Thank You

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He held on to the podium for balance as he felt unsteady. There was a whitewash of figures dressed in colours one could only get away with in First-World countries. They were waiting to hear the remainder of his speech. He shuffled his papers as he struggled to reclaim his voice. His voice was stuck behind the lump that developed just before he said “the final thing I want to say is..” He turned away in shame.

When he was a child, his father had left and his mother hated him. She told him as much. “You are an embarrassment, a shame to our family,” as she caught him under the tree in the backyard dancing with only a pair of tattered pants and a pink scarf he stole from the neighbour girl. “You will never be a man. You are a sinner, and you alone will go to hell.”

Yet, here he was, in a foreign country that stood for freedom in front of an audience waiting to hear what he had to say. If this was hell, he did not want to go back. He turned back around to face his audience, and something forced him to focus on a man with tears running down his cheeks. He was also wearing a pink scarf. Shame turned into courage.

“The final thing I want to say is, thank you for coming.”

Thank You

Uniform

Uniform

It was the uniforms that I thought would make it all better. Once the uniform took charge, the burrowing under the cotton sheets would subside. The dreams of banging into the wall over and over again would end. That inevitable fear of death and the ache of eternity would no longer be winning. It was the uniform that was supposed to save me.

Visions of controlled environments make that sense of despair turn 180 degrees and bring hope to the forefront, excitement even. Excitement for the future. For the future of the remainder of my days. The future even when I am no longer in this body. Visions of pets I have lost, Grandma, Andrew, and maybe a celebrity here and there to greet me would be a reality. There would be a sense of order and a lack of the absurd, an understanding of how it all makes sense. The controlled space filled with uniforms. The cloth of clarity. The crisp cotton that would save my life.

Tap, tap, tap. My internal demon was awoken. “This is the police, and we would like you to let us in.” The uniform. The demon flew out the window. If I was being saved why did I feel so ridiculous? Why did I not feel like I was going to be saved? The blood, the scars, the yelling, the sleep, the heartache, and the sublime all seemed like yesterday’s news. This wasn’t real.

“She is worried about you.”

“She shouldn’t have left than.”

There were ashes from 100 cigarettes scattered on the table. The razor was still there. The pills were gone, she took them. The cat was sleeping at my feet oblivious to the pain and chaos and the unreality of her home. I wanted to trade places with her. I am not really here.

I opened the door.

“There is the razor!” Flashlights in the home that was once ours. The uniform swooshed, creating a new sound. Was it the sound of my saviour? Was there really a heaven? Would I be like everyone else? This is not how I imagined it. I was scared. Embarrassed. I was not like everyone else.

The neighbours will know. I am not ready to let it be known.

Quick! Tell them you are fine!

“Get in the car please.”

“You have a lot to live for.”

Stares. Everyone was staring. The police, the nurses, the doctors, the paramedics. The uniforms. This where the saving happens. Why was I not feeling safe?

“You are fine.”

You are not crazy enough. You are an idiot. You shouldn’t be here. Stop wasting my time. Here is a list of more uniforms to help you. Get out.

Uniform

It’s Seems So Unfair: The Life and Texts of one Miss Rachel

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Did you ever meet that friend that makes your LOL for real? The one that makes you bust out a loud HAH in the most inappropriate times? You know the ones that make you laugh so loud that your boss than tells you that you laugh to loud and would appreciate it if you didn’t? Well, I hope you have because it kind of makes life that much more delightfully random.

As you can tell by the above screen cap, Rachel is sad about Selena. I don’t even think she was born yet on the day that she died, regardless it made her sad. What really made this tweet priceless is that I received this last night .. out of the blue.. It was just sent. I laughed out loud… in the subway station … by myself… and everyone stared.

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This happened on a particularly hot day in July. Rachel isn’t even 25 yet.

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Celine Dijon everybody! (Like seriously where does she find these?)

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and orgies…

The first time that I met Rachel was at work. I was actually curious to see who this person who was just hired because she was now doing half of what I did in my position. She was taking away some of my job essentially. I had to size up the competition. I was than asked to train her to do half of my job, so you could imagine I was thrilled. She sat at my desk and stole my job pretty much. I wasn’t too mad because she actually made me laugh in that hell hole of a job. She also double and triple checked her work which made me happy because I like things that are neat and orderly. We became fast friends.

The first time I really thought we could become great friends was when I walked into her office about a week after she started and I walked in to see her stuffing a massive handful of microwave popcorn into her mouth. And when I say massive I mean huge. Like man hand massive. She looked at me and didn’t flinch. All she said was “I need to lose 5 pounds to fit into my dress.” She had no shame. We were one and the same.

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Rachel isn’t just funny, she is also extremely compassionate. She cheered me up by fabulous Tinder and J-Swipe (Jewish Tinder) stories while I was going through some pretty tough times a few months ago. She also arranged a fabulous group purchase of some great presents to cheer me up when my mom died.

