#52 - Whole in my Heart

Today’s words: Cat, Ennui, Chocolate, Quixotic

Word count: 442

Completion time: 1 hour 1 minute

Summary: Being in a relationship is the ultimate aim...and if you’re single, you must  be looking for someone

--

The whole world told her that to feel whole, she needed to find her other half, her soul mate.

Feeling down? Experiencing ennui from your life that promised to offer excitement and endless opportunities once you left university? Find yourself with a frown more often than not? Wrinkles populating the edges of your mouth? Need to go on a diet? Want a great-tasting family-sized meal for only a fiver? Well then, my friend, what you need is a fella.

Boyfriends were the apparent solution to everything, she found. Too sad, too happy, too fat, too thin, too human, too ‘you’? Have a partner, a lover, a honey, a hubby.

(Who said she was straight, anyway?)

“Oh pumpkin, you need to find a boyfriend before you get too old. I knew this one woman, virgin ‘til her dying day, who would dress her cat up and dine with it on the kitchen counter, certain that she was on a date with some ex-actor at some swanky restaurant. The profession changed every time I asked about her ‘date’, poor dear.”

The single life was only for the unlucky, the losers, the ugly, the boring...and when she hit puberty, the prospect of a relationship loomed on her before she knew how to form her lips for a ‘proper’ kiss.

At thirteen, people looked down on her for being single. “I’ve been to second and a half base with my boyfriend!” One of her friends boasted once, sticking her chest out with raised eyebrows.

“Oh yeah? Well the other day I dipped my chocolate bar in my hot chocolate and it was the nicest thing ever, better than sex,” she replied with virgin lips.

The quixotic was always advertised as realistic, something plucked from a romance novel or a chick flick, something that you deserved just for being alive...

“You deserve someone great.”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Who wouldn’t want to date you?”

...And if you didn’t have it, you would eventually. It was something that just had to happen, like death.

After gushing about her charming new husband, her best friend turned and said, “You’ll find someone someday.”

“I’m fine on my own?”

She wrinkled her nose and laughed a little too loud. “Don’t be silly – everyone wants to be with someone. Being single by choice?” another laugh erupted from her throat.

“Well hear it now – I’m fine, and not in an, ‘I’m fine but really I’m not fine’ way, I really am fine, and I am allowed to be fine without someone else to be fine with.”

“Whatever you say, hon,” she said, staring starry eyed at her golden wedding ring.

Madness.

#51 - It Doesn't Matter

Today’s words: Orange, Backpack, Hand sanitiser, pain

Word count: 342

Completion time: 1 hour

Summary: You can know the ins and out of someone, but that doesn’t mean they’ll love you back

--

Your backpack is dark grey, almost black

The original stitching has been re-done in pink

You walk unsteady because you’re conscious of people staring

You chew gum ‘cause you don’t like to talk much

Last term you shouted out the wrong answer in French and didn’t talk for two days

Your smile is crooked, but you refused braces twice

The mole by your cheekbone looks like a misshapen heart

You still stick your tongue out when someone’s mean to you

You like to pretend that your new haircut was supposed to be that short

You’re the height I want to be, but you wish you were shorter

When you smile, your eyes are usually closed

You have two dimples on your left cheek when you do

I know all this because I’ve known you for five years

You still can’t get my name right

In the corridor by E2, I heard you call someone’s shoes ‘gay’

This made me frown, but I pretended you said ‘okay’

It didn’t work

Would someone who’s...make a joke that’s...?

Everyone has a curious stage

And some people realise that it isn’t curiosity

It’s real

We started talking when we were put in the same music group

Tuesday, 9am, Mr Stanley, Music Room 2

I hated waking up early until then

I thought the bass was boring ‘til you played it

I never listened to dance before you played me The Prodigy

I’d never been that shaky until you offered me your left earphone

We were acquaintances ‘til we became friends

But when I said I hated pain, you said you hated orange

When I told you I felt sad, you told me that you were sad once

When I said I was cold, you said to wear more layers

When I told you I felt dirty, you bought me hand sanitiser for Christmas

When I said imagine if...you said it was pointless to do so

When I said I loved you, you took your earphones out and said, “What?”

