The Yellow Rain Coat

You know what’s hard? Being tired. I dunno why I’m tired all the time, but when I came home Sunday night from the Renaissance Faire in King’s Valley, Oregon, I was exhausted. So I delayed coming up with something to discuss. And then I was called into jury selection for two separate cases, both of which I would have liked to be on – they were cases you only see discussed on CSI, okay (one was murder). And then after that was long, arduous housework. Because I love housework – or at least that’s what my father thinks.

So for entertainment sakes, I have something for you! I’m actually not sure why I didn’t post this when I first posted it on fictionpress.com. It’s a short story, super short, and it’s a little… Lovecraftian/King-ish. It’s not explicit to the point where you go “how does someone think of this” but it’s explicit enough that you get the idea. Please enjoy: the Yellow Rain Coat.

 

Alyson stood quietly in an ever-shifting crowd. Sometimes, someone would push her but she’d push back and return to her spot, staring. On the sidewalk, in front of the immovable island, there was a large puddle. It was a large, red puddle, growing with every passing minute. The girl gazed, never wondering if anyone else saw it or if anyone was concerned about her. Drip, drip, drip. That was the only noise she heard. A metallic, coppery smell filled her nose and despite the crowd, it was the only scent she knew. Alyson briefly considered touching and tasting it, but a feeling in the pit of her stomach told her not to.

So she stared. She stared at the red puddle and was lost to the world. No amount of pushing, pulling, dragging, prodding, or hauling could remove her from her sentry. She felt the need to watch for something from within; Alyson was a guard, but what exactly she was guarding, she was not sure of.

For a long while, many hours passed and maybe a few nights, and Alyson saw nothing but a few ripples from the droplets. Yet still she watched. At times, depending how she was shoved about, Alyson saw her reflection. She faintly knew the long, blonde haired girl with a pale complexion and dark blue eyes with the yellow rain coat was her, so she ignored it. Sometimes she thought she heard her name being called, but she never answered. Only once did she remember what the heat of the noon day sun felt like, but she let it bother her none. Almost always, though, she knew hunger. The tiny, petite child felt as though she could consume an entire horse; which was strange because before, she hardly ever ate. It didn’t matter, though. All that did was the puddle. It had to be watched. Who would watch it if she was gone?

And then the puddle did something new.

On the seventh day of her vigil, the puddle seemed to bubble, as if boiling. Alyson leaned forward to get a closer look. Indeed, it was bubbling, but neither heat nor steam rose from the puddle. She took a step closer and that caused the puddle to bubble faster. And Alyson’s belly felt excruciating. Whether from hunger or from something else, she could not tell. She took another step closer and vomited.

A woman screamed. People turned and saw the little blonde girl in the yellow rain coat wrenched apart – wrenched apart by a large, dark, greyish-green thing that looked faintly like an octopus. It was crawling out of her mouth, and something had sliced open her belly. Alyson couldn’t move or scream; she felt no need to. The creatures she had birthed were in the red puddle, making noises. She had done her duty. She could sleep.

Alyson’s last images were of a creature coming forth from the puddle and latching onto the nearest human, killing him as it gruesomely entered his body. Then the creatures were spreading.

Alyson closed her eyes and a voice whispered, “Rest in peace, my darling, you have done your duty.”

Equality Shmequality

equality 1equality 2

These are two of my favorite GIFs – because they’re true. This kid hit our world dead on while describing something that we like to pretend we have. Like, just the whole idea of equality as it is right now is frickin’ silly. Lemme run it down for you using myself as an example:

  • I am a woman. I am not equal.
  • Because of my sexuality, I am not equal.
  • But I am white. I have more privileges than other people.
  • I identify as a CIS female. I have more privileges than other people.

WTF, everybody? How is that cool? How is that okay? Because I’ve got a vagina AT ALL, men are still assholes. Because I consider myself pansexual, to put a label on it, I’m out in the dark. But I’m white, so it’s all good, right? I was BORN female. Everything’s just wonderful!

WRONG. HOW DARE YOU TELL ME WE’RE EQUAL. THE ONLY “EQUALNESS” IN THIS WORLD IS RICH WHITE MEN IN THE GOVERNMENT.

It shouldn’t matter what the color of your skin is, you’re my equal because you’re a human being. It doesn’t matter if you prefer one genitalia over another or if you couldn’t care less about sex, you’re my equal. You were born a man/woman but are really a woman/man and you’re working towards fully becoming who you were meant to be? Ignore the people who shy away from you, who tell you you’re messed up; come sit next to me and talk to me about your favorite books or music or games. I don’t care if you’re trans, I’m just happy you’re finding yourself, so let’s be friends.

And guys, guess what. Just because I have a vagina instead of a penis doesn’t mean you get to walk all over me. I don’t know why I’m here yet, but I do know that I’m not here for your sexual entertainment. I’m not here to take care of you. I will not baby you and I will not bend over backwards to please you. So stop acting like that’s all women are good for.

What I’m trying to say is: YOU (yes you, reader) are my equal. I am YOUR equal. We’re human, so why do we protest this fact so much?

I’m So Sorry

Well, gee whiz, people, it’s September and I haven’t posted anything since July. I’m so, so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to leave you without some entertaining poems or stories, either! It was just one of those times when I had nothing worthy of posting, you know? I mean, I had ideas, but I could never form them properly. But guess what! I’m going to attempt to get back into the swings of actually posting something on a blog that is not a gif set of Castiel and Dean! Goodness sakes, I can already feel myself getting a few braincells back and relearning how to type properly…

As much as I love Tumblr, I can’t help but say I’ve missed the sanity of WordPress. This is for sure. Though, my tags will probably still be just as weird – tags are my thing. I love making random tags. Sometimes it’s to test just how many people read my tags. So look at the tags once in a while from here on out, especially on funny stuff!