Note from the Author:
I've decided to share some of my college work on Wattpad. These stories and poems were written over 20 years ago and are sort of a time capsule of my writing progress. While there are plenty of problems in these stories (telling instead of showing being a reoccurring theme), I've tried not to edit them too much. These stories tend to be very personal and raw. At the time, I thought I was being very metaphoric but, in retrospect, it was pretty obvious what was going on in my life when I wrote them. These stories were all created before I really felt comfortable with dialogue so they tend to be more surrealistic. These truly are some of my very first stories from when I was exploring whether or not writing would be a possible career. I hope you enjoy them. For more of my work, check out www.tomandry.com.
I'm a huge comic book fan and have been since I was very little. Back when I wrote this story, I used to have a bulliten board above my desk in my bedroom. On that board was a cut out picture of The Mask. If you only know The Mask from the Jim Carry movie, well, in the comic, it was a bit different. The Mask didn't amplifiy your own personality, it turned you into a pschotic, homicidal manic with the ability to pull guns and weapons out of the air while being essentially invunerable. It was while staring up at a picture of this character that I started this story.
In my defense, 20 years ago when I wrote this story, that line wasn't so overused. You'll know what I mean when you get to it.
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The light shimmering off the water reflects an image of me, albeit distorted. Droplets fall from my cheek, staining the water and the sidewalk red. Looking up, I see numerous legs all around me, closing in. One lifts and falls, bringing sparks to my eyes, and my arms give out, landing me in my reflection. The water travels down my throat and I think I've escaped, but I can't. Spitting up water, I turn my head to once again breath air.
Walking towards me are a pair of red and black plaid pants. Placing his foot on my shoulder, he rolls me over. All I can see is his smile, larger than life, taking up at least three quarters of his face. He brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a drag, all the while sparks fly off him. He sinks down next to me and places the cigarette on my lips and lets me inhale. I cough, bringing up a lot more than smoke. The smile returns to his face as he once again breaths in the smoke. He grasps my hand, shaking it gently,
"Have a nice day," surges from his mouth, even as the smoke billows out forming a small cloud about his face. He rises up again, taking one last drag on his cigarette and throws it to the ground next to me. Stepping on it, he turns his back and motions to his men and they all slip back into the night.
Fighting the urge to vomit and pass-out, I roll myself over , back to my hands and knees. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to stand but the footsteps to my front stop me. I look up to see yet another pair of legs, only these are bare and smooth. A white hand with red fingernails reaches toward me. Placing my red hand in hers, I am helped up.
She is shorter than me, by a good five inches, but my wounds make it hard for me to stand up straight. Blonde curly hair flows down well her shoulders as she takes a step towards me. She is only inches away and I can feel her breath on my neck. I look down and notice a child sitting on her hip and a strange smile on her face. She brings her free arm to my face, lowering it to her level. She lightly kisses my forehead, my cheek, my lips. She pulls away for a second and I can see the blood on her lips: My blood. Licking her lips slowly, she brings her face to mine. Our kisses start soft but with amazing speed become passionate, even violent. Then suddenly, she pulls away, stepping back, and turns her back.
A moment passes, then another. Finally, she turns back around, "I Love You."
"I know," I reply. She raises her free hand, now containing a gun. She fires twice, once the the head, once to the heart.
As I lie there, on the sidewalk, once again, I can hear my own heart beating, once, twice. The blood, MY blood, pumps out all over the sidewalk and all I can think is "Bitch".
Then, from my left, I hear footsteps.
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Cover sourced from http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Legs-and-heels.jpg
