A Queerativity Tale Chapter four

CW: blood, wound.

Lizzy wishes she could’ve stayed there forever with Sophie. The thought of the apocalypse was far in the back of their mind. The harsh realities of the seemingly empty, still world outside becoming a distant memory. Hours seemed to pass for the both of them as they stared intently at the painting, Lizzy tightening her arms around their girlfriend. Unfortunately, something dragged the two out of their dream, or rather someone. They heard screaming coming from outside the gallery doors, a cry of pain, a cry for help.  Sophie immediately shot up, pulling herself from the warmth of Lizzy’s shoulder and instinctively grabbing their hand, before dragging them both to the front doors of the gallery. 

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A Queerativity Tale Chapter two


Sophie would wonder later, whenever she tried to reflect on what they’d both seen that day, why she hadn’t felt more shell-shocked. People would swap horror stories with a bizarre air of pride, conjuring images of falling to their knees, falling on the floor, elderly parents seizing their arm in unadulterated terror. Overall, the kind of trauma a therapist would have a field day with, if the concept of therapy hadn’t been rendered pretty much impossible. But Sophie had only been conscious of a feeling of pure dread, seeping its way into her bones.

Continue reading A Queerativity Tale Chapter two

A Queerativity Tale Chapter one

The day the sky fell, Sophie’s kettle had broken. It had made a valiant attempt to survive, but they knew it’s time had come with one unwilling scree that morningNow, her morning cup of tea was ever so slowly heating, mournfully, in the microwave. 

The kettle had lasted them a fair few years; once Lizzy and her had got their own place, it was completely up to them to scavenge for things to fill it. Cutlery and plates from a friend, a couple of red armchairs from a suspicious Gumtree advert; their entire home was basically a jumble sale. Lizzy liked to tease Sophie about the mismatched strips of carpet, the tile samples they used as coasters, the curtains that were repurposed from some drab smock from the seventiesthey’d found at a charity shop. But Sophie didn’t mind. It was their place.

Continue reading A Queerativity Tale Chapter one