beautiful monsters

Escapism

The trouble with pulling the covers over your head and hiding from reality is that reality has a nasty habit of sticking around. As soon as you’re foolish enough to peek out from under the bedclothes, there it is, sitting at the foot of the bed, smirking at you. In these situations your options are really very limited. You can pull the covers back over your head and whimper pathetically, or you can muster up enough foolish rage to kick that bastard off the end of your bed. OK, you’ll just get a sore toe, and reality will leap on top of you and strangle you, but at least you put up a good fight. Give yourself a pat on the back and then fall to your knees and plead for mercy.

*

I would just like to take this opportunity to point out that Little Rose, Alexandra and the Fairy Baglady, Espresso, A Love Poem Without Hesitation, Katie, and this next piece, One Day Jessie (for want of a better title) are all pieces of fiction. That’s right, I made them up. I know that several of you have probably taken them (particularly A Love Poem) too seriously, and at least two of you have probably already read yourselves into one or two of the pieces… but you’re way off baby. OK, so I have an imagination deficit, and so I do draw on my own experiences, so yes, there are a few aspects that were prompted or inspired by Real Life. But I’ve expanded them, and put them in a different context and turned them on their heads and added pretty colours. They’re Not About You.

Why am I getting so defensive? Oh shuddup, leave me alone.

*

I don’t know why I’m writing so much fiction at the moment. I don’t think I’m particularly good at it. I think it’s probably got something to do with the fact that I’m supposed to be putting together a 10 page NON-fiction writing sample, and since I’m the master of procrastination I’ve spend the last few days dribbling silly pieces of plotless fiction.

I'm just kinda playing around. Finding out what I can and can't do, finding out what I enjoy. Feel free to tell me to shut up and get a life. And yes, I do realise that most of these pieces are not finished. I have issues with plot, ok? I'm working on it.

Given the fictitious nature of the last few entries I’m going to dedicate this weekend’s blog to Bec, who probably doesn’t even read Beautiful Monsters but what the heck.

*

I don’t think I’ve posted this next piece on my blog, but some of you will have read it before – it was part of my application for the children’s writing workshop. I just found it while I was rummaging through my C drive, and I don’t think I’ll ever turn it into anything decent, so it’s going where all half-decent ideas go when they die – onto my blog.

One day Jessie

There wasn’t any warning. At least, not the sort you’d expect (changes in the tone of voice, or a growing interest in dolls). No, it all happened overnight, quite without warning. One day Jessie Jones woke up and he was a girl.

Jessie lay in bed for a while, contemplating his new gender. He wasn’t particularly shocked – although he was only nine years old, he had become accustomed to Strange Occurrences Without Explanations. Anyway, the event didn’t seem to be accompanied by dramatic or painful changes. He simple woke up to the indisputable fact that he was no longer a boy.

Jessie swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and wriggled his toes round and around. He got up, and crept into the bathroom, just to be sure. The face peering at him from the mirror was the same face he had glanced at every morning of his life. The same big brown eyes blinked at him. The same tangled hair hung over his ears like strands of sun-bleached toi toi. His cheeks, his nose and his tongue were all there, in the right places. Even his name was the same, but all of a sudden, it was short for Jessica.

Unfortunately the reassuring normalcy ended abruptly when Jessie went to get dressed. He reached into the second drawer down, and pulled out a pink and white speckled dress.

“I can’t play soccer in THAT,” said Jessie, and dropped the dress in disgust. He rummaged through the drawers, and eventually uncovered a pair of jeans. They had purple ribbons sewn around the bottoms, and they sparkled, but at least they weren’t a dress. Jessie pulled on the jeans, and the plainest purple t-shirt he could find, and slunk down the stairs.

Jessie’s dad was muttering behind a huge wall of newspaper. He seemed to be prone to grumpiness in the mornings, and anyway, Jessie didn’t feel ready to point out to his father that he had recently acquired a daughter.

