writingsjokesandmuses

[writingsjokesandmuses]

Write a short story in which mistaken identity is central to the plot

Elias jolted awake for the third time, the darkness closing in as his mind raced. He swung his legs out of bed, careful not to jostle the curtain, and pulled on a jumper.

The door creaked as he opened it, and he froze in place as his roommate stirred. When he was certain no-one woke, he slid out and down the hallway. Finally reaching the big oak doors, he clambered out the window and thudded to the grass. The cold air stung his nose, and he savoured it for a minute, before he ran.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he made it back, pink streaks appearing in the sky overhead. He could hear stirring inside, and picked up the pace when he hit the flagstone under the window. Being caught again would mean detention, and he couldn't risk his parents getting a letter.

Reaching his room, his heart sank when he heard the shower running. Sure enough, Theo's bed was empty, although Peter was still snoring.

[writingsjokesandmuses]

I don't hate my body. I don't, but I do. Sometimes. When I look, in the mirror. When I look, and I see, and what I see is never what I want. Sometimes, these times, I do.

But Sometimes, I don't. At times, when I go, and when I run, and push. Times like these, when I'm strong. When my body is me, it's mine. These times, I don't.

Sometimes I do, but sometimes, I don't.

[writingsjokesandmuses]

My wife and I will use our wedding candles. They wont stay locked away in a drawer, gathering dust. They wont stay on display on a shelf, perfect to the outside onlooker but virtually useless. My wife and I will use our wedding candles. They will sit in candleholders (the fancy ones you see in old movies, when the main character is wearing one of those long bridal-esque nighties) and we will use them. We will use them when the electricity goes out, and we will use them to entertain the kids with ghost stories. We will use them to make the house cosy, lived in. They will drip wax on the windowsills, on the coffee table and the kitchen counter. The wax will overflow as our love, naturally, slowly and constantly.

[writingsjokesandmuses]

I used to hate girls. Not all girls, of course. No, just the ones in my class. My wider year even. Some were my friends, and yet, i hated that group. I've now come to realise that it was more envy than hate. They knew so much. They knew, for one, that their bodies were theirs. Definitively. This was not a thing they questioned. My body was always a maybe, a shot in the dark, a whispered "if I try hard enough I can live with this" in the dead of night. While these other girls were proud to be girls, I would tie my hair up in a hat to look like a boy. I fell out with those friends, and I will always always regret it. I loved them. They were there for me, and they were nice, and they felt kinda like home, but it was just another not meant to be.