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Short stories (each chapter is a story)
real people "trapped" in their own mind

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3. Adolescence

Izobel Korney was a tall thin woman in her early thirties. She had a childish face and an adult body and they both didn’t match each other. Graduated from a prestigious college she became a social worker in order to make the world a better place. She was always happy and optimistic and even though, the rest of the town made fun of her when she chase around with her lectures and support groups for the teens and tried to make everyone excited about it.

 

Most of the day she spent in these groups, sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the church’s basement, waiting for people to show up. Sometimes couple would show up. Those always were the most depressed people, the ones who lost any hope and came there just because they didn’t have anything better to do. They sat in the made of chairs circle, trying not to talk more than it needed. Izobel, on the other side, tried to make them share, talk. She desired for someone sad and sick, someone who will open up to her and she will help him. When someone would decide to speak up Izobel listened very carefully, hoping to hear sad and touching story with a bitter full of sorry and pithiness conclusion. In the end of the disappointing session she would go home, in her mind imagining her dreams coming true.

 

She lived with her mother, an old frowning lady who complained about everything and never smiled to anyone. Their house was always dark and cold since the old lady spent most of her time in her room and didn’t see a point in spending money on electricity for the rest of the large house. Actually, she didn’t see a point in spending money on anything, ever.

 

It was an early morning when Izobel went out of the house with a stack of pink papers. She read a new article in the library, something about music and energy.. She read it all and even though she has not understand most of it, it drove her to design whole new program. This time, she thought, it will definitely work. She contacted with some unknown band that agreed to play for free and printed whole new advertisements, which she held now in her hand.

 

She walked down the street, attaching the pink papers to fences and poles on her way. On her way, she passed near to Zack’s family house. Izobel met Mrs. Zack on one of the lectures- the latter didn’t believed in any of the things they talked about but she felt sorry for Izobel and she didn’t mind to come and listen. Then, Mrs. Zack told her she had a son, named Tom. this sentence was accompanied with a deep sigh and a tired shrug that intrigued Izobel.

 

When she passed by the small blue house she dared to peek over the fence, right to the front yard. There, on a small bench sat a small child. In his hands he held a flour. It was small and red and the kid examined it with pure interest. For a moment there, Izobel forgot where she was. The whole scene seemed so unrealistic, like a picture from an old movie. She stared at the blond kid with the red flower when suddenly the kid raised his hand and looked at Izobel. She felt strange. Something in his look, his face, was not normal. She tried to examine his face, trying to understand why is it so bothering her. And then she realized. He looked at her at the same, full of pure interest of a scientist in a lab, way. He didn’t scream or ran away. He wasn’t shocked by her rudeness, he didn’t blame her. Finally, the examination was over. The kid looked at her for last one second and then turned his head back to the flower, like she didn’t exist anymore.

 

Shocked from the weird experience Izobel shook her head, rearranged the papers and went on, continuing her journey. But something changed. From time to time she threw a glance back, in the direction of the small blue house. Suddenly a strong wind blew the papers out of Izobel’s hand and spread it on the sidewalk. Izobel bent to the ground, starting to pick up the pink papers. She looked at them. “This is so stupid!” she thought. She couldn’t understand her previous excitement about them. Suddenly, she realized how stupid, full of foolish dreams she was. “This kid,” she thought, “he looked at me, just for a moment and then even a small, wilted flower, was more interesting then me”. She understood why people laughed at her, she understood why her activities never worked, she understood herself better than ever, and the truth was, she didn’t like it.

 

All her life known as childish happy person Izobel suddenly, in one second, grow up. The eternal, naive smile replaced with pursed lips, the pink glasses were off and the rude, vulgar, dark world was revealed for the first time. Everything changed. Just the pink, wrinkled paper remained lying on the ground, as the only remnant of childhood, in a grown up world.

 
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