Flash Fiction by Raquel Swann
At night I’m whisked away to a place that does not exist, a place that is far away in a distant memory. In this place I am the me I know past the flesh and bone, beyond the the exterior. In this world, I am free to fly like a butterfly fresh out of it’s cocoon. Back there, I am but a caterpillar inching my way to safety and comfort. Back there I haven’t found a place that is safe enough to transform.
In this place I am beautiful, I am lovely, people adore me, and they accept me. Back there people think they know me but I am nothing but a stranger you walk by in the street. I don’t nod my head to say hello, I look down and go about my business. My cards are hidden and no one suspects that it is time to call my bluff.
Here, I say hello to everyone and go to social gatherings. Here, I dress in bright hues of pink, or red, or mauve, or violet. There, I look at my drab wardrobe and select from grey, or navy blue, or brown, or black. There, I go to places that are familiar and speak with people who assume that I am in the right place. I am accepted but for who they think I am.
As the first rays of the sun break the horizon, I go back there. Will there ever be no difference between to two? There I am comfortable in silk, and lace, and nylon. Here, I accept cotton and polyester as one would accept a speeding ticket. In a few more hours it will be nighttime again. I can’t wait.