A Soulmate Story A Day

9 ~ Move and I'll Shoot

[Published 23/10/15]

Everyone is born, somehow, with words around their wrist.  Don't be mistaken, these aren't any random words. They are the first words that their soulmate will say directly to them.

Some people's words fade and eventually disappear. We all know what that means and it's positively heartbreaking. They could never even have met them and now they never would get the chance to. They don't even really know who it was. Which ultimately leads to more heartbreak as they can't even attend the funeral.

It is argued by a few that even worse than that, or at least more frustrating than that, is when the words on the wrist read something extremely common and mundane.

For example; 'Hello.'

Because then your heart is jumping up and around in your chest so often that it starts to ache. Jumping up at every chance can be exhausting and a lot of the time ends up with people giving up, becoming a recluse and moving underground... Or something like that.

It's funny though because although I wouldn't really prefer my soulmate dead I would probably prefer something ordinary to be printed on my wrist. Even if it was the frequently used 'Hello.' Because surely that must be better than the elegantly printed words wrapping round my wrist like a handcuff.

'Move and I'll shoot.'

Charming? Nope.

When I was old enough and my wrist big enough to fit all the words in a decipherable manner, my parents were obviously shocked. They were always keeping a keen eye out for me.

Later, when I was old enough to really understand the gravity of the situation, I tended to keep myself to myself and hide away from new people.

After, in my reckless teenage years I didn't really give the words a second thought, much to my parents dismay. I had a phase of just thinking that they could be a joke. A way of sneaking up behind someone a surprising them. But wasn't that really a thing between friends? Not complete strangers who had never said anything to you.

Now, I confidently stride around town. A leaflet for self defence tucked neatly in my pocket, as well as a penknife and pepper spray. Be prepared.

My dad makes me call him every week to hear if I'm ok. I always am. Well until now.

Walking along the train tracks (it's a shortcut, shut up) I stand perfectly still as I hear the distinctive click of a gun as 1, 2, 3, 4 footsteps echo behind me.

My breaths come out in short, harsh bursts and my hands start to shake uncontrollably. Come on El, get it together. I will myself as clasp my hands together, gently pressing over the penknife in my pocket.

I hear him take an intake of breath before he starts to speak and I whisper the words under my breath as he says it.

"Move and I'll shoot."

I swallow. This is it. Whatever I'm going to say next has already been predicted and scrawled over his wrist.

If he is going to shoot me surely he would have done so already. Not that just because he hasn't shot me already means anything positive about his intentions.

I think silently. I have to say something and it has to be distinctive enough that he knows it's me. If he even cares...

'How moving,' I start, desperately wanting my voice to sound more confident than I feel, 'you must be a right romantic-' I pause, make it distinctive, 'pickle...'

What?!

Great. Wonderful. I now sound crazy.

BANG!

A gunshot echoes through my brain.

Is this it?

I swing round on my heel after realising that I had not been shot. There stands a young man dressed in black with a stern look, a gun slightly shaking in his hands.

A loud shout rings out from somewhere. A loud, angry shout.

The man in front of me, who was destined to be with me, grabs my hand hurriedly.

"We need to run."

A/N:

Okay so maybe I got a little behind... And by a little behind I mean like 14 days behind. Oops. What can I say life got in the way. I'll try my best to catch up though it's a bit of a hard thing to achieve.

So maybe, maybe not.

Laterz

-TheLoneAlbatross