LGBTQ+ Stories

LGBTQ+ Stories

Exploring Queer/LGBTQ+ identities, well-being, and the critical issues affecting our society. Our catalog offers a rich collection of narratives that highlight the LGBTQI+ experience through an intersectional lens. Each piece is thoughtfully crafted by Queer authors who aim to showcase their talent while promoting inclusivity and diversity in the world of literature. If you are interested in publishing with us then do not hesitate to contact us. 

1. Tales From Rainbow City (Written by Corey Patten)

No.1: "I don't how to be Gay"

No.2: "What is a Family?"

No.3: "I Thought I was Pretending"

It’s only when a peculiar light cuts through the cold dreariness of his surroundings that he looks up. A bright pink neon sign reads ‘Glitter Grotto’. The town’s premier gay club. Robbie stares at it with a shadow of wistfulness upon his face. He turns away.

“I wouldn’t fit in there,” he says. He only manages to take two steps before pausing again, his eyes wide and stuck on the creature before him. The beady little eyes stare back at him and then from its mouth comes a brief squeak. The otter ruffles its fur, then turns, showing off a small rainbow tutu, and scurries away down a side alley. Robbie stares at the spot where it stood for a moment, then looks around. The street is completely empty. “It must be someone’s pet,” he says with an uncertain nod. Knowing it’s distraught owner must be nearby, Robbie enters the surprisingly clean alley. Robbie calls out to the otter as he searches but is only met with an eery silence. On the grey wall to his left, Robbie glimpses a splash of colour, which as he nears develops into a beautiful mural. One dark skinned and one light skinned woman, each holding a child and framed by a rainbow-coloured heart. Robbie’s brow creases as he notices, at their feet, is an otter wearing a rainbow tutu. He leans closer and realises it protrudes from the mural, almost like a button. He reaches out and softly presses the button, but when he does, the wall opens up and Robbie falls through. Darkness follows.

Robbie opens his eyes and is blinded by intense sunlight. He sits up and realises something is suddenly very different. Everything is unashamedly, outspokenly, and proudly queer. Robbie leaps to his feet and looks around wide eyed at the colourful buildings overflowing with plants. Along the streets walk men and women wearing all manner of colourful outfits from dresses, short shorts and cargo pants to flannel and mesh. There is the distinct smell of lavender permeating the air, with an undertone of poppers.

“Excuse me!” someone shouts. Robbie quickly jumps out of the way as a crop top wearing man speed walks past.

“Girl, you gotta be more careful,” says another voice and Robbie turns to see a tall woman approaching. As she nears, Robbie notices the incredibly high heels, grand violet hair, and bright makeup. There is no doubt this is a drag queen.She stops in front of Robbie and looks down at him. “I assume you’re my new baby gay so let me explain real quick.” She rolls her head to the side and points with one long fingernail to several thick white lines that mark the ground. “This one is for the gay walkers. The middle one is for the bisexuals walking at half speed. Then the third one is for everyone else.” She rolls her head back toward Robbie. “And I’m Miss Verdant Violetta, your designated drag guide.” Robbie’s mind is unable to form a complete sentence. That is, until Miss Violetta flicks her hair impatiently.

“I’m Robbie,” he splutters. “Where are we?”

“Honey, this is the Rainbow City,” she answers with a dramatic wave of her hands. “Come.” She begins to walk, heels click clacking on the pavement, and Robbie, still in awe, rushes to keep up.

“Right. But what is this place?” he asks.

“This is the fiercest place on Earth. A place where everyone can be their authentic selves and slay every Cher given day.” Robbie glances across the road to the construction site filled with burly women.

“And no one gets mad about it?” This causes Miss Violetta to pause and turn back to Robbie with one raised eyebrow.

“Mad? Why would anyone be mad?” Robbie stares back blankly.

“I don’t know. That just normally makes people mad.” Miss Violetta stares expressionless for a long moment, then bursts into a cackle of laughter and resumes her brisk strut.

“You crazy baby. Anyway, hurry up now, we don’t wanna be late.” Feeling the sweat on his brow, Robbie quickly shrugs off his coat.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s the Drag King and Queen’s policy that we help all new arrivals find the group they belong with. We’re heading to daily mandated brunch.” For the first time since arriving, Robbie’s smile falters.

