Maria’s Notes

I pat the pocket of my denim shorts and smile at the ever so subtle bulge of a few pieces of folded paper hidden inside. One for each of the people that surrounds me. I write these kinds of notes every year, for everyone. Handing them out never fails to add to the end of year cheer. Despite the fact I do it every year, everyone seems surprised, albeit pleasantly so. Seeing the happiness it brings them makes me happy too. Happiness, I believe, is infectious. I like being the one to spread it. 

But my own happiness doesn’t last so long. Instead, it fades quickly as I finish handing out the last note to the last person and slip into the background as everyone else goes on, as if there hadn’t been a note at all. I pat my pocket. As I expected, this time, it’s empty. There never seems to be a note for me. The thought feels me with sadness, and a sense that I am small. Tiny and insignificant. Like a mouse. I feel a pain in my chest and place a hand over my heart, almost like I can hold it. My heart hurts. The ache reaches my eyes as tears form behind them. 

“Maria!” The puffed shout of my name snaps me from my wallowing. I snap my head up to see a young woman panting for breath just a few steps away. “Maria,” she says again. “I’ve been trying to find you!” 

I blink as I rise to my feet. “You have?” 

“Yeah. I… I wanted to catch you before we all went home. I wanted to give you this.” In her fingers is a folded piece of paper, not too dissimilar to the ones I’ve been handing out all afternoon, which she holds out to me. 

Instead of taking it, I simply stare at it. Then, I look up at the tall, blondes brown haired woman in front of me. My mouth falls open, but no words come out. “You wrote me a note?” I ask. 

Her cheeks darken to a bright shade of red. “Yeah…” her eyes fall to her feet. 

“Thank you,” I whisper, finally reaching for the note. She allows it to slide into my grip. 

She is smiling when she meets my eyes again. Her cheeks are still red. “Well, anyway… I do have to go now, but I really wanted you to have that.” She nods at the note, now tucked into my pocket and turns on her heel. 

I smile back at her, warmth coursing through me as she recedes, slowly disappearing from view. I wait until she is out of sight to retreat to the shady tree I’d been wallowing beneath earlier, sit down and take out the note.

Dearest Maria, the note to me begins.  Just as I begin all of my notes. 

Thank you for your unwavering kindness, and for spreading your sunshine wherever you go. It brightens my day, and I’m sorry it’s not recognised more often. It should be. But I want you to know, Maria, that I see you, and I really, really appreciate you and everything you do. 

Effie

My mouth is agape again. I read the note a few times over, to try and make Effie’s words sink in. But I’m too stuck in disbelief. Someone sees me. Better than that, someone appreciates me. That almost never happens! Except today, it did. The last line of the note lingers in my mind, as if trying to imprint itself there. 

I want you to know, that I see you, and I really, really appreciate you, and everything you do.

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This story continues the Bleeding Hearts collection, which started here. You can also find all the stories from the collection (so far- will update there as/if more is written) together in one place on Wattpad here. 

High

 "Woah," breathed the blue clad blonde. "Where is this? Where are we" 

"We've gone as high as the sky," her companion, dressed in shades of purple and a country style hat, said, matter of fact. 

"But how?" Asked their friend, who, but for his bright, pastel hair, could've passed for some kind of investigator or detective. Still could've, possibly. Just a fun one who may've had a hard time being taken seriously. "You can't float on air!" 

"Except," said shades of purple, "it would seem that we can." She reached out, as if touching the air with her fingertips would prove her point.

"Woah! Cool." Blue clad blonde followed her friend's lead, fascinated. 

"I've always waned to know what clouds felt like to touch," said the imitation investigator/ detective. "And I'll bet we could push them aside to reach the sky." 

"Yeah!" Blue clad blonde said excitedly. "And you can see the clouds now too!" Her demeanour fell, like a pin dropping to the ground in an otherwise silent room, as the logic of their previous fact' started to falter. "But wait." She frowned  "If we've uncovered the clouds, what's this?" 

Shades of purple narrowed her eyes, studying the counterfeit clouds, now realising they did, in fact, look different from the real clouds further up above them. These 'clouds', unlike the real ones were a pale purpley-pink. The colour was so faint, it could easily be mistaken for the pure white of a regular cloud. 

