I Never Expected Anyone to Believe Me

My attempt at writing a short story. Emphasis on "attempt".

It had all started on a frigid cold day at the dawn of winter. I had always detested the season as it drove me through many a treacherous bout of depression and manic behavior. I think it was the utter loneliness that blew through the wind and made my very bones ache with the cold. You see, in the winter, everything is dead. The leaves are dead. The ground is dead. The symphony of life itself is brought to a halt. Something inside every home too, becomes overwhelmed with deadness.

Although I never truly believed myself to be the most attractive of women, I never had any trouble finding a man willing to sleep with me if the will carried me to such a desire. Most of them older, of course, enthralled by the taboo of being with a teenager. I sheltered many imaginary past-tense hardships in my own mind, and despite my youth it left me looking worn and weathered. I have always been on the thinner side, with a somewhat awkward and lanky appearance. When I look in the mirror naked after a shower, I can count out the doubled over length of my unnatural arms and legs in inches. I had tried everything with my hair to drown out the blandness of my features, but to no avail. Undoubtedly I have beady eyes and a beak to match. My ears have never quite poked out right, and I made the fatal mistake of obtaining a very short haircut when I fancied myself a girl with good cheekbones. But that only accentuated the worst of my features. I felt like a freak. Regardless, men are men and I knew how to please them. I knew I would never truly be made up of the right stuff to make for a long term relationship, and despite the fact that it pained me, it only pained me because I knew I was undesired. Loneliness had always suited me, and I was... something that resembled content with that fact. Another tragic tear towards my meager ego, I have always fallen in the most predictable and average of categories in every aspect of my personality. And so, so f*****g utterly obviously so, the life of mediocrity and solitude I had spent all my years to create fell apart because of one man. Everything changed when I met him.

His name was Daniel. He was not conventionally attractive, yet you could tell he had good bones. His face was somewhat squat, but this was made up for by his high cheekbones and delicate features. He was the kind of man who never once had to force himself to be interesting. He was my direct opposite in every spectacular way. He smoked too many cigarettes, giving me an opportunity to focus on his beautiful, powerful and orange-tainted hands. I would never dare call the angel of a man short, but he was most definitely of a somewhat meager stature. Yet it only made him appear less threatening and more approachable. I loved him instantly.

I honestly never thought anyone would believe me. I often wonder how everything could have been the way it was had I never signed up to take painting as an elective. It was so unlike me- how could someone as mediocre and incompetent as me ever think they could make something beautiful? I suppose the desire had always been there- I was growing ill with self loathing and grasped desperately to find any semblance of talent to redeem myself. I'd never tried painting before.

My first thought, oddly enough, was of how I thought he must be an idiot of sorts. I almost felt smart, as though I was able to perceive this fact about the stranger before me whilst everyone else would be blinded by the halo hovering above his head. Everyone wore older, unimportant clothes to class out of fear of tarnishing their garments with paint. But not Daniel, the fool was always donned in black. It wasn't until watching him work I realized why.

He had no need to worry he would stain his clothes- he was clearly a master painter. Frankly I found it absurd and unfair. For someone like him, someone so gifted with so many graces to be given such talent, meanwhile I meandered through the filthy avenues of life left to the undesired, feeding on the scraps of the gods like him. 

I'm rambling. I love him.

Anyway, I knew I could never have him and it filled me with such sadness. The striking pain, though, had been dulled with a growing terror. In all his beauty, it was all the easier to notice the contrast of it all. Whenever he was within eyesight, or even almost within my presence, the world around him dulled so grandly in comparison. I had always known the world to be an ugly place, but seeing someone as perfect as him merely existing in such a world was... beyond horrific. Not because I believed he deserved to be framed by a better world- but because the contrast of his very presence within ours made it overwhelmingly hideous. I noticed that at times I would look at him and become nauseated by the sheer contrast. Once, I even had to swallow my own vomit when he stood next to me.

Whenever I would look at him, everything that surrounded him repulsed me. I tried to contain my disgust. I almost didn't notice him staring back at me, wounded. Fate.

That same frigid air that stirred my soul and forced me to run against the wave of cold air towards the art building was what threw my frail weathered body into him.

“I'm so sorry! It's this damn wind...”

he looked back at me, a whole universe of words pouring from his eyes and washing over me so intensely within the blackness of his eyes my body began to shake. I jumped immediately away from him, frightened that if I stood within his presence for too long I might taint him with my wretchedness. I nearly refused to look at him but the silence mimicked that winter sentiment I so deeply loathed, and I had to know the beauty of his face once more.

He was staring intently back at me. The expression of pain on his face could only ever be so beautifully illustrated by a man as gorgeous as him. Then I felt his breath on me as he spoke softly-

“what is it about me you despise so much?”

