here.”
“I know. I got interested in Korean culture,” she admits. “I enjoy listening to 1tym, and Seo Taji.”
“That’s not it though.”
“Your brother loves me for me. I don’t think he cares about my ethnicity.”
“You understood my brother and mother.”
She grins. “I did. I know your mother doesn’t like me. It’s a secret though.”
“Samuel doesn’t know that you understand Korean?”
“No he doesn’t know,” she admits.
“How did you learn Korean?” She becomes fascinating then. She is not like other white girls I meet, ones that are ignorant.
“At school. When I was your age, I had a Korean friend who’s a girl. She taught me Korean, and gave me Korean music to listen.” Pause. “Promise you won’t tell anyone that I can understand Korean.”
“I promise.”
She walks to the bathroom then.
Later, it is time for Julia to leave. Only Samuel showed her any type of goodbye. The rest of us ignored her.
After she left, mother began to argue with Samuel. “A white girl? Haven’t I raised you right? Haven’t I taught you anything?”
“Mother,” Samuel protests. “I love her. It’s the girl I want to be with.”
“You won’t have anyone behind you.”
“Mother.” Samuel protests.
Samuel, then, continued to date her for another month before breaking up with her. Later on, after marrying a right type of girl, he confessed to me that he regrets letting Julia go.
“She’s everything I wanted in a girl; the looks, body, brains. And I let her go. My wife is nothing like her.”
“It has to be for the best though. She’s white, and we’re Korean. Our parents know best.”
Samuel sighs. “You haven’t been in love yet, Michael. Once you fall in love with someone, you’ll understand why letting go of Julia hurts.”
I couldn’t say anything. Samuel has been married to Susan for five years, and even though he has two children, two girls, only I know how much he suffers secretly. His words, spoken over four years ago, still continue to haunt me.

The Street Walker
2000, Texas
On my way home, people bustle, race to catch the train. I walk straight to my baby, a car. I remember that I have to pick up some food at an Asian supermarket, but I cannot remember what food.
“Mother wants me to pick up some soybeans,” I mutter. It will be better if I go to a Korean restaurant and order restaurant food. I decide to take a walk before going back. As I walk, I notice something odd;
A girl runs past me. She knocks me down, and doesn’t even stop to apologize. I decide to follow her. She is a rude one, I think to myself. Why didn’t she notice when she knocked me down? “Hey!” I shout. The girl continues to run. She didn’t hear me, I think to myself. I shouted louder. She had to have heard me now, but she continues to run.
Finally she stops. It is near the train tracks. Sounds fill the air, it is the approaching train. She breathes, in and out, her hands clench tightly, and tears run down her face. What is she doing?
She walks slowly, each step deliberate and slow. She begins to mutter, dying words. “Wait!” I shout. “Stop!” She continues to ignore me. I race towards her and grab her hand. “Look, whatever stuff you’re going through isn’t worth it!” She attempts to walk forward. I realize then that she must be in a trance. She doesn’t even know that I hold her.
She stops, and her body begins to shake. She attempts to push me away, but is not successful. She is mute, doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t respond to anything. Please talk, I beg her inside. Say something, your name, whatever. Don’t just stare and be the way you are, cold and lifeless.
“Rain is falling, eternity escapes, and life becomes a trap for a willing soul.”
“What?” I ask. She said something, I realized. But what?
“Albert, I failed you. I…I failed you. You promised together forever, but you failed.”
She collapses and begins to cry loudly, sobs into the air. My feet move, but that is due to discomfort. I have never seen a girl cry like that. “Err, will you be okay?” I ask. I really want to leave, I am sorry that I have created this mess in the first place.
“Albert? Is that you?” She whispers.
“What? I’m not Albert, I’m Michael.”
“Albert,” she calls out. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay here.”
“I’m Michael,” I repeat. “I’m not Albert.” I begin to feel sorry for her. What kind of a girl is she?
“Albert!” She calls out. “Please don’t go. Please don’t let me die!”
She’s nuts, I think to myself. It will be better if I just walk away and leave her on her own. But still, pity is not an easy emotion to escape.
She crawls forward to me, and her hands wrap around my jeans. She must also be high, I think. I notice her more clearly; her eyes are large, and vacant, and red marks decorate her arms.
She escaped from a drug clinic, didn’t she? Her hair reminds me of an Afro, and she wears clothes of a hooker.
I decide to humor her. “All right, I’m Albert. Where do you live?”
“I don’t know, the stars are far away, the skies have fallen. Please take me home Albert, please don’t run away.”
I groan inside. “Get up, please get up.”
“Huh? Can’t you carry me?”
“Please get up.” I feel sick just being near her. I don’t want to touch her at all.
“I’m tired, please carry me, Albert.”
“Come on,” I urge.
No response. Her grip weakens, and she falls on the ground. I touch her with the tip of my shoe. She does not movie, but begins to snore. Is she okay? Even if it grosses me out, I pick her up, and take her to the hospital.

