Lucy in a Nightie with Shoes on

Outside, the striptease of winter was coming to an end. Blossom looked frivolous. Her sense that the trees were having a better time fuelled frustration.

“I need to get out,” whispered to her room-mate. Kate looked at her blankly. Lucy was unsure why they lived together.

It took time to gather her courage, but she was going outside. Lucy grabbed a coat and slipped on shoes. She padded out the front door.

In the coat pocket, there was some small change, a lip balm and a bankcard. The path to the bus-stop was lined with the flouncy trees. The light was fading, colours softened. There was no queue, until a bus arrived and Lucy was nudged along. She boarded and tapped the card against the driver’s reader. It flashed approved – vindication and permission. She sat next to a boy, pimples in the hair follicles on his chin. A strong smell of aftershave was his invitation to unpractised sex. She was not visible to him. Not being noticed was a superpower.

By the time she reached the city centre, dark had settled. Pubs offered themselves like flat postcards in an album. The night passed in still, layered images. If pressed, she couldn’t say whether they were in colour. Everything was muted: snatches of conversation, tears welling, muffled talk. She blamed the whiskey.

She saw the ring go into his pocket as he approached. Like Lucy would have cared. She kept her coat on and made him laugh, so that he had to steady himself by placing a hand on her knee. Victory.

The hotel room was clean and carpeted. She let her toes sink into the carpet, removing her shoes before her coat.

He expressed no surprise at the nightie below the coat.

The first kiss was hesitant and gentle. She thought he growled. Men are handsome animals, she thought. The sex was a collage. She was placed in various positions. She had wanted to feel, but she was just an observer, even when their bodies were entangled.

Early hours of the morning, she was outside again. Emotions were at the edge of her understanding. If she swivelled to view them, they disappeared. The small of her back ached and she slumped onto the pavement. It was cold, damp.

Someone was taking her hand. He was talking to her and she was shaking her head. A bus with seatbelts. It went past her stop. She rose up in panic, but was held down. The bus took the turning to her street. The flouncy trees were now in dawn light. The man smiling at her looked familiar and the attempted kindness jolted an unpleasant memory that wouldn’t focus.

The apartment building but bigger. More corridors. More people. Kate and Lucy. Their fourth floor flat was a dormitory.

This is my response to James and Oneg’s Dream State challenge as part of the summer writing challenge which can be found here.

The prompt was to write a fantasy fiction or a poem about your most recent dream(s). There is no word count or time limit for this challenge. The goal is to get creative and have fun with words. Hopefully you'll try this out too!

Part of the challenge is to spread the words of other writers too. I was challenged by Oneg and you can find his wonderful entry here.

I usually write about Classic Hollywood and the occassional rant about life. If you've enjoyed what you have read, consider subscribing to my writing on Vocal. If you'd like to support my writing, you can do so by leaving a one-time tip. Thank you.