teenagers

The Record Store, flash fiction story

The record store

--

It started with gray, gray everywhere. But it wasn’t in any sort of literal way; it was just a really rainy day that most of the room was turning gray. Two girls were lying at the floor with no motivation and lipstick smeared all over their chins. “This Is killing me, man” “Yeah, I know, but you were the first one who wanted to wake up early y’know?” “So what should we do?” “Well, it’s rainy, and we ate most of the food between yesterday and today, do you have any money left at all?” “As a matter of fact, I do, you know I’m very good with my savings” “Yeah? What about last weekend” “So? Do you want the money or not?” “Let’s go to a record store” “But it’s far away” “Your parents aren’t home anyway, and we have no electricity in this place, we might as well just stay here and it won’t change the fact that there’s nothing else to do” “Fine” one of the girls sighed “But if we do go to the record store, I’m not leaving that place until I find something of The Strokes” “Yeah yeah, hurry”. So they left the house and went to the nearest Record Store, and it was still gray everywhere. Gray, buildings, gray sky, gray people. They Arrived. And although it was still gray, it wasn’t empty at all. They entered, and assistant boys with black shirts were stacking everything really fast, because discounts of New Year ’s Eve were getting near.  “You go that way” pointing the alternative area “And I’ll go that way” pointing the oldies but goldies area. The girl at the oldies but goldies was mostly searching for gifts,  but she actually found very good ones by 80s artists such as Robert Smith, Morrissey and other, and of course, Glam forgotten artists. “There are so many” she sighed again. One of the boys with blue shirt arrived “Is there anything I Could help?” “No thank you I’m actually pretty fine” The boy, although he looked tired and as if he didn’t had a shower in 2 days still smiled with kindness “I see you’re holding a The Cure and The Smiths records, do you fancy 80s music?” “I Like it, yeah, it’s ideal for this weather” “I totally agree” “Thanks anyway” But the Boy still smiled and got closer “You know, tomorrow we will have more discounts than today, you should come back tomorrow, too” “Ah, you’re just saying that to help you get more money to your company” “You caught me”, the boy laughed, and leaned towards a stack of vinyl’s “You know, my mother introduced me to The Cure when I was little, I never thought I could like them so much, sometimes I’m very impatient with music, I like it or I don’t, and there’s no in between,  for example” and he took a bunch of albums very rapidly “Out of these ones (They were  New Order, Poison, Pulp, and other) “Do you think I could like them?” “Uh, I don’t know” the girl started to worry but remained calm “Probably, if you listened them” “Yeah I guess you’re probably right, but still, I hate it when bands change their style completely, like the Monkeys, do you like the Monkeys?” “Arctic?  Yeah, they’re good, I have most of their albums” “Well, their new one is terrible, it arrived really early in here, and I got a free sample” The boy started to get closer but still he was getting a childish-like anger. “…And It was terrible, don’t get me wrong, I love them, but I just can’t dig it, it’s not good music to me anymore, and my last girlfriend, oh my god, did she like ‘em, she was just a pain in my butt, always talking about them, not that I don’t like girls that like the monkeys, it’s just, I like more care-free girls, or maybe that’s just me, you know, they say, boys and girls look people who resemble to their parents, I think that’s psychology, not sure, but I’m studying a masters in politics so I’ll have to search for that ”

 

 “I need to listen to it. And, I guess, wasn’t that a Freud theory?” “We have it right there, but buy these ones today, and If you come tomorrow I can make you a great discount” “Sounds great” said the girl trying to keep up with the boy’s temperament “So, I know this will be me rushing too fast, and It’s illegal, don’t tell anyone, let me buy you a coffee, Starbucks, yeah” “As in, today?” “Or whenever you say” “Okay, okay, let me go back tomorrow” Sounds excellent to me” “Thank you, so that’ll be it, I have to back with my friend” “It was nice meeting you” the boy was still smiling with kindness but it was noticeable the lack of sleep he had “He probably had a lot of coffee” the girl said to herself to calm herself down of the amount of experiences she had with just one person. She went with her friend. The other girl was smirking almost laughing at her face “So I see you had fun ehhhhhhhhhh?” “Shut up” “Oh, come on! He’s not the craziest people you have met, and you know that, he actually looks nice, without that, caffeine, not-showering-in-days-look” “He talked about his mother and his ex-girlfriend with me, and other stuff I can’t remember” “Keeper!” the girl shouted “Shut up!” the other one blushed and gave a little punch to the other girl “Hurry up, please” “No, no, maybe I should talk to him too, he could become part of the family soon enough” “You’re terrible, I’m not buying you albums” “Alrighty, it’s okay, I got everything let’s go, I see you’re suffering” The Girl, still red took the albums and paid for everything.  They went out of the store, the boy was looking at them, but he was attending some other people. “It’s over now, let’s go and eat” “Yeah”. It was still gray, the buildings and people were still gray,  but even though it was gray, they gave the girls something to talk about on a gray day.  