I smiled and said it doesn’t matter

#36 - My Girl

Today’s words: Unadvised, True, Triple, Wound

Word count: 680

Completion time: N/A – this took days on and off to think up/research

Summary: A girl wonders what life would be like had she had been born with a different body

I am not transgender, so this was difficult for me to write. I’ve been clued up on what being transgender means/how it feels from people who are trans for a couple of years now, but I’ve never been in that position so I made sure that it read well before it went live.

A serious thanks to everyone on tumblr and my friends who helped guide me!

I'm not an expert in the slightest on trans-related issues, and this story is not reflective of all transmen/women etc, so please do your research. Google loves you.

Picture of my lovely friend, Lene.

The highlight of my girlfriend’s life was when she met herself for the first time.

Most people ‘meet’ themselves in the mirror, through the eyes of a friend, or when they go on a self-discovery trip to meet a monk on top of a mountain, but she met herself when she analysed a school picture of her sister.

“That’s when it hit me; it was like I saw my true form in my sister. We had been born as triplets – I used to say that there were triple of us when I was a toddler – and despite not being identical, there were clearly some resemblances. Anyway, I looked at the pictures of all of us – my brother, myself, and my sister – set beside each other in the living room; my brother looked most like me, physically, but all of my attention was on Eloise.”

Her eyelids relaxed and she brought her knees to her chest, playing with the ends of her hair.

“She had hair that I wanted, a delicate face that was untouched by stubble, and she was allowed to behave however she wanted without repercussion. Before puberty, both of our voices were indistinguishable almost...until mine got deeper.” Her voice got louder, more insistent. “Why was it unadvised for me to act like the other girls did, too?” her fingers pinched the skin on her arm, causing me to link my fingers with hers and shuffle closer. “I thought that if I had been born with a body like hers, I’d probably look just like her and I would be free to act like I did now without being treated differently.” She made the same face that people make when they’re trying to forget how much a fresh wound hurts. “I feel trapped, man...”

I got a lump in my throat. I’ve seen her make that face before, and it hurt me that I couldn’t give her what she desperately wanted. I could tell her that she looked great, that she always passed in my eyes, and that I loved her to death, but it wouldn’t cure her insecurities forever. “Casey...”

“I had recurring dreams of flying into her body to see what it was like, like a ghost looking for a vessel to possess in order to feel alive.” She smiled sadly. “Of course, once I woke up, I still looked like a guy, talked like a guy, and was a guy according to my father.” Taking a breath she looked at me, squinting one eye. “Hey, Rory...?”

My ears pricked up. “Yeah?”

“If...if I looked like my sister--”

“No.” I knew what she wanted to say. My hands gripped hers tighter and I made sure to look her right in the eyes. “No ‘if’s, okay? I love you, not what you look like. I love who you are. I love the look in your eyes when you get excited, I love that you always hesitate at my bedroom door before I tell you to come in, I love the way you co-ordinate your clothes, I love how proud you look when you beat me in an arm-wrestle, I love the way you walk, talk, I love you.”

She started crying and I immediately touched my forehead with hers.

“You make me so happy just by being there and I know you’ll tell me to get stuffed for saying this but you are the prettiest, smartest, funniest girl I’ve ever met.” By then, her crying had become audible so I hugged her tightly. She smelt of strawberries and cream. “That’s how I see you. That’s how I’ll always see you. If I wasn’t with you, I’d be jealous of the person who was, you know? Like, ‘Shit, that person’s a lucky son of a bitch; I wish I had a girlfriend as cool as that.’”

“Fuck off...” she said, pressing her head into my shoulder. “You’re an idiot, stop being so nice.” I felt her kiss the side of my neck before she wrapped both arms around it. “Thank you.”

“You are, and will always be, welcome.”

#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.”