“I don’t fit in with other gays though,” he says quietly. Miss Violetta though does not stop.

“Nonsense baby. Everyone belongs somewhere. Now, here we are,” she replies as they reach the dazzling Café Slay. “Let’s find you a group.” She thrusts open the doors and leads Robbie inside. As soon as the doors open, Robbie’s ears are assaulted by cackles and clinking glasses. Everyone at the table closest looks up with delight as Miss Violetta approaches. “Hello everyone, I’d like you to meet Robbie. Robbie, these are the Yass gays.” A symphony of musical greetings rises from the table.

“Hi, Robbie,” says the twink closest to him. “Who’s your favourite drag queen?” Robbie hesitates.

“I’ve never actually seen a drag show.” An awkward silence follows.

“Like ever?” asks the twunk sitting across from the first one. At that moment a waiter wearing a very short apron and a brilliant smile approaches.

“Hi, what can I get you? We have iced lattes, iced mochas, cold brew.”

“A cappuccino would be great thanks.”

“Of course, one iced cappuccino.”

“Sorry, just a cappuccino. No ice.” There is an audible gasp from the table, and Robbie turns to see the Yass gays staring at him as if he’d just committed a crime.

“Did you know you could get coffee without ice?” someone at the table whispers.

“I’ve found his Instagram,” says the jock to his right. Robbie is too nervous to ask how he did that so quickly. The jock looks up with an expression that’s impossible to read. “You only have three hundred followers.”

“Three hundred? Is it on private?” the hunk next to him asks as he leans over. The jock subtly shakes his head as the hunk begins to scroll. “There’s no photos of you topless on here,” he adds with a tone that’s almost accusatory.

“Yeah, I don’t really like to post photos of my body,” answers Robbie with a nervous glance toward Miss Violetta. The waiter from earlier returns and hands Robbie his cappuccino. When he turns back, either Chris or Chad is whispering into the ear of the other and both are smirking. Seeing this, Robbie turns and abruptly walks out of the café. Outside, Robbie feels even more overwhelmed by everything going on around him. Across the road is a cat café packed with flannel shirt wearing women. To the right, for some inexplicable reason, is a bunch of people sitting in a circle of chairs at all sorts of weird angles and shooting finger guns.

“Baby, what’s the problem?” Robbie keeps staring ahead rather than turn back to Miss Violetta.

“I told you, I don’t belong here,” he snaps. Miss Violetta’s eyebrows rise, but she decides to let his attitude slide. Just this once.

“Honey, everyone has a place where they belong. We just have to find yo-,”

“I don’t know how to be gay,” Robbie says, cutting her off. He finally turns to look at Violetta and though his face is angry, she sees the anguish in his eyes. Before she can respond, a voice comes from the direction of the café,

“Hey.” They both turn around to see the waiter. “It’s Robbie right? I just wanted to say I love your Queen tattoo.” He points to the image of Freddie Mercury etched into Robbie’s forearm. “Which is your favourite song?” Robbie is so stunned that it takes him a minute to respond.

“Probably ‘I Want to Break Free’.” The waiter closes his eyes and grunts.

“Yes! That one’s incredible.” At that moment, someone else exits the café, one of the insta gays by the look of him.

“Hey man, I noticed you had a photo with Ronaldo on your insta. When did you take that?” Robbie’s brain hits reboot, and he struggles to find the words.

“Last year. I went to a game with my dad.” The Instagay grins.

“That’s awesome. I love football, I go to Liverpool games all the time.” He looks at his watch. “I have to go, but I added you on Instagram so we can chat more there.”

“Same, work is calling,” the waiter adds with that brilliant smile. “Add me too though. You seem cool.” The two of them disappear back inside the cafe. Robbie stares blankly at the door, his mouth hanging slightly open. Miss Violetta gently begins to lead Robbie away from the café.

“I didn’t think those were things that gay people could like,” Robbie says quietly.

“Baby, listen to me carefully. Lord Gaga knows we could all learn to be less judgemental. But it’s important to remember,” she turns and looks Robbie dead in the eyes, “there is no right way to be queer. Each of us has a unique experience of being queer and every one of them is valid.” They come to a stop at the foot of an enormous mural painted on the ground, identical to the one on the wall. With that same rainbow tutu wearing otter shaped button. 

