Plus Size Women: In and Out of the Spotlight.

Something has come to my attention and I feel like I need to let this out of me before I lose my nerve.

I am a plus sized woman. I'm 27 years old, wear a size 24 jean and I weigh more than 300lbs. Am I trying to lose weight? Yes. However, my reasoning is not what most would assume. I am not dieting, per say. I am making healthier choices when it comes to my meals, especially I am out with friends. All of this is just add on to my main point.

Not every woman is going to look like super models. Not every woman is going to strive to have a gap between their thighs or a flat tummy that they can flaunt on the beach. Is this wrong? No. Women in the media who are bigger than average size are looked at in one of two ways. The main way, in my viewing experience of the media, is plus size women are looked at like they are disgusting. Everyone has seen the tabloid headings. "xx has BLOWN UP!" or "xx having trouble losing that baby weight!" Is this the example that we want young girls to follow? The second way is they are looked at as comedic relief. I would like someone, anyone at all to name ONE movie (besides Hairspray) where a plus size woman was seen as the main character in a serious light. In every movie or TV show, the bigger the woman, the more jokes they tell.

Out of the limelight of Hollywood, plus size women are either the subject to ridicule, hatred and vile comments, or they are treated like a fetish instead of an actual woman. A story I can tell is one that has personally happened to me. I was walking to school. As I approached the building, there was a younger man, I would say he was a few years younger than myself, who was smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk. As I walked passed him, he stopped me and said "I have a quick question out of pure curiosity." I stood there and waited as he mulled around in his brain the perfect way of asking his question. After a moment, he looked me dead in the eye and asked, completely serious, "What is it like to fuck one of you?" Needless to say I was shocked, appalled and completely thrown by his question that I couldn't even come up with a response. I just shook my head, turned around and walked away.

I guess what I'm getting at is... Plus Size women are just that: Women. We wear bigger clothing, have a bit more to us than the average woman but in the end, we are made of flesh and blood. We have feelings, we have brains, we laugh and cry and we deserve to be treated like women; not fetishes, not comedic relief and not something below average.

Sorry for the rant. There was just a lot on my mind that has been floating around.

Carver and Max: Rough Manuscript

Intro

The sound of dirt falling off the end of a shovel echoed through the graveyard, breaking the silence of the summer night. A small lantern glowed as the shovel dug into the earth, sending dirt out of the grave. A thud was heard; she leaned over the side of the grave as he scraped dirt away from the wooden surface he had finally reached. Her short, pale arm held the lantern inside the grave as he dug around the sides of the coffin, painted jet black. The surface glistened in the glow of the lantern, and she watched him with glistening green eyes. The humidity of the August night had made its impact on him, causing beads of sweat to drip down his face and tattooed arms. 

             "Hand that here," he said quietly, looking up at her as he passed the over the shovel. She handed him the rusted crow bar as she pulled the shovel out of the pit and laid it down next to her, her eyes never leaving the grave.

             "You ready?" He asked. His eyes met hers and she nodded, taking a deep, quivering breath as she held the lantern out more. She strained on her knees, looking over his shoulder as he dug the crow bar into the side of the coffin. Grunts escaped his lips as he tried prying it open. It finally gave way with a creak, resisting him as he pulled it open. She covered her face with her tiny hand as he coughed inside the grave. The smell was horrid, but nothing could have prepared them for what laid in front of their eyes.......

Chapter One: Max

     She woke suddenly, gasping for air in her tiny apartment. Another nightmare had caught her in its grasp and was reluctant to let go. The images of death and decay swirled in her brain as she breathed deeply, allowing the thoughts to vanish along with the desire to sleep through the rest of the night. Her head pounded, and she ran her fingers through her choppy, red hair, massaging her over-tired brain.  As she looked around her room, a snore from beside her startled her. She looked to see a man she had just met sleeping soundly next to her. Another night at the bar, another man she will only see once. Such was life. She shook her head and pulled herself out of bed to the washroom. The man woke as the mattress roused him back to slight consciousness, and he watched her slim, pale body slither out of the room. He smiled to himself and listened as the washroom door closed behind her.

     She watched herself in the mirror. She was beautiful, though she didn’t see it. Her green eyes were huge in her face, and her skin was almost ghost white under the florescent lights of her washroom. She grabbed a brush from the counter and ran it through her bright red hair, the layers sitting perfectly atop her shoulders, and her side-swept bangs framing her oval-shaped face. As she put the brush down, there was a knock at her bathroom door. Not even bothering to cover herself, she answered the door and saw the man from the bar standing there, naked as the day he was born.

     “Yeah?” she said as she leaned against the door, never taking her eyes away from his face.

     “Your name is uh....” he started and she rolled her eyes. She watched him scrunch his brow in concentration as he rubbed the side of his face. His five o’clock shadow was obviously starting to irritate him.

     “My name is unimportant,” she said, brushing her body past him and making her way back to her bedroom.

     “Hey! I remember your name,” he started after her, his feet stomping on the hardwood floor as he walked into the bedroom after her. He looked around her room frantically, looking at all of the framed pictures and achievements. “It’s Max. It just took me a minute.”

     “Very good,” she smiled at him. “It would have been even better had you not read it off the diploma hanging on the wall.” He was defeated and hung his head. She sat on her bed, leaning back and watching him as he searched the mess of clothes on the floor for his own.

