Christine C
Bio
overthinker.
Stories (6/0)
Sector 9-11
The computer buzzes with another call. I stare blankly as it chimes, but can’t do anything to move my stiff limbs. I shake my head once, then twice, to rid myself of the shock. He'll see me soon? It was ridiculous to even think. I blinked once, twice, before the cloud of confusion lifts long enough from my head to hit the answer button on the screen in front of me. I stare blankly into the buffering screen.
By Christine C3 years ago in Fiction
Sector 9-11
When I dream of my perfect life—the ideal one that only ever exists in my imagination—I envision endless light. The UV rays from the sun beam down on me from above. They envelop every inch of my skin exposed. In this dream, I exist no further than as a houseplant albeit with more complicated emotions. My skin cells photosynthesize the energy into nutrients to support the growth of my limbs as I stretch up and out to reach into the sky. Only once I have made it up into the clouds do I reach transcendence: pure Nirvana. Given this ideality, I can only hope that how I exist in present is as a seedling: expanding and strengthening my roots. The water that stimulates my growth soaks into the soil, my home, and fills me up from the inside. Nourishing me. The darkness that surrounds me exists only temporarily as I gain the resilience to sprout—to thrive—above ground.
By Christine C3 years ago in Fiction
What is it to be a Black Woman in the Corporate World?
I am a young, Black millennial woman living in 2021. With this, I am afforded many liberties in my life that my ancestors were not, and for that I am grateful. For one, I am dating a man, a white man at that, who also happens to work in the military not one, but two seas away from me in the Middle East (sheesh, right? I know... it's not easy for me either). He is truly amazing, and it astounds me everyday to understand that many years ago, when my own grandmother was a young girl, that a relationship such as ours was heavily looked down upon if not downright forbidden. My grandmother was the matriarch of my family, and was raped and beaten by white men as a young woman and child. On her trips to the river in her youth, men stood waiting to assault her, and there was nothing she nor anyone else could do to stop it. Today, I am allowed to walk hand-in-hand down the street (when he's not away from me for work, of course) with the man that I love without the attempt of greater forces to minimize or destroy our love. It's these little things that I am most grateful for. Still, I can candidly say that being a Black woman in 2021 is not all it's cracked up to be. Especially, when it comes to my pursuit of a career in the corporate world.
By Christine C3 years ago in Journal
The Ex Chronicles
They say you look back on your first love as a waste, a lie, a concoction of false emotion and hormonal imbalance. We never consider it to be real love, but it still is. It is as much of love as we can understand at the time. That is the negative aura encapsulating the feelings of my first love for as long as I can remember. This could be because it was elementary school. A playground love story that never really became anything much to mention at all. It happened to also be one-sided; a trend that many of my relationships came to follow in the future. Guess I could say this was my first stop on the train of loving boys who could never love me back.
By Christine C3 years ago in Humans
The Party King
The day of Friday has come again, and the young King Louis peruses his castle after his parents have gone out for an excursion across the city. This means that Louis will be left alone late into the evening, which brings him much satisfaction, but first he must be sure that they are truly gone. He prattles about searching every room, every nook and cranny, to ensure that he is not mistaken. He does this every time after they have left simply because of that one Friday he got too lazy and forgot. The Queen, his lovely (albeit terrifying) mum, was hiding away working in a room in the tallest tower. She bellowed in anger when she caught him laying about on the lounge like a lazy sloth. He vowed ever since then to never again get caught on the sofa milling about. Still, Louis maintains a small semblance of grace because at that time she only caught him during his pregame rest rather than the main event of the day. This slight inconvenience left Louis quite pleasantly smug because, despite receiving a strong tongue lashing, his primary agenda each Friday would still go on.
By Christine C3 years ago in Petlife