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LGBTQ workshop story

So I went to a workshop on writing lgbt stories, i wanted to document one online. The theme is vividly remembering a defining feature of your life when somebody made you feel yourself. 

I’m sat in her warm bed; I can see the waves of a raging sea crashing down on the rocky beach from a distance. It’s early in the morning, really early. A pale fog engulfs Aberystwyth, casting a dark silhouette of the town. Gulls call out in the distance, whilst she comes in. She puts the radio on, its radio 6 and we drink tea. The tea warms my insides as I drink, its sweet and milky and I can feel the heat trickle down to my center. I’m sleepy, we had been up all night talking and walking on the beach- I notice my sand-covered boots lying on the floor next to my clothes.

A great inner conflict has been settled. I am at peace, no longer fidgeting and casting wary glances at the world. Peace, resolution. We drink our tea without talking, my leg is draped around hers. I look at the mirror on the wall, it’s covered with philosophical quotes. You see, I like to make stories up in my mind about reality; I read too much as a child and have a warped sense of reality, and false expectations about my lovers- so I had decided to try and create a perfect night with her, it sort of worked. We discussed Thoreau, Sartre and feminist poetry, and I had written things on the mirror in the hope to look engaged by our conversation, and most importantly spontaneous and creative. In her body my body feels light and free, my mind lucid. I start making plans. My plans

In the distance a train pulls out of a station with smoke billowing from its chimney, whistling farewell to the sea-side town. Its track winds round mountains, past the sea, into the distance. 



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November 2012


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