A Short Story A Day For A Month: Short Story: Finding Love

 

 

It was everything to me just sitting having a cup of tea on the sofa with my new husband Kyle. To everyone who passed us on the street they probably seen two gay guys in love. In fact we were a straight and a gay guy in love and it had taken quite a journey to get to this point. Sometimes I think Kyle is the only one who gets me, who understands me. My mum and dad think my sexuality “changed” when I fell in love with Kyle. They are totally supportive but my sexuality didn’t change. Kyle gets that and he’s ok with it. Well he married me so I suppose he must be ok with it.

“Jesus, married, can you believe it?”, he said, sipping his tea.

I always loved his Dublin accent. It always seemed so hot been a Londoner living in London surrounded by for the most part English accents or maybe most people I knew were English in any case.

“No, I can’t. I think we done it ok though. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.”

“Grandad Michael really did! Way to re-inforce the Irish stereotype!”, he laughs.

“He had a good night …”

“He was up on the tables singing I Will Survive!”

“Do you remember my Dad’s speech?”

“Oh yeah, ‘when Kieran told us he was gay, it was a surprise but when we realised he was with Kyle, we were so pleased.’ Because I’m so amazing of course.”

“Ah you’re alright I suppose.”

He is amazing but we won’t tell him that.

I remember how we met. I was struggling to keep the rent going on this place and reluctantly for someone who likes my own space decided to go with the advice of my then-girlfriend to advertise for a flatmate. As luck or faith (which Kyle doesn’t believe in but it was faith) would have it, Kyle was just after moving over to London and was crashing on a mate’s sofa while he job-hunted. He seen my advertisement on the internet and put it on a list of four places. Told me after we got together that “I picked your place because I liked the look of the host.”

I guess I liked the look of the lodger too. But I was surprised I did. Then I got to know him and I fell very quickly for him. Then I was really surprised, really confused. And mostly really happy. When my ex ran off with yaman, the barman everyone fancied, he had comforted me. And yet it was more my ego that was hurt, my heart had been elsewhere with Kyle for a while. And I fell even more in love with him because he was so kind to me.

A few months had passed. One night in the kitchen I had kissed him. His face instantly told me that he was very shocked.

“I think we’ll just put this behind us. That wine is very strong.”

“I only had one glass and you had only two. I know what I’m doing.”

Well I did at that point. The first time I got lost in the moment with our close proximity in our tiny kitchen.

I went in for another kiss. He stopped me.

“What makes you think I like you back?”, he’d grinned.

“C’mere.”, he added and we kissed passionately.

“That was nice Kyle.”

“Yeah … so are you into guys Kieran?”

“No, just you. It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s completely normal.”, he smiled and we kissed again.

Back in the present he snuggles into my side and flicks on the TV.

“Big Brother time followed by Rylan.”, he says.

A night in with my man. I couldn’t ask for anything better. Long ago I was a bit of a player and I never thought I’d find love. Now I know just how wrong I was.

Poem: Barcelona

Another day of hell,

more lives destroyed

over religion.

More lives destroyed

over a power-crazed want to rule,

over a warped sense of reality.

But the reality is the loss of innocent lives,

carnage, pain, grieving

over nothing.

May those who lost their lives

in the Barcelona attack rest in peace

and may their loved ones find strength at this time.

 

A Short Story A Day For A Month: Short Story: Dental Appointment

 

 

It was a nasty bugger. Right at the corner of Linda’s mouth. A horrible sharp little tooth. Broken, cutting into the side of her jaw where a canker sore was also. But all would be put right today as she sat in the waiting-room of the dentist’s. They had been there for two weeks and now would be no more. Time was weird.

Linda was never scared of the dentist’s. In fact she took after her father that way. Her mum and her sister were. Unlike her mum and her sister who were happy when the job was done, Linda was like her late father. She more dreaded the horrible pain after. In fact she hadn’t bad teeth. She had reached 30 and this sucker was only the second tooth she was due to get out. The first had been the tooth’s twin on the other side. Side teeth at the bottom were clearly not Linda’s best pals.

