Tag Archives: short story

I indulged in his sadness

I indulged in his sadness. 

His salty tears and his red eyes – I couldn’t get enough of it. 

His face replicated mine ten years ago, when he was indulging in my sadness. 

Now it was my turn.

“Why are you doing this to me, Violet?” he looked up at me, a dripping bloodied nose and a bleeding mouth.

“Because,” I replied calmly. “All you ever did to me was hurt me with your words. So I’m hurting you with my fists.”

I kicked him in his stomach and he groaned and rolled onto the rocky ground.

“Violet, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what I did to you, okay? I was stupid and I-“

“No you weren’t. You knew what you were doing.” I bent down and looked him in the eyes.

“You indulged in my sadness.” I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in his face, making him cough.

“I- what?! Violet, you are insane! I never was happy to see you sa-” 

I kicked his stomach again.

“You indulged in my sadness. Now let me indulge in yours.”

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Snip, Snip.

“Put the scissors down. Now.”

I threw the scissors into the sink.

“I hate you.” I whispered into the mirror, staring at my older sister in the glass.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed the scissors from the sink and hid them behind her back.

“I wasn’t doing anything, but I was about to. Until you stopped me.” I started walking out of the bathroom until she grabbed my arm and spun me round.

“Don’t you ever, ever, think about cutting your hair again. Okay?” Her blue eyes stared into mine, full of threat, yet also sadness.

“Is that a threat, Jane?” I said smiling.

Jane swallowed.

“Yes. Yes it is, Rita.”

I pulled my arm out of her grasp and walked out of the bathroom and into my room. I slammed the door, and it took everything in me to try and not punch it. I grabbed my teddy bear on my bed and threw it at the door.

I hate this. I hate this.

One problem I’ve noticed over the years when you realise that you don’t feel comfortable being a girl is that when your family realises, they tend to think you’re going through a “phase”.

Hm, I’m sure you’ve heard that one before, right?

A “phase”. My mother would say: “Oh Rita, it’s your hormones running wild. Don’t be so silly. You’re a girl. It’s just a phase.”

But then I started buying men’s clothes and I went to the gym almost everyday. I started getting mistaken for being a male at department stores, as I’d tie my hair up instead of having it all loose and… girly.

My family started to worry as people at school started avoiding me, even my friends. So, now I’m homeschooled.

Isolated.

Alone.

Ignored.

Depressing right?

Then, I remembered that I had hidden the kitchen scissors under my nightstand. I lay down on the dusty grey bedroom carpet and stuck my hand underneath the table, until I felt the sharp metal.

Found it.

I grabbed them and stood up, walking towards the mirror next to my window.

I placed a chunk of hair in between the sharp blades.

Snip, snip.

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“Even my friends aren’t my friends”

Gina sat in the cafeteria surrounded by her friends, quietly munching on her apple.

“Oh my God, it was AMAZING.” Gushed Lucy.

“Yeah, I can’t believe how many cute dresses we found for Prom, such a good day – we should do it again.”

Gina stopped munching. “Wait, what? You guys went shopping for prom?”

The rest of the table fell silent.

Sally’s cheeks went bright red. “Erm, yeah. On Saturday.”

Gina frowned. “Oh. I thought there were no plans for this weekend. That’s what you guys told me.”

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Anyone want to join?” Lucy grabbed her lunch tray and left the table. Sally got up, then Grace, then Tracy.

Gina was all alone at the table.

“Bitches.” Gina whispered.

—————————————————————————————————————–

“Wait. They didn’t invite you to go prom dress shopping with them? I thought these were your friends?” Jake, Gina’s brother was sitting on the roof with Gina, smoking cigarettes and drinking stolen liquor from their parent’s cabinet.

“So did I.” Gina replied, taking a swig from the bottle.

“Even my friends aren’t my friends.”

Jake nodded and took a puff from his cigarette. “I know exactly what you mean.” He paused.

“Gina, when you leave high school and go to college, you’ll realise that you were only friends with people because you saw them 5 days a week.”

Gina coughed and put her cigarette down. “Why do we try so hard to be so nice to people who really don’t care about us?” Gina put her head in her hands. “I always do this, but why do I care so much? I shouldn’t.”

Jake sighed sadly. “We accept the love we think we deserve. That goes for kindness too. It’s the way we are, Gina.”

“Pass the bottle.” Gina replied.

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Crossroads

Lottie was at a crossroad in her life.

Standing there holding the summer of her dreams in her hand, in the form of an acceptance letter to one the biggest advertising firms in the country. A summer working as an intern before university – this was the most perfect thing Lottie could have dreamed of.

Lottie exhaled and sat down on her bed. She looked at the picture hanging on her wall; a picture of happier and simpler times. Times where her father was not a crying wreck of a 46-year-old male.

What a way to go. Lottie thought to herself.

Last year in January, Lottie’s stepmother, Barbara, had been run over by a Heineken truck. This amused Lottie as her stepmother had never been a fan of beer and would look disgusted whenever a bottle of beer was opened near her. Lottie smiled darkly.

Barbara had married Lottie’s father only two years ago, where they met at work. Barbara was the young, blonde haired, doe eyed assistant to Lottie’s father before they married. Two months later, they were married.

Barbara was always mocking Lottie and ignoring her, but acting sweet as pie whenever Lottie’s father was around. Lottie shopped all day, buying overpriced clothes and cosmetics, and eating at expensive restaurants with her friends.

Lottie really, really, disliked Barbara.

But, now that Barbara was gone, Lottie’s father was depressed, sitting on the sofa watching cheesy cooking shows and drinking cold coffee.

Lottie was at a crossroad in her life.

Should I stay or should I go? Lottie knew that her father would not make it through the morning if Lottie was not there.

