The Human Spark
The Human Spark f4f stories
  6
  •  
  0
  •   1 comment
Share

misunderstood
misunderstoodStay resilient
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
A story of fantasy and reality

The Human Spark

Lorabelle

When I was younger, I used to write notes to my fairy named Lorabelle. I would tell her my worries, my insecurities, and the things in my life that I loved and hated.

I left my notes in a fairy figure box each night on my doorstep and hoped and prayed Lorabelle would write back. She was my best friend, my confidant.

I even told her my real feelings about my parent’s divorce. What Lorabelle said wasn’t important, what was, was that she responded in the first place.

Because Lorabelle was not seen and only felt, she was even more beautiful, even more real to me.

Yet throughout my years on this earth, I’ve had many Lorabelles who’ve shown me that I am not alone in this big, scary world,

that a human connection is essential in warding off demons that loneliness so recklessly allows in.

What Lorabelle stands for is all I believe to be true and I hope one day, you find your fairy too.

Maddy

Maddy is 5’9”. She plays the cello that’s held in a neon orange case. She is well-read, well-informed, and a feminist. She makes jokes without realizing it.

She refuses to accept the fact that she is blind simply because she hates the thought of contacts and glasses. I met Maddy about 15 years ago in ballet class.

She was an outcast in the room and I was too; making us involuntary friends.

We became close and between barre and center, we would stand near each other, unsure of what to say or do in a room full of girls in pink tutus.

We’d exchange knowing looks when a girl acted out or when the instructor made us do something that was downright idiotic. One time, the teacher brought a live mouse into class.

She took it out of the box and explained that the mouse was going to run under our stomachs. This was to teach us to hold our posture.

No one volunteered, and the teacher gave us her “don’t make me choose someone” look. She then pointed at me of all people. I looked at Maddy and she knew my instantaneous signal of panic.

The teacher made her way over but so did Maddy and she laid down beside me. Maddy held my hand and the mouse ran under us both.

My best friend, Maddy, is representative of all that is visceral in me; she is a constant when nothing else can be, a Lorabelle that is concrete.

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (1)
SHOUTOUTS (0)