literature

Believe - TG - weird one

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Literature Text

The boy stared over the countertop. It was made of glass, and he thought it was pretty, though not as pretty as the stones inside. He tapped at the glass over one. "What's it for?" he whispered.

"Girls wear it when they're in love," the sales clerk told him.  "Would you like  to wear it?"

"I'm not a girl," he pointed out.'

"Are you certain? The salesclerk asked.

The boy pondered that for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. But I'm not in love, either."

"You will be one day," whispered the salesclerk. "And besides, you're probably dreaming, or whatever would you be doing in my shop?" the boy nodded, and put on the ring.

The boy smiled, and looked at the sales clerk. "How can I be a girl?"

"if you believe you're a girl, you are one, right? That's the nature of belief."

The boy thought about that for a moment, and then frowned. "Is belief really that powerful?"

The salesclerk nodded with a smile. "Yes. Yes, I think it is, so long as it comes from the heart."

The boy thought about it for a second more, and then he frowned. "If I can make the whole world think I'm a girl, would I become one then?"

And the salesclerk smiled. "Maybe. Why don't you find out?" So the boy nodded, and he tried to find out. He put on cute clothes, and he walked out of the store. He told everyone he met that he was female, and they smiled at him. HE found his way onto TV, and he told the world he was female there too. As it is the nature of dreams, he even managed to convince his parents. When the world was convinced, the salesclerk came back to him with a smile.

The girl was frowning. "I convinced the world. So why do I still have the patrts of a male?"

"Did you convince yourself?" asked the salesclerk. The girl nodded. "That was the first thing I did."

But the salesclerk shook his head and sighed, long locks of hair coming from his head as he bent down, warm eyes shining from a bright face. Breasts weres spilling out against his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice, not even when a skirt replaced his nice clothes. "If you had already convinced yourself," the sales clerk reprimanded, "Then weren't you already a girl all along?"

Joan sat up in bed, gasping heavily all of a sudden. Her body itched a little. It always itched when she had that dream, but that was no surprise. The ring was still on her finger. It had been there since she was six, though her mother had occasionally complained that it was mad e of cheap plastic. In Joan's mind it was real.

It wasn't unusual for her to sit on the ground and think about that.  She thought about what made things real whenever she had that dream, and forgood reason. It made her worry, occasionally, that nothing was real at all. But most of the time she just thought she was being silly.

She stretched a little, feeling the weight of her chest itch as she absentmindedly scraped a finger against the bare flesh, working into the cleavage to try and get rid of the itch. They'd started to grow naturally on her thirteenth year, something she'd been excited over at the time. Nobody else had found it odd, and she'd smiled at herself when saying it was because she'd made them believe. She loved the idea of having changed herself because she'd made them all believe. The most important part, however, was that she believed herself.

Except that sometimes she wasn't sure what she believed. She frowned a little at that, but didn't bother to deny it. For all that her temporary teacher had told her, she still struggled to find the truth of the world sometimes, as well as the truth of her gender.

She'd been wondering about it since the day she'd first grown her breasts; about the truth of what that sales woman had told her, on that day.

Was she a female because she had believed herself to be?

Or had she begun the development of breasts a t thirteen, simply because nobody had ever bothered to tell her about puberty?

It was the sort of thing that she liked to think in about, once in a while. Whenever she woke up in the middle of the night she would sit there for a while and contemplate it, turning over its nuances and testing the vvarious possibilies. She couldn't remember what had lain between her legs; she couldn't remember what had laid inside her heart. She couldn't remember how she'd convinced her parents or why. She knew she was  a girl, of course, but it was still something for her to contemplate, in the time between sleep and sleep again.  

The rest of the time it just seemed far too ridiculous.
I don't know. I just wanted to write in that style, suddenly. >,>
© 2011 - 2024 Princess-Kay
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On2XSecretProbation's avatar
Wow...that really gives you something to think about.