A Collection of Short Stories

Have It Your Way ~ I

I look down at the coral toned, fluffy cotton candy dress my aunt passed down to me. She had crafted it with her own hands for her younger self, expertly weaving and manipulating each and every sugar fibre to create the fine dress that now sat on my shoulders. I could not be more excited, more honoured to wear one of her exquisite pieces. After all, she was the town's best dressmaker.

In actual fact, I was even more excited that the day of my cousin's wedding had finally arrived. Aurous, named after the colour he was born with, was a descendant of the wealthy Tauphee family. Their family line stretched from generation to generation, all the way to the first origins of our people.

Who are my people, you ask? My people are called the Eadebulls. Legend tells that our part of the world descended from the same man. This man was called Pippin. Pippin was a jolly man, blessed with dandelion yellow skin mottled with an hue of orange that can only be likened to the flickering tips of a blazing fire, who was talented in farming. Although hefty around the edges, he was a passionate peace maker; his tendency to non-discriminate between those of different shapes, colours or personalities brought him many faithful friends across the village he lived in. Only one soul grew in bitter hatred towards our ancestor: Bruse.

Bruse wasn't always hostile. Many sources tell that his olive green skin, snaked with malachite veins, gave him such a ghastly complexion that he appeared to be decomposing at all times, despite his healthy physique. Because of his natural skin tone, the people of the village always cleared out whenever he was near, afraid that his undesirable skin colour would latch onto theirs and eventually infect their whole being. Even the girl he loved, Lady Stewart, was kept well away by her snobbish parents. The villagers' treatment of Bruse needled him at the back of his mind, morphing him into a furious but melancholy figure, a stark contrast to his younger, vivid self.

He was forced to live this cruel life for years and years, having taken refuge in a shadowy, rocky road cave hidden out of plain sight from the village. Until one day, Lady Stewart paid him a visit. Both were well matured by then. Lady Stewart, a vibrant green speckled with blushing red patches, seemed to have grown even younger, adorned in an elegant dress made of saffron threads, a fabric worn only by royalty and, even then, by the elite. In stark contrast, Bruse seemed to have grown paler, except for his malachite veins, due to his lack of exposure to the sun. Lady Stewart explained that her parents, the king and queen of the village, had passed away and that she, the heiress to the throne, wanted him to return and start a new life under her reign. She promised that no one would despise him and if they did, they would certainly face heavy consequences.

Bruse laughed his bitter laugh. That wouldn't stop them. No one loved him, nor would they ever. No one cared. He was certain that the people of the village still remembered him. Bruse waved her offer away, the relief he felt upon her arrival soon dissipating, leaving him, once again, hollow. As he retreated further into the cave he called home, Lady Stewart persisted, following him. He had turned around, ready to snap and kick her out of the cave, royalty or not, when he was captured by the crystal tears seeping out of her eyes and over her perfect cheeks. Guilt flooded him completely. She explained how she felt responsible for his treatment. After all, it was her own parents who started the whole kerfuffle about Bruse's apparent disease. She went on and on, even using the argument that, as one of his classmates in junior school, she felt responsible for his well-being.

Bruse was silent, observing the beautiful, weeping lady before him. He didn't want to see her cry, nor did he want her to stress about a low being such as himself. So he accepted, believing that, if he did, he would have a chance to court her. Her parents weren't around to poison her mind anymore, so why couldn't he? As they strode down the honey coloured, crumbly road, Bruse asked the Lady Stewart about herself and what she had been up to in the last couple of years. Lady Stewart was quite happy at his agreement to join the village once again that she willingly replied to his answer. Yet again, she began her long chatter, actually starting with events that occurred after he left the village until the present day.