     “Where are you going?” she asked as he pulled on his boxer briefs.

     “Home?” he answered, refusing to look her in the eye.

     “Oh, no you’re not,” she said, leaning over and pulling him by the front of his boxers. She brought him close to her as she sat up. “I don’t remember your name either, so you can stay for a few.” She kissed his stomach and pulled his boxer briefs back down. He was going nowhere any time soon.

Chapter Two: Carver

     He shot up in bed and gasped for air as the humidity in his small room silently suffocated him. Wiping sweat off of his brow, he ran his long, tattooed fingers through his hair and looked around the familiar room. Everything was fine again. He was fine again. The dreams that invaded his soundless slumber had evacuated his mind for the time being and he was relieved as he stood up and made his way to the washroom. 

     His one level house was filled with the smell of humid air and marijuana from the night before, making his hangover worse as he walked into the small washroom, leaving the door open as he stripped off his clothing and relieved himself. The crows cawed outside of the window as he moved to the sink to wash his face and hands. He looked himself in the mirror as he splashed water on his face and through his hair. Big, blue eyes stared back at him, shadowed by dark circles and what appeared to be a fresh cut on his left eyebrow. Another scar to add to the collection he thought as he smiled and pulled out his toothbrush, leaning his 6’4 body over the sink.

     “Carver?” a female voice resonated through the house as he heard the screen door slam.

     “Bathroom,” he called back, spitting toothpaste into the sink and rinsing his mouth out. The older lady walked down the hall and turned into the bathroom before she could be warned of his nudity.

     “Jesus Carver, you couldn’t tell me you were naked?” The woman turned right back around and stayed out in the hall as Carver chuckled and grabbed his shorts.

     “Well mom, you would think that after the first thirty times, you would learn to ask if I’m dressed or not.” He grinned as he stepped out and leaned down, kissing her on her cheek. He headed out to the kitchen with her following behind.

     “I brought breakfast,” she smiled, her whole tone changing as she sat at the kitchen table and leaned back, tying her black hair up into a ponytail. “And I’m buying you an air conditioner, this heat is disgusting, I don’t know how you stand it.”

     “Mom,” Carver murmured, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I don’t need an air conditioner. The fan I have works just fine.” He took a bite out of a cinnamon bun, one of six his mother had brought him for breakfast. He placed one on a plate and gave it to her as she frowned at him.

     “It’s being delivered and installed today. Already paid for. You can’t say no now,” she smiled sweetly at him as she picked up her bun and picked at it with her short, slender fingers. She meant well, but Carver hated when she bought him unnecessary things.

     “Ok, fine,” Carver sighed as he opened the fridge and retrieved a jug of juice. He placed two glasses on the counter and poured them each a glass as his mother got up and hugged her son, despite him just wearing shorts. He hugged her back and she looked up at him lovingly.

     “All I want is for you to accept my gifts and to not get anymore tattoos.”

     “I can’t make promises on either one,” Carver laughed and released his mother, making his way to the living room to grab the shirt he wore the night before. It smelled of whiskey and marijuana, but he didn’t care. It was something to cover his tattooed chest as he mother stared at him with exasperation.

     “I have to go to work Carver. Are you going to be here when they come for the air conditioner? They’ll be here at noon.”

     Carver rolled his eyes and looked at her from across the room. “Yes I will be here at noon to let them come in and hook up this very unnecessary piece of equipment you say I need.”

     She smiled brightly and walked towards him, hugging him goodbye. She released him and slugged his arm before walking out the door, smiling over her thin shoulder as she walked away. Carver sighed and shook his head, heading back towards the washroom for a long, cool shower.

Chapter Three: Max

     The afternoon sun shone through the slight crack in the drapes, shining directly in Max’s eyes. She woke and rolled over, expecting a mass of man to block her. She was wrong. She looked at the clock on the far wall. The time said “12:45pm,” and it made her shake her head and smile to herself. By the coldness on her pitch black sheets, she estimated he had been gone at least an hour. Quicker than any other man; she was impressed. It’s nice not to have to throw someone out she thought to herself as she sat up. She slithered out of the sheets and put on a white tank and black shorts. The humidity in the air was rising and she was not a summer weather kind of person. If the air conditioner broke down, she would be a mall and bar rat for the remainder of the summer, even if it killed her. As she was strolling through her living room, which was practically bare except for one leather couch and a small TV, the phone on the kitchen counter rang. 

     “Hello?” she said, flipping the phone open and unplugging it from the charger.

     “Max?” The voice on the other end belonged to her mother; the only woman she would never disrespect.

     “Hey ma,” she said as she leaned against the counter and opened a pack of Poptarts. “How are you?”

     “I’m worried about you of course,” her mother sighed on the other end. “Are you coming for dinner? Your dad wants to see you.”

     Max sighed as she chewed a piece of her lunch. Her and her father had not gotten along since she decided to move out. Her decision was made two years prior. He had never approved and she had not fully forgiven him for the coldness he flung in her direction.

     “Neh,” She said, popping the last piece of pastry in her mouth and throwing the wrapper in the trash. “I think I’ll just make something here. I’m not in the mood for company tonight.”