"They are marshmallow fluff!"  imitation investigator/ detective declared decisively. He made to reach out, as if he could break some off like fairy floss to eat. Instead, his hand fell through it, like with a real cloud. 

Blue clad blonde watched on, wide eyed. "Aww!" She groaned, when his hand fell through instead of connecting with what she too had hoped was marshmallow fluff. "I thought it'd be grape!" 

"That would've been really cool," said imitation investigator/ detective, catching on to his friend's sadness. 

Their other friend had only just opened her mouth when the world around them started to spin, stopping all of them in their tracks. 

"Woah!" Blue clad blonde said again, hurriedly reaching to grab onto something to prevent herself flying away. 

Just as abruptly, the world fell still and silent again. The three friends opened their eyes just as the large ottoman on which they'd all fallen came to a stop. There was a moment of quiet and calm before they all groaned. 

"Uh!" Said shades of purple, pressing a hand to her suddenly pounding head. 

"Can someone stop this ride?" Blue clad blonde cried. "I think I'm going to be sick!" 

"Ugh!" Imitation investigator/ detective agreed. "What did we do last night?" 

"Partied too hard?" Blue clad blonde offered weakly.

"Ugh!" Imitation investigator / detective said again, now also with a hand to his head.

"I believe," said shades of purple in a whisper, standing in front of them, "that we got high." 

"Then you stole my hat!" Blue clad blonde cried, making a grab for the country style hat she'd just spotted on her friend's head. 

"Here." Shades of purple took the hat from her head and sent it flying in the blonde's direction. "You take it." 

The hat landed on the floor, metres from where blue clad blonde stood. She stumbled after it, and straightened as she set it down on her head, smiling with satisfaction. "There. Now I'm the cowgirl I was meant to be!" 

"You're investigator/ detective costume held up alright,"  said shades of purple, giving her pastel haired friend the once over. 

"What were you 'sposed to be again?" he asked, tiredness starting to hit him. 

Shades of purple looked down at herself with a critical eye. "I dunno," she admitted, meeting his gaze again. "Maybe one of the barbies?" 

"But which one?" asked blue clad, cowgirl blonde. 

"The purple one?" 

Cowgirl blonde frowned. "But your hair doesn't match!" 

"So?" asked Purple Barbie. 

Cowgirl blonde shrugged, out of comebacks or arguments. 

Without warning, purple barbie burst into laughter. "We certainly went high as the sky last night." 

"Yep," Imitation investigator? detective said with a wince as he forced himself to a sitting position. "And now we're paying the price for it." 

"But it was fun, right?" Blonde cowgirl asked, a hopeful light in her sky blue eyes. 

"Yeah," her two friends agreed, glancing at each other before looking back at her. 

"And worth it?" 

"I dunno." 

"That's up for debate I think," they countered. 

"But it was fun."  

To Be Believed

 She had to survey her surroundings a few times before her brain would begin to register the input from her eyes. There were people around her, a lot of them, who knew her. They were all standing by her, ready to stand up if she needed it. Ready to defend if it was necessary. Ready to risk themselves, or so her scarred mind believed. Because back then, anyone who did try to help her paid a price, as did she. But, that was then, and this was now. She knew that. Or, the small part of her still in touch with logic did. 

Just, ever since then, her connection with that part of herself still in touch with logic had weakened. And sometimes, it was blurry. Sometimes, now felt distant and far away, and then felt way too close for comfort. But right now, she was in it enough to see all of the people around her, even if her scarred mind was reluctant to believe it. She was in it enough to see all of the people, willing to stand by and stand up. Not just willing, but actually doing it. 

She couldn’t help the tiny hint of a smile on her lips, owing to the small part of herself still in touch with logic, at the now army’s worth of strangers standing behind and alongside her. Because that small part of herself knew that even though then still affected her now, it was back then, not now. Even if, because of then, she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that this, now, was her reality. Now is what she’d dreamt of. Now is what she’d never thought would happen. To have people around her. To know she wasn’t alone. And to be believed. That was the most impactful. That all of these people stood by her now, because they believed her story, and they believed that what she had subjected to was wrong. To be believed was the first, most important step of all. And to think it had all started with one single stranger. 

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This story is part of the Stranger series, which started here. You can find the full collection, together in one place, on Wattpad here.

