Untitled
Ok so I suppose all of you that know me even slightly know that my only real release of the things that trouble me is through developing characters in a story. Yes whilst the characters follow real life rather closely at least I know I can change them where as in real life I don’t control the acts of others. So basically I’m gunna start posting stories on here, Cookie will want to read them…
Just to say, not all events will be real or how they happened, obviously, this is fiction not an autobiography, but I like to speculate on certain events.
Untitled… Chapter One
They say that a persons wealth is not measured by his material value but by the number of people they love and who love them in return. But I pose the question; how do you define the love that makes that person wealthy? Surely love such as the type shared between a dog and its master would not count? As long as you feed them they will love you. Though, I believe even if you neglected them they would still love you unconditionally. However if you neglected a person, their love for you would eventually fade. Yes, there is claims that certain love is unconditional; the love between a mother and child, between long held friends or lovers. But not even that love is unconditional. As long as people change and grow their love for others changes with them. How can a person even be sure of who loves them? Or even, who they themselves, love?
So this story begins as any good story does, written and began on a piece of receipt paper, in a Primark store, with the author stood, bored, at the fitting room podium. The reason behind this equating for a good story is that this time allows for a lot of thought and reflection in ones life. And, whilst you may accuse this story of simply being written like a diary entry, I believe it is one that can be related to. Everyone has been stuck in a job they hate, lacking motivation, hating the skin they are in, questioning if people are being honest to them. Everyone has had fears and stresses, emotional and love trouble.
“Hi, sorry you can only take 6 items in,” The receipt paper was hastily shoved into the number ‘4’ tag hole. The woman, arms laden with more than six items, stared at the girl in such a way it made her worry she had some grotesque growth protruding from her forehead, maybe a second head.
“But I have 13, can I not take them all in?” The woman just stood challengingly, a slight glare on her fake-tanned face. The worker just sighed, she had been stood here for four hours and still had another four to go. She had already lost count of the number of people who questioned her on the rules of Primark changing rooms. After plastering her face with a fake smile and attempting politeness through clenched teeth and the had woman finally left with 6 items to find a cubicle, she rubbed her fingers against her temples. Whilst this never relieved stress headaches it was an almost subconscious motion. Why did she have to be stuck on fitting rooms, today of all days! It was far too hot and she was sweaty, dehydrated and her mind far too full of her own problems to have to deal with customers who got shitty if you tried to count the number of items they were taking in.
To begin this chapter I suppose I should begin with the start, 10 years ago, when the first emotional upset came in my life. One that has apparently had a chain reaction effect on my emotional state -
“Hey Hug Buddy, what’s up, you look stressed?” Keira shoved the receipt paper back in its hiding place and looked up to see one of her co-workers leaning on her podium, grinning. She groaned mentally, she really didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. Despite this a grin appeared on her face and her cheery demeanour contrasted with her inner foul mood.
“Hey, James. Shouldn’t you be folding boxers?” Keira teased as she took a number tag from a customer leaving the changing rooms, along with 6 unwanted items. She returned to her podium having hung the clothes up only to have an arm wrapped round her. She winced mentally, James really did have no concept on personal space.
“Well I thought I would come cheer up my favourite hug buddy! You looked down,” He pouted down at her. James was a good half a foot taller than Keira, a fact that James had said he rather liked as when he hugged her he could smell the shampoo in her hair. She ducked under his arm, glaring at him in a sign he should get back to work. He sighed and put a hand on her hair. “Ok, ok, I had better get on, but if you need to talk, I’m always here for you,” He grinned at her and ran his hand down her hair, a gesture that far too familiar for Keira’s liking. James grabbed a handful of clothes from the fitting room rail and heading off into the jungle of the shop floor with a parting wink. Keira breathed an audible sigh of relief, ever since James had asked her out things had been really uncomfortable and his lack of personal space awareness hadn’t made things any easier.
Ok half two in the morning, to be continued another time.