Cherry Sweet Kisses

Folder: 
The Past

Every time he gets around me

I fall weak

Trip on my words

Suddenly can't speak.

 

The way he licks kis lips

Soft and wet--

My palms get sweaty

My heart jets

 

He inspires me

To be everything that I can.

It's crazy how i feel this way

About this man.

 

He calls my name

Like the lyrics to a love song

Carried to me by Cupid himself

Nothing can go wrong.

 

When I look at him, same body as me

I get scared and back away

Somehow, he makes me smile again

and his Cherry Sweet Kisses convince me to stay...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reminiscing...

What type of person are you?

Folder: 
The Rest

I can’t do girls. Or rather, men are so much easier. With men, what you see is mainly and mostly what you get. They don’t put on a face for every occasion and even when they do, that face is mostly transparent. That’s why women jump on inscrutable men. They make the mistake of thinking they must be hugely deep or wonderfully complex, but usually it's a practiced, but not desperately durable act. Those with a complex outside and an equally fascinating inside are truly few and far between.

 

Now women are just harder work. Most of us put on some kind of social facade.  My emotional antenna is far from perfect, but it bugs me how often the words coming out of peoples' mouths and the emotions they broadcast don't match.  Probably why I didn't have many female friends growing up and don't like meeting groups of strangers for the first time.  Too much to process!  People, especially women seem to fall into 3 main types.

 

1. Those who can put on an act, but it's not convincing enough to fool someone for long.

2. Those who put on a damn good act, impress quite a few folk, but still get caught out by astute observers. The more attractive someone is, the more likely they are to succeed in pulling the wool over your eyes.  Relying on willing suspension of disbelief.

3. Those who are incredibly good at being exactly who everyone else wants them to be - so good, you can't spot that it's an act, OR those who can't help being, or decide it's best to be, exactly who they are.  

 

Let me explain more.

 

Type 1. Amateur facade. You know you've found a type 1 if you've had a conversation that never got past the wafer thin superficial.  They will work through “How to greet and interact with other humanoids” 101. Usually expecting their counterpart to follow the same script. From the very start it's pretty obvious if you're "their kind of person”.  You can see various emotions passing behind their eyes like genuine interest, indifference or discomfort.  If you, like me, have an in-bred sense of the socially appropriate, you are likely to play the game.  Keep on trying to react to what their face is saying while you can see their brain doing the “do they belong in my pigeon hole” equation. Not pleasant.  You first grow out of worrying about the lack of a connection with type 1s, then eventually learn to stop wasting your breath having these conversations.  Blame my "nice" upbringing, but I'm not yet able to just cut my losses and walk away from these conversations.  I can often politely sidestep them, but when I can't I end up feeling like I’ve had a bad Chinese e.g. unsatisfied and regretting that’s £10, or in this case 10 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

 

Type 2. Superstar facade. Can be quite awe inspiring the effort that goes in to pulling off fabulous.  Sometimes I can respect that, but other times it leaves me feeling amused, confused, pissed off or downright icky cos I can spot the trickles of what they're really thinking which seep out round the edges. It takes a true multiple personality or a Negative type 3 (see below) to have no discernable seepage. This type of person will seek out others like them, who reinforce the value of the persona they've created.   Usually gathering type 1s to fawn over them or other type 2s as validating partners in crime. They will suck up to negative type 3s, but run scared from or be disturbed by positive type 3s because they won't indulge any bullshit to protect their visciously enforced social rules.

 

Type 2s are usually high functioning, superficially successful types who will either blossom later into positive type 3s (if we’re lucky) or spend their middle age bemoaning their lost looks, lost potency, invisibility to the opposite sex or inability to hold down a relationship with powerful, interesting partners. The rub for type 2 ladies is that intelligent men, with a smattering of substance and integrity, will almost always take an attractive positive type 3 over a drop dead gorgeous type 2 in the long term. Men, as I’ve already said, are far more straightforward souls. They may like your act, but their bullshit detector will kick in and they may not know why, but they will eventually find themselves eschewing your beautifully maintained body for the slightly droopy woman from next door who sometimes forgets to brush her hair, but has a genuinely comfortable confidence and a devilish, unselfconscious belly laugh.

