The Origin of Love

I found another one! Actually I found it while searching for a completely different story. I'd totally forgotten that I ever wrote it.

Anyway, I don't remember the guidelines, or if there were any, but I do remember that it was inspired by a song from the off-broadway musical, Hedwig and the Angry Inch (which is, by the way, amazing. Go get the movie, now!). Anyway, feel free to listen to the song first

The Origin Of Love

Jacqueline sat up straight. The hairs on the back of her neck had suddenly stood on end, sending an eerie shiver down her spine. She looked up, halfway through rummaging for bus money, and gazed around for the source of her mental interruption. It was then that she saw him. Her Soul Mate. She couldn’t explain how, but somehow she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him; that he was something else. The expression on his face was just as peculiar as she assumed hers must be. She’d never been the type to believe in love at first sight, but it looked like Fate had an impressive sense of dramatic irony.

The screeching sound of a braking bus made its way to her ears and Jacqueline stood up, settling for gathering her things as she couldn’t gather her thoughts. As she made her way onto the bus, she took one last regretful look at the boy over her shoulder- her Soul Mate.

…

“I’m telling you! It was so bizarre, like something out of a romance novel!” Jacqueline exclaimed to her friends the following day. Most of them were giving her dubious looks, being just a sceptical about love as she normally was.
“Maybe you knew him in a past life?” Jacqueline’s beyond-superstitious friend Madeleine suggested.

This met general rejection from the group. The idea of past-lives was even more ridiculous than soul mates. The conversation quickly turned to all-things-sex as was the norm, but Jacqueline couldn’t steer her brain. She was still overcome with that unshakeable feeling that she had encountered something that could have changed her life, if only she’d acted when the opportunity was there. The cynical side of her would interject, voicing its doubt, but it was overpowered by her uncharacteristic optimism. Although, Jacqueline had to admit, no matter what it was she had or hadn’t felt, she’d never see the boy again.

…

Heavy bass pumped through her chest as Jacqueline walked down the hallway of yet another unfamiliar house full of friends-of-friends. The sound of laughter and the occasional clink of glasses just made its way to her ears over Britney’s latest hit. Normally she’d be buzzing with excitement, but she just wasn’t in the mood for a party tonight, she was too tired and stressed out over assessments to let herself have fun. She half-heartedly mingled, merely observing the enjoyment of others. The playful banter between boyfriends and girlfriends, the flirtatious lines of new acquaintances- she was surrounded by people, but she felt more alone than ever before. In the corner she noticed Madeleine, gesturing excitedly.

“And they actually believe, that humans started off as two people joined together, back-to-back, and we got separated by the gods, and that’s how we find our soul mate! They’re the person we were joined with. That’s the origin of love! I really like the theory because it accounts for homosexuality, I mean…” Jacqueline gave Madeleine’s victim a sympathetic look, as they stared blankly, trying to keep up with her quicksilver tongue.

Jacqueline turned into the kitchen, pondering the thought of leaving embarrassingly early. Then she saw him. Him. Her Soul Mate. She couldn’t explain how, but the feeling she’d experienced the first time she saw him was back; the expression on his face just as peculiar as it was in that fleeting moment at the bus stop. Jacqueline froze. She had no idea what to think, let alone what to do next.

“It’s you…” she winced as she heard the so-not-casual-start-to-a-conversation-with-your-future-husband sentence stumble over her tongue and break free of her lips. She felt her face redden with embarrassment. This was her Soul Mate; she couldn’t afford mistakes right now. That self-same original peculiar expression he wore, didn’t soften into undeniable-knowing as she thought it would. His eyes did not light up with happiness as he pictured his future with her, as she thought they would. And Jacqueline certainly didn’t feel as if, suddenly, all was right with the world, as she thought she would.

Her heart-rate quickened, as slowly, he crinkled his eyes into a smile, flashing his teeth at her briefly before opening his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry. Have we met?” Jacqueline’s heart plummeted to her heels, as this boy, her Soul Mate, gazed at her in confusion. It dawned on her that perhaps she had been quick to assume, perhaps they weren’t meant to be together, as she thought they were. Perhaps, she thought, as he was turning away to talk to the girl by his side that she hadn’t even seen until now, he didn’t even recognise her.

Perhaps, on that day, at that bus stop- He hadn’t even seen her.

-m xx

The Veil

With the stories and any other such things from my past I decide to post, I'll try to keep them in chronological order.

It's making me want to write something new, but I'd have to think of something and actually commit to one activity for about an hour so the chances of that are pretty slim.


Anyway I also wrote this in year 10. It was during an exam, probably a practice School Certificate exam. If my memory serves me correctly, we had to pick a "stimulus" out of three or four as our inspiration/starting point and mine was a painting of a woman wearing a veil. The story seems like it comes from a bad place but I can assure you it's entirely creative. I think I just started and went wherever my ideas lead me, which has always been my style. So long as it gets me that A, who cares? Please note that I'm leaving these unedited, save for spelling and punctuation. This one would have been written in about half an hour, so I'm sorry for anything obviously crap. You will also notice I was going through a one-word-sentences stage.

The Veil

Juliet stared at the painting hanging on the otherwise bare wall. The haunting image captivated her senses, leaving her with the suspicion that she was being sucked right into its depths.


I am part of the painting. I am the painting itself.


The still image moved her. It echoed her innermost feelings, as if her very being wa slaid out on the canvas. The paint formed an imprint of her thoughts and she was lost in them. her sensations filled her with a cold sense of dread. what she felt and saw was breaking down the tiny sliver of spirit that she had been left with. Slowly. Meticulously. Leaving her with nothing but her past.


Desperately, she had clung to her denial, in an attempt to shield herself. But nothing can shield you from the truth when its life goal is to make itself known to you, and Juliet had suddenly found herself alone.


Images from the past flashed before her eyes. Betrayel. Anger. Regret. Emotions that hung over her like a dark cloud; trailing her every move. Waiting. They plagued her min further still as she stared at the image before her, drawn into her own despair. Swallowed whole. Every part of her was forced to relive the events that she has so determinedly pushed back into the dark recesses of her mind; and every part of her was screaming in silent agony.


Betrayel. Anger. Regret. Waves of repressed emotions that crashed down upon her frail, battered figure. they lowered her defences, and reduced her to nothing.


A final emotion pulsed through her, spreading like a fatal infection. The one that she had tried so fervently to avoid. With a cry of triumph, it finally pushed through her barriers, and her knees buckled with the weight of it.


Guilt.


Juliet has always told herself that she was the real victim of what had happened, but without hesitation, or guilt of its own, the Guilt snagged the veil she had been blanketing herself in, and ripped it off her tear-stained face. In her clarity, she sae what she had always know deep down; she saw what she had done. How she has hurt. How she had betrayed. Not only others, but herself.


Betrayel, Anger and Regret. The Guilt whittled down all her other emotions, and drove away all her excuses- her attempts at reasons- untill she was left with a single question.


Why?





-m xx