Flash Fiction Friday #12 - September 18, 2009
oilsdragon
hilary slater lamont
I bin sittin’ on dis ‘ere corner all mornin’ an’ der don’ seem to be no great pickins’ today. I’s not had it dis bad since dat year dey towd us we’s not allowed to panhandle, an’ even den, I sez, I’m no panhandler, I’s holdin’ doors open fer folks, or I’s helpin’ folks wid der groceries, or I’s got a ‘pointment, jus’ waitin’ fer a taxi or a bus. But dey got me ‘ventully. An’ it’weren’t dat bad. I had me a nice warm night in de jail, an dey fed me better dan I’d etten in quite some months, an’ dat bed were a damn site more comfy dan de street corner’s stone, and denn in de mornin’ dey let me out to go on back to mi corner an’ begin again.
But dis ‘ere season, it’s bad. Der’s no one sayin’ I can’t do it no more, but der’s de slimmest pickin’s I ever seen ‘ere. P’raps iss time fer me to find me anuvver location? P‘raps I’ll be tekkin’ me te dat new fancy park downtown, de one wid de big shiny bean ting. Yeh. P’raps I’ll try dat place t’morro. I heard der’s lots o’ folk down dataway, and tourists too! I’ll bet they might be more forth givin’ dan dese ‘ere locals hereabouts!
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H i l a r y S l a t e r
Sustainable Landscapes
hilarious
Here's my Sept 26th FFF story :D
hil
He thought he was gay. At least that was where he was at, at this
point in his life. And his new lover was turning out to be a nice
manly addition to his world. But then there was the woman. She had
been around a while, and whenever they spent time together, he felt
close and warm and safe with her. Not like a mother warm and safe, but
not like a guy connection either. What was with that? Was he gay or
was he straight? How was he to know?
It would certainly make things much easier if he could be straight. He
could avoid the biggest fear of his life, -of his parents finding
out. Or worse still, of having to be the one to tell them. How many
years had he dreaded the imagined look on their faces, their
responses, or how he’d respond to them. Even what words to choose, or
whether they’d understand what he was telling them. They were from a
different generation all together, and gay might not even translate to
old people.
Perhaps that was why he’d never told them. He didn’t like being faced
with the whole issue at all. But oh, if he could just find it in
himself to kind-of love a woman, well this specific woman, anyway. It
only took one, after all! He did love her. They always had such fun
together, sharing adventures and art, cities and gardens. Why couldn’t
they just be together -ignore the inner biology- and be together. They
were both so happy whenever they could find time to get together. He
knew she loved him. “Like a brother” she always said, but really, he
was sure that that was her way of giving him space because he was the
one drawing the line.
What if he were able to remove that line? What if the line were
erasable all together? Would it be able to work? Could they both live
their lives, pretending that there wasn’t a line, pretending that they
were as passionately attracted to each other as a fully straight
couple? Why couldn’t he feel swept away by her, or by some man, then,
so that the emotions were clear and unquestionable?
Oh, something deep inside him yearned for that to be possible. Could
she possibly feel the same way for him? Would he dare to open that
door and ask her?
Or would the very act of asking her damage their oh so wonderful
friendship, changing things for ever?
He opened up his computer and began to write the email. There was only
one way to find out.