Sam and Delilah [Additional News]

I created and posted this video on Youtube, in hopes of gaining a bit of attention to it.
It is undoubtedly nothing special but I felt the distinct need to capture my inspiration in something visual, for further reference.
Killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.

I'd like to offer my thanks to my friends once more, for their support. My dear friend Janine even took the pictures seen in the video with one helluva gash in her finger, without a single complaint. I honestly don't know how I would survive without these people.


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On an added note, as you may have noticed in the video, I have finally decided upon a penname of sorts. COM, or 'CryOhMy'. It's a mixture between a particular horse on the Sopranos, in case anyone remembers, and Dacryphilia, I suppose. It seemed like something catchy.



~COM

Sam and Delilah

After an agonizingly long dry-spell, I believe I've managed to regain my lost inspiration; my muse; my soul. I'd like to thank my dearest friends from the bottom of my heart for this refreshing breath of life. An inexplicable feeling rushes through my body now and I feel more alive than I believe I ever have, in terms of creativity. This story, which until further notice will simply be named "Delilah and Sam." marks the turn of a new era. It is a homosexual romance that I devised over the hours this fine June afternoon and is the first work that I will officially submit. Whilst it will not actually be entered in the Christopher Street Day short story contest, I do hope that they will post it on their website. (Because it is not in German, it can't be submitted. Still, the manager(s) were very kind and offered, should they like it, to present it at various cities in the event and/or post it online.) This story, while it may not be a traditional "short story" anymore, follows the relationship of two young women who become roommates after Samantha enrolls in an (unnamed) university and moves to a new city and ends up living shoulder-to-shoulder with the precarious and destructive Delilah. As the story unfolds, it comes clear that both girls have their burden and skeletons in their closets. Still, the longing for understanding and security fuel a classic love-against-the-odds.

Chapter One

At that very moment, trillions of things were happening. Someone was falling in love. Someone’s heart was beginning to break. Someone’s heart was beginning to mend. Someone’s heart shattered beyond repair. A baby was born. Someone’s uncle passed away. Someone was falling asleep whilst someone else was awakening, all in the same city.

One woman was stepping off a bus. She stopped for a moment as the double doors closed behind her and took a moment to glance around. Before her stood a façade of old houses, most of them restored to look as they had before second world war. Whilst they had been mended, she couldn’t help but imagine that this renewal somehow robbed the bricks of their individuality. Insofar  they had personality. It seemed a tad odd, to say the least, thinking about the persona a rock might have, but Sam was a bit of a dreamer. Before she could even realize what was going on around her, the second bus pulled up behind her and several people brushed passed her to go on their way. Fifteen minutes had passed, apparently, as the bus came at such intervals. This, she knew from her mother. Sam  was far too young to remember actually living there; she had been nearly a year old. Twenty years passed since then and a quick glance at her watch confirmed that the bus plan at not changed since then.

At the same time the girl stared at a brick wall, contemplating its cognitive functions or lack thereof, another young woman was sitting in her apartment only a block away. The late summer sun shone brightly in the living room, warming the wood-panel flooring below her bare feet. She loved the large windows. She loved her apartment. [-describes apartment-]

Delilah wandered to the tiny balcony, lighting a pristine, white Pal Mall cigarette and inhaling deeply. Her attention fell on the pansies below in the narrow box, her eyes narrowing behind her faux Ray Ban’s. Who was that flower trying to kid? Sure, it looked cute; but that was all it was. It was laughably temporary and worthless. She leaned over, thrusting a stream of grey, wafting smoke against the frail petals. 

Eyes cast to the painted clay ashtray, a fond smile slid on her painted lips. She used to be a pansy; ‘cute’ and senseless. The mere thought brought up a mocking laugh that she spat out as though with noticeable disgust. The stringy mutt-blonde hair was cut, washed and dyed red. She was no longer short and chubby but simply small in size; delicate as opposed to frumpy. Vibrant, skillfully applied makeup decorated her face instead of acne.  Her previously blunt and bushy eyebrows were sculpted, arched and high, giving her a proud appearance and larger eyes.

[possible filler]

Half an hour passed by since a certain girl got off the bus, whilst another girl warmed her bare feet in the glass-filtered sun. The doorbell rang. Delilah got up to press the intercom button after reluctantly setting her novel down with the pages pressed on the floor. She rarely ever used bookmarks, which one could see by the book’s spine; strained and creased from this habit.

“Yes?” She leaned in to speak to the cream-coloured box, though she knew who she was speaking to before hearing the timid voice on the other end.

“Uh… Hello. It’s Samantha. We talked on the phone?”

Without another word, Delilah pressed the second button, which triggered a very nerve-wrecking buzzing noise, allowing her new roommate to enter the complex. She opened her door and leaned against the thick white frame, running a hand through her pixie-style hair over and over until it was frayed and askew. Having gotten it shortened just the other day, she couldn’t help but toy with it at any given second, as though it were completely alien, albeit only an inch shorter than before.

Soon, the distinct rustling of a person carrying many bags echoed through the halls, accompanied by a soft panting noise. Slowly, a dark head bobbed into view, then her baggage-laden body. She was a good head taller than Delilah, her body presumably slender but hidden under an unflatteringly baggy and plain T-shirt. “Looks heavy.” The redhead commented, quirking her arched brow, though she made no move to actually assist Sam.

Her companion lifted her head up, gazing up at Delilah, who in turn felt her breath hitch in her throat. The bluest eyes imaginable met her own, positioned on either side of a very finely curved, dainty nose. Compelled as she was to speak, she couldn’t. Her attention was frozen, the icy colour and intensity far too fascinating. Was this the feeling Romeo got when first setting eyes on Juliet? When Basil first saw Dorian Gray?

The silence and thick heat hung around them like a wet towel. Seconds dragged on agonizingly, matched rhythmically by a dog’s barking somewhere outside. Sam, unnerved by the petite female’s abrupt, inexplicable change in behavior, was the first to speak . “So… I’m here.” It was possibly the lamest thing she could think of and the only thing her vocal chords could manage. Finally, she squatted down and rid her shoulders of the awesome weight of two duffle bags and a backpack.

Meanwhile, Delilah had come back down to Earth and even grabbed one of the monstrous bags, tugging it inside clumsily. “So how do you like it here?” The typical get-to-know-each-other-chitchat was gratuitous, as they had already spoken on the phone and kept in contact via email for the last two months, ever since Sam received her letter of acceptance to her first university of choice. This was their first face-to-face conversation nonetheless, which was partially why it was so ungainly. By this time, Delilah had completely recovered from her initial shock, bombarding Sam with a plethora of questions before she even had a chance to respond to the first.

“So, you said you have a boyfriend, right?” Sam couldn’t escape her intent gaze, tugging the remaining two bags inside and shutting the door. Each one weighed roughly twenty kilos and required a strain that had become visible on her face in the form of a thin sheet of perspiration. Her chest rising and falling rapidly as she leaned against the brightly painted green wall to catch her breath, the interrogation continuing mercilessly. “So this is like a long-distance thing now, huh? He’s probably jaded, amiright?” Her voice drifted off but was still clearly audible as Delilah walked to the kitchen.