secrets and lies

Hello and happy holidays! A while back I entered a sloppily written short story into a competition at school. Reading it back now, I'm embarrassed; I didn't really bring my A game to this! But, I ended up winning second place, and it's certainly not the worst thing I've ever written! It's short and sweet, and I figured I would share it anyway. Hope you enjoy and that your advent calendars bring much joy! Happy December <3

Erin sighed, hands running over the cold bruise-clad skin of her leg. Lying wasn’t something she enjoyed. She despised that heavy feeling it left in her chest. The kind that makes you feel a spoon hollowed you out and left wet concrete in its wake.

That helped her in her line of work… not “ line of work”. She didn’t get paid, and there was no attractive pension pot. It was also increasingly violent and she was increasingly anonymous. Tied to this … hobby was the dread of her hiding the truth. Every poor friend who questioned what she did on her Friday nights always found her stammering out an ill formed answer.

But no one could know. It was 1920 and she was going against every rule she was ever taught. Women are quiet. She wasn’t. Women comply with men. She didn’t. Women aren’t violent. She was. A hazy memory crossed her mind of the night it started.

She had stumbled across a rather harrowing scene of her friend sobbing. Not long after, Erin found out the horrific truth. She’d heard from too many women before. And now she had no choice; she taught herself fighting. It was rudimentary; a sloppy mix of punches and kicks, but the knife she carried tended to be a good deterrent too. She dressed enough to hide her femininity, and there was one step left. She prowled the city every spare night she had, muttering something vague about a library before setting off down the streets.

A knock sounded at the door. She yanked her skirt down, hoping to hide the shades of blue and purple streaking her pale skin in a concerning array of bruises Perhaps hiding was for the best. Being a female vigilante in 1920 wouldn’t sit well with many.