3 short stories
STORY 1
At school she sat by herself and always wore a red bracelet.
She was known for her freckles, round glasses and ginger pigtails. She was known because she was different but she knew that later in life none of this would matter so she never went home and cried into her pillow at night. Instead she was doing sit ups and push ups and practicing a variety of leaps and flight positions.
She wanted to be a grown up so she could be a superhero. Everyone knew it was a prerequisite for secret superhero school. She didn’t want to ever have to learn to walk in stilettos. She wanted to be known for leaping from burning buildings, babe in arms to the mother waiting below. She would be lightning bolt fast, comic come to life and in a flash of cape and a flash of skin, she’d be gone. She could read the headlines in her mind and would daydream in class.
She would be famous without anyone knowing it was her.
Not many grown ups are superheroes. They forget how important it is to have something wonderful to believe in, to have hope. They forget what it’s like to dream up the impossible and then do it. They even forget about people sometimes. She thought that the world should be seen as faces not dollar signs. She believed in the strength of a woman.
STORY 2
“Hello, hello, you out there. Can anybody hear me?”
I woke up here, in a strange room with no door.
Where was I yesterday I wonder.
I wish there was a mirror in here.
I feel different.
There are things around me from when I was a toddler and a teenager and maybe beyond. I’m not sure, I don’t remember.
How old am I now?
Are they my mothers’ beads? Is she still alive? I don’t remember.
And is that my money and my glittering jewels?
– and if it is, what I have I done with the little girl who had such a beautiful childhood?
I cry softly feeling a strange sense of beauty. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong.
STORY 3
My sisters navel
had been to many places
It would whisper to me
while she was asleep
after long plane trips.
The words sounded like soft breath
on my forehead
sleepy
I heard secrets
I’m too shy to repeat.
My sister had been to places
Where no-one else has been
My sister knew more than anyone in the whole world.
At school she sat by herself and always wore a red bracelet.
She was known for her freckles, round glasses and ginger pigtails. She was known because she was different but she knew that later in life none of this would matter so she never went home and cried into her pillow at night. Instead she was doing sit ups and push ups and practicing a variety of leaps and flight positions.
She wanted to be a grown up so she could be a superhero. Everyone knew it was a prerequisite for secret superhero school. She didn’t want to ever have to learn to walk in stilettos. She wanted to be known for leaping from burning buildings, babe in arms to the mother waiting below. She would be lightning bolt fast, comic come to life and in a flash of cape and a flash of skin, she’d be gone. She could read the headlines in her mind and would daydream in class.
She would be famous without anyone knowing it was her.
Not many grown ups are superheroes. They forget how important it is to have something wonderful to believe in, to have hope. They forget what it’s like to dream up the impossible and then do it. They even forget about people sometimes. She thought that the world should be seen as faces not dollar signs. She believed in the strength of a woman.
STORY 2
“Hello, hello, you out there. Can anybody hear me?”
I woke up here, in a strange room with no door.
Where was I yesterday I wonder.
I wish there was a mirror in here.
I feel different.
There are things around me from when I was a toddler and a teenager and maybe beyond. I’m not sure, I don’t remember.
How old am I now?
Are they my mothers’ beads? Is she still alive? I don’t remember.
And is that my money and my glittering jewels?
– and if it is, what I have I done with the little girl who had such a beautiful childhood?
I cry softly feeling a strange sense of beauty. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong.
STORY 3
My sisters navel
had been to many places
It would whisper to me
while she was asleep
after long plane trips.
The words sounded like soft breath
on my forehead
sleepy
I heard secrets
I’m too shy to repeat.
My sister had been to places
Where no-one else has been
My sister knew more than anyone in the whole world.
posted by Chinese Gooseberry @ 7:47 am
