Invisible

The Truth

 

CONFESSIONS

 

 

            Almost no one will remember my name, so I won't bother to tell it to you. I was always one of those people who faded into the shadows -- completely unremarkable and utterly unnoticeable. Not in the way that I was silent, or shy, like those people who sit in the back of classrooms, quietly avoiding eye-contact with anyone. I wasn't anti-social, just invisible. I blended in TOO well. It was almost as if I was made of glass, the way people looked through me. I often thought that if I waved my hand in front of the face of a stranger, they wouldn't see me. Well, they would see me, but they wouldn't notice me.

           I don't think outward appearance had anything to do with it; all modesty aside, by most people's standards I was considered beautiful. Golden hair often stands out in a crowd, and green eyes aren't subtle, either. I was slightly taller than your average female, and more slender, as well. By all means, I should have attracted some attention. Yet people would quite literally attempt to walk right through me, only seeing me when they bumped into me, or when I cried out in alarm.

           One day, on a whim born of extreme boredom, I followed a group of people into a small jewelry shop. I trailed just a little ways behind, listening as the tiny alarm bell tinkled to indicate that each of them had passed through. The shopkeeper glanced up, and greeted them as they passed through. When it came my turn to enter, the bell didn't sound. The shopkeeper seemed to be looking in my direction, but I didn't think she saw me.

          I browsed around a little, eventually picking out a beautifully elegant piece: a simple silver chain with a single, delicate, emerald cut diamond dangling from it. Glancing at the tag, I could just make out the price, written in spidery, nearly illegible handwritten script: $600. I walked up to the counter to ask about the necklace, toying in my mind with the idea of splurging, and taking the beautiful ornament home. I only carried twenty dollars in my purse, but I could make a check out for that amount, and I was fairly sure it wouldn't bounce.

         Standing at the counter, I waited idly, as the cashier, only feet away,  failed to notice my presence. I sighed, quite used to it by then, and was getting ready to call out to her, when an idea struck me.

        Turning around, I walked hesitantly to the door of the little shop, necklace in hand. It had a little tag on it, the kind that will sound an alarm when it passes through the exit door, but I had this crazy notion that it wouldn't sound for me. That I could somehow mask it, simply by carrying it in my hand.

         As I stepped out the door, I felt a little thrill of fear and adrenaline. My heart pumped blood through my veins furiously, and the necklace grew hot in my sweaty palm.

        No alarm sounded.

         I waited, senselessly, just outside the door, to see if the bell would ring after a delay. I imagined that any moment, the storekeeper would come rushing out, crying "THEIF!" to take the necklace back into her possession and arrange for my arrest. Sirens would sound, and a police car would come racing around the corner, tires squealing in protest as the vehicle lurched to a halt just in from of where I stood.

          Nothing happened. No bell, no sirens, no angry storekeeper. I walked on, feeling more invisible and more alone than ever.

 

          It was the first crime I ever committed.

          There would be many more before I reached my last.

 

           With some difficulty, Catherine wrenched herself away from the narrative, pulling herself back into the real world in time to see that the moon had just slipped completely into the water and the sun was climbing steadily higher into the sky. She guessed that it was probably around 10 in the morning, hopefully no later. She had been here since dawn, which, during this time of year, was around 6am. Four hours, Catherine realized with a chilling shock. Had she really been reading for four hours? Surely not, she was only about two pages into the diary, and she was a fast reader.

        Catherine felt as if she was missing something; it was as if some vital part of her memory had been expertly removed, leaving no traces. Four hours had elapsed in what felt like the time-span of six minutes. It was nearly broad daylight, now.

         Oh God, the body, she thought suddenly, fear freezing her veins into ice. People going to come here and find it, and find me, and they will think I've committed the murder. It's broad daylight, why isn't there anyone around?! Surely by now someone should have come and seen--

         It was then that she realized that there were people around. Dozens of them, playing in the sand, sunbathing, splashing in the water. Some of them lay on there towels as few as three feet away. All laughing happily, enjoying the dazzling heat of the day. As if nothing was wrong. As if no one had died here, as if there wasn't a girl's body lying right behind her, covered in blood....

        With an abrupt certainty, Catherine spun around. In her mind, she knew already, but she still had to keep herself from screaming when her eyes proved her intuitions right.

        The body was gone.

        All that remained was a slight impression in the sand, where Catherine had seen the dead girl lying, what felt like mere minutes before.

Reviews

[Rainbow Rider]

Either way it seems like it will work. I can see how having a series of short stories would enable you to bring more characters more easily into the story line, and allow you to go in many directions with them, but a book would be advantageous to keeping the story line going in one direction, with just a few charaters. I would personally go with the book of short stories, with the way you write, I think it would allow your creative side to emerge more. And if the stories come out half as good as these so far, it would truely be an exceptional read. You just have a way with words for a story that I can't put into words to discribe.

Edit bad news: Two things, "just in from of where I stood." I'm guessing you want 'front' here. And here "People going to come here and find it, and find me, and they will think I've committed the murder" I think you want to add the word 'are' after 'people'.
That's it, just two wittle {Spelled wrong on purpose} errors in a perfect write. I eagerly look forward to reading more as you write this, which ever way you decide to go. ,,,,,Mhk Melvin