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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 11/24/2013
Naturally
Born 1963, F, from Loule, PortugalNaturally.
Bill Williams was a ruthless judge and always dealt a swift sentence to anyone coming before him. He had little time for excuses and anyone that came in contact with him did so with great respect. Fat, skinny, short or tall, they all shuddered under the invasive stare fired in their direction. His mind had been like a steel trap for as long as he could remember and had cost him his marriage as well as numerous relationships. His job was all he really had left, plus it allowed him constant opportunities to unleash masculinity, so he had no intention of hanging up the long woolen hair for quite a while.
Like a roving ocean fighting with despair he swept along in the mighty clutches of life, deprived of reality while cracking the whip on those more balanced than he. The days yawned with pretense as he marched with dutiful motion. Court began as it always did and a young man stood quietly before him. Ruthless eyes scoured him with venom, preparing verbal assault. Bored with repetition, Bill smirked at the immaculate finger nails on the end of beautifully manicured hands. Realism removed the smirk as his eyes rose and met with kind, soft, brown ones. The mixture of soft pastels gently swept over the eyelids was perfectly chosen as was the fine mascara on adorable long eyelashes. A smart unisex trouser suit reflected impeccable taste, which was already blatantly obvious to all in observation.
Sniggers echoed in the court room as professionals fought for composure. Bill’s voice left him without consent. “What is your crime young man?” Before he could reply the prosecution sneered, “Is it not obvious Your Honor? He is dressed as a woman and disturbing the peace.” A terse silence descended as battle raged within. Eventually, and after a heavy sigh the answer came. “Case Dismissed!” Crude whispers hung in the air as narrow minds clung to limited imagination. The silly looking prosecutor teetered on tip-toe and tried his best to grow an inch taller, yet still appeared minute, “Your Honor. This is preposterous! He must be punished.” The young man dropped his head, hunched his shoulders at condemnation. Bill Williams had not even read the man’s name yet, but knew him all too well. Waving his hand with irritation he forced the prosecutor to retreat.
The court closed. The young man left and went on his way in life doing what he felt was right. The Judge did what he did each and everyday. His office was his sanctuary where privacy was paramount. Today was no different from any other so he poured a large cognac, removed the ridiculous toupee off his head and opened the closet. His hands carefully selected the long auburn wig, the gorgeous silken dress and painted leather stilettos. The heavy, dominant cloak and all that went with it fell to the floor, replaced by feminine allure. He sat quietly, perfectly content in his skin. What covered it was his choice.
For many years he had battled. Was it his doubled-barrel name that had confused his gender? He doubted it. It was just another name. The list was endless and had taunted him relentlessly, until he recognized her. She beckoned him on the shore, swam with him in mighty seas. She ran with him up mountains and tumbled down them too. Out of control, free as the bird, settled in human bones. There is no dilemma, only essence. Naturally, she is the Mother.
By Annie Frame. Copyright. October 2013.
Naturally(Annie Frame)
Naturally.
Bill Williams was a ruthless judge and always dealt a swift sentence to anyone coming before him. He had little time for excuses and anyone that came in contact with him did so with great respect. Fat, skinny, short or tall, they all shuddered under the invasive stare fired in their direction. His mind had been like a steel trap for as long as he could remember and had cost him his marriage as well as numerous relationships. His job was all he really had left, plus it allowed him constant opportunities to unleash masculinity, so he had no intention of hanging up the long woolen hair for quite a while.
Like a roving ocean fighting with despair he swept along in the mighty clutches of life, deprived of reality while cracking the whip on those more balanced than he. The days yawned with pretense as he marched with dutiful motion. Court began as it always did and a young man stood quietly before him. Ruthless eyes scoured him with venom, preparing verbal assault. Bored with repetition, Bill smirked at the immaculate finger nails on the end of beautifully manicured hands. Realism removed the smirk as his eyes rose and met with kind, soft, brown ones. The mixture of soft pastels gently swept over the eyelids was perfectly chosen as was the fine mascara on adorable long eyelashes. A smart unisex trouser suit reflected impeccable taste, which was already blatantly obvious to all in observation.
Sniggers echoed in the court room as professionals fought for composure. Bill’s voice left him without consent. “What is your crime young man?” Before he could reply the prosecution sneered, “Is it not obvious Your Honor? He is dressed as a woman and disturbing the peace.” A terse silence descended as battle raged within. Eventually, and after a heavy sigh the answer came. “Case Dismissed!” Crude whispers hung in the air as narrow minds clung to limited imagination. The silly looking prosecutor teetered on tip-toe and tried his best to grow an inch taller, yet still appeared minute, “Your Honor. This is preposterous! He must be punished.” The young man dropped his head, hunched his shoulders at condemnation. Bill Williams had not even read the man’s name yet, but knew him all too well. Waving his hand with irritation he forced the prosecutor to retreat.
The court closed. The young man left and went on his way in life doing what he felt was right. The Judge did what he did each and everyday. His office was his sanctuary where privacy was paramount. Today was no different from any other so he poured a large cognac, removed the ridiculous toupee off his head and opened the closet. His hands carefully selected the long auburn wig, the gorgeous silken dress and painted leather stilettos. The heavy, dominant cloak and all that went with it fell to the floor, replaced by feminine allure. He sat quietly, perfectly content in his skin. What covered it was his choice.
For many years he had battled. Was it his doubled-barrel name that had confused his gender? He doubted it. It was just another name. The list was endless and had taunted him relentlessly, until he recognized her. She beckoned him on the shore, swam with him in mighty seas. She ran with him up mountains and tumbled down them too. Out of control, free as the bird, settled in human bones. There is no dilemma, only essence. Naturally, she is the Mother.
By Annie Frame. Copyright. October 2013.
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