     She heard a deep, quivering sigh on the other line. She instantly felt bad, but as stubborn as her father was, she was more so. Today would be a day to be alone. She and her mother hung up after an emotional goodbye and Max headed to the bedroom to search through her closet. She needed an outfit for work; tonight was not the night to call in sick.

Chapter Four: The Meeting

     The bus ride was a long one to “Clarity”, a club she worked at on weekends to get through the summer months. Wind blew through the bus windows, drying the sweat that had stuck to Max’s chest and stomach underneath her black, sequined top. Her leather skirt stuck to her thighs, and she wiggled her toes in her open toed stilettos as some of the guys on the bus looked her up and down. She eyed them back with intensity behind her eyes and they quickly looked away. She smiled to herself and turned up the music that was in her headphones. 

     The bus squealed a stop at a busy stop, letting many people on at once. Max moved her purse from the seat beside her to her lap as 10 or more people flooded the aisle. A chubby guy around her age looked at her and sat next to her, knocking her slightly to the side. She looked at him with an annoyed look at on her face and he smiled widely at her, showing all his teeth. Max looked down at her freshly painted black nails, and tried to get the feeling that was creeping up her spine out of her mind. A full blown anxiety attack was creeping up; Max took deep breaths to calm herself.

     “Are you ok?” Max looked up at the guy next to her, his tattooed hand was on her shoulder and he had a look of concern on his face. His blue eyes looked over her as she sat up straight and cleared her throat.

     “I’m fine,” she said as she pulled an ear bud out of her ear, releasing a blast of music into the air. She looked towards the front of the bus, noticing how uncomfortable she felt. Max could feel his eyes on her, and it took all her will power to not turn back around to look at him.

     “I’m Carver,” he said, leaning over and resting his heavily tattooed arms on his legs. Max looked over at him and smiled. For some reason, she couldn’t help herself.

     “I’m Max,” she said, reaching her hand out for his. He took it and held it for a moment before letting it go.

     “Nice to meet you, Max,” Carver smiled back. She looked him up and down quickly, noticing how unlike other guys she had seen around this area he was. Carver was covered in tattoos, at least from what she could see. In a red t-shirt and Dickey’s shorts, he seemed perfectly unaware of how hot it was outside, aside from the sweat that had formed on his forehead and around his brown Mohawk, which stuck a good 4 inches straight up. “Where are ya headed tonight?”

     “Ah, work,” Max replied. “I work nights at ‘Clarity’ during the summer.”

     Carver laughed and leaned back against the seat, confusing Max. She decided to not push it and looked toward the front of the bus again.

     “You don’t look like a ‘Clarity’ kind of chick,” Carver said quietly as more people piled onto the bus.

     “It pays the bills,” Max replied, sighing deeply as she looked back at him. “What kind of girl do I look like?”

     Carver looked her straight in the eye and grinned. Max felt her heart beat a bit faster and her body temperature drop. The look in his eyes made her feel like she was in the middle of a snow storm in July.

     “I don’t know,” he murmured. “But I’d sure as hell like to find out.” 

Just as Max opened her mouth to respond, he leaned over her and pulled the stop cord. He smirked at her as the bus pulled to a stop, and she smiled back.

     “See ya around Max,” he said as the doors opened, and he stepped off the bus. The doors closed and the bus made its way forward. Max took a deep breath in and calmed herself. She had never met a man who made her blood turn cold like that, and even if she didn’t want to, she liked it.

...

     “Hold on a second,” Phena said loudly over the dance music in the club. “What was his name?” 

     “Carver,” Max said as she made her way around the bar to talk to Phena. “I met him on the bus.”

Phena laughed and poured the drinks that were needed next as Max placed her tray on the counter. Phena looked amazing in her White tank and tight blue jeans, and all the men who came by to order drinks thought so as well. She had skin the colour of caramel, and her black hair hung down her back, never getting in her way or falling over her shoulders. The best thing about Phena though, was her laugh.  She laughed like it was coming from her lower belly every time, and it made everyone around her smile or laugh along with her.

     “What in the fuck are you doin’ meeting men on a bus, Max?”

     “I didn’t intend to meet anyone on the bus,” Max said as she smiled and waited as Phena poured the drinks and placed them on the waiting tray. “I didn’t even get his number or anything. We had a ten minute conversation and that was all. He was just nice.” 

     “Mmmhm,” Phena said as Max picked up the tray and walked around the bar, pushing through the crowd of dancing people. “He made ya tingly in the panties and you know it.”

     Max rolled her eyes and laughed as she walked away from the bar, listening to Phena laugh loudly over the music that surrounded her. Carver did not make her feel anything sexual, but explaining that to Phena would be impossible. As she placed the drinks down on her customer’s table, and collected the very generous tip they left her, she got to wondering exactly what kind of feeling Carver did give her. She remembered that she enjoyed it, but it intimidated her at the same time. The same feeling came back as she thought about his eyes looking directly into hers. She shook her head and headed back towards the bar, promising herself that she wouldn’t think of him again for the rest of the night. If she did, it would be a long night for her.

Chapter Five: By Chance

     The night seemed to go by in a flash. The tips were excellent, the air conditioning in the club kept her comfortable; she even found herself dancing around as she waited on the tables. After what had started out as a typical and quite mundane morning, Max was feeling good. This was the first night in a long time that she felt like she didn’t need to take anyone home with her to satisfy her need for human contact. She was feeling like her old self again.

