#33 - Only The Cheapest Love

Today’s words: Inexpensive, Rich, Useful, Basket

 

Word count: 517

Summary: Imagine a world where straight people felt safe in their love, and people of other sexualities didn't....oh, wait.

Completion time: 1 hour 10 mins

~

When I’m walking down the street, people never fail to stare at the basket I’m holding. Once they’ve had a good ol’ gander, they look at me like a bad stink or clearly feel sorry for me. Blinking back the occasional tear, I just hold onto the wicker handle tighter and force my head high, no matter who tries to bring me down.

I’ve had over-confident men try to steal it from me, older people knocking it from my hands as if I’m not worthy of it, and many people creating a path for me as I walk by like what I’m carrying is radioactive.

If you’re 'normal', you get a state-of-the-art briefcase to hold your partner’s heart…if you’re not, you get an inexpensive basket. That’s ‘just the way the world works’, or so my parents told me when I started developing crushes on other girls.

“But, what, that isn’t fair, why can’t I have a cool briefcase too?” I protested, knotting my eyebrows together, confused.

“Only straight people are allowed the briefcases, honey.”

I stole a look at my parents’ wine-coloured briefcases that were set on the floor next to each other. They were like a pair of shoes that I would be forever doomed to look at but never own. “No way…but why?”

“We live in a very hetero-normative society, and…” my father tried to explain after he cleared his throat.

“Hetero-what?”

“It means that heterosexual is the norm, so anything else is…” being careful to choose the right words, he added, “abnormal, not publicly accepted.”

Mum took over, putting one leg over the other and leaning forwards. “How many heterosexuals have you seen on TV or in the media?”

I answered as I looked at the blank TV screen. “Loads…” the question wasn’t very difficult. “I see them all the time.”

“Exactly, and how many people who aren’t?”

I thought about that question harder and turned back to her. “Sometimes.”

“You see?”

“…But wait, why a basket?”

“Well, baskets aren’t very useful for holding things securely. People don’t want you to feel comfortable with your love, and baskets have no locks, zips, or anything else for protection.”

“And I reckon that people will expect you to give up eventually because you’re sick of your partner’s heart being so vulnerable.”

I was scared. Scared to fall in love...and I didn't even know what 'love' was yet.

My mother took both of my hands in hers. “But I just want you to know, no matter whom you choose to love, you are not beneath anyone, alright? You’re a fucking warrior princess.”

My father’s eyes widened and he scolded my mum. “Susan!”

I laughed, blushing slightly for hearing my mum swear.

“Now, when you do fall in love, I want you to hold that basket tight with your head held high. Defend that girl’s heart for all it’s worth; promise me that.”

With my mother’s words still ringing in my ears, I raised my head higher; I was rich, far richer than society would have me believe. 

My basket was cheap, but with her heart inside, its worth rivaled the rarest of gems.

#32 - Say It

Today’s words: Overt, Second, Reward, Confused

Word count: 712

Completion time: 1 hour 20 mins

Summary: Don’t miss out on the opportunity to tell someone how you really feel

~

It had only been two months since I timidly opened the closet door, so looking at attractive guys still made me feel uneasy, perverse, and scared to death. It was as if everyone in the bar was judging me if I so much as smiled at another man. Walking to the bar for another drink, I immediately changed my mind and ran outside.

Once I was out, I snuck a look back towards the bar; it was definitely him. Ash. His hair was short and tousled, he had biceps that could probably kill a man if he got them in a headlock, and an array of tattoos dominated his left arm; in short, his overt Wolverine-like masculinity probably meant that he had never daydreamed about kneeling on the bed whilst I gripped his hips and...

“Hey, Marcus?”

I managed to hold back a squeal as the guy writhing about in my daydream was suddenly standing next to me in the flesh; naked. ...Okay, not naked, but the daydream wasn’t quite over.

Instead of responding accordingly, I nodded once, opened my mouth, and waited for something to come out. Nothing came.

“So it was you! What are you doing out here?” he smiled wide and set his drink on the ground before looking for something in his jeans pocket.

“Fresh air.” I fanned myself as proof.

Nodding a few times, he took a cigarette packet from his pocket and held it out to me.

“No, I’m okay.”

He shrugged, lit a cigarette and stood next to me, blowing a smooth stream of smoke from his nostrils.

Hey...hey Marcus.

