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Thursday, August 13, 2020

Thursday Fiction 276: Parallel Slip

Welcome back to a new part of Parallel Slip, where we follow the adventures of Frederique through her slip in different parallel universes.

Image by Genty from Pixabay
Let's start right where we left off last week.

"How dare you talk to me like that? Is it what they teach you at university? To be disrespectful to your parents?"
"Mum, shut up and leave. I don't want you here."
I grabbed for the button to call a nurse. She wouldn't shut up but I tried to ignore her talking. That wasn't really my doing though, it was more a reflex my other selves seemed to have developed over time. Her talking had become just a buzz, noise but I could still hear it, the blaming, the everything that was wrong with me. I was the only one fainting that I was aware of, my other self didn't faint or that would have killed my theory. I wonder what was wrong with this version of me that got her mother to behave like this.
The nurse arrived. Her mother smiled and said that I might be tired.
"I don't want her here, please," I said to the nurse.
"I'll be back later, sweety," her mother said. It was just an act, it made me sick in the stomach to see her smile and be polite and be so nice talking about me to the nurse.
"Don't be," I said.
It was difficult to be strong in this other self's body. She seemed broken. Her will was so lost that it was even hard for me to speak and stand up for her. I don't think I had ever experienced that much of one of my other self's feelings and that wasn't the best ever.
The nurse got my mother out and came back for me, for my other self.
"Are you alright?" The nurse said.
"Please don't let her come in again," I said.

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How I learned not to apologise

 

Summary for busy people who can't be bothered to read it all: 

 

Do not apologise for knowing something others don't. Do not apologise for being right, ever! 

 

I was nine years old when my dad told me to stop apologising for being right.

It wasn't really something easy but it happened fast because I was a little girl and I always did what my daddy told me. 


I was raised in a catholic school. For those of you who don't know what a French Catholic school is like, I'm not going to get into details here, I just want to talk about the general issue of apologizing to give you some context.

The teaching about apology and forgiveness goes like this:

If someone does something bad to you, they are forced to apologise generally by a teacher and you are supposed to forgive them. The apology prevents the child from being punished because nothing is wrong if they are forgiven. The thing is apologies aren't genuine and the forgiveness is forced too, since not saying “I forgive you” would get you punished.

At home, it was the same. My mother would enforce the rules and if my brother was miss-behaving toward me, I always had to forgive him. I probably had to apologise too from time to time though I would like to pretend I didn't. 


I was at school and it was time for one of my parents to come pick me up for lunch. I was waiting in the recess area. I don't remember exactly how the conversation came about but I know we were discussing birthdays. I was born on the 17th and another girl was also born on the 17th even though months apart. She decided that it was unacceptable.

She told me I couldn't be born on the 17th because she was.


I said that several babies could be born on the same day, like twins and that we weren't even born on the same month.


“But 17 is my number”, she said, “only I am born on the 17th, you are not.”

 

“But I am,” I answered.


Then three of her friends came over and they started to tell me how impossible that was, that everyone had a different number for their birthday and that mine couldn't be 17 since it was her number.


And here I was. “I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose but I was born on the 17th too. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” And of course I started crying out of frustration because I knew my birthday for a fact but I had four people in front of me telling be I was wrong. I think I was really starting to doubt myself.


Then my father arrived and of course the other girls ran away, can't be caught making someone cry in front of a parent, really. But he had heard parts of the conversation. Normally, he would have given me a hug and told me not to cry that it was ok, but this time he didn't.

Instead he said:


“Why are you crying?”


I was crying so hard that I couldn't even answer.


He lowered himself down to be at eye level and said.


“You know when your birthday is, they don't. Don't ever apologise for knowing something others don't, don't ever apologise for being right!”

I nodded.


“And stop crying now.”


It was a bit harsh.


He took my hand as usual and we left the place. It was weird. I felt like I had just being scold for doing nothing wrong and at the same time I started to understand something else, something that would make me grow into who I am today. Someone that he trusted to actually see the truth and stand up for it. Someone who would see right from wrong and make the right decision. Someone who wasn't supposed to cry “like a girl” but could actually be strong.