     As she cleaned up the tables, she could hear Phena on the phone with her boyfriend.  She laughed and smiled brightly as she wiped the counter top down, clearing the empty and half full glasses that were left over from last call. Max smiled at her as she walked past her to the back to retrieve her purse. Phena smiled back and waved goodbye, as she continued to talk to the man who was making her laugh on the phone. Max walked out the front door and made her way to the bus stop. As she was walking, she saw the last bus of the night speed past her. 

     “Shit!” she said aloud. She put her hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. She could always go back to the club and tell Phena what happened. As she turned around, she almost screamed as she was face to face with Carver. She shoved his shoulder roughly as she shoved past him, which made him grin and chuckle softly.

     “Do you always sneak up behind women at 2am?” she asked as she walked quickly towards the club. Her heels clicked loudly on the pavement as Carver walked beside her in a comfortable strut. She looked up at him, noticing how tall he was compared to her 5’1” frame. He was at least a full foot taller.

     “Nah, not at all. But I can tell you’re the special kind,” he grinned down at her and she rolled her eyes. He had genuinely scared her, and she was prepared to knock him out if needed. She was not in the mood now that she had to beg for a ride home from a man she had only met once through Phena.

     “I’m not special,” she sighed as they reached the front of the club. She stopped to face him as he lit a cigarette. “What are you doing here?”

     “I figured you would be getting off late and would need a ride home,” Max looked at him and cocked her head slightly to the side.

     “You took the bus earlier, remember? You met me on it. How could you possibly get me home even if I did need a ride? Which I don’t, by the way,” 

     “I took the bus to my buddy’s house where my car was. I went drinking last night, I couldn’t drive home. He took my car,” Carver stepped to the side and pointed to his car, which was a beat up, red Chevy truck. “Do you want a ride?”

     Max looked back towards the club, seeing Phena in through the window clearing up the last of the mess left behind before looking back up at Carver. It was tempting, but she wasn’t sure. Carver smiled slightly at Max, and held out his arm jokingly.

     “I’d love one,” Max said quietly as she wrapped her arm around his and walked with him towards his truck. Carver opened the passenger door for her, and helped her in before walking around the front and hopping behind the wheel. The car was older, and Max guessed Carver’s father had once owned it. The interior was in good enough shape that it could be sat on comfortably, and there was a distinct smell of cigarettes and marijuana. Max loved the car as soon as she put her seat belt on.

     “Before you start the car,” Max said as she put her hand on his just as he put his key in the ignition. He leaned back and watched her as she took her hand away. “You’re not some kind of axe murdering stalker right? You’re not going to chop me up and harvest my body for organs or nothing?” Carver burst out laughing and slapped his hand on the steering wheel. 

     “Are you serious?” 

     “Well, yeah,” Max said looking down at her lap. She was embarrassed and could feel her cheeks burning. 

     “No Max,” Carver said, allowing his laughter die down as he saw her embarrassment. “Have you never just had a guy want to be your friend before?”

Max thought back before looking up at him. She shook her head no and pushed her hair out of her face and sighed.

     “Well, you’ll be happy to know that I would like to be your first,” Carver smiled at her and started the car. Max relaxed in her seat as music blared through his sound system. “Let’s say we get you home.”

     “Alright then,” Max looked out the window as the car pulled onto the street. She felt strangely comfortable, and was at ease as Carver began to sing and rap along to the song playing on the stereo, making her laugh. She had never enjoyed herself around men until she met Carver. And she wasn’t sure she ever would again.

...

     The ride was a bumpy one. Carver made a point to go along all the roughest roads, making Max squeal and scream as the tires left the pavement. Before long, Max’s throat was raw from laughter, but she was passed the point of caring. For the first time in a long time, she was having fun. 

     Carver turned and pushed his foot hard on the brake in front of an old cemetery, making Max grab onto the dash to keep from plummeting through the windshield. She looked at Carver, and her smile slowly turned back into its usual straight line. Carver’s face was solemn. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel and his eyes were straight ahead, looking into the graveyard. It was evident that he did not mean to take this road. After a moment, Max touched his shoulder and he snapped back from the place he had escaped to in his mind and pulled away from the gated area. 

     “Are you ok?” Max looked at him worriedly, touching his arm as it rested easily on the stick shift,

     “I’m fine,” Carver responded, shaking her hand off of his arm as he stuck the car in gear and sped down the street. The rest of the ride was a silent one, as Max looked out the window and fiddled with the sequins on her shirt. She didn’t know what to say. The silence was so awkward, and she was happy when the car squealed to a stop in front of her building.

     “Thanks, Carver.” Max said as she grabbed the handle of the door. As she was leaving, Carver touched her arm, and Max closed the door again.

     “I’m sorry for earlier,” he said, looking down at the faded upholstery that was between them. “Bad memories, you know?”

     Max nodded and leaned in to hug him. Before she could wrap her arm around him, he pulled away, leaving her half leaned over in the car. Max sighed and shook her head. As Carver looked at her, and attempted to apologize again, she was already out of the car and making her way up the stairs towards the door to her apartment. He sighed and pulled back out into the street as Max looked back towards him. She shook her head and walked into the building. 

...