This story was partially inspired by two incredibly powerful TV spots. A scene on Season 4, episode 7 of Sex Education around the importance of accessibility (more here) and season 14, episode 9 of Grey’s Anatomy, which shows the aftermath of trauma and the impact of others’ support.  

For those who have experienced trauma, know that you are not alone. And for those who know someone who has experienced trauma, remember that simply being believed can be indescribably powerful. 

Waiting In The Sun

They are all here in the sun, waiting for me. Just like I’ve always been told they would be. It’s far better than I could have imagined. Everyone important is here. Everyone who’s ever been important. Everyone. All together. Here in the sun. 

The park is weirdly empty aside from us, but I’m not going to complain. The grass is green, the sky is blue and clear, and the sun is shining bright above us. Oh, and there’s a nice breeze too, so no one gets too warm. 

I can’t help smiling, I’m so happy. When my loved ones notice me, they smile back at me. The ones closest open their arms. Feeling like a giddy child lost in the sheer joy of play, I run toward them. I run faster than I can remember ever running. As if the wind is pushing me along, and my path is downhill, which means my good friend gravity lends a helping hand. It’s like I’m running the last few metres of a race. It’s a wonder I don’t bowl anyone over. 

I emerge from the warm huddle-hug (because everyone had to get in on the action) and look around at all my loved ones. Really everyone is here- aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, siblings, parents, friends. All of the people who make me feel safest in the whole entire world. All here. 

I feel tears touch the tip of my eyelashes when I open my eyes, finding I’m not in the park with everyone anymore. Maybe I never was. But I like to think I was there, in a way. I smile as more tears fall, knowing not everyone at the park is here with me in this waking reality. But I know now they’re all there, in the sun at the park. They’ll be there waiting for me. 

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For all those who have lost a loved one. They’ll be waiting in the sun for you. 

The Flamingo With Muscles

 Like all flamingos, like all birds, Fred had muscles. Only, he didn’t know it. Instead, he doubted it. How could he not, being the weakest of the flock? Strong birds had muscle. Weak birds? Not so much… 

Fred looked around at the other flamingos, stretching and flapping their wings. But it was when they shot up into the air their muscles were really on display, as they twirled and dipped and did tricks. Fred wanted to wrap his wings around himself so h’d be hidden from view. They were all warming up for the first stage in a competition that would eventually lead to representing the flamingos at a much bigger competition with all the birds. Everyone was expected to try out to represent their kind, but Fred didn’t see the point. He had no chance next to the other flamingos. The other flamingos didn’t have wobbly legs like heated, the other flamingos didn’t shake when someone simply looked at them. No, the other flamingos, unlike Fred, knew how to stand tall and proud. 

Not all flamingos were good at sport, Fred could admit that. But all flamingos, everyone, was good at something. So that meant Fred should have been good at something, right? If there was something that Fred was good at, he didn’t know what it was. 

If Fred had been given a choice, he wouldn’t have bothered wasting his time trying out alongside the other flamingos to represent their flock at the next round. But, he didn’t have that choice, and so, he gave it his best shot. He lined up with the other flamingos and spread his wings wide. Fred paraded along with the rest of them, as if his wings were part of an outfit he’d been asked to model at a runway show. Then, he took his turn to shoot up into the air and show off what he could do in the sky. Not much, was the answer. Fred basically flew around in different ways. He wished he’d been allowed a partner to do this with. Maybe then, they could have synchronised and together made beautiful shapes among the clouds. But, just like almost always, Fred was on his own.

“You do have muscle, Fred,” his mother told him when the tryouts had finished. “ it’s just not the kind of muscle that everyone would expect. It’s similar to the muscle birds have, because it’s not muscle that everyone sees.” 

“Oh yeah?” Fred asked, curious now. “ what kind of muscle is that?” 

Fred’s mother smiled. “It’s the kind of muscle let you do all of what you just did, I’m not talking about physical muscle that allows us to fly or spread our wings and dance the way that we do. The kind of muscle I’m talking about, the kind of muscle you have,  is the kind that helped you do all of that, even when there weren’t that many backing you. Even when you didn’t feel like you had a chance.” She patted his shoulder. “ The kind of muscle you have, Fred, is bravery and courage. It’s not the kind of muscle that everyone has, but it’s important. Because, with your kind of muscle, you can feel the fear and do it anyway.”