 

Type 3. So fake they look real or so real they can't fake.  Type 3 comes in 2 flavours. Negative and Positive. For me the labels work as described below, but if you asked a type 2 they would almost certainly swap those positive and negative labels around, because, bless their misguided hearts, they would love to have the kind of unbreakable desirable social facade a negative type 3 can put together.

 

Negative Type 3. Your negative type 3 is actually a very rare beast. So invisibly fake, but fabulous that besotted type 2s can sometimes get a very nasty shock. Behind the shiny but impenetrable negative type 3 mask can lurk some extremely disturbed people. They will never need a type 2 or type 1. They will be amused by them, amuse them and find them of use, but socially able negative type 3s only really love one person...themself.

 

Negative’s are just not who they appear to be, with almost everyone, almost all the time. They usually have one or more personae which are so well developed, polished, complex and layered that no-one except their parents (some of the time) or another type 3 (occasionally) knows what lies beneath. Mental illnesses like paranoid schitzophrenia would be at the dark end of this type 3 continuum, but the nastiest permutation is your full blown sociopath. That’s when negative spills over into dangerous.

 

Regardless of a woman’s place on the Negative type 3 continuum I can’t be around her. I can't stand it. My spidey senses are permanently tingling without any discernable reason why. Enough to send me into committal and lithium land. Having said this, some relatively benign type 3s can end up as lonely souls able to provoke my sympathy. Sometimes having a face for every occasion, being the ultimate social butterfly and being accepted into any group, can mean they lose all sense of their true self.  Eventually overwhelmed by others' expectations.

 

I once knew a male Negative. He was a very close friend and his ability to be all things to all people drove me mad.  It also nearly drove him mad, but not before it helped him become incredibly socially and professionally successful. Eventually, much to my relief, he worked out who he wanted to be, reigned in his high powered life and climbed to the positive side of the type 3 fence.

 

Positive Type 3s.  So now to the finale of this flagrant bit of stereotyping. Positive type 3s. If it never occured to you to be anything but yourself, or you've tried being someone else and can't do it, you're probably one of these.  To expedite a smooth path through life most can do a reliable type 1 act to keep type 1s happy and ensure that type 2s don’t treat them as a threat. They can also do a good enough type 2 to get what they want for short periods of time, but they're never going to keep it up long enough to really settle down in a type 2 or type 1 dominated world. However, unless born, conditioned or traumatised into it they won't be able to pull off Negative type 3 behaviour.

 

I call this type Positive because of the tendency to face life with a huge dose of openness and honesty.  That, by my yardstick is always preferable to the approaches of the other types. That doesn’t mean that all positive type 3s are good. Truely nasty or disturbed people can have an inability to be any other way, but at least it's easy to spot (unlike an invisbly disturbed Negative).  There are also a subset of Type 3s who are just thick. Too stupid or beligerant to behave appropriately for a given audience or situation (think of the kind of people who say "I just speak my mind!" after spouting something incredibly offensive).

 

Beyond that there are the more common subsets of this type.  Confident Positives and Work in Progress Positives, depending on how life treats them growing up.  Confident positives seem to know from an early age that it's ok to be yourself.  That might be down to having at least one Positive type 3 parent, but some kids just seem to pop out that way.  Understanding inately that any social clics with tortuous membership rules are generally not worth joining. Often the pain of social exclusion bites hardest during adolensence, so even if your type 3 takes a while to find their niche, if they find it before they hit teenagerdom, I'd class them as a Confident Positive.  Beginning that tough phase with friends who value  individuality makes a huge difference to the kind of adult that emerges at the other end.  Often they will be folk happy to be alone, but confident in company.  This isn't about looks or intelligence, far from it, these are just people who've found a place in the word that fits them, rather than changing themselves to fit the world.  That predisposes people to being confident and content, which in turn tends to attact other confident happy people.  The phrase "it's what's on the inside that counts" was coined for these folk.  Your nearest Positive might be your check out lady, bin man or that guy in the wheelchair, but what they have in common is an absolute comfort in their own skin and an ability to make you feel totally comfortable in their company.

 

If you fell into the other Positive 3 subset growing up, you probably had a pretty rough time.  Working your ass off to gain entry to the in crowds.  Constantly getting left on the sidelines because you did't look right, dress right or behave in a way that met their acceptance criteria. Often reading between the lines of what everyone else was saying and doubting your sanity because the words and the intentions didn’t seem to match. Realising that popularity is often not worth the price can take a long time.  A hell of a long time if you manage to graft your way to some kind of half assed admission to one of those groups.  You might have spent years telling yourself it was worth it, before recognising how much effort you put in vs the return you got.  It's a real case of "what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger". 