There was an admittedly bewildered pause until I contorted my face quickly as I could back to one that did not express sheer confusion.

“I see the way you look at me. I make you GAG. No girl has ever... this has never once happened to me before. I just wanna know honestly, what the f**k?”

Not once could I have ever imagined the hurt his words brought me, and the sheer honor. A man as brilliant and beautiful as this so affected by my actions? I'm not sure whatever expression I had created at that moment, but his response warranted one just as novel to me.

“No- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so... uh, forward.”

Again I couldn't bare to show him my hideous face.

“Listen, man, really I'm sorry. I can tell you're shy and probably very sensitive. That's fine.”

He told me I was fine, just fine being what I was!

Nervously, he began again.

“Is there anyway... I could.. buy you a cup of coffee?”

At this point my heart was no longer my ally, and was fervently waging war within my chest, desperately thrashing as if intent to escape through my ribcage.

“Yes.”

* * * * * * *

Now, I feel great shame in describing myself this way, for I could never in any way deserve to even be an after effect of his existence- but like a shadow I trailed aimlessly behind him as we made our way to the corner coffee shop. He asked how I liked my coffee, and too nervous to respond I merely nodded and whispered “yeah”. He let out this wonderful little laugh, the sound of a babbling brook in fairy heaven, then bought two medium coffees, cream and extra sugar. Why would someone so sweet need more sugar? I'm sorry, I detract...

If only I weren't so painfully average... if only I were obscurely average enough to describe what he looked like right then and there speaking with such a beautiful voice those melodic words to me- wait- he was speaking to me!

“-even could have imagined I would encounter a situation like this. I'm sorry, does that make me sound cocky? … I know, it -”

What an unexpected never before conjured rhythmic consistency to his words! Overwhelmed and bewildered “Theresa? Can you hear me?”

I shot back into the moment. 

“Sorry.”

Again he made that indescribable face. I could hear the desperate sounds of a stray cat in the distance trying it's hardest to appeal to another night time customer, gracefully begging for nourishment the way that only creatures of nature could do.

“where do you go, when you disappear like that? I've honestly never been so genuinely curious about a girl before.”

Naturally I was overwhelmed by his confidence. Most of my attempted courters where sad, ambiguous men afraid even of a creature as horrendous as me- perhaps my most glorifying feature being the triumph over their wives. I attempted speech the same way a trained gorilla recites sign language to it's respected captor.

“at times I find myself overwhelmed by the moment. Sometimes I like to pretend. Most times...”

I was so deeply hurt by his expression of confusion. I felt my heart beat stronger than my soul as I tried desperately to explain the pantomimed attempts of emotion from the perspective of a foul creature to a sheer god. And yet for some inexplicable reason it felt like the most important and vital task in the world.

“most times I like to pretend that I couldn't possibly be real, that no one and no thing could ever conjure me up that my life is just a stupid attempt at a story and so-” my words were rushing out of my mouth as if I had swallowed an aquarium and only just then decided to set the fish free only to watch them flounder at my feet gasping for air “so I pretend that I made myself up and this is all a lie or a dream or a program or something and in reality i'm brilliant and beautiful like you-” I shut my mouth, embarrassed. 

And yet, he smiled. He smiled so grandly. He smiled because of something my stupid mouth uttered.

How could anyone ever believe it?

Not long after that, he spoke to me a little more each day, and cautiously so, something I had never experienced before. I was not the type of girl one took caution in speaking to. No one had ever bothered, and it drove me wild.

Before I could even develop the faculties to truly understand it, he was in love with me. Perhaps this was the world's way of apologizing for having made me so treacherously awful in every way. Perhaps I deserved to be loved.

“Theresa?” My muse spoke yet again. What a gift.

I like to think that the closest I ever came to even a semblance of beauty approached me at that very moment, because my eyes were so swollen with admiration for that man. The closest I ever came to beauty lie within his reflection glinting off of my soul and through my eyes. Lost in his grandeur, I managed to grasp that my surroundings, ugly as they were despite the sentiment of the location, were of that one fateful coffee shop in which he had bought me that deliciously hot cup.

“Yes, my love?” I answered, my cold twitching fingers wrapped around a hot cup of coffee, cream and extra sugar. 

He returned my spoken affection with a disappointing glance and immediately my heart filled with the initial fear only birth could condone.

“'my love'??” He responded, followed by an accusatory glance.

How and why could he ever mistake my endless devotion to him as some sort of fucked up attempt to hide the fact that I was cheating? Again I felt an overwhelming pang of nausea. The mere thought of being with someone else upset me to the point that I was quickly approaching the point of vomit. No one would ever believe me. I instinctively held my mouth to my hand and after having swallowed what I assume to be mostly mucus I looked up at him and asked “how could you ever dare to even think.. how could you accuse me of something like that?”