She heard the drill from inside where the patient in front of her was having some work done. She didn’t actually mind the drill but there was a little spiky instrument which could be sore. She actually quite liked the little cleaning agent thingy. That was soothing. She remembered been worried about the canker sore but her sister who previously had two canker sores assured her it was nothing dangerous, that it wasn’t cancer. She worried because she smoked far more than she should.

I should really give them suckers up. They aren’t worth it.

Her sister Carrie was here with her today in the waiting-room.

“You’ll be fine now Linda when all this is done.”, Carrie smiled.

“Yeah.”, Linda grinned.

“Remember to tell him about the canker sore before he starts.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Soon the doors opened and a man in his forties or fifties emerged with cotton wool in his mouth. He was followed out by a man in his forties who was the dentist.

“Just keep that on it for a bit and you should be ok Mick.”, the dentist said before going back inside for a few moments to get organised.

He soon came back out and smiled to Linda.

“Linda, are you ready?”

My Freelance Writing Article Appears On Writing.ie!

 

I was published earlier in the week on Writing.ie which I was very happy about. My article is about tips for getting into and starting out in freelance writing. Hope you all like it. Maybe I’ll do some writing-related articles on here in the future. 🙂

 

You can view my article at:

https://www.writing.ie/resources/tips-for-freelance-writing-by-lisa-reynolds/

 

A Short Story A Day For A Month: Short Story: Catching His Attention

 

Sophie sat in the cafe. She had just had a facial and felt great.

Oh my god! What’s that?!

She watched as a pint-sized hippie went up to the counter and ordered in a large cappuccino.

She must regularly have those. It certainly shows on her big, round belly!

The hippie subsequently took a seat behind her and started reading some new novel called Freedom by Nick Blake.

Oh yes that new dreary subculture novel that all the weirdos are reading.

She turned back around and checked her nails.

Babes, you are due a manicure methinks.

A man joined the hippie. He was another hippie. They began talking about social issues. Sophie almost went to sleep.

Why do I always end up beside these wannabe activists?!

The waitress came over. She made a sideways glance of distain at the hippies.

A sensible, conformist young woman. Quite pretty in a plain sort of way.

She asked Sophie if she wanted anything else. Sophie ordered in another skinny latte. Soon the waitress came back with her order.

As she nursed her coffee she noticed a man looking over at her. He was tall, dark and handsome.

And of course he’s looking at me. They always do. I’ll play hard to get for a bit.

She took a sip more of her coffee seductively while avoiding his eyeline.

It was hard been beautiful but someone had to do it!

She looked discreetly back at him.

Yes, he was still looking. Well of course he was!

He smiled to himself.

The usual effect I have on men.

She proceeded to give him less and less attention like her dating guides had told her. He seemed to get a bit angry.

Thank you dating gurus!

And then he got up.

I know how to get my man. Come to me baby. I’m all yours.

As he approached her table she held out her hand to greet him. But he didn’t seem to notice. He walked past to the table with the hippie. The man with her had left.

“Hi, I notice you’ve been reading my book …”

The hippie smiled nerdily.

“You wrote this? It’s really good.”

“Thanks.”, he smiled, modestly.

“Is, is um, the guy that left your boyfriend?”

A sparkle appeared in the hippie’s eyes.

“No, I think his husband might have something to say about that.”, she smiled.

Now there was a sparkle in Nick’s eyes. He extended his hand.

“I’m Nick.”

“Well I know that. Nice to meet you Nick. I’m Eva.”

They shook hands.

“Would you be free to go for a drink with me maybe?”

“Oh I don’t know, chapter six is pretty interesting …”

Is that this bloody hippie’s attempt at playful flirting?!

He grins.

“It really gets pretty dreary Eva.”

“Well in that case then I guess I’m free.”, she smiles and they get up and leave the cafe. Sophie looked after them as they left in shock. She drummed her fingers on the table.

His loss! I wonder if that hunk at the top table is looking at me …

A Short Story A Day For A Month: Short Story: In My Blood

Today is the 16th of August and I have set myself a challenge to write a short story a day until September 16th. I hope I can stick to it and I’m determined to. So here goes with story 1:

 

 

I am a man. I am not a man based on the shape of the parts of my body. I’ve had top surgery and am on hormones and that makes me feel more comfortable. But many refuse to see me as a man, refuse to see me as ‘trans enough’, refuse to leave behind a dated way of seeing gender. More fools they are. Some tell me I won’t ever be a man, some tell me I won’t be a man until I have the surgery down below. To be fair they sound like perverts with their obsession with my body. They are so thick really. My gender is not defined by my body. My gender is in my brain, not in my pants. My gender is in my blood.   – Brian.

