Fake Love: Intoxicated

Phonophobia

Poetry, artists and writers were jobs, maybe the only jobs that allowed people to release their thoughts freely in this caged country, Araolia, where people lived under three golden rules. First, don’t ask about the past because it’s useless to reintroduce tragedy. Second, focus on your duties and do your best. Third, know who you are and wear your colors.

Araolia went through a civil war in 2020. People wildly fought against each other for justice and rights. They tired of seeing problems of the violent crime and discrimination among the working class, but their problems couldn’t be solved by negotiation, so they ended up with bullets and gunpowder. The war lasted three years before white-uniformed troops arrived bearing a flag of peace, ending the conflict. They swore an oath to the soldiers that ended the war, overthrew the government and brought peaceful life back to everyone. It had been sixteen years since the great revolution that changed Araolia into a dictatorial country.

A young writer lived in Port Ransa, a coastal town for the middle-class, which mostly were veteran families. Her father, Gerald Fosters, was a brave combat medic during the civil war while her mother, her older brother and her ran for their lives and hid in the shelter sixteen years ago. Now she enjoyed the peaceful morning by sitting on her white wooden chair where her skins were touched by the sunlight through the bedroom’s window while writing the manuscript of the first picaresque short story.

She got a wonderful idea to name it ‘Fake Love : Intoxicated’ with the concept of a toxic relationship between a poor girl named ‘Dasha’ and one man who tried to rule her. In other words, the girl was represented to people and the man was represented to the selfish and ineffective government which took advantage from others.

This book was no different to her: mysterious and beguile. She concealed the secrets. Those mysterious and quiet looks of hers teased others to find hidden meaning by themselves. It's sexier than telling the truth frankly. No matter what, she wished to see her name – Gwen Fosters - on the book cover, even though it would destroy the relationship of her family.

She untied her medium-length purple hair, then stretched when she finished the story. Looking out from the window, people wore different clothes of two colors: grey and white. Those are the colors of the middle-class. Plain, basic,lifeless. Meanwhile, Elites wore colorful clothes and traveled around the country in expensive shoes. Araolia people wore black clothes only for funeral ceremonies. Colors sorted people. It showed how much money you had without having to ask questions.

Down the street where once it was a debris field buried memories of the civil war. Now it has become the most crowded market street of Port Ransa. She swept with her gaze upon the crowd then she saw a guy with pink hair in grey. It was rare to see colorful hair in Ransa. He was walking his dog but he was interrupted by a white full dress uniform soldier due to him forgetting a leash. The Pink haired guy asked to pay a fare, but Araolia had strict rules and law didn’t work in the way he expected. There was no compromise for illegal and irresponsible action for adults in Araolia.

Soldier denied the bribe and insisted on jailing him in arrest for not leashing the pet properly. The fight began when they yelled at each other like mad men. People started to panic when the man punched the soldier's face then put something out from his back. It was a gun!

The appearance of the weapon in his hand shook her up. She hid under the white wooden table because she couldn’t dare to watch the scenario until the end, when the pink haired guy pulled a trigger at the soldier. She closed her eyes tight, covered her ears but she still heard gunshot at the same time of breaking glass from downstairs. She heard screaming of people out there then there was an explosion of a bomb followed in a minute.

What the fuck is going on? Why did he do that? Why did he kill the soldier!?

She screamed but couldn’t make a sound, as if she was muted by her own fear. Her heartbeat went fast — way too fast. Her trembling hands went cold. All of a sudden, heavy footsteps ran to her from another bedroom. It was Jared, her older brother.

“Gwen! Breathe with me. We’ll stop the noise together.”

She felt warmness from Jared’s hands. She tilted her back to look at his tired hazel eyes. She couldn’t hear anything but the sound of bombs. “Pull me in, then get close, feel your heartbeat on mine. Where have you been? I’ve waited long but now you’re here, right on time. When it’s safe, they will pour. Who’ll like to see you cry? Take your hand, hold on mine. Love will burn like a wildflower.”2 The explosion got quiet when she focused on the soothing voice of Jared singing the wildflower song.

“Is it gone?” she asked when she could breathe normally.

“Yeah, it’s all gone,” He comforted her while stroking her purple hair. He offered his hand to help her get up.

She sat on the bed while Jared glanced over the papers from pages to pages which were filled with ink from the typewriter. From his perspective he could hear the voice of Gwen narrating the story even though she stayed quiet in the room. Her voice caused him to fantasize Dasha as his sister.

Meanwhile, Gwen was looking at her brother, she said nothing even if Jared took the liberty of reading her manuscript without asking for permission. She saw him smirking while he was reading her story. She couldn’t tell if he liked it or not. Jared was not a talkative guy and his expression was hard to read but it seems to be a good sign for her to publish this masterpiece.

“Hmm…” Jared was about to say something after finishing reading a 12 pages story. He gave a glance at his sister with a little smile. “A little edit will help readers to understand what you want to say.”

“Well…” Gwen hesitated to ask, “Do you like it so far?”

“I like how you portrayed a man who ruined Dasha to the dictator.”

“I wrote that on purpose.” She replied.

When she was excited about something, her hazel eyes became sparkling as if a glass of dark liquor filled. Jared could tell that she wanted to cause some troubles. He sniggered as he understood what she meant to do. Their conversation was interrupted by the yelling voice from downstairs. The siblings leaned over to see what happened: Amanda, the 40’s plump housewife in grey clothes, was scolded by Lilian. Next year will be the 11th year that Amanda was a housewife for the Fosters.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I won’t do that again.”

“If you break another tea set of mine. I will fire you.” Lilian threatened the housewife, went upstairs to their children and told them everything was fine. The siblings insisted Lilian to be steady and calm or she got more wrinkles. Lilian was a model for the LUXURY clothes brand so she must avoid stress and keep herself in good shape but she was materialistic and those tea sets that she mentioned were very rare.

- Phonophobia is a fear of aversion to loud sounds. For example, fireworks and bombs.

- Wildflower (2020) R&B song composed by Khalid during quarantine.