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So, it is to be said that she and I will always be friends. We are years apart in age, but because of my Peter Pan like ability to never grow up (I tried to but it didn’t work) this doesn’t matter.

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A few weeks ago Rachel accompanied me and a few kick ass Dyke activist friends to a coffee date to celebrate my return to Toronto. She did it. She enthralled the dykes with her I love dyke attitude. I was proud of her. I also watched her use a wrench for the first time. She helped me build my IKEA bed. So what if she bled on my bed frame? So what if she screwed a bolt in backwards? So what if she left me midway through the build to smoke with my roommates? She showed up and tried.

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One day Rachel will meet a nice Jewish man or woman to marry and live happily ever after. I know this. I better be invited. And if I am invited we will remain friends regardless of where we end up and I am grateful.

Thank you for being you Rachel and don’t ever change.

xo

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It’s Seems So Unfair: The Life and Texts of one Miss Rachel

Microfiction Part 2: Missing People

Micro fiction - very short story - Nandhini 06

Missing People

“Matt! Where is Sondra?” she asked for the fourth time.

He finally turned around from Sondra’s desk to respond.

“I’m not sure,” he said.

Was that nervousness she heard in his voice?

“Why are you sitting at her desk than?” she inquired as she quickly dropped her purse and office keys down on her desk next to Sondra’s, her eyes never leaving Matt.

“Oh yeah, right. I guess it looks weird me sitting here.”

“Well considering you don’t work here – yah, it looks weird.”

“She called me this morning. Apparently she found a cheque yesterday in front of her apartment building on her way to work and she forgot it here.. She asked me to look for it on her desk and take it home. I swear Marie, that is all I know.”

“Did she say she wasn’t coming in” she asked. scratching her mass of tight blonde curls in confusion.

“No, I swear that was all she said!”

“Matt, I think that we should call the police and file a missing persons report. This is all sounding strange.”

“That’s too much. She would kill us. It’s probably nothing.”

Marie was already on the phone, “Ya, she is 38, long, straight brown hair. Medium build with..”

“Marie! Stop it. this is stupid!” Matt yelled as he jumped up from Sondra’s chair and grabbed the phone from her.

“My friend is overreacting Officer. I just talked to Sondra this morning,” Matt assured them.

“Okay, thanks, I will.”

Marie could feel the burn of rage erupt in her cheeks. “How dare you say that I was overreacting! Sondra is missing, she found a cheque, your here. Why isn’t this strange to you? Wait, how did you get in here this morning?”

“Sondra thought you might ask me that,” Matt whispered as he slowly made his way towards her.

Microfiction Part 2: Missing People

Something About This GIF.

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Hahahah! I saw this GIF today and thought I should post it. I don’t know why it struck me. It is basically depicting Sarah Jessica Parker finding a cheque on the ground for $3400.00. That is it. I like her pants though!

To give epic GIF some meaning I will write a little story. In my Creative Writing class I have been asked to write a ‘prompt and role playing’ story and create a ‘micro-fiction’.

Micro-Fiction: They’re short (and we mean short), intense (imagine a novel crossed with a haiku), and mesmerizing (whether they’re illuminating a single moment or a whole life).

Here are a few little micro-fictions.

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“Where the hell is Sondra?”

“Who?”

“Sondra! She is supposed to be sitting there! She was there yesterday.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Sondra.. SONDRA! Where is she? What have you done with her?”

“What have I done with her? Are you kidding me? Last I heard she found a cheque on the ground. No one has seen her since.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. A cheque for what and for who? And where? Why than did you ask who I was talking about when you obviously knew who Sondra was?”

“I..I.. uh..”

He bolted from Sondra’s chair and sprinted out the door.

It took me a minute to register the speed of his departure. What the hell was going on?

Matt Williams, from what I knew was not a stranger to Sondra. I saw them once, about four weeks ago leaving work together and getting in Sondra’s car. I didn’t have a chance to see if they drove off together or not.

“Jill, come here!”

Was that Matt?

I ran to the door, and looked in the direction of Matt’s voice. I wasn’t about to go there unprepared considering the oddity of the day.

Matt was about 20 feet away in his own office. He was rummaging through papers. I approached tentatively.

“Jill, I need to tell you something,” as he pulled out a yellow envelope through the stacks of papers he was rummaging through.

“A few weeks ago, Sondra gave me this envelope. She said I couldn’t tell anyone what was inside. She was afraid to keep it. She asked me to sit in her car with her to give it to me.”

“I am so wierded out right now, I have to say. None of this makes sense and I feel like I am in an episode of the Twilight Zone.”

“Believe me, I know what you mean. Take a look at what is in the envelope.”

I grabbed the envelope.

“I told you not to show anyone,” Sondra warned as she walked into Matt’s office with a gun aimed at his head.

This is a start… I will continue to fill it in… Wish me luck!

Something About This GIF.