The Lottery Ticket

The lottery ticket

Hey guys, I won a writing competition like a month ago, but Im sharing them now because I totally forgot 😭

"I see a very specific message in your future, but I can't see what it says," says the fortune teller. Sandra lured me into this nonsense.

"I have no idea what it could be," I say boredly.

The witch has her eyes closed. Her white hair is in a bun and her face is covered in wrinkles. She is wearing some kind of purple cloak with colorful patterns around the edges. We are both sitting on the ground with our legs crossed.

There is silence for a few minutes. I want to get up and wish her a good night when she gets up and looks at me excitedly. "Got it! Your future says to write down all the numbers that come before your eyes tonight. Put them in the drawing tomorrow."

I stare at her for a long time. "And it applies…from now on?"

"Since I uttered that sentence."

"How many numbers? And…how will they be represented?"

She closes her eyes. "Six. And they will be…shown by a number."

I get up and brush my butt. "Well, thank you. How much will it cost?"

"Twenty euros."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Well hope that I win that lottery," I mutter under my breath and hand her the bill.

She gives me a smile. "Good night miss."

I nod my head and leave the tent. "Good night, good night."

I look for Sandra for at least fifteen minutes. She eventually finds me anyway. "Olivia!" I hear her yelling from behind me, and when I turn around, she's standing right in front of me. We start walking. Tons of people are pushing us closer together.

“What did she tell you?"

"That I will win the lottery."

Even in the dark, I can see the excitement in her eyes. "No, really? How?"

"I have to memorize the first six numbers I see tonight." I have to laugh at the absurdity. “Nonsense.”

Sandra winks at me. "You never know. Wanna get cotton candy?"

We make our way to the stand where it says: "Two for the price of one!" in numbers. My brain unconsciously writes them down.

We buy cotton candy and ride on different roller coasters. Only at the last one I realize that I'm looking for different numbers everywhere.

"I must be crazy," I say to Sandra after the ride. "I really notice those numbers."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Maybe it will pay off in the end."

I look at her and she smiles. Then she notices my uncertainty. "You really think you've gone insane."

"Normal people don't think like that." The look she gives me is so intense that I don't know if I'm not going to sink into the ground. "I don't think like you, but...I'm not like that."

"Maybe it's because it's Friday the 13th. All that magical and terrifying power is working on you."

I sigh. "It's pretty late. Shall we go home?"

"Sure. What numbers have you seen so far?"

"Two, one and eight so far. I need to find three more."

We walk up in front of Sandra's car, and something doesn't feel right. The meadow behind us is crowded with people and the noise floats past my ears, not reaching my head. As if I was underwater for a second. Then the feeling goes away, but I remain standing there like a statue.

Sandra turns to me. "Fine?"

I shake my head. "It's nothing. I really need to get home."

On the way to our shared apartment, I squint at the world around me and look for some numbers. I lie down on the bed in my room and start counting down. "Two. One. Eight. Zero. Seven. Three."

"Are those all numbers?" Sandra asks on the way to the bathroom.

"Yeah," I reply. But I'm very tired and I fall asleep in a minute.

I wake up in the morning with butterflies in my stomach. I still remember the numbers. The first thing I do in the morning is typing them into my phone and sending the guess. The main prize is one hundred thousand euros.

Sandra and I have been waiting impatiently all day.

When I lose because my last three numbers are wrong, disappointment shakes with my whole body. After a while, Sandra blurts out: "The last three numbers are on my license plate!"

We exchange disbelieving looks. Then I close my eyes and tilt my head back with a deep sigh. "God damn it…”

Hope you liked it! You can judge if I did or didnt deserve the win :)

so guys I got this idea, and I know its not pride month anymore, but during june i didnt have any time because of tests and shit, so Im asking now if you would want this: i would write a short story about one sexuality or gender. i dont know if every day, but ill try. you guys can comment what gender/sexuality you want next. would you like that?

this is also a way for me and other people to get to know the lgbtqia+ comunity better, sooo let me know :)

hell yeah, we dont have to!! ...if we dont want to, its okay if we do...

(not me acting like I didnt abandon you guys for like two weeks :3)

For aro/ace writers:

- you don't have to write sex scenes. Tolkien didn't

- you don't have to write romance. Lewis didn't

- you can write very close friendships that have nothing romantic nor sexual in them. Scott Lynch did

- you can write sexual relationships that don't involve romance. Sapkowski did

- you can write romantic relationships that don't involve sex. Pratchett and Gaiman did

Don't let anyone tell you that some kinds of relationships are impossible or that a story must contain some themes. It's your story, write it the way you want

Yeah, thanks

Soo I wrote another story. Enjoy :3

I wrote him a letter. Did he read it? I would love to know.

