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I just noticed that this thread was added and was excited to read some stories by other Nerdfighters, but there weren't any posts. Possibly because no one had seen the thread yet, but possibly because no one wants to be the first one to post a story. So, I'll be the first one. Feel free to leave any constructive criticism you want. Hopefully, this makes some of you want to post your own stories/poems/essays/etc. either here, or in your own discussions.
Once upon a time there was a little prince named, Clarissa Silverstone. I know what your thinking, “Clarissa? How can Clarissa be a prince? That’s a girl’s name” and to that I say, “PIZZZAA YOU AND YOUR ARROGANT ASS GENDER STEREOTYPES YOU PIZZZAA PIECE OF PIZZZAA!”
I’m sorry I blew up like that, I have a very low tolerance for bullshit. But the advantage of starting off this way is, now all the judgmental bitches are gone and its just us open minded folk. So, welcome. Join me as I take you through the twisted life of Clarissa Silverstone.
Though we won’t be calling her Clarissa after this, as that’s not what she preferred. When she was no more than five she decided that a name should be chosen by the person being named, and so she choose a new name. A name that grabbed her by the heartstrings whenever she heard it. A name so unique, and powerful, and fantastic that people feared it. She named herself Clarence.
“Who would fear the name Clarence? Why would someone fear the name Clarence?” You wonder aloud to yourself with a tilt of your head and raise your left eyebrow. It’s simple, they didn’t just fear it because it was a terrifying name, after all that would be silly. What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet?” No, it wasn’t the name. It was what the name represented for Clarence. It was the fact that as soon as he put on the name he stood taller on sidewalks, spoke his mind when he felt like it and did exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. With the mask of the name he became a force of nature. People fear nature because they cannot control it.
Thus, that’s what we shall call him because that’s what he preferred.
Clarence, as previously discussed, was born Clarissa Silverstone. The year was 1991, the month was September, and the scene was Starr, South Carolina. A town of just over two hundred people where everyone knew of his birth as soon as it happened. There was nothing unusual surrounding the delivery. Vitals were normal, the usual amount of pushing was required, and by the end there he was, a beautiful baby girl. Golden skin and eyes as dark as the night sky; a healthy, seven pounds, three ounce little girl screaming for the sake of screaming.
The nurse on duty immediately wrapped him up in a pastel pink blanket, she never even questioned it. She simply saw the vagina and choose the pink. Or maybe what she saw was the lack of external Gentiles. What a commentary of the state of our sexual misconception, that your gender is decided before you’ve had a chance to do anything but scream. Not even by choice either.
Clarence wasn’t bothered by this though, largely because he was much to busy with the screaming to focus on anything else. When he finally stopped it was because he felt the warmth of his Mother’s arms. Many babies find this comforting, and Clarence was no exception.
Clarence’s Mother, Teresa Graham, is a story of her own, but I’ll try to sum it up. At the time of Clarence’s birth she was a mere twelve years of age, a child not old enough to hold a job or see an R rated movie, but old enough, as it turns out, to create life.
She cried a lot through the delivery. Maybe this sounds normal, in fact it is considered normal for women to shed tears as they’re inflicted with that level of pain, but that’s not why she wept. Teresa wept because Clarence was never her choice. She never wanted a child, she was twelve, all she wanted was a first kiss. Ironically she did get one, that’s how the whole situation started.
She had gone to the movies alone. Most people try to avoid this particular scene because they find it depressing, that movies aren’t as fun when there’s no one to share them with. But Teresa never felt this way, she found comfort in the plot lines she saw on the big screen. They were the perfect escape.
After the movie she’d been greeted by a man, middle-aged, probably early forties, he told her she was beautiful and that he’d seen her in the theater and couldn’t stop starring. He stroked her cheek and she couldn’t find the words to ask him to stop. He took this to mean she wanted more, so he kissed her. Her very first kiss. The kissing eventually escalated and still the words escaped her. It happened so fast and she was young and naive, she’d never even considered the possibility of this.
When it was over, he left quickly, for which she was grateful. She pulled on her clothes in the alley down which he’d led her and then walked the rest of the way home. A ten mile walk by car, but it didn’t feel right to take a bus. She couldn’t face anyone. She needed time.
The story, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, ends with a positive pregnancy test. The news was brought to her parents after much delay and they couldn’t understand how she let this happen. They refused to give her a say in the matters of her body, and because of her age the doctor’s agreed that this was for the best. Which is what brought her to the delivery room on September 12th, 1991.
As I mentioned, she cried throughout most of the delivery. She wept for her youth, she wept at the pain being forced upon her, but most of all she wept at the image of her rapist whose face she could not put from her mind. The tears came steadily on and on as she continued to fail at pushing him from her brain. When the delivery was over and the infant was placed in her arms she felt nothing for the child. He didn’t feel like her’s, but of course she was forced to raise him. Which is a pity, because all Clarence ever did for her was act as a remainder of the worst night of her life.
Teresa made a point to keep her distance from Clarence. She interacted with him only when it was necessary to keep him alive. His presence caused her pain. Clarence recognized this almost as soon as he passed the age of mindlessly crying. As soon as he did, he too kept his distance. She was his Mother after all, he wanted nothing less than to cause her discomfort.
So Clarence grew up taking care of himself. Teresa got a job as a receptionist at a law firm and spent the majority of her time there. The two rarely saw each other, and when they did, they tried not to speak.
Growing up taking care of yourself at such a young age is difficult for a number of reasons, but mostly it’s difficult because your childhood is sucked away from you before you even have a chance to cease it. There was no soccer practice to go to or ballet recitals to perform, there wasn’t any hanging out at the park. Not for Clarence, his fate was sealed, he was a grown up at birth. This was always a regret of Teresa’s, she hated to be around the child, for the reasons cited above, but she still regretted taking his childhood away, just as hers had been taken from her. She hated continuing this legacy, but she couldn’t be around the child, and she was given no other choice.
"The world unwraps itself to you, again and again, as soon as you are ready to see it anew." Wicked