Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt kick. I am now done with the paranormal story and in the midst of editing it. I decided to share a little short story with the word prompt.

Check out the other tales here.

The People Watcher

A young man with a blade runner leg on his right side, a pretty girl with vivid blue hair and a pair of red kicks passed by the bench where I sat in the middle of the town square. There’s also another girl strolling with them. She wears tight short-shorts and is slightly heavier than the blue-haired one. I’m a people watcher and most days, I take refuge under the big oak tree that gives the best shade.

I like to imagine the lives of those who pass by. These three I see as a boyfriend and girlfriend with the heavier girl as the best friend of the blue-haired girlfriend of Blade Man. I have memories of being the pretty girl with the best friend who always seemed to fade into the background and I’m ashamed now to recall how I never realized how the third-wheel girl felt.

Imagine always being number two. I know how that feels now. Having gained some years and also weight, I see what I didn’t see when I was the toast of the town. Older, heavier people aren’t treated kindly by our society. This is why I’ve become a recluse who lives her life vicariously by watching others. Being ignored in stores and on the street is demoralizing.

For a moment, I’m tempted to take Third Wheel aside and advise her to get out of the shadow of Blue Hair while she’s still young enough to impact the world herself. But then I think about how she might react to my words. Probably ignore me or give me a sneer like I don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.

The moment passes, they move on and I direct my attention to the group of four people on the grass lolling around as if they’re an art installation. The guy with the long dreads is on his stomach, a girl with a plaid shirt and not much else on is on her side with one knee up and another girl lying on her back has a book in her hand she’s just holding up in the air. The last young man has his body draped around the vignette like a capital C. They intrigue me.

Before I can come up with their “story,” an unexpected shower arises. Rain pours on the grass, quickly making mud puddles. The art installation moment is ruined as the four characters flee for the awning of one of the stores across from the square.

As for me? I’ll keep sitting here with my face raised to capture the cool drops from heaven. Getting soaked is no big deal. It makes me feel alive. Which is something new for me.