Diaries of the Fag Hags
Buy links: No Boundaries Press / Barnes & Noble / Amazon
About the Author:
Toy Davis has always used writing as an escape from the boring reality she found herself in. She writes stories she enjoys, and hopes others will enjoy it as well. A lot of her stories and novels begin with a 'what if', and then become so much more. She loves food and dancing as well, and this is usually reflected in writing. Today she lives in California with her long time boyfriend, and two bratty cats. For more info go to facebook
Outside, the air felt cool against my flesh. My flesh? I distantly thought. I looked down and saw my bare arms. My coat; where was it? I pulled my hurricane closer to my body as I circled my little spot. Lucky, I didn't fall over.
Strange, it's gone. Taking another drink, I forgot to care.
"Jasmine," I heard my name come from inside the house.
“Oh, shit,” I thought with panic. They're coming; Carson's coming. Fear tightened my chest.
They're coming. I could already hear him babbling about the self-composed drama in his life. I took another drink; I didn't want to hear it.
My vision cleared as I found my escape. Across the street sat two rows of unfinished houses. Their skeletons were up, but there were no doors or paint, and I was betting that most of the interior walls were missing, as well. Taking my flight, I hurried over with the hurricane splashing on my fingers. Damn it, it was going to waste.
“Jasmine!” I heard their taunting calls.
Have to get away raced through my mind. I left the sidewalk to make my way to the first house. "Shit." Mud sucked at my boot. I leaped onto the forgotten beams of wood to cleanly make it the rest of the way.
Inside it I found I had been right. The beams were up, though no solid wall filled the space between them. Holding my glass, I looked around. Stairs, I thought with a smile. True, there wasn't a rail yet but it would take me to the next floor, damn it. Rushing forward, I made it to the top, spill free, in fact. Damn, I'm good.
Smiling in triumph, I paced around the small top floor. My face soured as I realized how small it was. I turned and was faced with another wall; it was painfully small. Lifting the glass, I took another drink. With the glass still at my lips I spotted the jewel of the unfinished home. The tub.
"Oh." I rushed forward. I knew I must sit in it. There was a window above it. Nice. Looking out, I found the view left much to be desired. All I saw was the dirt backyard and the house on the next street over.
I dismissed it with a quick shrug as I switched my attention to the tub. It was a good size tub that could hold at least three people. I wanted to sit in it; I felt myself smile. Lifting my foot, I went to step in it. I noticed the coldness first, then the wetness. What?
"Water?" I snatched my foot from the tub. I stared at the darker cloth, of my jeans, in wonder. I could already feel my sock clinging to my foot. Great. What was the purpose of putting water in a tub of an unfinished house? "Idiots," I mumbled. Insulting them made me feel a little better.