“Thank you.” Naomi takes the seat opposite as Claire begins to cut into the pancakes. She watches Claire intently as she eats, a slight frown upon her face. Claire knows what shes thinking but asks anyway, “What’s up?”

“I know you said you don’t want to celebrate,” Naomi says, “but are you sure?” Claire quickly swallows her mouthful of pancake before answering,

“I’m sure.” The smile she puts on is forced and not entirely convincing. Naomi’s frown remains even as Claire quickly finishes the pancakes, gives her a kiss, and pats both Tegan and Sara on her way out the door.

A tall white recyclable coffee cup plonks onto the desk beside Claire’s hand.

““Did you just get here? Work started an hour ago?” she asks, but Alex just takes a long sip of his iced coffee.

“Yeah, I was getting your coffee,” he says. “Happy birthday by the way.” Claire quickly shushes him and looks around the office to make sure no one heard. Alex watches her with a furrowed brow and asks, “what?”

“I’d prefer everyone around here not to know,” Claire whispers. Alex rolls his eyes and says,

“I don’t know why. It’s the one time you don’t have to feel guilty about demanding attention.”

“I just don’t need everyone making a fuss about it,” she says. Alex looks at her as if she just grew a second mouth in the back of her head.

“Anyway,” he says with a shake of his head. “What are you doing to celebrate?”

“Nothing hopefully.” Alex takes a sip of his drink.

“What do you mean nothing? You can’t do nothing.”

“I can and I will,” Claire says shortly, taking Alex by surprise.

“Alright, you do you babe. Just try and not work too hard at least today. Leave some work for the rest of us.”

“That would be easier if you did any,” Claire says as he walks away. But when she looks down at her checklist which has eight out of the ten things already ticked off, she realises he may have a point. Claire then happens to glance out the office window at a sky blanketed in clouds, holding back the sunlight. As her eyes drop to the street below, Claire spies three individuals. Two women and a young girl, probably about eight years old. The young girl walks along with a spring in her step, playing with her two barbies, making them kiss. One of the women affectionately plays with the girl’s hair before pulling her in for a little hug. Claire watches them for a long time, a wistful look in her eye, until they become a blur down on the street and she quickly turns back to her work before her mind can drift to even more unpleasant thoughts.

A cold breeze whips through Claire’s hair, but she doesn’t even stir. She stares vacantly at the waves as they roll towards the shore while her mind wanders down a lane of memories.

“Fancy seeing you here,” says a voice. Claire blinks a few times as her mind rushes back to the present, then looks up to see a woman with big hair, lots of makeup and a purple pant suit.

“Miss Violetta? What are you doing here?” asks Claire.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Miss Violetta looks out at the rolling waves and the gray sky above, then back at Claire. “Not exactly where I’d expect someone to be celebrating their birthday.” Claire scowls and turns back to the ocean.

“You know I hate celebrating my birthday.” Miss Violetta makes a thoughtful noise and then they both watch the waves roll in silence, until eventually Miss Violetta says,

“You know, you’ve never told me why that is.” She turns to Claire, watching her closely.

“That’s right I haven’t.” Silence returns, but Violetta just continues to look at Claire. Eventually, caving to the simple pressure of Miss Violetta’s gaze she sighs. “It was on my birthday that I came out to my parents.”

“And your parents weren’t able to do that for you.” There is the slightest change in Claire’s face as the words bounce around her head.

“No, they couldn’t. And it hurts, when the people who are meant to love you turn their back on you.” Miss Violetta sighs now.

“It’s a sad fact of life that no one is meant to love you. Loving people is a choice we make every day, which is why it's so hard when someone you love chooses not to love you back.”

She puts a hand gently on Claire’s shoulder. “I won’t lie to you; it will hurt for a long time. Maybe forever. You were denied something very special and it’s not fair.” Tears begin to run down Claire’s face. She wraps her arms around Miss Violetta and buries her face into her chest. Miss Violetta pats Claire on the back gently and adds, “It doesn’t have to define you though. A family you choose, made of people who will celebrate the person you are, can fill that void if you let them.” After a few sniffles Claire leans back and looks at Miss Violetta with a meek smile.

“You’re probably right,” she mumbles.

“I usually am,” Violetta says, then her demeanour shifts slightly. “Now let’s get you home. It’s so damn cold I’m going to be stuck to this corset.”

