PREFACE / GOLDEN GATE PARK

Sam Tinnesz - Far From Home

     It was the twentieth of September, approximately four years before the deviancy outbreak. Chance shivered beneath the stone bridge as rain sank into the stream of murky water, goosebumps rising across her exposed arms she kept between her bent legs and chest.

She gazed over to her damaged yet empty water bottle, her shivering arm reaching for it. There were barely any warm days in San Francisco, rarely any giving people; no matter how dreadful she looked on the side, people kept their heads high and would walk right passed. It made her less faithful in the existence of kind people.

Chance stood out in the rain, letting her body douse in the cold downpour as she collected as many drops with the bottle. This was natural to her, struggling to live, survive rather. Even finding decent shelter was hard enough, she was kicked out of so many places until she found this. She felt lucky when she did.

Once the rain stopped, she clenched her free hand tightly, glancing over to her bottle that only filled less than a quarter. The majority of it was empty, and it was gone in less than a second with a sigh of relief following. For the homeless, a small drink of water was a great start to the day, so, in return, she offered a faint smile.

As the sun went higher and the day grew warmer, she stepped out to sit on the side of the bridge to sulk in the sun for whatever vitamin it offered, ignoring the damp grass that imprinted her worn out denim jeans. Glimpses of her life before this made her fingers entail with the strands of grass below her.

Her past was all she could focus on because too much happened then to make her hopeful for the future; all she saw for that was death, no other option ready for the taking. Chance led her fingers up her legs to her knees, her fingernail picking at the skin surrounding her thumbnail.

She felt her stomach sink as her eyes watched people in the distance walk, androids accompanying children, and when she heard the strum of an acoustic guitar to her far left, she had to look. Entertainment was hard to find, yet this one found her. It was like fate deciding she should give life more chance, drawing her away from the dark with light; and she wasn’t complaining.

For the past few days, she was considering going on a walk to the Golden Gate Bridge, and just jumping; so she challenged herself to attempt to enjoy her last days of living, despite the shitty surroundings, yet this surrounding was different. This surrounding held an acoustic guitar, giving smiles to those who walked by, wearing a white tank with denim shorts.

It wasn’t until the man looked at her directly that she noticed his blaring ocean blue eyes that his dark skin tone helped to illuminate. Chance snapped away from the contact, swearing she could hear the man chuckle with him being so far. Deciding to look back, she chuckled herself and twisted her hand beside her head to signify that she spaced out, then the man laughed again which gave her the feeling of her chest lifting.

This was the first time some positive stranger interaction happened, ever, yet she still had to theorize or rather question if she was even still alive. The man waved his hand toward himself, gesturing for her to come over; but she refused with the shake of her head, knowing he wouldn't be so amused with her dry skin and damp clothing.

“Come here.” He mouthed with lightly furrowed brows and a visible grin. When he saw Chance finally getting on her feet, his face lit up and his strums changed to random intervals until it came to a stop when she fast approached. “Hey,” He threw his hand out, “I’m Markus.”

“Chance.” She shook it.

“Chance? That’s a new one.” They softly chuckled as Markus moved over on his blanket spread on the grass. “Why don’t you sit? there’s plenty of room.”

They spoke throughout the morning and into the afternoon, Chance learning that Markus was a renowned vascular surgeon- only among hospitals, which made her laugh as she said she was about to question why people that walked by didn’t even bother to recognize him, but now she knew.

Markus swept up to his feet, throwing the guitar strap over his shoulder. He held his hand out for her to grab in which she did with a pleasant smile, lifting her up to her feet all the same.

Coloured leaves had fallen before them, Markus grabbing her other hand to hold both as he stared into her eyes made up with eyeshadow, her hair all done with a white laced veil between them. “You may kiss your bride.”

It was around one year before the deviancy outbreak, and Chance was finally happy. She was living in San Francisco in this gorgeous home that previously belonged to Markus’ father with a career as a registered nurse. Sure, she often came home with minor infections that definitely came in common with her boyfriend, now her husband, but there was absolutely nothing more negative than that to tear her down.

Approaching the front door of their home in the dead of night, Markus swept his newly wedded wife off the concrete and pushed the door open. “Alarm deactivated, welcome home Mr and Mrs Williams.”

Chance chuckled loudly through the doses of wine, “I love that.”

“I knew you would.”

Once they arrived at the bed, Markus tossed her onto it and slid his suit jacket off, his hands reaching for hers as he overshadowed her and pinned them above her head, his lips meeting hers before they went to kiss her neck.

In the midst of dark several hours later, Markus’ phone began buzzing on the wooden side table, alarming them both as he quickly reached to answer. “Hello?” He spoke with a gravelly tone, Chance cuddling up to his bare chest as she slowly started falling back asleep until Markus sat up with a sigh, “I’m sorry, Chance.”

“It’s okay,” She mumbled, huddling a pillow between her arms. “go.”

Markus softly furrowed his brows at her sleepy self, another sigh escaping as he bent to brush her hair back and land a kiss on her forehead, “I love you.”

And then she blinked, the sunlight was shining through the cracks of the curtain and the door was buzzing repeatedly. She groaned loudly and felt around the bed for her husband, “Markus, can you get it, please?” She fought to speak out, yet she froze and shot her head up to an empty bed. The door still buzzed.

She slightly shifted the curtain to peek. Police were parked outside, clearly being the ones to knock on her door. Chance slowly opened the door, the sunlight making her squint profusely. “Chance Williams?” The officer asked as she noticed some reporters outside her gate, making her fully walk out and shut the door, hearing the door lock automatically.

“Yes?”

“Your husband Markus Manfred Williams, he was involved in a vehicle collision assumingly on the way home from work, he... passed on impact... I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Williams-” Chance began shaking her head with a chuckle.

“You must’ve identified the man falsely, Markus is a vascular surgeon and he’s surely still operating right now...” Her voice breaking as her brows furrowed.

“Mrs. Williams, we’ve identified him clearly, I don’t want you walking back in with hope that he may still be alive. If there’s anything we can do-”

“No. No, Just... leave.” She stepped in, shutting the door behind her with refusal to look at the officer. Chance was shaking, her hand clenching tightly as she fell down the door with her arms between her legs and chest, her wet eyes running back and forth on the glossy floor, then up the staircase.

It'd be lovely if people could send in some angsty not so cheesy dialogue, or things that could even start an arguement between coworkers. I really want to work on it as much as I can in my free time but writer's block is a serious piece of crap!

Growing up, LGBT+ was never mentioned nor looked down upon in my family. I just knew I liked both male and females and thought everybody did. For me it was totally normal. I've grown up kissing boys and girls, playing house and having a pretend wife. It was totally normal for me. I never had one thought that girls arent supposed to like girls, boys arent supposed to like boys; up until internet became a mainstream thing for everyone. Oh LGBT is bad, liking the same gender is bad. Blah blah blah. But it never changed how I felt about my sexuality. My thought still hasn't changed today. I am attracted to both genders and always have been. So what? I thought I'd rant about it because seeing so many bisexuals are not valid, bisexuals are not welcomed posts really just bother me. It's just sexuality? We're attracted to what we're attracted to and that's that on that.