A Skewed Love Story
by MJG74, HSM Art Director, with contributions from the HSM team
Love is one of the most confusing and wonderful parts of life. There is perhaps no subject about which so many stories, songs and poems have been written. Speculation about it is always an area of fascination.
But what is love, and do we really need it? It’s common to hear people say they’re happy to be alone and can live without it.
Well, we don’t have the answer to that. But, we do have a fantastic Valentine story to share with all.
The following story is an experiment: a compilation of single paragraphs written by different authors. The theme was, simply, a love story. The rest was up to the imagination of the following HSM team members: Godzprototype, Burbie52, Olivia_Allin, ted2112, Kassadee Marie, and MJG74.
We hope you enjoy. And tell someone you love how much you love them.
——–
I was a baby-faced 26, and this was the first time I’d been called an “aging” anything. I’ve been with Home since its beginning, and it was funny, of course — in a terribly cringing way. I didn’t identify as a hipster because, well, who on Earth does?
But here are the hard, objective facts: I was proud of my address, on the swelling lip of the neighborhood real estate agents were calling “Harbour Studios.” I had a cool haircut and a publishing job. And I had been caught red-handed doing something ironic with a cupcake.
It was under these circumstances that I met her.
I wasn’t looking for anything. I was happy right where I was in life, enjoying my freedom and my friends. We had a habit of getting together after a long week’s work and dancing together in the Pier Park. Then, one night, she appeared there; a friend of mine had met her recently and invited her to join us.
It was a chance meeting that would change everything.
I was carrying a dozen cupcakes, and running late as usual. I never know what to bring to these parties; I don’t cook much for myself, and hey, who doesn’t like cupcakes? If my job in publishing has taught me anything, it’s that cupcakes can turn a group of socially awkward people who can write like a storm — but don’t talk much — into a happy group of chatty, frosting-licking friends.
Baking was my therapy, and it sure was easier to bake out my angst than try to score some magic bacon from a Homeling. And now would prove to be the most trying time of my career. My manager mentioned that she’d hired a “hottie” to help me out at work with paperwork. The “hottie” was my ex-fiancé, and now we share an office for thirty-some hours a week.
So I made my way down to the weekly get-together, juggling cupcakes and thinking of the briefcase of work I had back at home to do over the weekend. My ex wasn’t being much help at the job (big surprise) and I had some catching up to take care of. As I rounded the corner into the park I saw a girl standing with my friends and it almost stopped me in my tracks. She was stunning.
It was all I could do to maintain my grip on the tray that was precariously overloaded with the miniature frosted delights. Even harder to maintain my grip on syntax and my native language. My mind and heart combined in a laser-point of focus. This woman had a rare form of magnetism. It didn’t affect most compasses, metal wall hangings or guns, like you see in the cartoons, but there was one compass that it was in complete control of: the compass that directs my soul.
My internal GPS immediately rerouted my course, steering me away from the snack table where I had intended to place my cargo of sweets. Making a beeline towards the vicinity of the tall, thin, long-haired pillar of beauty. Not directly to her, just near enough that perhaps I could overhear the conversation already in progress. And also, giving me enough time to reboot my vocabulary on the off chance I would be so lucky as to speak to her.
Summoning up the will to walk over to her took everything I had. She was deep in conversation with my friend Sally who had brought her along tonight to meet everyone. I slowly made my way over toward the group. She turned toward just as I got there and I almost melted when her deep green eyes met mine.
As I joined them, Sally looked over and saw my expression. Her face got that little grin she gets when she is happy about something, and she introduced me to her companion. “Hi there, Steven; I want you to meet Sophia.”
How was I to know the night would end in such a way? If only I could have looked into the future, just this one time, and saved us all so much pain! They say fools rush in where angels fear to tread, and I was such a fool. Cupcakes, parties, ex-girlfriends, work, old friends, lovers; what were they all, compared to the outcome of that fateful evening?
As I stood in front of her, I almost forgot I was still carrying the cupcakes and suddenly felt very foolish. I couldn’t shake her hand because of the box of treats, so instead, I reached in and grabbed one of the snacks. With our eyes locked, and as if offering them up to some divine being, I simply asked, “Cupcake?”
The wheels of fate had been set into motion. It’s not fair to blame Sally for what happened; she was the one who pulled the trigger, but I turned out to be the foolish bullet. To me it seemed like several minutes of just standing there, mouth breathing and staring. Later Sally would tell me that my pause only bordered on uncomfortable.
