Raeanne Spoom
Bio
I am a member of the LGBTQ+ community that wants to help others understand the problems created by what society considers the norm. I will share my experiences and observations along with fictional works.
Stories (5)
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Chipped Paint
The straw floated out of my hand and hit the floor. I watched another glide down. It lowered gently with no urgency to land. I have no urgency to move myself. I have been in the barn for over an hour now. I sat on the top of a stack of straw that was starting to mold in spots from lack of use. There wasn’t much left in the barn besides that. I tried to find the life that used to fill the place. All I found was a few spider webs hanging on the walls that used to have equipment on them.
By Raeanne Spoom5 years ago in Fiction
A Mouse on a Stick
I feel the coldness dripping down my arm. A chunk of chocolate landed right on my shirt. The disappointed groan from my mother alerted me to the fact that I would not getting another treat like this soon. I decided to savor it and let all of the flavors dance across my tonged.
By Raeanne Spoom5 years ago in Families
Oh, the Places You’ll Go! or Not
When my cousin wanted me to read a book to her my mind immediately went to Oh, the Places You’ll Go! Dr. Seuss told many stories that I listened to as a child. I will admit that Oh, the Places You’ll Go! was never my favorite. At the age of six just like her I was sitting in a pretty pink chair begging for a story to be told. I had a strong feeling that I would be able to conjure the world. When the story talked of being the best I could relate. When it spoke of the truth about the way life would go, I plugged my ears and said no. When I wanted something, I made sure I got it. There was no waiting room I would wait in or competition that I could not win. That is why I closed the book and moved on without a second thought. There was a cat in an interesting hat that was more demanding of my attention at the time.
By Raeanne Spoom5 years ago in Motivation
The Gay Gene
We do not kill ourselves because we are sad or angry at the world. We kill ourselves because moving past that sadness and anger is impossibly worse. Did our pain even matter if it didn’t last? Sometimes all we have left is our anger and we can’t risk losing that too.
By Raeanne Spoom5 years ago in Fiction
