It wasn't the first time she'd left the house with her shirt torn half off her body, sleeves stretched all out of proportion, hair wild and unwashed, make-up askew, and it wouldn't be the last. Not ever. Her little raspberry beret was the only aspect of the Walk of Shame (which she steadfastly rejected shame for walking) that she demanded be pristine. It was less than a year old and the first thing she'd ever bought with the money that men gave to her for doing the things she wanted to do anyway. She knew what she was and it wasn't a terrible thing, no matter what the withered old prunes on the street said with their wrinkled old prune faces. The hat was perfect. It was the first time she had ever felt in control, finally. She paused a moment beside her car, looking up, barely able to contain her hands lest she reach up, touch it, reassure herself it was real and thus soil it by proxy. That was the deal she made with herself when she first bought her own freedom.
Entry into the #foxtales #9 One Paragraph Story Competition
I blame @geekpowered for entering these things where I can see them and luring me in as well.
Yes, I have a bit of the Burroughs in me. I blame taking naked lunches.
“Lest she reach up, touch it, reassure herself it was real and thus soil it by proxy.”
There is so much story in that one part of that one sentence. This is perhaps the most creative way I have ever seen someone express a character’s self loathing without even a hint of the actual implication. Impressive detail.
Side note:
Naked lunches? Is it the lunch that is undressed or is it the lunch participant? 🦋
Side Note 2: I need to take a lesson in how to quote a post- with proper markdown ... so I can fit in to the quote-like-a-pro-steemian-club. I shall finally tap the little green letters that are currently JUST an inch below my current type window. I won’t do it until after I submit this comment, or I would then have to erase this last sentence and you would never know that my future quote-adorned comments had anything to do with you. As it is, now, you know that any smart, properly markdownified quoted materials only appear that way because you inspired it. I feel better after admitting this truth of my near future. 🦋⭐️
I am such a huge fan.
Note to self: Snap out of it Lori there is a fine line between a doting fan and a stalker. Reply to self: shhhhh they are reading this!
👀🦄
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For extra irony, that bit's not even about self-loathing. Self-loathing is one of the few negative self reflective emotions that I generally don't write about.
There are a lot of reasons that things can be soiled, but if we invite others to tell us about the things that they think are dirty – we can learn a lot about them, particularly when they're not looking. Which is, of course, the best time to learn about people.
Everything is naked under their clothes and just under their skin.
The secret is white space. But the secret has always been white space. That space between spaces, the space between words, the space between people, the space between things that need to be separated and between the things that don't – that's the secret.
The secret is white space.
I can't be stalked. I'm everywhere. Everywhere you are, that's where I am. I've been there the whole time. Every time you look behind you, I just left. Every place you leave something and go back to find it, I left a little tag.
You can't stalk me. I'm already there.
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Aha! 😁
Interesting that I automatically assumed she felt dirty, because of her newfound expertise. Even more interesting I imposed judgment on your character assuming she would have self loathing in a position of prostitution. I guess that shows how I would feel, if I was a prostitute. Strangely, I am not sure of her profession now. Lol
Another weird thing, I just now realized -thanks to this silent psychology crap (it’s not crap and I am not sure if you realize that you are even doing it) I do not associate “dirty” with negatives. So Who is the judge in my imaginary world?
🤔oh crap is it you? Are you holding a little
I have no idea where you are. I guess you are fast. I do know that so far you don’t say stuff unless it is true, so maybe I am confused. Yes. I am confused.
Thanks for pointing out the rebellious Burroughs Who I never knew of. I may never figure out the thing about where you are, and when I look you just left etc etc etc.
Oh! 🤭🤫 Ok, maybe I know. 🏃🏼♀️I shall go test my theory.🏃🏼♀️ I hope I am right so I don’t need to spend hours scouring over the texts of my life to find wtf you meant by that last part.
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An interesting perspective on the oldest job in the world :) I particularly like the red beret and its symbolism to her. Freedom indeed...
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Every once in a while I have the strange and unexpected urge to write something which is outside expectation.
No promises that it will ever happen again.
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Actually I think I'm going to go write an entry for this competition ;)
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Man, I just keep digging the hole deeper when I want to succeed. [grin]
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