But she also knew that working at this firm was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Lottie knew what she had to do.

She walked down the stairs to her father, who was watching MasterChef, wearing stained pyjamas.

“Dad?” Lottie looked at her father. He looked up, his eyes empty and hollow.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He replied.

“I’m at a crossroad in my life.”

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“And?”

“And?”

John paused. This was not the reaction he wanted.

“Mom. I got into Princeton. With a scholarship.” John stood there, blue eyes wide and his curly blonde hair pointing in different directions. “I was the only student, from my entire school who got in.”

John’s mother, Lucy looked up from her newspaper. “And? Darling, I’m not quite sure what you want me to say to you.” Lucy straightened her glasses and went back to reading The New York Times. John slumped into the armchair opposite his mother, defeated. He thought his parents would be proud. Yet, all his mother had said was… “And?”. Lucy cleared her throat. “Oh, darling? Could you please tell Grace that we’ve run out of vol au vents for our cocktail party tonight?” Lucy smiled at John, a smile that was once real and had meaning, was now simply a gesture of fake gratitude. John stared at his mother. “Sure.” He stood up, angrily leaving the living room.

Lucy put down her newspaper, and rubbed her temples. She took her glasses off and looked outside the window, at Manhattan. However she wasn’t looking at the skyscrapers, but her own reflection. She saw a woman with pale olive skin, and a chin length bob with expensive honey blonde streaks mixing in with her own dark blonde hair. Her eyes were tired and weak, the sparkle from her sea blue eyes was gone. A tear escaped from her eye. Lucy looked away at the window, and began to sob uncontrollably. Lucy had realised that not only did she look like her mother, she had become her.

Lucy’s mother, had never once approved or congratulated Lucy on her accomplishments. Not even when she had the highest grades in her college class for Law when she went to Harvard, despite wanting to study Art. Her mother had forced her to take Law. “Oh don’t be stupid, Lucy. Being an artist is a joke. You’re going to study Law.”

Her mother had never once complimented Lucy, or noticed her hard work. All her mother ever said was that one word, that could hurt so much in such a short space of time.

“And?”

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Could Be, Should Be

“I could be a wandering soul, travelling the world.

I should be right here, in my home.

I could be a crazy writer,

I should be a doctor, working alone. 

I could be a 17-year-old, uncontrolled.

I should be a 17-year-old.  

I could be a happy kid.

I should be a stressed kid. 

I could be what I want to be.

I should be what the world wants me to be.” 

“Great poem, Daisy.” Ms Jacobs nodded her head in approval at Daisy’s poem. Daisy shrugged. She had tried to show her drooling classmates how oppressive the world was. She looked around. The kid with the baseball cap was drooling on the table. The dumb rich girl was filing her nails. The geek who sat behind her was playing on his Gameboy. Daisy sighed as she went back to her seat. The bell rung, and she grabbed her bag, glad to finally go home.  As she was leaving, she felt someone tap her shoulder.

“Hi. That was really cool, your poem.” It was the new kid, Henry. Daisy laughed sarcastically. “Ha, sure. Thanks.” She swung her bag onto her back and began walking out the classroom. “No, no really. It was really… eye opening?” Henry had followed her. He was an odd kid, with tanned skin and freckles and pale green eyes with soot black hair. Daisy stopped and turned around at him. “Seriously? You’re not screwing around with me right now, right?” He smiled at her. “No, I’m not. It was really awesome. You’re a good writer. It’s a shame the rest of our class are bunch of mindless idiots. They’re being ‘what the world wants them to be’”. Daisy smiled. “You’re not one of those mindless idiots. Nice to know there’s someone smart in our class.” Daisy walked off, leaving Henry behind in the hall. Henry blushed and whispered to himself:

“I could be the guy I want be.

I should be the guy she wants me to be.”

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Cheap textbooks and good coffee.

I flung my book bag into a sea of dresses, skirts and sweaters – also known as my dorm room floor. College had been terrible as usual, and my roommate was out of town for the weekend, leaving the dorm all to myself. I jumped onto my cheap single bed and closed my eyes, rubbing my temples. Why did I choose to go to college? I thought. Finals were just round the corner and I had been running on coffee and my roommate’s magically never ending supply of fizzy cola candy. I had always been against the idea of coffee and candy at the same time, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

My academic history has always been impeccable. Straight A’s through elementary, middle and high school. Honour roll student, nothing less. College was a test for me, a test that I could still be that all star student I had always been. Headphones in and my psychology textbook open, I laid on my bed trying to study. In the midst of a paragraph about Freud, the door suddenly opened, making me roll off my bed in surprise.

“OW.” I shouted, feeling the impact of the fall on my back, the pain spreading up to my neck. I sit up slowly, to see a guy going through my roommate’s nightstand. “Oh yeah sorry.” The guy turned around and gave me a quick smug smile, while I tried to regain my balance and sit up. “Who are you?” This guy was now looking under my roommate’s bed. “I’m Mary’s brother. I’m looking for something she owes me.”  The guy said while lying on the dorm floor slowly crawling under Mary’s bed. Mary had never she mentioned she had a brother before.

“Well, she’s not here. She went home for the weekend.” I sat back on my bed and grabbed my textbook and began reading. “Ha ha.” I looked up from my book. This guy was laughing at me, his arms crossed. “What?” I asked annoyed. “Your psych textbook cost more than my college tuition. You want cheap textbooks and…” He looked at the cheap cup of black coffee on my nightstand. “Good coffee?” He smiled and stretched out his hand. “I’m Derek. I was looking for Mary’s headphones.” I took his hand and shook it. “I’m Violet. And sure. Let’s go.” I smiled at Derek.

Cheap textbooks and good coffee – how could a broke college student say no to that?

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