No, Drunk Marcus.

I dare you...

Nope, not listening.

I dare you to tell him how you feel.

...Are you crazy?!

I double-dare you.

What the hell? How can I say, “It would feel great to kiss you.”

...You got your inside and outside voices mixed up.

What are you talking about?

“What did you say?” Ash threw away his barely-smoked cigarette and looked at me.

I was confused. “I didn’t say anything?”

Squinting one eye, he stared at me for a few seconds before grabbing my shoulders, kneeling slightly, and bringing his face close to mine. Everything went blurry.

“Tell me what you just said.”

“I said, ‘I didn’t say anything’.”

“Before that, idiot.”

“Your face...” I struggled to swallow a lump in my throat. “It’s too close. People will get the wrong idea.” He couldn’t be seen with a pervert like me, not like that. I was extremely close to crying. “I...I,” the tears were pretty much on their way out, “I need to go--”

Before I could make it through the doors again, everything went dark and my body felt like it was floating. Just as I was about to fall back, someone caught me. I could taste nicotine...but I didn’t smoke.

My vision came back and Ash was still in front of me with my face between both of his palms. All that I saw was him. My daydreams were often vivid, but that was the most vivid that they had ever been. Though it only made me want to cry harder, so I pushed him away and headed for the toilet.

“You tell a guy to kiss you then when he does, you run away??”

My feet, heart, and breathing stopped. I turned around. “What? Why would you...who said...” Help me.

He took my hand and led me back outside. Exhaling, he pursed his lips and spoke. “I wanted to kiss you, too. I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Who is making him say such things?? I checked his face for any robot-like traits.

“If it was just drunken rambling, then--”

“What? No, I’m gay. I’m very gay.” Shut the frick up, Drunk Marcus!

He laughed so loudly that it was the only sound I heard until he stopped. “You want a reward for that?”

I blushed horrendously. “No...no, I mean, that wasn’t...ngh.”

“You’re supposed to say ‘yes’ so that I can kiss you again,” he whispered.

All I could do was look at him, at his face, and his hand that was still holding mine. Squeezing it a little to confirm that it was real, I looked down and whispered, “Uh...yes.”

He grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

#31 - The Dead Don't Exist

Today’s words: Rectify, Visit, Hate, Run

Word count: 353

*New* Completion time: 1.5 hours

Summary: Sort out your friendships while you still can

 Not a day went by that I didn’t re-establish my hate for you

I had no qualms with wishing for your swift and immediate death

No, you were already dead to me

You called me up, I let it ring

You invited me out, I declined

I saw you in the street and turned the other cheek

The dead don’t exist

Best friends didn’t come any better

If you fell, I felt it

When you were happy, my heart warmed up

I didn’t mind getting hurt

Because I know you’d be there to cheer me up

But after a rumour that you started got out of hand

We never spoke again

You wanted to rectify the situation

So persistently

You bought my favourite snacks and left them by the door

Wrote letters covered with inside jokes

The more I frowned at you, the more you smiled

Why did you make it so hard to hate you?

The last time you messaged me, I still didn’t reply

You said you were serious, that something was wrong

I turned my phone on its screen and turned away

You didn’t stop

My phone didn’t stop vibrating, telling me that you needed me

So I left the room

Soon after, the house phone rang

My father answered it and called me down

“Ethan’s in hospital.”

Good

“What?”

“Something’s wrong with his heart.”

Good

“...What?”

“He’s asking for you; you should visit.”

“...Where is he?”

I held a hand to my chest and ran

I tried to run so fast that my feet could barely keep up

Images ran through my head like a movie reel

Us when we were kids,

When we got into the same secondary school,

When you drew us and promised you’d always be there

“You’re a liar!!” I screamed to the air that was rushing past my face.

I screamed it so loud, hoping that my tears would get scared and disappear

 

By the time I made it to the local hospital, there was no point in staying

Since you don’t exist

Not anymore

It would have been easier

If I hated you

#30 - You're So Fit

Today’s words: Tacky, Train, Improve, Set goals

Word count: 597

Summary: Just because someone is thin doesn’t mean they don’t need to exercise. Thin doesn’t equal healthy.

“I’ve already got three overweight people this month, one’s borderline obese, so they are more of a priority, sorry.” The personal trainer who was in the middle of using a rowing-machine looked up and said that to me before focusing ahead again.