A week has passed, and he didn't write back. Not even a fucking word. 

I see him in school, but he ignores me. After that week I'm beginning to question if he even got my letter. But I can see it in his face. He got it. The looks he gives me, and how he quickly turns away the second our eyes meet. 

The problem is. I will continue to see him in practice, in school, and in our neighborhood. He can't ignore me forever. And that's the problem. I can't ignore him. Not after that letter.

I beat myself up for sending it, for even writing it. But, at the same time, it would have been written, some day. I wouldn't resist the urge to let him know. 

I also couldn't tell it in his face. Writing a letter that would explain it all was the best idea I had. 

But then there is a knock on my door.

My dad walks in, sees me wearing my headphones, and just throws a letter on my bed. He smiles, leaves my room, and I stare at the envelope, waiting a few minutes before opening it as if it could explode. 

When I finally opened it, its short. Too short for my liking.

I read the only sentence there is. I read it again and again. Not angry. Not sad. Not happy. Just…

I start to nod my head. "I understand,” I whisper, like he could hear me. 

The letter said: “Im sorry, but im asexual.”

I don't need to look up the meaning behind it. As a raging homosexual, I know everything. But…

I grab my pen and a paper, and start to write: “Ok, yeah, I understand. But still, can we talk, please? If you agree, meet me on the drug bench after lunch.”

The drug bench got its name after two teachers were caught selling students marihuana. From then on, everyone started to meet up there or some drugs. And it's the only place everyone knows where is.

I write the letter, run out of my house and grab my bike. I know his address, but he's in practice now. (I'm not because of my stupid sister I have to babysit. But when you give her a calculator and a plastic knife, she will be entertained for hours.) 

I cycle all the way to his house, and stick the envelope in his mailbox. I cycle fastly away, before someone can see me. 

I don't eat my lunch the next day. I run to the drug bench, sit on the backrest and wait. I wait for five minutes, but then I see him, walking down the school park. I wave, he waves back. I can't help but smile. 

"Hey,” I say. 

He just nods and sits beside me, but avoids eye contact. 

"Listen,” I start, "I understand you. But…still. Asexual doesn't mean to be unable to feel romantic attraction. I'm just…I really don't care about sex and those things. But if you don't want to be with me, I understand. It's just that…I understand.” 

He looks at me. I look at him. 

We sit there. It's just a while. But I could sit there and look in his eyes for way longer.

"I-” he starts, but then stops himself, and looks down again. "I…what's your sexuality?”

"Gay as fuck,” I say.

"Well. Im genderfluid.”

I blink. "Then Im bi as fuck.”

He looks up again, not saying anything.

Then the bell rings. Both of us are still sitting there, not flinching a bit. 

And then tears start pouring down his cheeks. He starts to sob. "I-”

I don't say anything, just scoop myself closer to him and hug him. I know how stressful it can be. Coming out to people. 

"Am I the first one you told?”

He nods. "The only one who knows I'm ace and genderfluid.”

"Supporting family?”

He shakes his head. 

I grab his face in my arms, wiping away his tears. "Its okay. You have me now. We can talk.”

"It's just that…I thought no one would want me. Because I'm ace and shit…People now care just about sex.”

"Well, I don't. And I don't care what gender you are, how you express yourself. The thing I like about you is your personality. Even though youre a piece of fucking art.” 

He laughs, brushing his hands against mine. Someone from faroff yells some slurs at us, but I flip them off. 

"I liked…like you too. Have been for some time now but…you're like the straightest looking guy I know.”

I groan. "Ugh. I know! People at the pride parade are always giving me weird looks.”

He smiles for a second, then his smile disappears again. "I thought no one would want me. That something is wrong with me. That I'm broken. And then I found out i'm genderfluid and my whole world started to fall down and my family is the most controversial thing in the universe and then im fucking omni and-”

"It just sucks, I know.” I nod.

I let him put his head on mine.

"By the way, what pronouns do you use?”

"Eh, haven't figured that out yet.” 

I ruffle his golden hair. "Don't worry. I'll help you.” 

He smiles at me. "Yeah…thanks.”

We skipped school that day. We went to my parents house, talked for hours. I helped him discover himself, or I did everything I could to help. 

See guys? It's not that hard.