     “You let him give you a ride?!” Phena screamed over the phone as Max undressed in her room. “Are you stupid, girl? Why didn’t you just come back and let me get you a ride home? Did your mama not teach you nothin’?!”

     “I was fine. We had fun. Well... Up until the end,” Max pulled her shirt over head and threw her bra across the room as she sat on her bed in just her heels and panties. “He accidentally pulled over in front of a cemetery, and it was instantly awkward. He tried explaining but, I don’t know. He just changed instantly. Wouldn’t even let me hug him goodbye. It was like I needed to get out of the car instantly and he was too nice to tell me to just get out.”

     “That’s because he’s a weird guy, Max. It would be in your best interest to never see him again,”

Max pulled off her heels and walked into the bathroom to wash her makeup off and tie up her hair. She put the phone on speaker and let Phena tell her what she thought she should do as she ran the sink and soaked her face. As she looked up at her reflection in the mirror, she knew that Phena had a point, but there were two sides to everything. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to see Carver for at least a little while. Distance would be lovely right now, as she had no idea what to even say to him if she did see him, but she would eventually bump into him somewhere. The town wasn’t that big and now he knew where she worked in the summer. She finished in the washroom, looking fresh faced and exhausted as the clock on the wall showed it was almost 5:00am. As she laid down in her bed, she let Phena go and pulled her covers up as her air conditioning shot a cold breeze through her bedroom. As she lay in bed, she thought of Carver’s expression in the truck. The sadness that ran across his face was not that of ordinary grief, and she could tell he was hurting from the pit of his stomach all through his body. But what could she do to help him? 

     Max closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the blackness that both comforted and terrified her. Tomorrow was another day, and she had some preparing to do.

...

     He stormed into his one level house and threw his keys across the room. Carver was enraged at himself and needed the kind of release that only came from the bottle. He strode into the tiny, unkempt kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Jack from the counter. Straight and warm, that was how he liked it. He unscrewed the bottle top and fell into the couch in the living room. He drank from the bottle like it was water, and gasped after he took his lips away and the burn set inside his throat. He put the bottle on the cluttered coffee table and leaned back against the back of the old couch, one arm covering his eyes as the alcohol slowly went to his head. He thought of Max’s face as she looked back at him from the door of her apartment. It was filled with anger, pity and confusion, three things that Carver never wanted from anyone. His mind shifted back to the angelic face that was now a never-ending reminder of what he lost. Skin as pale and perfect as the first snow fall of the year, deep brown eyes that smiled whenever she would look at him, and long, brown hair that covered her entire back and moved as if it were alive as the wind blew around her. He thought back to the last time he saw her; anger and hurt spread across her face as she pressed her back against the wall. He screamed at her with the smell of Jack radiating off of his body and breath, told her to get out and to never come back. She left that day with tears flooding her eyes and that was the last time he or anyone would see her again. It was his fault, as he said over and over again to her friends and family.

     Carver shot up and grabbed the bottle of Jack. He stood up and violently threw the bottle at the farthest wall. It exploded on impact, sending shards of glass and alcohol across the room. Breathing heavily, Carver walked down the hall to his room and slammed the door. Sleep wouldn’t come easy, but it was better than being awake with the memory of his loss.

Untitled Beginning to a Short Story

            The sound of the rain slams against the single panned window and vibrates through Mary’s head; welcoming after such an intensely humid morning. Thunder rumbles loudly outside of the office building, sending tremors through the floor and up Mary’s legs through her high heeled Mary Janes; a gift her mother deemed “ironic.” She sighs deeply, closing down her computer and leaning back, satisfied with her work for the day and thankful to be able to go home. Glancing outside, a bolt of lightning blazes across the now black sky and she smiles. Tonight was going to be a good one.

            Mary has always looked at herself as an average woman of twenty-four years old. With long, black hair cut into chopped, messy layers, deep brown eyes and skin the colour of cream, she has never thought of herself as beautiful, and stayed in a constant state of oblivion when it came to men. Her bubble was a small one, and she preferred to keep to herself. As she puts her papers in her black briefcase and un-tucks her emergency umbrella from inside her desk, she starts out of her cubicle, only to be stopped by John.

            John is Mary’s cubicle neighbour, and is one of those men who could never take “no” for an answer. He smiles at Mary as he stands in front of her cubicle doorway; blocking her in and making her roll her eyes in exasperation. At 5’4, John is shorter than Mary by a couple inches, her heels making her tower over him like a giant.

“What is it now John?” Mary breathes as she stares down into his gleaming, blue eyes and widening smile.

“It’s really pouring out there,” he purrs lowly, stepping closer towards her. His cheap cologne filling Mary’s nose and making her stifle a cough. “I figured I would offer you a ride home.”

“Don’t need one,” Mary says through a tight smile. “I have a bus pass and I wouldn’t want it to go to waste. So if you’ll excuse me.”

“You would rather take a bus than have a ride in this weather?” John asks, his eyes wide in disbelief. He runs his hand over his blond hair, which is pulled into a slippery looking ponytail as Mary sighs heavily and leans against her filing cabinet.

