A small draft about a trans individual I wrote a while back.
|It was winter. A very typical one, but also nonetheless magical. Snow falling down from the angels as white, pure dust. It was filling the grounds, piling up to large mountains and twirling with the power of the wind.
It was just that enchanted. This time of the year. No burning from the everlasting ball of fire. No screaming parents at the beaches, trying to desperately make their children apply more sunscreen. No drunken humanity, screaming their way to the local bars with fake ID’s.
Only bliss. Calmness to chill outrage. Almost demonic silence with a tinge of the half-empty buses running by, leaving a gentle snow cloud behind.
One snowflake found its way on his lips. Other rested on his eyelash making the person in front of him giggle.
It was winter. It was freezing outside but that didn’t cause the feelings to be frozen. In fact, it was time for love.
With nothing but a human beside another, to exchange warmth. With racing hearts, facing each other. Grins decorating the faces of the youth as they find the power from themselves.
It was the time for confessions in a form of pink letters dropping out from lockers. Secret admiration found between the pages of textbooks.
They laughed, closing the distance between each other like it was the only thing that would make the connection last.
And who knows, it might even…
“What the fuck is this crap, prost?”
The writer wailed, stepping up from the work desk, flipping the cheap Ikea chair upside down in the process. Their hands soon wrapped around their face with clear agitation, exhaling deeply.
“Okay.” Michael said simply, trying to keep his posture, “I mean, this is nice. Very, uh…unique. But the point is that this is completely on the other side of the spectrum?! I–it’s–“ he sighs ever-not-so-ambiguously. “Look. I want you to develop in this field. You’re like a daughter I never–“
“Don’t call me a–”
“Yeah, just shut up. What you were supposed to come up with was an action story about a…maybe a robot army, not a…a magical princess falling for a ladies’ charmer, who possibly will return home with a white steed.”
“I never said it was a girl!”
“Whatever. I don’t give a shit, this wasn’t the story we need on the paper, get it?”
An eye roll, muttering under their breath, “Oh, and I wonder why is that…”
“You–“ he lowers his voice, “You know exactly why that is. I can’t even let you out of my sight these days because as soon as I do, you go ahead and write one of your fairytales.”
“They’re not fairytales!”