[Ongoing] A collection of unsettling or unusual short stories. Some have monsters, some have humor, some draw tears, some make you think, and some have artwork. Each is a revealing glance of someone's life.
Every writer has their own methods of comi...
Original story below, but you can find a revamped version in my collection "The Fall of Souls: and six other twisted stories about unlikable people", available on Amazon!
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I’d always sit outside, a briefcase of bricks at my feet. When Keith would walk out, I’d always smile, basking in his warm attention.
“Good evening, Miss Pauline,” he’d say.
“Good evening, Officer,” I’d reply.
He’d chuckle. “Now, Miss Pauline, you know I’m no officer. I’m just a security guard.”
I’d chuckle back. “And you know I don’t like being called Miss. It’s just Pauline.”
He’d always gallantly carry my briefcase for me, and I’d hook my arms around his as he walked me to my apartment building. We'd talk, and he’d always come up with me to the fifteenth floor and drop the briefcase off just inside my door.
But he’d never enter my apartment.
“Come in for tea?”
“That’s very kind of you, but I must be getting home to my fiancé.” He’d smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Pauline.”
“Good night, Officer.”
I’d always set the timer for fifteen minutes before I washed up, microwaved a pizza, and grabbed a soda.
I’d settle down on my little purple couch in my dark bedroom, a plate on my lap, a can in my hand, and a video camera propped up between me and the window, zoomed in on a building three blocks away. It took a lot of research to snag my apartment, but it was worth it.
I’d always watch as Keith entered his fifteenth floor studio.
I’d watch his fiancé roll out of bed and begin yelling at him.
I’d watch him nod, trying to avoid riling her up further. Sometimes she’d slap him, and he’d always take it, never defending himself.
I’d always curse her, my blood boiling.
He didn’t deserve her. He deserved me.
I just didn’t know how to make him see.
I’d watch him cook, serve her, clean up, and eat, and I'd wish I was there to help him relax. To massage his tense shoulders. To bring him a cold one. To draw him a warm bath. To ease his stress the way only I could.
I’d sigh after they'd turn off the lights, and I’d put away my dishes, wash up, and go to bed.
I’d always have my breakfast behind the camera, watching as Keith raced to his fiancé’s demands before he left her lounging in bed and ran out the door.