 

They say I need to choose. I’m looking for the rulebook that says that but funnily enough it doesn’t exist. When I say I’m non-binary they look at me like I’m an undecided freak. No dears I’m looking at the freaks when you all talk to me. They speak about my body and how it looks but that has nothing to do with my gender. Did the first humans on the planet say “you’re a boy” and “you’re a girl” to each other? I doubt it. Respect me and I’ll respect you. I don’t need to pick a binary gender when I don’t feel like one to be valid in your binary world. I am already valid. My gender is in my brain, not in my pants. My gender is in my blood. – Penny.

 

 

The world is good to me. Been a cisgender female. They see me as female. And yet it’s sad why they do. They look at how my body parts are shaped, they look at what I was assigned at birth and they say, “yes, you are female”. But that’s not why I’m female. I’m only female because I feel female. Nothing more, nothing less. We are all reduced to our body parts like we are all mindless zombies. My gender means more to me than something some bigot or fake feminist reduces it to. My gender is in my brain, not in my pants. My gender is in my blood. – Katie

 

 

Short Story: Love In An Inner City Bar

 

 

 

It was 9pm. Sheena was in a bar in the inner city of Dublin. She had just got talking to a pretty fit guy called Rob. He had seemed to seek her out quite quickly into the night which was a nice boost for anyone’s self-esteem. She was flattered even though it had initially been his mate Liam she had been attracted to. In any case it wasn’t all about looks and she and Rob were currently getting on swimmingly talking about shared interests in music and sport. They both liked rock music and supported Liverpool F.C. They ordered in another drink and settled down to chat more.

Sheena knew that been open was the best policy. She knew and had reluctantly accepted that she would need to ‘come out’ on every occasion that she met someone. It seemed all manner of stupid seeing as within a short meeting no one should assume she wasn’t pansexual. But the reality was that they did.

“Rob, just a small thing I need to tell you. Well, I’m pansexual.”

His face told instantly that he didn’t see it as a small thing. His face told instantly that he’d forgotten she was a human being straightaway.

“Well I’m not into pansexual girls. I’m monogamous.”

“Well so am I.”

But I’m not into dickheads.

“I wouldn’t like to get anything.”

“Neither would I. So I best be safe and leave.”

His face grew angry.

“I’m fucking normal! I don’t sleep around like weirdos like you!”

Oh spare me, thought Sheena. Going out for a night out always allowed for the chance I might meet someone with the brain size of a peanut, she thought.

She got up and began to walk away bringing her drink with her. He got up.

“That’s rude! I’m talking to you! It’s the least you can do to listen having tried to trick me!”

God, he’s a fruitloop!

“How the fuck did I try to trick you? Sure I told you! And rude, now that’s ironic!”

“We don’t all buy into this politically correct shit you all try to shove down our throats! All you are is a slut with a posh name for it!”

“Aren’t you not the one trying to shove straightness down everyone’s throats going on about how ‘normal’ you are in comparison to everyone else? Fuck off!”

He kept yapping on with shit as she went up to the bar. Liam soon joined her.

“What do you want?”, she asked, fearing the worse.

“He can be a dick sometimes. I apologise on his behalf.

Oh, that was unexpected. But rather nice.

“It’s not your fault.”, she smiled.

“But still … so you’re Sheena. I’m Liam.”

“Nice to meet you Liam.”

“You too … you know I noticed you when you came in.”

“Really?”

You didn’t seem to but ok.

“I’m not too good at all this stuff with, um, with the ladies. That sounds bad, doesn’t it?”, he grins.

“No, not at all.”

It’s ok to be introverted. I’m introverted myself.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“How about you buy me one and I buy you one?”

“Modern. That’s pretty cool. Ok.”

As they drank the night away, they found they had nothing in common. But a connection that went beyond that.

 

Six months later he took her virginity.

 

Two years later they got married and ten years down the line had three children together.

 

The End.