Believer – Scene 2

“Honey, I’m home!”

Cecile playfully kicks the door to her apartment shut and jangles her keyring, making her presence known to the inside.

“Oh I forgot, I’m not married.”

Continue reading


Believer – Scene 1

She has been referred to as “wispy”, and it has been commented in jest that she might blow away in a high wind.  Once when she was eleven years old, she did.  That day she was very happy.  That day she also learned why nobody likes stitches.  She stands five feet, eight and one half inches tall, which is approximately four inches taller than the reported statistical average for women in her country.  She weighs between 107 and 138 pounds, depending on what she has in her pockets, and how many helium balloons she is holding.  Her hair has a slight wave to it, curls down well past her shoulders, and is a not altogether completely unique shade of light strawberry blonde.  She plans to continue growing it out until she begins to notice perceivable negative looks concerning its length, as a personal experiment to determine what is considered “too long”.  “Too short” is defined as a length where hair will no longer rest flat under its own weight, plus about one inch.  If one were to observe her face at a close enough distance where, were she of a different disposition, chemical mace would not be found guilty by a trial of peers, one might notice the not-yet-faded ghosts of various skin blemishes which haunt many youths during their later years of education.  Her freckles, however, remain prominent, as do the two pronounced dimples in her nose where glasses currently do not rest and cannot hide a pair of statistically average brown eyes.  She has difficulty reading the exact price of gasoline on a road sign until it is nearly too late to brake without garnering the scorn of more hasty motorists behind her, but she deplores contact lenses.  Her hands are thin.  Her torso is thin.  Her legs are perhaps not as thin as might be expected.  She has been called “pretty” only by a select few female acquaintances, and “beautiful” only by family members.  She has not been called “cute” that she can recall, and if anyone has ever called her “hot” or “fine” they were too drunk for the word to mean anything to her.  She knows for a fact that she has never been called “gorgeous”, “stunning”, or “radiant”.  She also knows for a fact that she does not particularly mind.

Continue reading

Believer – Prologue

You’re not going to believe me.  And that’s fine.  It’s fine because a lot of people don’t believe me.  There’s a lot of things a lot of people don’t believe, I guess.  I’m used to it by now.  I don’t mind it so much anymore, really; you learn to just accept these sorts of things after a while.  But I’m not crazy.  And I’d like you to believe that I’m not crazy.  A lot of people think I’m crazy.  And that’s not fine.  Not really at all.

Continue reading