I’ve had friends say this before, but for it to come from a professional? I stood in front of her. “Why am I less of a priority?” I knew what she was going to say: something along the lines of, ‘You don’t look like you’re struggling to get fit,’ or, ‘But you’re thin.’ 

She gave me a look as if it should be obvious and smiled at me. “You’re the perfect size.”

Was that supposed to flatter me? “There’s no such thing as--”

Stopping, she caught her breath and dabbed her forehead with a towel that rested on the floor before resting it across her shoulders. “Do you know how many people want to look like you?” she gestured toward me. “Pretty much everyone; I’m not exaggerating. Every other day they come, and every other day I set goals for them and you know what? Often they fail. You’re extremely privileged, girl,” she stood up with effort as if she’d said something profound that took a burden from her shoulders. “Please realise that.”

“You know, my friends always say that I’m lucky because I don’t need to exercise…”

“Exactly.” A perplexed ‘then why are you in my gym?’ look.

“Do you only train people to look a certain way or to reach a certain weight? Is that what being fit is all about for you? Being fit fit?” I traced the outline of my body and wiggled my hips. “Being nice to look at, yeah?”

“My students are struggling with their size.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and took the towel away, transferring it to one shoulder instead. “Okay…tell me, why do you think you need training?”

“Do you really think it’s your job to decide if someone needs training or not? Can you tell, just by looking, who needs exercise and who doesn’t? Even the fittest athletes continue to train and improve themselves, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, for their jobs.”

“You’re missing the point entirely.” I could have punched her but one, that would definitely destroy my chance of getting trained and two, my punches probably felt like gentle nudges. “I haven’t really exercised since P.E. lessons at school – which were about ten years ago, I’ll hasten to add – and I am extremely unfit. I think I know my own body a lot better than you.”

She bit her bottom lip and was about to retort when I put my hand in front of me.

“No. Even if I were pretty fit, fitter than you, you have no right to write me off. There is no limit to how fit someone can be, it’d be like telling me to stop eating fruits and vegetables because I’m already healthy enough. I had the courage to come down here in a tacky, old Nike tracksuit, admit that I needed some help, and you’re going to stand there and say that because I look like society’s definition of ‘perfect’ that I should go away?” The words eagerly came out before I could stop to take a breath. “Now…” I took a breath in, “I’ll ask you one more time, can I set up an appointment, please?”

She looked dumbstruck. Yes, I was going for that. “…What days can you come in?”

Ding ding ding. 

Me: 1 Personal trainer: 0

#29 - A Fragile Life

Today’s words: Gaping, Fall, Read, Tide

Word count: 394

Trigger warning - implications of suicidal thoughts 

Bringing a book to a secluded the beach was one my favourite things. 

I could be alone and abandon myself in another world without distraction, aside from a seagull who might occasionally laugh at something, but that would only make me smile as my eyes continued to dart left and right. I’d find myself looking up after finishing a chapter, taking in the scenery and imagining that I was the only person left in the world. 

The beach was mine; the seaweed was the ribbon for my hair, the rocky cliff was my climbing wall, and the little cave right by it was my home. When the tide came in, that was my world telling me that it might be time for a bath, even though being in open water sort of terrified me. 

When I would read about someone interacting with the protagonist, I’d pull my legs up to the wall and imagine that they were sitting next to me. I could picture things a lot better if no-one else was around. 

It was easy to read in my bedroom or in the library, but reading where the wind plays with my hair, timidly rustling the pages as I look up and see nothing but sea, sand, rock, and clear blue sky made me feel elated. I’d close my eyes and smile, bringing my face upwards as if to tell my surroundings that I appreciated their existence.

However, there was something else that drew me to the beach, though the thought wasn’t as peaceful.

You see, opposite the concrete wall where I always sat, there was a gaping hole that led down to the sand and pebbles on the beach, and inside that hole were large jagged rocks and bits of rubbish that had probably been dropped in by people as they walked by. Without fail, every time I go to that opposing wall, I take a look inside that hole before I sit down. 

I do not flirt with the idea of taking my own life, but just knowing that I could change everything if I stood up on that wall and took one step forward stirred an emotion inside me that I had never felt before.

If I ever allowed myself to fall, that would be it, the end.

And all it would take are a few steps.

It’s crazy, right?