Challenge · Writing

C is for ‘Carpophagous Clara’

Hello my wonderful cat people!

Here’s a quick little short story with the use of a fancy word that I found on this site. 😛

http://phrontistery.info/c.html

For anyone interested in cool-sounding words, this is a good link to use. 😀

Anywho, hope you enjoy this quick little story. I’m sorry if it’s a bit all over the place, I’m kinda tired, haha. 😛

I love you all~! ❤

MEOW! =^.^=

~~~

Before that day, Clara had never known of the word ‘carpophagous’. To any normal person, it would sound like some kind of slang, or maybe a dirty word for something. Clara wouldn’t know, of course. She was never interested in ‘big words’, and never really believed in higher education.

The first time, she heard it from a girl who was two grades below her.

“What did you say to me, pinhead?” Clara turned around to the girl with a head much smaller than her body.

“I-it doesn’t mean anything bad…” She kept staring at the ground as Clara’s eyes were peeling away her flesh with her gaze. “I only used it because you eat fruit all the time and that it would be a cool nickname to use…”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” Clara said, coming closer.

The girl didn’t respond. She just turned around and left, and at that moment, Clara hated her. She hated her because the girl seemed smarter than her for using fancy words Clara didn’t understand. And to this day, Clara never bothered to ask for her name. She called the girl ‘pinhead’ and all of her friends knew what she was talking about.

It didn’t take long for Clara to drop out of school then. She didn’t want to be as smart as that girl. She didn’t need to know that because she eats fruit, she needs to use the word ‘carpophagous’ to describe herself to others. Clara always felt content with using words that she knew and understood.

But one time, she started doubting herself. She started asking questions. What if I graduated with honours? She thought once. What if I could become a ‘Doctor of Philosophical Science’? Or what if I discovered a planet? What if I invented a word? Or a gesture? Or even a language?

She was sitting on her porch smoking a joint with her then boyfriend Alfred.

“Do you think I’m dumb?” she asked, taking a huge puff of smoke.

“What?” he extended his arm, and Clara gave him the joint.

“You heard me, Alf.”

“Where is this coming from?” Alfred was lying down on the wooden stairs and looking up at the sky. He chuckled a little as he explained how he saw a cloud that looked like a butt.

“I want to know if I made the right choices,” she said, asking him back for the weed.

“I dunno, depends who you ask,” he said, sitting up. “That girl you used to call pinhead would probably laugh and call you something smart. But you know I wouldn’t do that. I like you, Clara.” He leaned over and kissed her. He gently reached for the cigarette from her hand and Clara gave in. Alfred was the one kind of drug she would never want to give up.

“But what if I could be a doctor? Or a scientist? Or an engineer?”

“Who says you can’t?” Alfred sat closer to Clara, tugging her head into his shoulder.

“People… My parents.” Alfred pulled away and looked at her.

“Are they still pressuring you to go back to school?” Clara didn’t respond for a while, but soon gave a small nod. “It’s not their life to live. You choose what you want to do. Who cares if it’s just smoking weed in the backyard or if it’s studying for the final university exam? We all end up in the same ground anyway.”

Fast-forward 20 years later, where Clara broke up with her weed-smoking boyfriend and actually decided to go back to studying. She comes home to a husband, who sits in front of the couch watching the TV every night as Clara tends to their two screaming toddlers in the bedroom. She cooks dinner and cleans the house every day as the husband comes home from work, grabs a beer from the fridge, and positions himself in the living room for the rest of the night, growling orders at his wife.

Clara is still carpophagous, as well as many other things. But she is not what she wanted to be.

I should’ve listened to Alfred, she pondered, as she looked out the window and chuckled at a butt-shaped cloud.

 

 

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