The lock clicks as Claire turns her key. She opens the door and is surprised to find it pitch black. Where is Naomi? She flicks the lights on.

“SURPRISE!” splits the air and causes Claire to jump, crying out,

“Holy crap!” She holds a hand over her chest as she looks at the crowd of people that fill her dainty kitchen and living room. There is Alex and others from work, then Amanda and her other friends, and of course Naomi standing at the front of the group. She rushes over and says,

“Happy birthday babe.” Her eyes search Claire’s face, looking for some indication of either joy or anger. With a great big smile Claire says,

“Thank you,” and plants a kiss firmly on her lips. She then turns to the crowd and says,

“Let me jump into something a little more comfortable and we can get this party started.” The crowd cheers as she heads for the bedroom. Then Naomi chimes in,

“You know she’s talking about her flannel.”

“So how did you go moving in?” asks Amanda, Claire’s best friend. “It was only last weekend, wasn’t it?” She looks around the apartment.

“Yeah, but you know me. I had all the furniture assembled within two hours,” Claire says with a laugh.

“It looks great,” adds Rachel, Amanda’s new girlfriend. “And when did you and Naomi meet?” With a grin Claire says,

“Oh, the day before we moved in.” When Rachel says nothing both Claire and Amanda laugh loudly. “I’m kidding. We’ve been dating for about six months.” Claire leaves Amanda and Rachel to move amongst the rest of her friends. She passes Miss Violetta speaking to Alex.

It’s not long before all of the introductions are made, and Aurelia lets their eyes fall on each member in turn. When their eyes land on Ahmad he quickly averts his gaze.

“Ahmad,” they say. “Are you alright?” Ahmad looks back at them, then down at the odd position in which he’s sitting.

“I’m alright,” he says with a forced smile. “Just can never get comfortable in a chair.” Aurelia continues to look at him, as if studying him.

“Alright,” they respond with a slight frown. “Anyway, since you’re new here, it might be good for you to begin.” They all watch Ahmad, who shrinks under their gaze.

“So, I just talk about when I cheated?”

“I’d like to get to know you first.” Ahmad shrugs his shoulders,

“What do you want to know?” After a brief pause Aurelia says simply,

“Tell us about your week.” Ahmad looks back at them, unsure as to how this will help at all, but takes a deep breath and begins.

“Why not. Well on Monday I had a date. The first I’ve had since my wife left me a year ago.”

I arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes too early because I was so nervous. We’d been talking online for a couple of months. When he finally arrived, it was a bit awkward, as it normally is. We hugged and it so stiff. Not like that! Anyway, the problem was that the awkwardness never went away. He asked me,

“What kind of music do you like?”  I quickly came up with a bunch of random pop divas I was fairly certain he’d like. He smiled and said, “Figures. All of us gays have the same taste in music.”

I asked, “What do you do for work?” which is like the most boring question ever. But he told me,

“I work as a barista,” which really shouldn’t have surprised me. We spoke for way too long about our jobs and all the tedious things we do each day and the people we work with. The conversation did not flow easily at all and to make matters worse the chair was so uncomfortable. It was way too soft and bouncy in a way that I constantly felt like I was going to fall off. Anyway, it's just one of those things that happens, I guess.

Aurelia looks down at their notepad and scribbles something down as Ahmad’s knee bounces. They slowly look up and their eyes rest on Ahmad for a moment before they say,

“He called you gay, but if I recall correctly, you’re bisexual. Did you correct him?” The question sends a little shock through Ahmad, though he isn’t sure why.

“No.”

“Why not?” There is a moment of hesitation where the voice in Ahmad’s head says,

“Because I probably am.” But then out loud he says, “I didn’t want to make it even more awkward.” Aurelia nods, but their expression, though it remains mostly impassive, gives the slight impression of dissatisfaction with that answer.

“Alright,” they say. “Go on.” Ahmad takes another deep breath and moves on through his story.

“A few days later I went out for coffee with my friend.”

I head into Cafe Slay and take a seat because my friend always runs a little late. I nearly died when I saw my date from a few nights before. I quickly threw myself into a chair out of sight. The chairs there are horrible too by the way, just as soft and bouncy as the ones at the restaurant. Anyway, I wait for a while and eventually my friend turns up. We hug and catch up on our lives like normal, then the server comes over and of course it's my date. That was awkward. We were flirting as he asked,

“You could have a tea or a chai latte,” Latoyah says. Ahmad turns to her then with a look of confusion. Despite the fact that Ahmad loves a chai latte, and this suggestion seems reasonable, that’s not what you do when someone asks to catch up for coffee.