“Yes, John. I would. You aren’t my type, and I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Will you please accept that?” She motions with her umbrella for him to move out of her way, and he complies immediately, shuffling quickly back to his cubicle with his head down. Mary instantly feels bad and feels she should apologize, but she knows that would only prompt John to attempt once more to ask her out; something she has no time nor desire for. She quickly heads down the row of cubicles to the elevator, tucking inside before anyone else could join her. Leaving before everyone else is always her goal. Being inside of a crowded elevator is not something she enjoys. Her claustrophobia was known to set in while being in there alone, which was easier than being with ten other people.

As the elevator reaches the ground floor, Mary briskly walks through the office and waves at Katrina, the buxom, blond receptionist with a killer, crimson smile. As she steps out into the rain, she opens her umbrella and struts out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, watching the people around her run for shelter under the awnings of buildings and storefronts.

Mary loves the rain. Even as a child, her fondest memories are of her mother screaming at her from the door of their town house to come in and get dry as the skies opened up and drenched her from head to toe. She remembers this as she stops in front of the bus shelter and she couldn’t help but grin to herself. If I wasn’t wearing a white blouse, I would throw this umbrella my briefcase runs across her mind and she giggles to herself. Composing herself just in time for the bus to pull up in front of her, she closes her umbrella, hops on the bus and takes her seat. The ride home is going to be an enjoyable one.

­­­_____­­­___________________

“Hello?” Ronnie calls from the kitchen of the tiny apartment as Mary walks in, shaking her umbrella and leaving it upside down in the corner.

“It’s just me,” Mary calls back, dropping her briefcase and shaking out her hair as she strolls toward the couch. She sits and unbuckles her Mary Janes, kicking them off and sighing as her feet silently thank her.

“How was work?” Ronnie asks, walking into the living room and sinking into the couch beside Mary with two bowls of spaghetti. Mary takes one graciously and takes a big forkful. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until just then.

“It was typical,” Mary says, her mouth full and her fork swirling inside the bowl. “John tried to give me a ride today. I don’t know what drives that man to get shot down every day of his life but he sure is determined.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so mean,” Ronnie murmurs as she swallows; her big, green eyes watching Mary in amusement. “He obviously likes you. And God knows you need a date.”

Mary shoots her roommate a glare as she chews and swallows her mouthful of dinner. “He obviously doesn’t bathe either. His hair is disgusting and it’s like he showers in cheap cologne.” Getting up off the couch, Mary takes her bowl into the kitchen as Ronnie watches her, humour dancing across her face as she attempts and fails to hide her growing grin.

“And I don’t need a date, Ron. If I wanted one, I would get one.”

“Sure, ok,” Ronnie says, standing up and walking into the kitchen area after Mary. “I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t be so judgemental. Maybe he does bathe but only on weekends.”

Ronnie was always the one who got all the attention. Even in middle school, she was the favourite among the many boys in their school. With long, reddish-brown hair and huge green eyes that stand out against her olive skin, she looks more like an exotic creature than a woman who was born and raised in Toronto.

“Anyway,” Ronnie sighs as she makes her way towards the hallway. “I have to go to sleep. Henry is coming by tomorrow to take me to dinner.” She shakes her rear slightly as she makes her way to the bed, making Mary laugh and shake her head.

“Rest well,” Mary calls out, giggling to herself as she strolls back to the couch and sinks in. Resting her feet on the cushion next to her, she flicks on the television and yawns.

The thunder rumbles outside as Mary dozes on the couch, the TV waking her every so often, bringing her back to the living room couch from her dreams. She picks up her BlackBerry and checks the time. The display reads “12:37am,” causing Mary to groan and turn off the TV as she stretches and sits up on the couch. Standing up, she stumbles sleepily to her bedroom, not bothering to brush her teeth, wash off her mascara or even get undressed. All of that could be done in the morning. As soon as Mary’s head hits her pillow, she is in a deep sleep; too deep to even dream.

"The Morgue" A Short Story

 "Of course they left me. Why am I even surprised?" Claire thought as she stumbled across the wet pavement. The warm, summer night made her even more frustrated than she ever thought she'd be. Her dress was now feeling too short, too tight and was bothering her, her feet burned in her one size too small red stilettos and all she wanted to do was rip the clip that was holding up her straight black hair out, whip it across the street and watch it get run over. Tonight had not been a good night. Walking the two miles home was the only way to clear her head, which was now soaked in the assortment of cocktails she had downed in a matter of a couple hours. The older, dirty guy across the bar who made all those comments towards her was now a dull vibration in her brain, thanks to the cosmopolitans. Walking along the street at 2am was not her idea of a good ending though. 
  
 "At least it's not raining" she thought herself, as she heard "Du Hast" resonating from her purse and echoing off the windows of the local store fronts. She stopped dead in her tracks on the corner of the street to dig through in the light of the street lamp, rustling around and finding everything but the iPhone. As she continued to dig, she was suddenly splashed by a passing car running through an oil and rain water filled puddle. Jumping back, she felt the heel of her right stiletto catch on a crack in the crooked sidewalk and snap, causing her to fall back, landing flat on her rear in a puddle in front of the local chinese restaurant.
  
 "Shit!" she exclaimed under her breath as she got up and looked at her stiletto, which was completely destroyed. Frustration built up inside of her as she felt tears spring to life in her eyes. Pulling herself together quickly as to not draw more attention to herself, she began to hobble down the deserted city street. She heard her phone ring again, and dug around as she continued to walk along.
  
 "Hello?" she said, sounded exhausted and exhasperated as she blew a string of hair out of her face.
  
