Midnight Tales From The Depths of an Odd Mind

Meant to Be

I never believed in fate. I never believed that there was such a thing as a path in life. I thought people who believed that were just losers who were desperately hoping that they were meant for something bigger. Only people who don't understand the value of hard work could believe that their lives would be carefully planned out by some all knowing force outside of our realms. Fate was a fairytale, and only a moron could think it real.

But that was until I met her.

She was in her late twenties, early maybe early thirties.  She was the smart kind. The type of woman that has studied all her life. She was really short and her frame was lean. Yet, her hips were wide, perfect for childbearing. Her chest was a little too flat, but nothing that some weight gain wouldn't fix. Her skin was pale and pure. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and her smile was pearly white. Her hair and eyes both shared a similar shade of dark brown. 

She seemed to be a little off in her path in life. She was smart. The smart kind of woman a lawyer or a doctor should have as his wife. Yet, she seemed to insist in reveling in her "free spirit" phase. She was stuck in a time period in her life that had already passed. She was supposed to already be preparing to go fulfill her womanly duties. But that could be solved, that wasn't the biggest of my obstacles.

She was the art teacher at my high school. Not a very respectable profession I might say, but at least she could keep our kids entertained with crafts. I didn't have any classes with her. I found the arts almost laughable, a waste of time. The maths and the sciences were my field. I wanted to become a physicist, maybe even win a prize or two for extraordinary discoveries. I was meant for greatness, and my hard work proved it. But a man without a wife was not much in the world. I needed a woman that would care for me outside of the job. Someone respectable, that would take on all those pesky housework tasks. I needed someone who could give me children to carry on my legacy, for what is a man with no one to remember him?

That was why I always thought that I could never marry a girl my age. They were all Snapchat whores that would never make desirable housewives. I was looking for an older woman with a little more self respect. I thought I'd end up marrying some daddy's-money cunt that could at least pretend to not be a thot. But I had finally found my perfect match. She was conservative enough, a little too open-minded for my taste, but at least she didn't wear mini-skirts or enjoy social-media attention. I could turn her into the perfect woman.

Her name was Lindsay, and my biggest obstacle to her was her humbug of a boyfriend. I knew they lived together, which concerned me, what could people think. But you'd be wrong to think I'd let go of the perfect woman for some idiot douchebag. No I had big plans, and I'd have to have Lindsay whatever it took. She was my perfect match, and she would be the mother of my children whether she liked it or not. 

So I followed her home for a week straight. I waited, and I learned her schedule. She left for the gym - judging by her gear - at five o'clock sharp everyday. I didn't think she needed it, but I could convince her about it later on. She came back around seven, and her boyfriend usually got home around six. That gave me an hour to execute my plan.

I sneaked through the back door and waited in a closet after she left. Her boyfriend walked in shortly after, he brought a rose bouquet with him. How sweet, romantic gestures are so pointless. I waited for him to be on the right spot, and then I lunged. My knife dug straight into his neck, severing his carotid. Blood sprayed everywhere and he fell on the floor with a loud thud. The roses were crushed under his dead weight and I snuck back out unseen.

I hope when my lover finds him, she sees. No matter who, where, or what, her and I are meant to be.