Discovery
2000, Texas
I knock on the door frantically, and after what feels like centuries, mother opens the door. “Eh?” She asks when she sees the strange girl in my arms. “Your girlfriend?”
“No,” I reply. “I found her outside. She wanted to kill herself.”
“Aya! You don’t bring strange girls here!” She begins to speak in Korean. “Take her to the shelter or something!”
“I would, but it turns out that she doesn’t know where she lives. She refuses to stay in the shelter.”
“Michael Park, don’t you dare to bring the girl inside! She might be a killer!”
“I doubt she’s a killer.”
“Michael,” she begins. “You can’t trust people easily these days. What if she’s an arsonist, or what if she’s a prostitute who’ll cause our house to become devalued?”
“I don’t think she’ll do that.”
“Well, who is the girl then?” She changes the subject.
“I don’t know. I was walking from work and she ran past me. I ran after her and witnessed that she wanted to commit suicide.”
“Suicide? But why?”
I shrug. “When I rescued her, she began to talk oddly. She keeps calling me Albert.”
Mother laughs. “As soon as she wakes up, get her away from here. I don’t want for her to pimp herself here.”
“I will,” I promise.
“What else do you know of her?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “She’s high, I bet.”
“Just get her away from here. Take her to her house. I don’t want to see her near my house.”
“Very well,” I agree. I understand that she can only stay here until she wakes up. Mom knows the same thing. She walks into the kitchen, and I lay the girl down on the sofa.
I study her more closely; she is wearing three bracelets on one arm. Fake gold one, green one, and blue one. Her fingers are covered by plastic rings, and are gently trembling. The only ring that stands out is a gold one, with a large diamond in the center. She is wearing a torn leather jacket, stockings, and shoes with large thick heels. “Albert,” she whispers.
“I’m Michael,” I remind her. She must’ve woken up. Her eyes are closed though. “How are you feeling?”
“It has to be you, you’ve come back.”
“I’m Michael,” I protest.
She groans, and turns towards me. Her hand reaches out towards me, fingers opening and closing. What does she want? Finally, her eyes open. They are no longer empty, they are full. To me, she seems more alert. “What happened?” She asks.
I relate the story to her.
“You’re Albert though, right?”
“I’m not,” I respond.
“You have to be, you stopped me.”
“I’m not!” I stand up and began to yell at the poor girl. “I felt sorry for you! I’m not Albert!”
“Only Albert would have stopped me. No one else cares.”
“What? That’s ridiculous! What about your family?”
“You know about my family, Albert. Please take me home, please be together again.”
“You must be nuts. I’m not Albert. I’m Michael.”
She begins to cry again. I freeze, not sure what to do. “Why are you being so mean to me, Albert? Don’t you love me anymore?”
I slap my forehead. My God, doesn’t that girl listen? What’s wrong with her? I told her many times that I’m not Albert. Why does she refuse to stop calling me Albert? “Where do you live?” I ask.
“Hmm? Don’t you know?”
“I forgot.” I respond. She gives me the address. I force her to sit way in the back, and I drive the car to her destination. She lives in apartments. Through a mirror, I watch as she constantly shifts, moves her feet, and stares out the window. She doesn’t talk. I’m not too keen on talking to her either. There is complete silence in the car. I don’t even turn on the radio or CDs. I simply watch her. Who is she? I wonder.
Finally, we arrive. I get out of the car, but she continues to sit there. “I remember stormy days and the blue pool, the sound of music.” She says.
“Come on already, get out,” I urge her. “We’re here, where you live.”
“I don’t want to, I remember why I wanted to escape.”
“You mean kill yourself?”
“Yes.” She seems saner, more careful. But she still sits there. “You died, a year ago, you died. I couldn’t do anything.”
“What? If I died, then how could I be Albert?”
“You cared for me the way Albert would have,” she responds.
