Short Stories
Cooking
Alright I’m home, finally. Would I have stayed in that place another minute I think I would have slapped someone to the other face of the earth. But its fine now, I’m at home, no slapping needed. What time is it? 19:53 ok I get 10 minutes of TV and then I’ll start cooking. What should I cook though? Amanda told me about that cake recipe, sounded weird and too much effort, nah, I don’t have time for that or even have the patience. I’ll look something up. Alright couch here I come, even if it’s for 10 minutes I’m still coming. Oh why won’t you look at that another protest reported why am I not surprised? I swear the day I won’t hear about a new protest I’ll make that cake. That presenter looks weird, what’s wrong with her? She looks tired? Maybe she’s having problems at home or maybe her makeup artist has a hangover...who knows, only she does I guess. That’s interesting, only we can know what’s really happening to ourselves and all others can do is guess and assume. People are interesting, I wonder why people watching isn’t a sport, could be a hobby… yeah it’s called stalking. It’s 20:15, I’ll pretend not to have seen that… Ugh I can’t, no, nope, I have to get up and be productive; yes that’s the way, yep I can do this, I’m a responsible adult and I won’t be having ice-cream for dinner again. Ok I’m craving something that makes me feel at home yet is easy to make… mac and cheese it is. Ok so “Instructions: Cook macaroni according to package directions” I just threw the package away dammit; “In medium saucepan, melt butter over medium heat” so much medium; “stir in flour, salt and pepper” so typical I should spice this up a little, literally… Oh geez that makes me I sound like one of the Kardashians; “slowly add milk” aint nobody got time for that I’m going turbo style; “Cook and stir until bubbly, stir in cheese until melted.” Ok I can do this, doesn’t seems too hard. Alright let’s do this. I wonder what other people are eating right now, how many other people are eating mac and cheese? We should have a mac and cheese day, why don’t we have one already? But that would exclude lactose intolerant people, we don’t want that, cows maybe would be in favor of it… oh shoot I don’t have enough milk, I’ll try with yogurt maybe it works out… I should work out, yep and start a blog about it, yea definitely... I’ll start next month. Ok the butter is smelling real good now I’m digging this. I think that guy on the bus was hitting on me today, yet again he could have been smiling at someone or something else, it was a nice feeling though, I liked it. I wonder what it would be like if we ended up going out or even marrying. Where would we live and what would our kids look like, would we be happy? Oh yes we would and we’d have a house on the coast of France and we’d stay there the whole summer sipping Bacardi and spending hours in the sun and the evenings we’d spend them walking on the beach hand by hand deeply in love never having to run to catch a crowded bus full with sweaty tired people going home from work. Who knows, not me because I didn’t do anything about it, I hate this. It’s all those romantic movies’ fault for giving me unrealistic hopes, movies like that should be banned. I’m getting depressed. Maybe I should start smiling to people more too and make them feel loved… hoping no one thinks I’m a weirdo. It’s smelling weird now, like burnt, can butter really burn? Apparently. Ugh…I wish I had gone over to that guy though, who knows maybe I would have been on a date right now, eating some fancy sushi or some Italian dish I’d pronounce wrong. I’ll just take the same bus tomorrow at exactly the same time and see him again. What if he was a tourist? I’ll never see him again! I should be more of an opportunist and less passive. That’s it I’ll start living by that “yolo” thing that today’s youngsters seem to say continuously to justify their stupid actions. Oh hey why won’t you look at that I burned my meal…is this an example of a “yolo” moment? Screw this I’m having ice-cream.
Giulia Preponis - Published Friday 3rd April 2015
A Sunflower
Night is slowly ascending which means I’ll see the stars very soon. I can’t wait to see my star again. The first time I saw stars was 192 days ago. Back then I wasn’t very big nor tall.