 When I went back to school that afternoon and we did the calendar, I was asked for my birthday.


“November 17th” I said, and it felt so right to me that nobody dared to say otherwise. 
 
So that's my little story. I don't believe in apologies for different reasons linked to my upbringing. Instead I believe in not doing shit that hurts other people.

In the context of what has been going on lately and the women who have been forced to apologise just for daring to say the truth about the lived reality of women, women's right and women's biology, I would like to tell every women out there, lowering myself to get to eye level, or more likely tiptoeing since I'm quite small:


      Do not apologise for knowing something others don't. 

Do not apologise for being right ever!

 

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Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Wednesday Snippet 278: Blue Angel

Welcome to a new part of Blue Angel unedited, we start right where we left off last time.


“How do you know it's here if you lost it so long ago?” Lonan asked.
“I saw it earlier,” Kamaril answered.
“If someone found it then it's theirs now,” Lonan said.
Kamaril was getting annoyed by the little demon. He wondered how his brothers were able to deal with him. Probably they couldn't and that was the reason they had left him end up here.
“Eh, I'm telling you, it's not yours anymore,” Lonan said jumping in front of him, not happy to be ignored.
“Can you stay quiet? You're giving me a headache,” Kamaril answered pushing him around to continue his progression in the corridor. They were almost there and he knew that the room was heavily guarded and that on the top of it the three master demons had made it their residence.
“You are so boring, you only care about quiet. Let's do something fun. It was fun with those guys earlier, let find some more of them. Do you know why they all dress the same? They are so funny. Do you think they would give me a costume too if I ask nicely?” There was no way of making Lonan ever shut up.
“Maybe,” Kamaril answered.
The entrance of the room was just in front of them and curiously, there were no guards. He wondered if he could use Lonan as a diversion in case of trouble and run away alone with the trident. At least he would be rid of the annoying little demon.

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Tuesday, August 11, 2020

Tuesday Travel 67: Witch Raising: The Book of Fire

Welcome to Tuesday Travel. Every Tuesday, I will be presenting an excerpt of Witch Raising: The Book of Fire, the book in which Brownie, the heroine of Demon Soul, is undertaking an initiatory journey.

Image by PDPhotos from Pixabay
About Witch Raising: The Book of Fire

Witch Raising is a new series with Brownie, the heroine of Demon Soul as the main character. This series is part of the House at the Crossing Series and follows Demon Soul and Demon and Fairy but instead of being centered on the adventure of Sahel and his demon friends, it follows Brownie as she goes from being a normal girl to a bad ass witch. She has been practicing magick for a while now, saving people from difficult situations but the people at the house, including Sahel aren't happy with her new calling. Feeling that she doesn't have a choice and has to keep learning witchcraft, Brownie leaves to meet other witches.

The excerpt, we start where we left off last week  

"I'm not a fan," Marri said. "It taste like the cheap stuff that my mum would make when she isn't in the mood for cooking anything."
"Yah, I feel a bit the same, just potatoes and cheese," Sandy added. "I mean it's not that hard to make, I don't know how it can be the best thing the region has to offer."
"Well, isn't that a bit your fault for cutting the recipe in half?" Josh said.
"Yeah, nothing against vegetarians but you asked the guy to remove half of the main ingredient so you can't really have an opinion about the dish," Samantha said.
She was diving into it with all her bread and had already asked for a bread refill.
"And don't you think you are barbarian for eating a poor defenseless living animal?" Sandy asked.
"And aren't you barbarian for eating a poor defenseless living vegetable? And the salad you're chewing on right now has been proven to be able to ear you eat them... alive," Samantha said.
"That's bullshit," Marri added looking at the salad at the tip of her fork.
Samuel laughed. The other looked at him not really noticing what was funny.
"I'm not into the vegetarian mindset or species equality or whatever but you must be seriously derange to believe a salad feels anything when you chew it, like really," he said.
Samantha turned to face him but Josh was faster.
"Why?" he said, "I mean they don't have brain or nervous system or ears but they are still alive and breathing on our plate."
"Yeah, they are but they aren't sentient beings," Sandy said.

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