His mum was leaning against the kitchen bench, stirring a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she said, and she didn’t seem at all surprised to see Jessie wearing purple and sparkling. Jessie scowled at his feet and didn’t say good morning back. His mum frowned at his jeans. “Those are a bit small for you, aren’t they. Perhaps we’ll go shopping this morning.”

“That’d be great!” Jessie grinned. Maybe he could get some proper clothes. He’d never live it down if he turned up at the park wearing purple. At least his breakfast hadn’t changed. Cornflakes, soggy and sweet, just how he liked them.

After breakfast, his mum brushed his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d bothered to brush his hair on a Saturday. And she seemed to be doing a very thorough job this morning. Jessie winced as she attacked a knot.

“Hmmm,” said his mum, as she combed the straggly ends. “Perhaps we should go to the hairdressers too, you look like a wild child.”

In the car, Jessie fidgeted all the way to town. What if he saw someone he knew? What would they say when they realised he was a girl? He didn’t even notice when his mum pulled into a park, and she had to call out his name twice before he got out of the car.

Luckily, there was only one other person having their hair cut, a woman that Jessie didn’t know. She had short hair, with streaks of brown and red and blond, and even a few splashes of blue. A hairdresser was spiking it up with mousse. Jessie stared at the woman with rainbow hair. She had golden cat’s eyes with black slashes for pupils, and she gave him a short spiky wink.

“Can I have my hair done like that?” asked Jessie, but his mum just laughed. The hairdresser tied a cape around his shoulders, washed his hair with shampoo that smelled like peaches.

“Just a trim,” said his mum. The hair dresser cut his hair in a neat line just below chin length. “That looks nicer, doesn’t it?” asked his mum. Jessie didn’t think it looked very nice at all, it looked girlier, that was all. But he didn’t say anything.

“Have you ever thought about growing it long,” asked the hairdresser, as she combed his hair again. “You’ve got such lovely hair.” Jessie glared at his lovely hair. The woman with the rainbow spikes had disappeared. He sulked all the way to the department store.

“Chin up,” said his mum. “It won’t take long to grow. Anyway, that bob suits you. Very sophisticated.” She smiled at him, and steered him towards the girl’s clothing section. Most of the clothes seemed to be pink and purple, or forget-me-not blue. There were t-shirts with beaming fairies printed on them, and skirts covered in clouds of pastel flowers. Jessie screwed up his nose, and searched around for something he could get dirty in. He found a rack with tracksuits. The tops were covered in cutesy kittens, but the pants were plan.

“These are sweet,” said his mum, holding up a pink tracksuit. “But mum,” said Jessie, “I don’t even like pink.” He found a blue tracksuit in his size, and couple of t-shirts.

“Well, I guess that’s ok,” said his mum. She was smiling at him with her mouth, but her eyes looked puzzled.

*

The other guys had already started kicking the ball around when Jessie arrived. He ran up to join them, but Jonathan Richards stepped out in front of him with his hands on his hips.

“Go away, we don’t want you here,” he growled. “But...” Jessie cried, “I can play soccer better than any of you!” Jonathan just laughed, “Girl’s can’t play soccer.” The rest of the boys kicked the ball away to the other end of the field. Jessie stood still for a moment, and bit his lip. Then he walked slowly away.

Beside the field was a thick tangled patch of macrocarpa trees. Jessie used to hide there when he was little and he needed a secret place to cry in. Right now he wanted to be somewhere dark and secret, and he headed towards the trees. He knew that if he walked into the shadowy spaces between the trees, the guys playing soccer in the sunlight wouldn’t be able to see him.

He was just settling down under one of the biggest trees, when something fell on his head. Something big and rubbery. He reached up and pulled off a big plastic spider.

“Hey,” said squeaky voice. “This is my tree!” Jessie looked up, and saw a grubby little kid hanging out of the branches. Jessie stared. The kid had clumps of short red hair that stuck out in all directions. It was wearing brown tights, and something that looked like it was made from leaves stitched together. The kid dangled upside down, with its legs hooked over a branch, and stared back at Jessie.

Posted by Fionnaigh at May 31, 2003 11:50 AM