Excerpt from Diaries of the Fag Hags

Outside, the air felt cool against my flesh. My flesh? I distantly thought. I looked down and saw my bare arms. My coat; where was it? I pulled my hurricane closer to my body as I circled my little spot. Lucky, I didn't fall over.

Strange, it's gone. Taking another drink, I forgot to care.

"Jasmine," I heard my name come from inside the house.

“Oh, shit,” I thought with panic. They're coming; Carson's coming. Fear tightened my chest.

They're coming. I could already hear him babbling about the self-composed drama in his life. I took another drink; I didn't want to hear it.

My vision cleared as I found my escape. Across the street sat two rows of unfinished houses. Their skeletons were up, but there were no doors or paint, and I was betting that most of the interior walls were missing, as well. Taking my flight, I hurried over with the hurricane splashing on my fingers. Damn it, it was going to waste.

“Jasmine!” I heard their taunting calls.

Have to get away raced through my mind. I left the sidewalk to make my way to the first house. "Shit." Mud sucked at my boot. I leaped onto the forgotten beams of wood to cleanly make it the rest of the way.

Inside it I found I had been right. The beams were up, though no solid wall filled the space between them. Holding my glass, I looked around. Stairs, I thought with a smile. True, there wasn't a rail yet but it would take me to the next floor, damn it. Rushing forward, I made it to the top, spill free, in fact. Damn, I'm good.

Smiling in triumph, I paced around the small top floor. My face soured as I realized how small it was. I turned and was faced with another wall; it was painfully small. Lifting the glass, I took another drink. With the glass still at my lips I spotted the jewel of the unfinished home. The tub.

"Oh." I rushed forward. I knew I must sit in it. There was a window above it. Nice. Looking out, I found the view left much to be desired. All I saw was the dirt backyard and the house on the next street over.

I dismissed it with a quick shrug as I switched my attention to the tub. It was a good size tub that could hold at least three people. I wanted to sit in it; I felt myself smile. Lifting my foot, I went to step in it. I noticed the coldness first, then the wetness. What?

"Water?" I snatched my foot from the tub. I stared at the darker cloth, of my jeans, in wonder. I could already feel my sock clinging to my foot. Great. What was the purpose of putting water in a tub of an unfinished house? "Idiots," I mumbled. Insulting them made me feel a little better.

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