Napping Discomfiture
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Description:
Singapore, like many countries, are...how do I put it nicely....not very welcoming to a certain community in the society. It is a derogatory term to label someone a 'gay'. Of course, it's not taught in school, but it's not even mentioned in school, so there's no part played by the government.
Hence, I think you would share my sentiments when you wake up and find out that you've been carefully scrutinised by a bus-load of people when you slept for the last hour, with a relatively good looking guy on your shoulder and your head on his.
It was embarrassing.
Sebby
Hence, I think you would share my sentiments when you wake up and find out that you've been carefully scrutinised by a bus-load of people when you slept for the last hour, with a relatively good looking guy on your shoulder and your head on his.
It was embarrassing.
Sebby
Napping Discomfiture
I had woken up on a bus. Not suprising; I always slept on bus trips back from an exhausting day at school. Yet there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Something was wrong. The interior of the bus wasn't deadly silent, just that the noises were mechanical jargon of scraping engines and creaking handrails. The bus lurched from side to side, lumbering along the narrow road that led to the highway. However, the populations of life-forms aboard the tiny bus was strangely quiet. I resisted the temptation to stretch myself. This was a bus after all, not my home, and bear with the aching muscles I must. I peered around in curiosity. The person just behind me perfected the grin of a Cheshire cat. His eyes were avoiding me intently; the tips of his lips were straining to return back to normal, a pitiful losing battle in favour of the grin. There was an old lady seated on the other row of seats, just behind the middle exit. Her wrinkles frowned with reproach, and her bundle of sticks and wool were squashed by her bony hands, and I could not help wondering whether her face or her masterpiece was more crumpled. A row of school-boys that occupied the aisles like the 12 Apostles averted their gaze as I turned around. Knowing looks thrusted at each other confirmed my suspicion that something might have gone awry during my peaceful inpenetrable slumber. Wallet. Check. Watch. Check. Waterbottle. Check. Hair. Check. Bag. Check. Tidiness. Check. What could it be? Hopes that it wasn't me was diced, sliced and chopped to bits as unchanging furtive glances repeatedly assailed my form, and the fact that I could even feel their gazes bore into my back was no consolation. My stop was fast approaching. The night outside was darkening, and the fluorescents within the bus flickered on with a tentative shyness. I gathered my belongings, none too sprawled for my quick packing up, before I realised a weight resting softly on my right shoulder. I felt the two sides of my face in horrid realisation. My right side was warm, though now quickly balancing out with the other side as my cheeks flushed a deep red. The doors creaked open and I grabbed my stuff fleeing out into the protection of the night outside. Looking back just before the door closed, I saw my friend, Gabriel, continuing his gentle snooze even with the sudden disappearance of a support, his head hanging slightly to his left. Pulling my bag over my shoulders, I hurried home, hoping the cold would clear up my blood-shot face. |
Submitted on 2005-07-05 05:53:36 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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| I found myself smiling from the very beginning of this. Is that bad? I guess I was just waiting for your realization of the situation you were just in. This had great imagery, I could just picture that old lady, with her face scrunched in disgust at what she was seeing. Very good descriptions. I can't say that I know how you felt, because fortunately my country is a little more accepting when it comes to same sex relationships. I am not gay, but I have slept naked in the same bed with another woman and have had no reason for embarressment. Anyway, this was a good story. It did make me smile, but I think that it was because of the way you told it, not because of the situation you were in. Good work. i think there is a great storyteller in you. Brightest Blessings, Crystal | Posted on 2005-07-05 00:00:00 | by lenotoire | [ Reply to This ] | awww...bless your little cottons. this was sweetness to the ninth degree. aside from the fact that it was embarrassing to read, even for me...i could feel the redness in your face and my hands were covering my smiling face. though being gay is not an issue where i live i can imagine it is quite taboo where you live...and that is a sign of the culture and there is nothing wrong with that...it is just how it is. all things evolve in time. the unbearable eyes digging holes in your back..i can relate. when i was about your age i feel asleep on the bus and my mouth was a fountain of drool. i missed my stop and was awoken in my own personal puddle of saliva only to have the entire contents of the bus staring at me. i think even the seats were embarrassed to have my butt there. | you will be story telling for the rest of your days. you can always know when someone enjoys it. it shows. you know? ghost. | Posted on 2005-07-05 00:00:00 | by myghostsliketotravel | [ Reply to This ] | The story was told with a richness that was kin to being there. Here we have the makings of what could become a very popular author with the right stories to tell. I guess I'd call it a broad based appeal in the style, having good personalization of the character. | I really like "His eyes were avoiding me intently; the tips of his lips were straining to return back to normal, a pitiful losing battle in favour of the grin." Good morning to you too! Thanks. | Posted on 2005-07-05 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ] | |
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