He looked back at me, contorting his face into that long forgotten expression of confusion before I managed to force my eyes to escape his pained face and look down on a growing red blotch on his shirt. Right at his heart- I couldn't believe it- someone had stabbed him.

When I approached the witness stand to testify to the unbearable death of my long lost love- what disturbed me most was not my ability to lie- but that they actually believed me.

Reviews

[Alexa Apothic Red]

I love your short story! Do not condescend to call it a mere "attempt!" My favorite part was laughing out loud to the line "babbling brook in fairy heaven." Uniquely your own line and your own commentary on the situation.. I could hear the girly giggliness rise up in you at his mere touch and mere words... I have experienced those same nervous responses within myself. My commentary and inner dialogue strings along much like your story, so I just loved being able to crawl around in your brain a bit for this... I loved that you were taken aback that he would need more sugar... but you can tell that you followed him around like a puppy and took your coffee the same way... Oh wait, I keep saying you, assuming this story is about you... it must be your excellent narration, so believable... anyway, the only thing that I will tell you is to replace some of your vocabulary as it gets a little too repetitious in some places, i.e. "contrast" is used way too much when you used it in that one paragraph... Also, semblance and sheer are words to consult the thesaurus on... when I realize I am repeating my own favorite big vocab words and feeling proud of myself for it.. I get more into consulting thesauruses and other writers... some writers have their own signature juicy words... I can see you are highlighting that the "contrast" of his beauty and awesomeness against the real world made you gag and vomit... just look at the contrast differently, and come up with some new, richer ways to describe it. I hope that that helps! Looking forward to more of your stories...

[Lucia]

Thank you for your review! Indeed this was completely fictional in every way, when I wrote it I had been reading a lot of creepypasta (I know, I know, my guilty pleasure) and wanted to construct something entirely new as in the past I've taken too much from my immediate life for inspiration. As for the vocab thank you for pointing that out! I think I'll have to keep a list of words I tend to use a lot so I can refer to the thesaurus more often. You're encouragement is inspiring me to write another! And this time I'll keep it in mind to avoid repeating words and sentiments, hopefully I will be able to grow from there!

[Alexa Apothic Red]

To know that my contribution and encouragement inspires you to grow and expand yourself is a high compliment-I'm touched that you consider my feedback, and to compliment you back, you take constructive criticism very well and see it as a necessary tool in shaping your art in only better and more polished forms, so don't lose that ability to always be open to the RIGHT kinds of good feedback that offer you truth and real substance, something that you can actually work on and attain. I think you have a great fire within you, and your talent is already so polished and well-presented... I can definitely see your work in real print if it isn't already. I am honored to be alongside for its commencement and your journey as a beautiful writer!

As for the autobiographical writing, I think it is great that you are willing to step outside your comfort zone of writing from your own very personal experiences to creating fictional characters but with your own thoughts, commentary and styling on their goings-on. I am impressed at your ability to do that. I have long since used my writing as therapy.. to just purge all the pain, rage and longing within me.. I have been so raw and vulnerable and true to a lot of my own experiences in it. I only just recently gave myself the permission to interweave embellishments, half-truths and more anonymity in a book I am beginning to write based on real events, but with respect to protecting the identities of people in my life, protecting my family and myself as well as just to take some creative license within the context of real events. That kind of freedom is really scary and gutsy for me.. I was always like-my writing is either all truth or all false... it can't be both. But one of my AP English teachers in high school once told me that all good writers elaborate and embellish a little. It makes it more mysterious and intriguing as a reader too.. to try and discern what is true and what is fictional about a work. (Do you ever find yourself googling facts from a Netflix historical drama like Reign, wondering how much was truth and how much is drama created for the sake of the show?). This is a highly effective format as a writer to draw your readers in with intrigue... keep them on their toes and keep them guessing! ;)

So in a lot of ways you inspire me to think outside my box and typical go-to methods and preferences.

Thank you again... keep up with your writing frenzy and as always, you are more than welcome on my page to read my work. I'd love to know what you think.

[Delmar Cooper]

"A girl stabs her lover through the heart in a public place." Reads a narrow synopsis. Makes no sense does it? No, unless you have read all that comes before the deed. Then it makes perfect sense.
Thanks for sharing.

[Lucia]

what a blaring loophole! I hadn't even thought of that, see this is the kind of review I need more often. Next time I attempt a short story I am definitely going to need to remember to step back and out of the details to see the bigger picture, thank you for your needed perspective!!

[Prometheus]

Very dark! I loved it! Your writing is deliciously unique. Nice work.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing storyteller. You used the who, what, where, when and how of every situation. I loved the description. You made the reader feel and see your thoughts and wants. Thank you Lucia for sharing the amazing story. I liked the ending a lot.
Coyote