 "Heyyyyy girl," Tonya slurred from the other end. "I'm so sorry but me and Rach met these guys and they wanted rides home. We were going to come back for you but we are wayyyyyy too drunk to drive."
  
 "Don't worry about it," Claire said, regretting it instantly. She should have told her where to go, but she was too tired to care anymore. After a few minutes, Tonya had passed out on the phone and Claire returned her cell back to her purse. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings as her drunk brain began to sober quicker than she would have liked, and looked around. The china town district was easy to navigate through. Restaurant on the left, butcher shop beside that, and an assortment of the local convience stores full of nicknacks and doo-dads. She knew this area very well. The bus stop was 10 blocks away if she was to continue down the same street, but soon realized she could take the shortcut she had taken as a child and teenager, and cut through the old military cemetary. Crossing the street and walking up the steps to the front gate, she could see the blinking light from inside the bus shelter. It was only a 5 minute walk, and as it began to rain, she risked the mud, dirt and soggy grass and walked in between the gravestones as her one stiletto heel sank in the earth with each step she took.
  
 Claire stopped at a mausoleum half way across the cemetery, looking across to see the comforting light of the bus stop blinking at her as she took off her stilettos. She was fed up of this night and just wanted it to end. As she continued to walk, now slightly more comfortable as her burning feet touched the cold, wet grass, she heard a scraping noise from behind her. Before she had time to turn around, she was grabbed by a cold, clammy hand and pulled back into the mausoleum. She tried to scream out but somehow, she knew no one could hear her as she watched the mausoleum door scrape closed, encasing her in complete blackness. In the darkness, she could hear another door open, and hands grabbing her waist and hoisting her over the shoulder of a man as he made his way down a flight of stairs. Too confused to say or think anything, she stayed quiet until she was dropped on a cold, smooth floor. Her ears were suddenly flooded with the sound of pumping, cyber goth music as she tried to adjust her eyes to the blackness that covered them.
  
 "Hello?" she said loudly, then instantly cringed at how cliche she sounded. Suddenly the music stopped. The silence rang in her ears as she stood up and tried to feel in front of her for anything that she could grasp onto. That's when she heard a familiar sound; clicking of stilettos, slowly creeping closer to her. 
  
 "Well what do we have here? You look just a mess," a soft, feminine voice echoed through what seemed like a vast empty space. "Welcome to The Morgue." Suddenly a spotlight flashed on, and Claire was blinded as her eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, throbbed in her skull. 
  
 "Ok, I know this is going to sound about as stupid as any horror movie script, but where am I?" Claire wrapped her arms around her waist and shivered as the coldness of the room chilled her to the bone. "And why can't I see anything?"
  
 "Manson! Dim the lights a bit, you're blinding our guest," the mystery woman called out to someone. The lights dimmed and Claire slowly opened her eyes. All she could see was herself in a pool of light. The woman giggled as she inched closer, making her black, pvc stilettos visible in the light. Claire watched as the woman stepped closer, revealing her very pale skin, black and white striped, latex mini dress and dark makeup,
  
 "Welcome, again Claire. I'm Macabre, but please, everyone calls me Dame. And this," Dame clicked her heel on the now visible black and white checkered floor and all the lights went on, filling the wide room with dim light. "is The Morgue."
  
 Claire looked around, not able to say anything. Everything in the room was something out of a gothic night club. The DJ booth was high on the wall behind her, with no visible way of access, and behind Dame along the opposite wall, were 5 cages, each with a name and a girl inside. The girls were all pale, almost ghost like, as they danced to the music, which had started again as the lights went up. She read the names to herself, as Dame watched her intently with a small grin, her black hair shone all the way down her back in the lights of club. 
  
 "Allow me to introduce you to everyone," Dame said over the music as she touched Claire's wet back and guided her to the cages. Her stilettos clicked loudly on the floor as the crowd of people, all dressed in latex with dark makeup and almost dead-like pale skin, parted for Dame to pass by. She pointed to all the cages, naming them off one by one by what Claire hoped were nicknames. Lexx, Sullen, Lollirot, Memento, and Psyonide or, as Dame called them, The Gore Gore Girls. Each girl looked over and smiled, waved or nodded as Dame called their names, but stayed in the character of the job they were assigned to do: entertain Dame's many guests. 
  
 Stepping in front of Claire, Dame eyed her attire with a worried look. "You're positively soaked. Necro grabbed you just in time. We must get you out of this... outfit. Come with me,"
  
 Claire was guided to a doorway on the right side of the club. Opening the black, silk curtains, Claire stepped inside with Dame behind her. She realized where the club got it's name instantly. Inside the slightly smaller room, morgue doors covered the sleek black walls in rows, each with a corresponding number. In the far corner was an autopsy table with an attaching sink, and lined with tools and knives. The sour smell of death filled Claire's nose as she felt Dame's hand reach up and pull the small clip out of her hair, and feeling it unravel down her back.
  
 "You know what? I was on my way to a bus stop to go home. I can change there. There's no need to change now. I can just be on my way. I hope you enjoy your night, but I really must be going," Claire said anxiously. She did not want to be a part of this. All she wanted to do was go back to the cemetary, down to the bus stop and eventually get under her covers in her own bedroom.
  
