The Diary of a Struggling Genderfluid: 2

Short Story No. 2

Hello.

I've been meaning to write this down for a while. I wrote it about a month ago in my last period class, when I had nothing to do. My friend challenged me to write her a story in the 42 minutes.

And so I did.

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Once I ventured along a long, winding road; early spring was just arriving to the world and the trees were all budding with sweet smelling flowers. My footsteps seemed too loud in the notes silence of the early dawn, yet I carried on down the road. I wondered how j had gotten to where I was. I couldn't remember anything before, nor could I remember venturing out here in the first place. All I remember was the cloying smell of the aromatic flowers clogging my nose and the dull thud of my footsteps on the dirt.

What indeed could have happened? I questioned myself, but did not stop walking or think to turn back. I did not care at all how I had gotten here; all that seemed to matter was the forest around me.

So I continued on with not a care in the world.

Eventually, I had come to a small, trickling brook in my path. It was all a-chatter with the melting snow, the brook rushing past me on its journey southward. Here is where I first stopped. I bent over silently, running my hand through the clear, cool water. Without even drinking, the water seemed to rejuvenate me down to my very soul. After a long and well deserved drink, I continued on across the stream to follow the path.

I had begun to whistle a lively tune as I walked, turning my face eastward every once in a while to observe the steadily rising sun. It was quite peaceful; in fact, at that point, I had even forgotten that I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I was simply enjoying the nature I had been suddenly fated to walk in, never once looking back.

For all of what I didn't know lay behind me. Death, the cloaked figure itself, followed behind with every step I took. His gorgons Pestilence and Chaos followed swiftly after their master, defiling everything that had once been pure and innocent. Sickly smells and howls of greed began to arise in the air.

But I, completely unaware with my newly innocent ears and newly virgined eyes, heard and saw none.

The smells that wafted towards me enticed me like the sweetest rose; the sights were new and amazing; the sounds I attributed to the whispering wind. Everything was unknown to me; everything remained good in my eyes.

Even Death, when I finally turned around, looked to me like an old friend.

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I don't even know what this story is supposed to mean.

Grey out.