‘This is ridiculous, please get out of my car.”
“Its death to stay here, death to live.”
I open up her side of the car, and yank her out. “Where do you live?” She points to a top door. I yank her to go with me. She follows me, trying to pull her arm away from mine.
She opens her apartment, and walks inside. I follow her, and become disgusted at what I see; needles, pills, fast food, mess is everywhere. She stands there, and in her eyes I see tears. “You should seek some help,” I urge her. I am about to leave, but she grabs on to me.
“Don’t go, please don’t leave me again! I couldn’t take it when you left me! I couldn’t live!”
I decide to humor her. She doesn’t believe me when I tell her I’m not Albert, so why not pretend to be this guy? “This is Albert,” I begin. But before I continue, I heard someone call my name. It is my friend, Alicia.
Alicia and I have been friends for the last five years. I met her in college, and we dated briefly before we lost touch with one another.
It’s the first time I’m seeing her in five years.
“What are you doing here?” She asks. She is downstairs, dressed in a shirt that accented her breasts, and very tight jean shirts. She is Korean-American, just like I am.
“I’m dropping her off.”
She laughs. “I know her. It’s Serenity. She used to live with a boyfriend or something.”
“What happened to him?” She shrugs.
“Died or something. I don’t remember. Since he left though, she really changed.”
“She thinks I’m Albert.” Alicia laughed.
“Hey, don’t you want to go clubbing with us tomorrow? I have a boyfriend for you to meet.”
“A boyfriend? Anyone I know?”
She shakes her head. “I doubt it.” She smiles then. “Hey, why don’t you come and see for yourself?” She asks. “He’s a good guy.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Great, talk to you later.”
“Hey, Alicia, can you look after her for me? I really have to get going now.”
“Honestly, do I have to? She’s a druggie, and a prostitute at that. God only knows what STDs she’s carrying.”
“Oh come on, haven’t you learned anything at the church?”
“Well if you’re such a moral person, why don’t you look after her yourself? She’s your responsibility after all.”
“I have to get going,” I protest.
“So do I! I didn’t find her or anything. Besides, it’s for the best if you just leave her alone.”
I roll my eyes. I can’t believe that Alicia can speak this way. It’s for a human being after all, not after an animal. “Does she have any family?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Look inside her house if you care.”
“Have you seen anyone visit her? I could give them a call and tell them about her situation.”
“No, I haven’t.” Alicia admits. “Bye though,” she waves and races off.
I groan and push Serenity inside. This is going to be a long night, I think to myself.

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Once you go Asian, you'll never go caucasian

Mike Park is a real guy. I listen to his music all the time. He is married to a white woman and the have a cute baby girl.
http://www.mikeparkmusic.com/

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I am keeping my eye on you

I didn't know actually....

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Once you go Asian, you'll never go caucasian

I figured that. LOL
I just thought it was funny you wrote a story using that name.

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I am keeping my eye on you

LOL, when i was in high school i had a friend named Bryan Park, and in 2005 i had a boyfriend named Michael Kim. The name is kind of a tribute to them so to speak. I hope you enjoyed the story though

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Once you go Asian, you'll never go caucasian

Hey ProAzn, can you please include 'Nanowrimo' in the thread? 'Nanowrimo Story Idea-Michael Park and Serenity Lawson?' Thanks

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Once you go Asian, you'll never go caucasian

Done.

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Its not as sharp as your other stories but its interesting so far.