 "Nonsense!" Dame exclaimed with a smile. "You need out of this dress before you catch your... Death of cold." Claire did not like the pause before the word "death" and continued to try to excuse herself. Before she knew it, she was handed a short, red dress by a tall, rather attractive man, along with a pair of white, latex stilettos, and was accompanied to a small screen by Dame and instructed to change.
  
 As the music continued in the other room, she could hear Dame speaking with the man who handed her the dress and shoes, finding out his name was Mortician, and was Dame's brother. Claire stepped out after a few minutes, slightly surprised at how well the dress fit her, and wondering how Mortician knew her dress size. Her mind darted back to when she first heard Dame's voice, and remembered she had known what her name was. Who were these people and what did they want with her?
  
 "That looks lovely on you. You look a bit more alive than I'm used to, but I'm sure that will change by the end of the night. Shall we?" Dame opened the curtain that led back to the club. Claire suddenly felt like she had no control and walked through the curtain. Every one of Dame's guests eyed Claire like she was the next meal, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around her waist to sheild herself again. Dame motioned for her to join her on a sofa as she sat in between Necro, the man who brought Claire here, and Mortician. The couch sank under Dame's tiny frame, the black and white cushions seemed to blend in with her dress as she crossed her legs and lit a cigarette with the ease and grace of a queen. Introduced to the two men, Claire found out that Necro was Dame's fiance. He didn't say anything to her, and just nodded as his name was mentioned. Mortician said a simple "Hello" but nothing more as Dame chattered on, talking with guests as they passed her. 
  
 "Would you like a drink? Some of the Gore Gore Girls have cracked open the liquor so the party is really starting," Dame asked with a smile as Sullen and Lexx came up in front of them. Before Claire could protest, she was handed a drink by Sullen, who skipped off drunkenly with Lexx, their big platforms clunking as they ran back towards the dance floor, as Dame sipped her drink. Claire was confused by the hospitality of these strangers and took a sip of her drink, which was her favourite cocktail. She finished it quickly, and suddenly felt a bit tired. Fear crept over her, sending chills up her spine as she gripped the soft, leather sofa.
  
 "I'm sorry," Claire slurred. She grew even more scared as she heard herself speak. The world was spinning around her, and she felt like she was beginning to pass out as she tried to stand up. "I would really, really like to go home now. Please, Dame. I'm tired and I need to sleep. I want to go home."
  
 Claire blacked out then. Falling back onto the sofa and her glass falling onto the floor and smashing over the black and white tiles. Dame smiled at the sight of this and stood up, leaning over Claire to brush the hair out of her eyes. Necro picked up Claire, and hoisted her over his shoulder as he and Mortician followed Dame across the dance floor back to the small room where Claire changed out of her dress. Necro placed Claire on the autopsy table with a kind of gentleness that was not placed upon her at first. Dame stood at the head of the table as Mortician pulled on latex gloves and picked up a scalpel. He grazed Claire's jugular vein with professional precision and grazed the scalpel again along her femoral artery, and the embalming process began.
  
 As Dame watched her new member slowly bleed out under Mortician's care, she invited her guests, Gore Gore Girls and her DJ, Manson to observe his handy work. As she watched Claire be sewn up, and her skin turn a milky white colour under the lights, She smiled ear to ear and picked out a Morgue drawer just for her. 
  
 "Number 8962. What does everyone think?" Dame asked as she turned towards her guests. They all nodded and agreed with her as Necro once again picked up Claire, this time cradling her like a child. Dame opened the door and slid out the slab that was hidden inside, and Necro placed Claire on it gingerly. Dame looked over Claire, examining her positioning and smiled, very pleased with her choice of members. Claire looked more beautiful in Dame's eyes than she had when she was pulled in from the the cemetery. Her black hair splayed out along the slab and her expression seemed more peaceful than Dame had ever seen anyone's before her. She motioned for Necro to push the slab back into the freezing drawer and grasped the handle of the door.
  
 "Welcome home, Claire," Dame said with a broad grin and shut the Morgue door, locking her newest member inside until the next party was held.


~Crissy D

Love is...

   How can we be certain that the one we love the most is actually genuine? How do we know that when we don't have eyes on them.. They're not off frolicking in greener pastures? We don't for sure. I guess having a little bit of faith goes a long way.

   I have been asked by numerous people what my idea of love is. It seems people trust my opinion on such matters because I have successfully held down my current relationship for the past four years. My idea of what love truly is is quite simple....

   When I think of love... I think of the the feelings that come right up from the pit of your stomach. It's warm and it just grows and grows until there is no where else for it to go but through your pores, out of your orifices and into the presence of the one who makes you feel this way. It is the smile that crosses your face as the individual that you adore calls you; the familiar ringtone that makes your heart jump into your throat and you can't help but fumble as the need to answer it quickly causes your fingers to turn into melting sticks of butter. It is waking up, looking like the swamp thing with swamp breath to match and knowing deep down in your soul that they really do not care what you look or smell like; as long as you are with them as they flutter their eyes open for the first time at the start of a new day.

It is not flowers, candy, date nights and expensive jewelry. Love is a feeling that manifests into something spectacular. It is the only thing in this world that can give you a natural high that lasts for days, and the only thing that can destroy an individual from the inside out. Love is indeed a dangerous, beautiful thing.