Ragam Story

I might as well dedicate my blog to the deity(if any) of crazy topics for creative writing. I have begun to suspect that creative writing as a competition item in our college highlights the creativity of the people setting the topics rather than a few like me who actually take those crazy cues(which usually point in entirely different directions or sometimes point nowhere at all) and try to piece them together into a coherent whole.

This time's Ragam CW topic was as usual pictorial,
a windmill, a wig(or a face with no features, or a weird easter egg) and a perfume bottle.
I wrote my first ever gay story (I did not mean 'happy'). Of the people who have read it so far, one got the point in the first try, another got it in 2 and others had to have it explained to them. So, here it is...comments and criticism welcomed(as usual).

What Not For Love

Mr. Jack Darwin squirted a little of the perfume on his wrist. First edition Balenciaga Prélude, 1988. He inhaled the heady scent and smiled. The salesman saw the smile and was quick on the uptake. “An exquisite choice, Sir. The lady would appreciate it.” “ I am sure she would”.

She had come home yesterday with a diamond on her finger. Philip had sprung the engagement as a surprise at the party. He had been incensed. He had watched her reflection on the mirrors that decorated the room as she glided past on Philip’s arm, accepting congratulations. He had been angry and jealous but even so, he could not keep himself from admiring her, most beautiful of all the women present. He had to concede, she was perfection. The wavy auburn hair always perfect (bad hair days happened to other people), the supermodel figure, the lean sculpted limbs and clear skin… in a word, acme.

Philip was a hypocrite, he knew. Philip had preferred men from the start. He had known it from the time he had met Philip in college. But even with the new supportive legal situation, Philip wanted to stick to the façade of the successful business magnate with a big house and a poster wife in it. She was a smokescreen to hide himself from the eyes of the world. Philip would never admit he was gay.

He walked into his apartment carrying the expensive box. He could see her things scattered around. The Gucci boots were lying in two different corners as though she had thrown them. The solitaire sat glinting on the bedside table beside the toy windmill. She had bought it on a whim some years ago after reading Don Quixote. She loved to picture herself as a princess who had a knight to fight her battles for her. He wound it up and the windmill started spinning with a tinkling melody which was dragging a little. The batteries were running out, he should remember to get them replaced. Tomorrow, she was going to lunch with Philip’s parents. To plan the wedding and so forth. Everything happened so fast that he had been helpless. He would try to convince her to put an end to things. But she would not budge, he knew, she loved Philip. So did he; he would never hurt Philip. He switched off the light, in the thin stream of light from between the curtains, the dummy wearing the auburn wig looked just like her.

He admired her in the mirror as Andrè put the final touches to the white wedding gown. She looked like an angel. She was going to be Mrs. Philip Everard in two hours time. He smiled a little wistfully. His life was going to change, in a big way. The limo was waiting. He got in. The church was three streets down. He tapped his heels, restless for it to be over and done with. He even considered turning back. After what seemed like an hour, the limo drove up in front of the church. He took a deep breath, checked the clothes again, opened the door and she stepped out. Julian was waiting. Everyone turned to see the bride as the choir stuck up and she glided in on Julian’s arm. Philip turned slightly and smiled. When he took her arm, he whispered in her ear- “Thank God, Jack! I thought you were never coming”