“Alright,” Aurelia says, looking up from another scribbled note and cutting the conversation off. “Please go on Ahmad.” He sighs and without thinking too much says,

“Just yesterday I ran into my ex.” He grimaces as he is instantly flooded with regret. Aurelia raises a single eyebrow, and he knows there’s no getting out of talking about it now. He sighs again.

I turned up to a friend’s birthday party. When she walked through the door I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I was stuck not wanting to make eye contact, and yet not being able to stop looking at her. She looks just as beautiful as the day she left. Her cute button nose that reminds me of a pig’s. In a good way of course. The roundness of her face and the freckles upon her cheeks. This lasts for about half an hour until the next time I turn to look for her she’s beside me, staring up at me with eyes that sparkle. She says,

“Hey, long time no see.” My throat closes, and she adds, “How have you been?”

“Good,” I say finally, forcing the words from my throat. “What about you.” She smiles.

“Good.” She looks away to a pair of chairs and asks, “sit with me?” I know I shouldn’t, that it will hurt, but I do anyway. I’m so focused on her that I barely notice how uncomfortable that chair is. Way too hard and unyielding. What is it with all the chairs in this city? Anyway, she asks, “How have you been?” and for some reason I say,

“Not bad. I went on a date recently. They were alright.”

“She says, I’m sure she was lovely.” Talking still flows so smoothly between us. It was really nice to see her again, even though it makes me feel as awful as ever once it's over.

Ahmad’s eyes refocus on the group in front of him, the curtains closing as his memory finishes. He rubs his hands on his leg as the group watches him quietly. Finally, Aurelia asks,

“Why did you feel so much self-loathing when you saw your ex-wife?” Ahmad blinks a few times.

“Because it reminds me of what I did.” Aurelia nods slowly.

“You remember you cheated on your wife.” A pause.

“Yes.”

“And why did you do that?” Ahmad grabs his legs a little tighter.

“I don’t know.” Aurelia squints slightly.

“I’m sure you’ve thought about it. You don’t have any idea?” Ahmad sighs.

“No, I have no idea.” Aurelia says,

“Think about it for me.” Ahmad rolls his eyes and says,

“I don’t know. Probably because I’m a bad person,” shifting in his seat. Aurelia purses their lips.

“I don’t believe people fit into good and bad. You are just a person who happened to do a bad thing.” All around the circle, heads nod and then stiffly, Ahmad does too. “So, if that’s the case, why did you cheat?”

“Why does it matter?” Ahmad asks, throwing his hands in the air and shifting in his seat again.

“Once we know why, we can help you move forward.” Ahmad’s jaw clenches and he slaps his hands down on his legs.

“But I don’t know why,” he says through his teeth. “Maybe it’s because I can’t just be happy. Maybe it’s because I worried I made the wrong decision.” He shifts on the chair, then abruptly stands. “Maybe it’s because I can’t sit in a damned chair!” He kicks the chair across the room. “Or maybe it’s because I felt like a fraud, that I was just pretending to be straight!” The silence that follows is deafening. Everyone simply stares at Ahmad, who is breathing heavily. Aurelia silently stands and picks up their chair. They walk across and places it where Ahmad’s chair had previously sat. The entire time Ahmad stares at his feet.

“Why don’t you try this chair?” Ahmad stairs at the chair, then at Aurelia, then back at the chair. He takes a deep breath and sits. His eyes widen as he wriggles about in the seat. Aurelia, pulling another chair from the edge of the room, asks, “How does that feel?”

“This feels so much better,” Ahmad says in awe. “Not too soft and not too firm.”

“Seems you’ve been forcing yourself to choose between two chairs that don’t work for you,” Aurelia says. They click their pen and continue, “Now, let's address what you just said.” Ahmad takes a deep breath in anticipation. “You felt that you were pretending to be straight?” It takes Ahmad a moment to say,

“Yes, I thought I was pretending to be bisexual.” Aurelia opens their mouth to speak but Ahmad continues, “I understand now I wasn’t pretending. That I can be both gay and straight.”