Be sure to visit my profile to get updated of what I've been up to, including my progress with Space Trek! and a new website I've created based on my infatuation with the Arnold and Helga relationship.
Ok, now back to business! I've been quite restless with inspiration this week. I blame that on the many hours I have at work to think to myself. At first I was trying to create some rhyming schemes in my head in an attempt to come up with a new "poem by Helga", but then I started to think that I should probably come up with another one-shot since I haven't done so since my first fanfic, The Lost Episode. Then I thought, why not do both just to spruce things up a bit? Ever since coming up with the idea for this new story, I've been anxious to type it out and upload it for all to read!
Without further ado, here's Helga at the Library! Enjoy, and don't forget to REVIEW!
The bell had sounded in the hallways of PS. 118 before the students excitedly evacuated their stuffy classrooms, ready for the weekend ahead of them. In the midst of these students was Helga G. Pataki making her way to her locker.
"Looks like another dull weekend to follow as per usual," Helga said to herself as she mindlessly opened her locker and placed her books inside. On one of the walls of her locker was a little photograph of her beloved. She inwardly sighed in a girlish fashion at the sight of him and rubbed her hands together. "Well, maybe it doesn't have to be dull just yet."
Helga looked from left to right, scanning the hallways for a certain football-headed fourth grader. Indeed he was found in the center of the hallway, with a few books in his hands. A smile appeared on her face before she slammed her locker door shut.
"One side, morons! Move it, geekbait, I'm walking here!" Helga pushed a few kids out of her way, but when she got to Arnold, she instead knocked his books out of his hands.
"Hey!" Arnold sounded annoyed by her action. He picked his books up from the floor and re-settled them in his arms.
"Whoops! How clumsy of you! Hahaha!"
"You know, Helga, you may act all mean and tough – "
Helga crossed her arms over her chest, "So what's your point?"
"My point is, I know that deep down you really aren't a mean person. I just wish you knew that it wouldn't hurt to, well, you know, be nice once in a while."
"Psh! Are you kidding? I'm as bad as they come, buck-o!" Helga threw her arms above her head before letting them fall and poking Arnold's nose with one finger. "And don't you forget it!"
Arnold sighed, "Whatever you say, Helga."
"That's right, Arnold-o, whatever I say!" Helga mentally slapped herself for being so rude.
Arnold started walking in the direction of the school library. Probably to get started on his book report that's due in a week, thought Helga to herself. He was halfway down the hallway when Helga again scanned her surroundings from left to right this time to make sure the coast was clear.
Stalking came easily to Helga, as she had been doing it for about six years straight. She tip-toed silently and ducked behind a few trashcans in the hallway before finally making her way to the library. She sneakily peered through the tall rectangular window on the door. Sure enough, her beloved Arnold was keenly investigating for a book on one of the shelves. Helga opened the doors as quietly as it was possible and dove behind a shelf of books undetected.
Helga then parted a row of books at eye-level to inspect Arnold's actions. Arnold had his nose in a book, busily skimming through its contents.
"Ohhh!" Helga sighed before whipping out her locket from inside her pink jumper and twirling girlishly between the aisles of books she was in. It was then that she began her poetic monologue.
"Immune to my wishes is the boy before my eyes
Speaketh truth not I for fear I may lose his heart
Instead I torture his soul with my wicked lies
To lie of love and hate is the most disgusting art
Be gone these bygones that we two share
But never shall it be unless I move mine lips
And speak my truth to the boy with the golden hair
How sorrowful am I thus my tears do drip – "
Helga kissed the glass that protected Arnold's portrait and delicately placed her locket back inside her jumper and held her hands to her heart. She absent-mindedly reached for a book with a large, gold-leafed heart on the red leather spine and thumbed through its many pages, paying no attention to what was inside. Helga was feeling a catalyst of more words forming on the tip of her tongue. While the book she held was still opened, she twirled once more with the pages against her chest before continuing the poem she started.
" – I fear his knowing would result in a 50/50 chance
A chance my hopes and dreams may indeed come true
Or that I might fright him into an awkward stance
I fear the latter outcome is more than I can chew
Why oh why must I wreak havoc upon his poor soul
Surely there is a way to present my side so sweet
Instead he sees the harshest side of me, not whole
How I wish he'd know how quickly my heart does beat
Save be my secret forever longer than today
Therefore immune shall he remain until I may know
That the secret he holds himself is my sunshine ray
But before that time is torture and all he'll say is no."
She closed her eyes and sighed sadly at her own words. The book she had been holding suddenly felt very heavy in her hands and she lowered her shoulders a little bit. Little did she know that someone was watching her. Simultaneously, they spoke.
"Oh Ar – "
" – AHHHHHH!"
Helga dropped the book she had been holding. The librarian shushed them from behind her desk.
Helga stumbled to find her voice, fearful of just how much Arnold had heard.
"Don't scare me like that, Football-head!" Helga whispered harshly.
Arnold bent over to pick up the book that she had dropped while looking apologetically at the angry, pigtailed girl before him, "Sorry, Helga. I was wondering - was that a poem that you were just reciting?"
"Uh – ," Helga stammered, then slightly stretched the neck of her white t-shirt with one finger to let in a bit of air.
"It was really good; did you come up with it yourself?"
Feeling defeated, she sighed and looked up towards the ceiling, her shoulders sinking even lower, until she read the sign above the aisle they were in. It read in large letters POETRY A-Z. Quickly, Helga looked at the book that was now in Arnold's hands. The title read Tragic Love Songs in gold-leafed font. Helga smirked.
"Of course not! What a stupid idea! I got it from that book that you're holding, numb-skull! Doi!"
Once again, the librarian shushed them. The two looked towards her desk before turning to one another once more. After a second of looking into each other's eyes, while Helga inwardly swooned, Arnold looked at the book he was holding for the first time. He flipped to the table of contents.
"Do you know who wrote the one you were reading?"
"Well of course I do! It was um… uh it was by… Anonymous! It was by Anonymous."
Arnold silently scanned the table of contents, then gave a small smile at Helga and closed the book before handing it back to her.
"I think you've forgotten who wrote it, because there are no authors named Anonymous in the table of contents, but it's ok to forget things, Helga. You don't have to act tough by pretending to know everything."
Helga went pale and blushed at Arnold's words. She blushed even harder when he placed his hand on her shoulder.
"See you on Monday, Helga," Arnold said, grinning knowingly with his eyes in a half-lidded state, before turning on his heel and leaving Helga in the poetry section to bask in her thoughts.
Helga still felt the warmth that Arnold's hand had left on her shoulder. She grasped the book in both of her hands and bit her lip before swooning loudly, "Ohhh!"
"I'm not going to tell you again!" yelled the librarian.
Helga eyed the librarian with one part of her eyebrow above the other, before looking down at the book in her hands and smiling to herself. That's when she came to another thought. She tossed the book of tragic love behind her shoulder and patted herself down for a pen.
"I've got to write that one down!" Helga stated about her poetic monologue before running out of the library in search of her pink book.
There you have it! The story that came out of my little brain.
The poem I wrote for this story is the very first one I wrote specifically through Helga's eyes. All previous poems I have written are adaptations from poems I wrote about myself or something else.
Also, I would like to point out that the near-ending could go either way in that Arnold really did think she was covering up for her forgetfulness of the author's name, or he could know that the poem she recited was indeed one of her own, though since she didn't mention his name, I don't think it would be fair to say that he knew it was about him.
I'm so glad you took the time to read this little one-shot of mine, and as always don't forget to REVIEW!