Since I first bloomed, everyone around me has told me to follow the sun at all times and move my head according to its movements. I find no interest in looking at the sun though. The sun is only our commander who strictly wants us to look only at him. We’re supposed to consider him as our father and absolute ruler, with all of our attention directed towards him. He must feel very lonely. But I want to look and admire the stars. Although, the trifling stars won’t come out unless the sun has left. You see, stars are very shy and don’t want to practice their gleaming in front of the sun; they’re very dainty. I’ve tried looking for them while the sun is present, but they won’t stop hiding. It seems as though the sun is threatening even them with its astonishing beam of light.
As summer arrives I grow longer and bigger. My friends say that I’m lucky because in this way I’ll be able to be closer to the sun, but all I can think of is that I’ll be closer to my star.
As the first summer breeze visits, I attempt to send a message to the stars to make them come out by telling them how enchanting they are. But the summer breeze only laughs at me and argues that I have the biggest of all stars, so why in the world would I ever want the small and insignificant stars? The summer breeze ignores my request and instead she blows a warm and torrid wind on my petals, which wakes my sons up. I sigh with sorrow and wait for the next summer breeze.
As time passes my 2105 sons learn how to breathe and sing. My sons are part of me and they’re all so lovely, each one of them. They’re all different and unique; their distinguishing colors make my corolla look like a fresh summer painting brimming of life. None of my sons look identical; just like the stars. They’ve all got a different shape and size; and some are less shy than others.
I wish the sun would stop threatening my stars. Just because they’re small fragments compared to the sun, they’re just as lovely and valuable.
The sun sees all of us equally, making us feel all the same without any extraordinary characteristics or traits. But we are so many, the sun would never look at each one of us. Even though we follow its movements, we’re invisible to him. Have we done something wrong? Have we humiliated our sun? Why does he request so much attention? Or is it us that demand a guide? All he asks for is some attention and in return he only shows his appearance. The truth is that I don’t want to follow someone who doesn’t care about me, someone who doesn’t consider me to be exceptional.
As the second summer breeze arrives, I’ve prepared my dear sons to speak so they can help me deliver my message to my stars. The breeze enters the field with such grace and facility one could fall in to her arms and be carried away without noticing. Fascinated by her agility, I ask her to deliver my message to the stars above; but she replies telling me it’s too far away. I desperately beg her to at least try, but a reply is not delivered. As she slowly moves on, drifting graciously and stroking my petals, she distances herself away. My sons and I begin to wail all we can to deliver our message ourselves, but the bright sun won’t permit the contact, commanding us to go back in place by bolstering his beams even more. He has noticed us.
As the night rises, I gently try one last them to deliver my message. I see a star swiftly blink back at me, as if in disguise. She has heard my message, she now knows how beautiful and lovely she is. Suddenly she starts to shine even brighter for the rest of the night, as if she were blushing. But as the sun rises back, she gently retires in her secret burrow. Since that night, my star is the only thing I look for in the sky; while the sun becomes only a barrier.
I want to share my treasure with my friends, but they don’t understand when I tell them about my star. I even show it to them in the night sky. But they say it’s just a light in the sky like any other and it’s only distracting me from the sun. I guess they will never understand my star’s value, since they follow and embrace something that doesn’t even consider their existence. Maybe it’s the time I spend with my star that makes it so important and unique to me; like the sun to them. My star and I, we talk every night. As I send her messages, she responds by blinking back at me. I take care of her attention and she takes care of my bliss.
But this happiness only survives for another 6 days until the sun, jealous of my star, decides to strengthen its beams and suppress the rain. We’re all dying from the aridity it’s causing. This is the punishment the sun is giving me for having given more attention to a small star than to him. He probably felt humiliated and forlorn. He’s the only one who’s so big; all he wanted was to be considered and cherished.
As my last night arrives, my star is here to salute me once more. She shines so bright, the brightest she’s ever shone. I’m so thrilled and delighted by her gift, I don’t notice that the dryness of my body is making my petals slowly fall down one after another. She keeps shining brighter and brighter, and as my last petal is about to fall, she suddenly turns off, blinking to me for the last time.
-Giulia Preponis