Hope you guys liked it :))

Okay, ill try to post the story today :))

so guys I got this idea, and I know its not pride month anymore, but during june i didnt have any time because of tests and shit, so Im asking now if you would want this: i would write a short story about one sexuality or gender. i dont know if every day, but ill try. you guys can comment what gender/sexuality you want next. would you like that?

this is also a way for me and other people to get to know the lgbtqia+ comunity better, sooo let me know :)

I saw how some of you liked my idea, so heres a lil story about an aroallo girl :) hope you like it

They dont like me

Why?

Question that flies through my head every day. Every time I get to think, I ask myself: Why do they hate me? Every time I see the way they look at me, the way they talk about me.

Is it because they think I'm a whore? 

Probably. 

The thing is that I'm aroallo. 

And now that I'm sitting in my classroom, with the teacher looking disgusted every time he looks at me, with my classmates who don't even try to look at me, I wonder. How do they know?

I never told anyone. Not one person. Not even Sara. 

Ah fuck.

I shouldn't have thought about her.

Even though I don't want to, I look at her. And she's looking at me. I can't read what her face says, I was never good at it. 

We look into each other's eyes for a moment, and then I look away.

She is fucking gorgeous. And the pain she causes me, god. 

I try to listen to the teacher, but he is talking about history. I hate history. I signed up for this class just because Sara did. 

But then you had to fuck up.

I sigh, but to my misfortune, it was loud. Too loud for my teacher's liking. 

He turns around quickly from the board, and he immediately knows it was me. “Well, Miss Silver. Do you find this class boring?”

Oh how I wanted to tell him the truth. “No, sir.”

“Then. Repeat the sentence I just said.”

I close my eyes for a moment, trying not to sigh again. “I don't know sir.”

“Why?”

That's what I would like to know.

“I guess I wasn't paying attention.”

He narrows his eyes. “Figured. Detention, Miss Silver. This is the third time this week.”

I bite my tongue. “Okay, sir.”

He turns to the board again, and I make a grimace at his back. 

Now to Saras misfortune, she saw me and laughed. 

The teacher puts the chalk angrily down and turns to her, all red in his face. “Miss Walker. What is it you're laughing about?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing sir.”

“That's it. Detention for you too, Miss Walker.”

Oh fuck me.

***

We meet outside his class. We try not to look at each other. 

Mister Fenish walks up to us. “Well ladies. Looks like it will be just you two today. Go to the classroom, I am going to get my afterschool coffee. I'll be back in five minutes.”

He unlocks the room for us and we get in. 

I sit on a desk and pin my eyes to the ground. Sara does the same, opposite of me. We both know we have to talk.

“I'm sorry,” I say first. “I wasn't going to…use you.”

She laughs to herself. “It looked like it.”

“I promise I didn't want to.”

She sighs. “Im sorry too. I…I heard the rumors. About you being…aroallo.”

I lean onto my hands. “I wonder how it got out.”

She now sits beside me. “I think James started the rumor.”

I roll my eyes. “James. That little fucker.”

Sara now laughs out loud. 

“But how'd he know?” she thinks.

I nudge her in her shoulder. “I think that's not the most important question. Not right now.”

She rests her head on mine. “And what is?”

“I-”

I don't get to say, because Mister Fenish comes in. When he sees us, he folds his arms. “Good lord, ladies. You have dozens of chairs around, and you choose to sit on the desk? How barbaric. Get down, now. I will be right back.”

He leaves again. 

We don't get off the desk.

“I hate him,” Sara sighs.

“Yeah, fuck him.”

“But. I…I want to say sorry. That I just…threw you away after that night. I really didn't know what to do.”

“It's okay, I didn't either.”

“Soo…we're good now?”

I laugh into her shoulder. “Hell yeah we are.”

She is quiet for a few minutes. “Listen…I know you're not like…romantically interested in me. I get it. But I don't see in your mind. So if there, one day, would be a chance, that we could…”

She leaves the question hanging in the air.

“You mean…go on a date?”

She shrugs. “One day.”

I tilt my head back from laughter. “Jesus, this is the lamest way to ask someone out. I love it. I would love to go.”

She snorts. 

The teacher comes back in. “Girls, I am going to give you another detention if you wont get off that desk right now.”

We slide off and sit in the chairs before his desk. 

For the rest of the hour we laugh, talk and I try to explain to her everything about being aroallo.

Well. Maybe there is one person that actually likes me.

Hope you liked the story, and comment which sexuality/gender you would like to see next :))

so guys I got this idea, and I know its not pride month anymore, but during june i didnt have any time because of tests and shit, so Im asking now if you would want this: i would write a short story about one sexuality or gender. i dont know if every day, but ill try. you guys can comment what gender/sexuality you want next. would you like that?

this is also a way for me and other people to get to know the lgbtqia+ comunity better, sooo let me know :)