Meet isabel

This story begins in the early 1990’s.  Our young lady heroine is finding her first tastes of sexuality.  She is 13. 

I will say that this begins in a real place, and in a real time, with characters that are of this reality.  The characters that live in this story—live askance from the reality you may be familiar with.  But.  This story was found out of a reality that I once could not distinguish from the reality we share.  I am a schizophrenic.  This story—although I have taken liberty with the plot and characters—is based on delusions.

Our heroine is named Isabel.  And she is the most beautiful of all the ugly ducklings which the world has ever known.  Do you remember the story of the ugly duckling?  It becomes a swan this ugly duckling.  It only has to grow through early stages for its beauty to emerge. 

Isabel lived in St. Albans, Vermont.  She was a girl who always found a way to see the good in the lost souls of the world.  And maybe it is because of this that she ventured so near to being a lost soul herself.  No, she did become a lost soul.  But this is how she was the courageous woman that she needed to be to have her love save a man’s life.  That is the gist of this story.  A big strong man will emerge in this story who knows not much of love.  I will not go further into his character than that because it will kill the story.

Isabel brought all her men to a point of weakness.  But, anyway, I’ll stop telling you about these events and let them unfold for you as they unfolded in my mind’s eye while I was in psychosis.

She grew into herself too quickly.  Smart and tough.  Isabel loved the simple working people of Northern Vermont; as well as the misfits.  She showed everyone that that much more the lost and depraved were exotic, and beautiful. 

As most things are when you are 13 Isabel’s life was a series of accidents.  She fell in love with a man of 23 who raped her.  She couldn’t help giving herself to him.  When they first met he told her, “you are the star of the sky that is so beautiful that it could not be in the heavens.  Because it would only make the other stars look pale.”  She laughed and retorted.

“Flattery is the first sign of love, I hear.”

“Who said that.”  The man responded, knowing that he wanted things she was not supposed to give 

him.   

They screwed in his truck.  And Isabel knew that this was the single thing she had ever known that made sense to her.  At that moment, love became her muse—and she learned the nature of passion and sex.  Then, she taught the nature of passion and sex.  She was almost destroyed by the tempestuousness of sexuality.  But she was strong.  She took all the heartbreak; she took the misdeeds of men that treated her wrong; and she made it better each time for her next lover.