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    Insanity in Denial
    Insanity in Denial
    Insanity in Denial
    Ebook98 pages2 hours

    Insanity in Denial

    By Jae Loren

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    About this ebook

    For Belter and Melon childhood friends isn't quite right, and friendly acquaintances doesn't cut it either. He's a concert pianist, and she is an aspiring jack of all trades who can't keep a hair color long enough for anybody to get used to. But something is drawing them together, even if they wont admit it. (Two of these stories won the Evelyn Hamilton Award for Creative Fiction in 2009)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJae Loren
    Release dateJul 8, 2012
    Insanity in Denial
    Author

    Jae Loren

    Jae Loren is a California-born, Jersey-raised young writer who has been creating words on paper and word processors since she first submitted a story in third grade about a dream jar. She is a self-proclaimed linguaphile and traveler at heart; she loves to incorporate other cultures and languages into her writing wherever possible. Her goal is to write stories in each of her favorite genres, and to pen stories that everyone can enjoy. More excerpts as well as details about her stories and current projects can be found at her blog: http://drabblingwhymzie.wordpress.com

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    • 1/5
      Poor short version of a harlequin romance and nothing to do with denial

    Book preview

    Insanity in Denial - Jae Loren

    Insanity in Denial

    The Belter & Melon Stories

    By Jae Loren

    Insanity in Denial

    The Belter & Melon Stories

    Copyright 2012 Jae Loren

    Smashwords Edition

    ***

    Discover other titles by Jae Loren at Smashwords:

    Afternoon Ceylon, a Chroniker, & the Shattered Looking Glass:

    Uninvited Strangers

    The Peppered Sweets Trilogy

    Mauve-Tainted Specters

    Dappled Harmony

    Prodigal Aberrations

    The Poison Forwards

    Short Stories:

    Thorns Amidst Fireflies

    Rapunzel

    Table of Contents

    Strawberry Flavored Morphine

    Smattered

    8 Reasons Why (It was Always Insanity in Denial)

    Excerpt from Communication is Overrated (coming soon)

    Excerpt from Prodigal Aberrations

    Excerpt from Mauve-Tainted Specters

    Strawberry Flavored Morphine

    Chopin would have thought of something.

    Even when he was on his deathbed, he thought of something. Chopin set storms to music.

    With every experience, every hardship, Chopin had been able to put his fingers to the piano keys and make something beautiful. Artistic. Memorable. The keys were his art brush, his medium, and he had left his mark on the canvas of the world’s ear.

    Belter pressed his fingers against the window glass, watching the rivulets of water slide down the pane, the tap tap tap of droplets onto the metal grates of his fire escape: small echoing splashes that only seemed so loud because Belter was at a creative loss.

    Peering down several floors beneath him, he saw the multitude of open umbrellas, a masquerade of patterns, and wondered how the poets could have perfected feeling in so little words.

    The smoke of his friend’s Dragon’s Blood incense hazed around the space of his foyer, making his head pound and his eye twitch. Whoever had suggested incense as a relaxing agent was an idiot. It had done nothing but inflame his sinuses, and the heavy scent was going to seep into his fabric furniture and need an expensive removal, he knew it. After all, it only made sense that repairs would be pricey considering the abundance of designer items in his home.

    Besides, he didn’t need to relax, darn it.

    He needed to create a masterpiece.

    He needed inspiration.

    Holy crap! Who died in here?

    … He needed to change his locks.

    Turning on his heel as his front door was slammed shut, Belter steeled himself. How did you get in here?

    Never mind that- the small body stormed past him to open the window he had been leaning. Wet, rain scented air trickled inside. "Whoo- now I can breathe. Were you trying to fumigate or something?"

    You’re here. He deadpanned, So it’s apparently not working.

    Pish-posh. You’re always joking. Did you see the rain outside? Fourth day straight. Crazy isn’t it, Bo?

    My name is not Bo.

    Pish-posh. I’ve known you eleven years and you’ve never responded when I called you by your name. Why should you care if I make one up for you?

    He didn’t. I don’t- Why was he arguing with her? It was then that he noticed something different about her. Her hair wasn’t that black, and those eyelashes… You look like a mini drag queen.

    It was a good thing: her mouth flopped open and closed like a fish long enough for him to enjoy the silence and chuckle inwardly at the ridiculous picture she made with red lips and dark makeup before she exploded.

    "I’ll have you know that I got this style from Chicago. I’m into Rhapsody in Blue. Culturally influenced. Jazz singers. Liquor joints. The thirties."

    He hmmed and adjusted his glasses, This is New York, and you still look like a drag queen. In the 21st century.

    Melon pursed her lips and dug around in her over large purse (how did it not make her tip over?) I even have a cigarette thingy. It was a long purple stick attached to a slim cigarette Belter knew she would never smoke, "See? Cultured."

    Belter looked from Melon to the stick and back, smirking, Like I said: drag queen.

    Ooh! Ripping off her wig, Melon threw it across the room, You wouldn’t know cultured if it bit you on the butt.

    Right. He gave a pointed gesture to the door. It was the kind of gesture that didn’t require him to move but said everything in a direct look. Don’t forget to pick up your dead rat on the way out.

    She didn’t move. And I wondered why you don’t have friends.

    Belter dragged a finger along his cheek, See the tear? I’m devastated. Now get out.

    No way. Melon scrunched her small nose and shook out her hair: it wasn’t black, he noted in satisfaction, but a kind of mix between a dark blue and a jilted green. There were even a few streaks of bubblegum pink hidden within. The colors were comforting. Black was too normal for Melon. I was given a fancy key and strict orders to make sure you don’t overwork yourself. I never ignore orders.

    My sister is two years younger than you.

    And the way she's going she'll be slated to rule a small country one day. Besides, I currently like her better than you. She walked over to his coffee table, The first thing going is this horrible excuse for incense. Who gave this to you? Lenny? The man wears velour pants. You can’t trust anyone in velour pants. Especially not comic book-reading yoga aficionados who work in buildings with questionable secret backrooms. Melon turned a narrowed eye on him, You haven’t been doing yoga have you?

    Belter blinked, What? No!

    Melon sighed in relief, Well, that’s good. Otherwise my respect for you would drop.

    Belter hesitated to mention the whole barging in without permission thing; she had a short attention span. You have no respect for me.

    Details. Her voice wafted from the kitchen and he heard the thump of the incense in his trash bin. Lenny didn’t pay too much for that, did he? Belter decided to give him a new addition of Spider-Man to make up for it.

    Scratch that.

    He didn’t want to think about Lenny right now. He didn’t want to think about Melon, either. Just get her out and go. No, you need to be assertive. Just kick her out. That’ll send a message. Then you can get back to more important things. Like gloom and inspiration.

    So, whatcha doin’?

    Don’t you have something to do? Like convincing little kids that being homeless is an economical endeavor that sticks it to the man?

    Why, She tossed back, wanna try it?

    Tempting, but I like bathing every day.

    I’m clean. Melon shifted and tugged at her second-hand clothes, It's called being thrifty and I’m not homeless. That was a one-time experiment. Anywho, it’s raining outside, and you know how fickle the subways are in the rain.

    Then walk.

    "No way; I saw Cloverfield. Melon leaned against the wall, You’re stuck with me until I say otherwise."

    Belter wanted to say something, something particularly nasty, but she breezed across the room to look over the blank music sheet that was covered in eraser marks and carelessly left

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