 

The good news is that positive type 3s, both confident ones and ones still working on that, tend to form friendships characterised by honesty, empathy, longevity, lack of judgement and an ability to be apart for good lengths of time, before returning to the same place they left off.  They also tend to gather more friends as they get older, because 1s and 2s often work out pretending is too much like hard work and come over to the less judgemental Positive side of the fence.  You can even get the odd Negative type 3 convert.  Perhaps trauma, love or age reminds them who they really are and what's important.  If that happens, they can often be deeply inspiring and powerful people because they bring the charisma they built to wow folk in their old life and apply it to their true personality.  It's a hell of a battle to embrace averageness, insecurity and human frailty after forging a path through life by being perfect.  But the knocks from that battle can serve to cement an awesome and attractive depth of confidence.

 

So there's my take on the world.  What type of person are you?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Flagrant, coherentish stereotyping. 

Cupid Had Mercy on Me

Folder: 
1st poems

I’d like to give away your smile to the moon
So every night I watch it I can think of you.

I want you to understand
That your love matters to me
That by your side
I enjoy the warmth of your embrace
The nectar of your sweet kisses.

You’re the reason I breathe every second
I wish I could know what you are thinking
I desire to be on your chest
Until the sun rises
And we have the lust to become a single person once again.
That’s when I realized that I love you a little more each day.

You strike me with your presence alone
I can’t help but to notice you when you enter the room
I can’t fight my body’s desire to run towards you
I’m weak
I’m only human
On your eyes I lock my gaze
With my lips I write this poem on yours

And here I wonder what else we could be missing,
In this golden twilight,
In our lives that have lived through so much
That have dreamt of the impossible
And seen a million colors.
And just as I hold you in my arms the truth sinks in,
Cupid had mercy on me.

View angelsrawesome's Full Portfolio

Hooker

Folder: 
1st poems

You do the same thing with all them guys
You mess and play with their minds
But you won’t do the same thing with me
Because I’ll treat you differently
I can make you bounce like a bunny
But first you gotta suck all my honey
If you really want that money.

Your price I can easily pay
Your pretty cheap
I know you wanna play
And like nobody else I can go really deep.

On the backseat of my car
In the park
You're an experienced porn star
And like the dog you are I'll make you scream and bark.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a more morbid poem. It just came to me :)

View angelsrawesome's Full Portfolio

Escapism-A single Fall day in small town high school world

Folder: 
Prose

Walking down the crowded halls she longed to be gone from the noises, she longed to be gone from their world. Stepping out into the brisk fall day she dodges falling leaves and attempts to slip past the crowds of those that really don't see her... those that never know she exists. Crossing the street she traces the steps she's taken before down the familiar crosswalk far from these people she tries to understand yet never seem to understand her. She doesn't want this to be a pity party. She doesn't want to be one of the outsiders. Her world is darker than those in the short skirts and football uniforms. Her world is one of words, music and everything between the lines that isn't cool to the rest of the world. She crafts words in her mind to explain the emotions and taps her fingers to the beat of her soul making a song that will never be heard. Slipping around the corner of the vacant alley she feels the gravel shift under her feet. This is not the destination of the kids who hang in crowds driving their shiny cars to the nearest fast food restaurant. This is not the place they go to be apart from something they don't understand. She pulls into a nook outside someone's garage where a pile of neatly stacked bricks awaits, takes out a cigarette and lights up her under age tobacco dreams. Inhaling she closes her eyes and composes a series of verses weaving words with her all-too-familiar-heartbeat until a crunch halts the musical.Her eyes fly open, hand hiding cigarette, holding her breath...

another refugee arrives to sit out the breaking point of another high school day.

 

Looks like she knows the crowd after all. Looks like in being an outsider she has become an insider to one... to many.

 

Her world is that of many. Her world is that commonly understood yet rarely spoken of. She is the girl you pass daily who smiles at you only to be met with the brick wall of "You're not as popular as I am so I'll just look away."

 

BUT...

 

Looks like she's all grown up now. Done smoking, done secretly caring about the skimpy skirts and shiny cars. Looks like she's your neighbor, your wife, your sister, your best friend.

 

Doesn't mean the darkness left. Doesn't mean the misunderstandings ceased. This world is definitely one where we look for the brighter side day in and day out.

 

Today she saw the brighter side in you. Will you please see the brighter side in her?

 

There is but a single word standing between you and I... please make it LOVE.

 

I LOVE YOU.

 

Thank you.