And then I spoke. “Hello Sophia, I’m Stephen.” All of this was information that had already been covered, so I panicked. “I brought cupcakes…”
I had to mention the cupcakes again? I couldn’t have said something cool, like, ummmm…okay, well, even thinking back now I think cupcakes was the best I could do. Sophia was graceful and smiled, and she took one. Now the wheels of fate were racing! Why couldn’t I have found therapy in making beef jerky? And why did my friends choose this particular time to pull a prank on me by substituting ingredients that I knowingly used in my baking process? If I had known what they had done, at least I could’ve sounded cooler by saying, “Magic cupcakes, anyone?”
The recipe for that cupcake was simple, elegant, and strange. Not too much of this. A little more of that. Then there was that special ingredient: the one that would cause you to breathe deeply. A slight roll of the eyes. Sally’s head tilted just a touch. I knew I had her. I knew when she uprighted herself what that glance meant.
More importantly, she knew why I gave it to her. And she grabbed my hand and whispered something. I couldn’t quite understand her.
I searched for the words, until they echoed like a church bell in my head. I felt lost as my eyes whirred through the room with the enthusiasm of a toddler watching a documentary on the Holocaust. Not since I was a teenager has this unbearable feeling and waiting for something to occur fall upon me.
She was trying to tell me the cupcake wasn’t necessary. She had been watching my antics for sometime.
How could I possibly entice such a beautiful and interesting person with such a mundane object? I thought maybe the recipe for the cake might pique her interest. While it was entertaining, she spoke without the intended effect.
“Stephen, have you seen the Midnight Glade yet?”
I told her I had, but that it had been awhile.
“Would you like to see mine some time?” She asked.
“Of course I would,” I said with a sheepish grin on my face. Deep down I was trembling inside; what was her intent in asking me this? I wasn’t sure, but the one thing I was sure of is that I wanted to know this person. ”When?” I asked with some trepidation, afraid she would push it off with an excuse.
“No time like the present,” she replied.
I was floored, and all I could stammer out was, “Sure, let’s go.”
She went to her Glade, and when I arrived, it was set up in an amazing garden, filled with trees and plants everywhere. Flowering pots and fountains abounded; I was taken aback by the beauty and serenity of the place.
I don’t know if it was because the sounds of the party were replaced by the subtle orchestra of nature all around us; I don’t know if it’s because instead of a crowd of people dancing, there stood one beautiful woman backlit by the moon and the fireworks display, making a perfect silhouette of her slender frame that shone through her outfit. But for some reason, I was no longer nervous. I was no longer shy. My footsteps towards her were not on shaky knees; far from it. It was more like a slow-motion glide. As I got close enough, I could see she was looking down, but slowly her gaze turned upwards, and her big beautiful eyes locked on mine. I floated to the top of the hill where she stood. The mood and the moment matched by the location and the atmosphere, stirred with anticipation…this was no recipe for cupcakes; this was the perfect recipe for romance.
For a brief second, we stood as close as two humans can stand without touching. And before I could remember that there was no “kiss” emote…
I froze.
Not out of fear, not out of nerves and not because I was shy. I could no longer see her; only a screen with an error code.
What the hell!?
I awoke with a jump.
That’s it, I told myself. No more cupcakes right before bed. I rolled over and turned off the glowing TV screen that was still displaying a disconnect error code. Man, sometimes dreams can seem so real.
That girl…she seemed so familiar, but it had to be a dream. I’m no dancer, that’s for sure.
Out of some strange impulse, I returned the PS3 to the cross media bar. The machine informed me I had a message in my inbox. The red “new message” icon glowed like a beacon at the top of the page. I hovered over the icon, and something stopped me.
That girl, the dance, the cupcakes.
No, I told myself and moved the arrow to the trash icon. Goodbye, little Miss Cupcake, I told the computer screen as I hit delete.
February 14th, 2013 by MJG74 | 4 comments
Michael Goss is the Art Director (emeritus) for HomeStation Magazine. In real life, is a normal member of the human species with some imperfections, but with a strength of ten as well, I kid ye not! He also has been know to exaggerate the details from time to time. His goal is to live fearlessly but finds that kinda difficult with current crop of republicans running for office.
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Heh heh. Nice one guys, you just put a smile on the face of my 15 year old self…
Oh, and thanks for reminding me its Valentine’s!
*rushes off in sheer panic*
Love the way this turned out! It was a fun experiment seeing how everyone added their own two cents to the story. Good job everyone!
Wonderful Story
Brilliant guys just brilliant