For five centuries I was joyous and pure. Then I grew decadent. I drank buckets and slept with everyone. But partying is expensive. By 1800 I needed money. I’ll do the do with you and you and you, but now you have to pay me. That hurt terribly, so I traded the nameless ones for just one guy. He took me travelling. We talked endlessly. He told me that I’m gay. “Aww, that’s sweet”, I replied, only half-knowing what he meant.
We settled down together. Is that bad? Apparently so. Landlords threw us out and the Church cursed us to hell, even though many of their priests were just like us.
The modern world dawned and with it came new ways to connect. We formed a sub-culture. Young guys partied, just like I’d done all those centuries ago, but this time with music and drugs and with saunas and all the flamboyance you can eat, honey-bun. But they partied too hard. First HIV, then AIDS, then Death. It “served us right”.
Most of us lived. They would have left it at that but, as technology evolved, we took control of the microphone and lobbied for real change. Now we have a voice like never before. Society has to mind its manners. The Church has disgraced itself and sits sheepishly in the corner. Like or not, we are part of this world and we always will be. We’ve survived. Not down, not out:
“Excuse me, sir, will you take a rainbow? To let you know that difference is what binds us together.”
Good. As. You.
(c) 2021, Philip Kingsley
Philip is a new writer, started during lockdown. He has never submitted anything and he has no compass except for a love of writing. This is one of several short pieces, mostly aimed at competitions. He is also writing a full length novel.