My daughter has told me numerous times that I need to write more fiction.
She has heard the stories about how I use to write stories when I was younger and being a creative being herself, I know she sees it in my eyes how much I'd love to write more of it.
With one of my words being 'create' this year and with her not letting the idea slip away, I thought it might be fun to challenge myself to share a bit of fiction every Friday.
Only time will tell if this continues on a regular basis, but by setting it I have to at least think about it every week.
During the holiday break I wrote the first words of an idea that has been scratching around in my brain for months. I wrote them to shut her up for a bit and to see what I had in me.
I opened up Scrivener and started typing. I didn't edit. I just wrote.
Enjoy it or hate it, here is what I shared with her and am now sharing with you.
Beatrice was the name she was born into.
Bean was showered on her with love before she could crawl away from it.
Jelly was added to the mix during that phase between baby fat and boobs. When her grandmother would use the term husky to try and make her feel better. The cruel of the hallway thought it was funny to call her Jelly Bean as she made the mistake of wearing a festive sweater one dreary winter day.
As will happen when life deals you a hand of nothing you’d ever ask for, Bean allowed it to become a cloak that she embraced rather than fearing it. No power given, none taken she’d tell herself.
Quiet time was the norm. Social gatherings rare.
She knew that someday this might change. A part of her longed for it, while publicly shaming those that craved to be with the ‘ins’ rather than sulking in the shadows with the rest bottom of the barrel and the remains.
Sundays would find her at Church. It wasn’t an option.
Monday through Friday she’d make it through the days and disappear into the nights.
Saturdays rarely meant anything. Dad cracked a beer, roasted some flesh and screamed at the television for whatever team he had chosen on that day to be the one that was better than the other.
Life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Life was what it was. Life was…well it just was.
High school is feared by most and Bean was no different.
She knew the hallways would be filled with obstacles in plaid skirts and team jerseys. As chalk scratched onto the board, she’d scratch her own into the pulp of her notebook and wonder what more there could be.
The boys looked differently at her now. The girls did too.
Puberty had been kind and the extra that had given her a nickname as a kid melted away. She wouldn’t be appearing on any magazine covers, but she didn’t strive for that either.
No one called her Jelly Bean anymore and yet she would often use it to identify herself. She wore it as a reminder of what was and what wouldn’t be again because she wouldn’t let it. She controlled her life. At least that is what she told herself.
Jelly Bean was just another girl wondering about boys, trying to graduate and getting by when everything changed.
For the better? That still remained to be seen.
But, it all changed on that hot June afternoon when she had gone for a walk to take some photos and the storm clouds rolled in.
Nothing would ever be the same for Jelly Bean again.