Short Stories

Easy Way Out

Judging from the stares, what I did was a real shock.

Crappy people find the easy way out, and yes it does give them an instant exit pass. In truth though, they will never see the reward in that.

I used to be a whale. My body flaps about whenever I move because of excess fat clinging to my sytem. I braved enough bullies; thinking they'd get all drowned out by the sound of my genius and become nothing more than mere audiences to the music I play.

People know how to appreciate. Wait until they tick off your physical pros & cons though, and then you'll seem to see the "real" fucked--up you. Picture perfectly great.

I watch them with their mouths hanging open, and the awe and absolute perplexity in their unblinking eyes.

"Yo, junkies eat my shit!" I break the silence with my middle fingers in the air. Leisurely, I set my pace in walking across the dimly lit bar. Every man in the room was deeply fixated at the way my hips sway. It was rude, but I actually enjoy the element of surprise.

People rarely see their fellows with enough dedication to follow their goals, because in the World of Today there is only tomorrow as the form of escape. I've been that way before, but I have learned what is needed to be learned. And hell, I deserve where I am now.

The door chimes jingle as I throw the door open. My kitty heels claw at the sidewalk. In this life, things change, and surprisingly they don't happen unless you do your part.

Well, hello there, Miss Obvious.

The sidewalk is pretty much deserted, so I strut down its length like a runway model on her best wear. Of course, my outfit's not really that chic, but I guess my fiery hair would do the trick. I held my guitar case tightly, the longer end of it jutting outward. My instrument--slash--weapon is my hope whenever I'm alone.

Life had been unfair to me, too. Chances that I thought were mine became sand in my fingers; lesser opportunities are more apparent than I would have liked. I have failed myself more than I would ever want, and let me tell you that is greater hurt in that.

I understood that I would have to redeem myself, and doing that is my dream. Maybe I would have to go through another haystack to find another needle, but I know that I am young, and life has greater promises than this.

I approach the illuminated bus stop. A few people carrying bulky briefcases and dressed in trench coats sat around, wiping sleepiness from their tired eyes.

Hard--working people sometimes forget what their lives really for, I think. I never liked them.

When my bus comes along, I ride it, and upon entrance I realize that I shouldn't have. More people with feverish eyes and running noses filled it. The small tv mounted at the front of the bus features a touching Chick Flick. I'm also tired of being over--emotional, to the point that I usually don't cry over things now. I just find a way around my problems, and continue on with life.

Finding a seat, I slouch beside a man my age who was sleeping with his face buried in his gigantic fleece jacket. The bus swerves awkwardly, causing my guitar case to smack the man's leg strong enough to wake him.

"I'm sorry I woke you." I caught the case, and behaved it between my thighs.

"That's all right, Miss; I have slept enough. Do you happen to know which stop we're to now?" He brushes his orange hair off of his face and tries to rub sleep out of his deeply set eyes.

"Chester Lane." We look at each other, and there I catch sight of how green his eyes were. A hue so much like mine.

"You have pretty eyes." He says, transfixed at staring back at me. "We have the same colour!"

Ohhhh, I confirm the British accent.

"And you, my dear has a sexy accent." I reply.

Ha chuckles and stretches his hand towards me. His hands were calloused, yet long for me to know he has played enough piano compositions.

"Marius. Marius Christopher."

"Karenina, or just Nina. Nina Bloome."

We shake hands. Then when we both realize we haven't actually let go, and that we haven't exactly stopped looking at each other; we laugh.

"Shhh!" Comes the reprimand of the conductor.

"What's your stop? I have Phineas." He checks his watch. "And I broke another record of sleeping. I slept for twenty-five hours."

I was looking out the window, but at the mention of twenty-five, my head whips to face him.

"I have Phineas Lane, too. Doesn't sleeling too much pass as a disorder?"

He chuckles again, and I realize that it might be his greatest asset.

"Yeah, it is a disorder, but I'm quite lucky not to acquire any side--effects from it." He raises a brow at my reaction; there is a half--smile lingering on his lips.

"Lucky. I heard kids could die from that." I smirk.

Marius knocks on my guitar case, saying, "You are a musician, eh?"

I nod. "Yep; I've been playing ever since I was ten."

"Maybe we could jam sometime?" The way he smiles makes the corner of his eyes crinkle. "I play the piano, but I'm better at this one."

"Sure! My brother and I need another kid for our band." A thought strikes my head. "You must meet James now."

Just then, the conductor announces our arrival at the Phineas Lane stop. Marius and I jumped from our seats with a new purpose. "What does James play?" He asks as we unmount the steps of the beat-up bus.

"Oh, he plays many instruments. He's a musical genius."

Marius chuckles again, disbelieving what I say. James really is a musical genius, though he respectfully avoids any kind of dispassionate limelight, and still is able to play his very own tunes. He says that maybe someday we'll release an album. By God! I'm looking forward to that!

"Marius! I'm being honest here."

"Really? Why haven't I heard about him before?"

"He's not desperate for the lights. They come and go."

He tussles his ginger hair into a mess. "Then why not let it stay?"

"Dunno. He has his reasons, and what can I say? I'm a brother's girl."

"We aren't that far off from each other!"

Talk about meeting a new bandmate.

#EasyWayOut~PartOne