a short fiction piece inspired by my own journey coming out as bisexual;
I chose a fiction narrative to better capture the internal processes I experienced.
Andie stuffed the last storage bin in her car and closed the door. she was relieved a sliver of visibility remained from the driver’s seat through to the back window.
after driving for only a few moments, her phone began buzzing. when she stopped at a gas station and glanced at the texts piling in, her suspicions were confirmed: her friend since childhood, her flatmate Bethany, had adopted one of the small feline siblings of Andie’s grey kitten, Pepper. she smiled to herself and went to pump gas, hearing the phone jingle with new messages even as she closed the door.
the gas station building was tiny so she was grateful the afternoon was a quiet one. only as she had finished paying and was leaving did another customer come in.
as Andie drove, questions flittered through her mind. she wondered what Bethany would name Pepper’s sibling; why the driver of the SUV in front of her had failed to signal their intent to merge into her lane before doing so; what it was about the person who had entered the gas station as she had left that made her feel clunky. the last question lingered as she reached the toll highway and paid the amount to continue her journey toward Levettport.
the calm inside her was hidden,
the monster wouldn't let it free.
until one day, a maiden came
and sung the beast a tune.
a knight joined her chorus
as did a farmer, a mage, a smith.
they sang, played, danced,
and lulled the creature into sleep;
briefly the spell was broken
and the girl knew calm once more,
inspired by a special community in New Brunswick.
here in this soft white room,
as stars begin to peek through inky blackness,
they sit on cushioned chairs,
nestle under throws,
and clasp earthenware.
we mugs hold their cocoa or their tea
(herbal...berry, from the tea drawer).
we are at the centre of their contemplation.
they collect memories and musings from their week,
connect tidbits of shared meaning to kernels of wisdom.
dedicated to V. & S. L.
. we stood beside the ferry railing as the island drew near.
he stood to my right and asked of me:
so where do you think I should begin?
I’ve heard about the lighthouse, haunted cove and old weir,
the swimming quarry, museum, hiking trails;
how the sunrise looks from the northern bluff,
how lobstermen's days start before dawn,
and how wise the innkeeper is.
I’ve also heard about the stories Old Bill tells,
and who knows how to dig clams the best -
I’d like to learn.
I’ve heard there’s a nice spot to pick blueberries,
one particular summer-person’s dog to avoid,
and a kindly musician who lives near Sampson Cove.
what would you recommend?