Shotgun

A short story about an infatuated and perhaps, overeager lover.

She was beautiful. She was everything that he had dreamed of beholding in a woman. Everything about her was irresistible. He was sure it wasn't a blind bias, either. Her long chestnut hair always fell perfectly around her face, as if it was God's own frame for the masterpiece he had created. Her eyes were dark hazelnuts, the kind that shouldn't have been anything special but nevertheless possessed an intense and indisputable deepness about them. Her chin was a work of art all in it's own, sculpted as if by Bernini. The way her expression never changed from a lazy and somewhat arrogant half-smirk made her look even more as though she were made of marble. The way she walked was even something of dreams - though that was something he wasn't sure if it came with practice or if it was something that just came to her as another generous gift from nature.

He was very dedicated to all of the things he loved, and she was his most heavenly treasure - so of course she became the most showered in his affections. He was the most dedicated man on the planet when it came to her, always opening doors when she walked in front of him. He would shower her with surprise gifts. Flowers, cards, notes... little things that would make her see how much she was cared about. He wanted her to see what a beauty she really was. In the wee hours of the night time, he would think only of her as he pleasured himself - those nights that they couldn't be together with each other.

Sometimes he took pictures of her. He kept the photos of her in an album with acid-free paper, the safest and most expensive variety he could have gotten his hands on. He never wanted anything to happen to his memories of her like this, though he was sure that even if she grew old and grey and her features became crooked and marred with the tell tales signs of age... he would still love her.

Her laugh was like music. He found her to be very beautiful, but her sense of humor was even better. It was the air in his lungs to him, and every time he tried to make a joke to widen her grin and she simply stared at him - he treasured her stare. He would look at those eyes for as long as she would let him.

Since he had secured a job in the same building as her, he tried his jokes more often. At first, he was sure that she was pleased to have him around more. Sometimes they would sit together at lunch, but he was understanding as she grew more distant. She had to have some time to herself after all and work place affairs were not to be flaunted in any reputable business.

At night, they never went home together. He considered her to be a religious girl. It made the most sense to him, because he considered himself attractive, smart and as mentioned - dedicated. So, he took no offense to her not wanting to spend her evenings with him in the throws of passion. On these nights alone, he would sometimes write music for her. He wasn't very brave when it came to his music though, and he thought that he would send some of it to her for a birthday or something - a surprise on the internet. Though, he wasn't really sure how she would react to his songs. Her judgment was important to him. She had never given him her e-mail address before, but he had just seen it in a company e-mail header and copied it down. He figured that would make it a better surprise, at least...

They had first seen each other at a local book cafe. A cafe where people go to read books, and well, enjoy their coffee. He had spied her over the spine of his novel, and things had progressed into little 'hello's' and hand waves from there - before they were much more than simply strangers. He was always impressed with her ability to remain so coy when she saw him at work, and he thought back to those coffee shop days with a mesmerized smile sometimes.

One day he found her after work. He smiled at her, pushing his glasses up toward the bridge of his nose. She looked tense - stressed, even. "Would you like to come over tonight?" He usually wasn't so direct with her, but he smiled and went on quickly. "You don't have to stay over, if you don't want to... but I would like that." He was clutching his coffee mug tightly, his knuckles red. Her stare was penetrating and he could tell that she wanted him, right then and there. She was so beautiful, and so cunning. The office was nearly completely cleared of their co-workers, and she shifted - suddenly looking, almost uncomfortable. Was she really this shy in the workplace?

"Honestly, I don't think that's very funny..." Her tone was a little accusatory, and he was taken aback.

"I'm sorry, I know how you are. I know you've avoided it for some time now, but I was -" Interrupted. He was interrupted. She had never interrupted him before, unless he was telling a joke - and this was no joke, it seemed. This irritated him a little, but he tried to keep his composure. He didn't want her to think less of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Dan. I also don't think this is funny, as I said. Now, excuse me. I have to make some copies." The copy machine was behind him. In fact, he was leaning against it. Was she really that closed off to admitting her religious beliefs? Did she really want to make him feel embarrassed over it, instead of admitting her own shortcomings? As few as they were, they seemed to put a serious dent in how he thought of her just then. He was rarely an angry man, but when his anger burst through it was ferocious.

Like a quiet lion stalking his prey, he walked to the door. "I see." He said, and she clearly thought he was going to leave. But he didn't. He looked at her gaze, which intensified as he closed the door. She wanted this, she wanted him... It was all a game... She was trying to turn him on... wasn't she? In an instant, he realized that was all it was as he looked at her.

"That door is supposed to remain -" She had started, but he was walking toward her. He knew she was just pretending to sound official now. He felt brave as endorphins swelled in his brain. He grabbed her, pushing her against the machine. "W-what are you doing?" She stammered, but he covered her mouth. It was all part of the game. He knew that. This was what she wanted. This was why she didn't want to go home with him. She wasn't religious, she wanted to make it a public affair. So, he took her against the machine as it copied her documents. He was shocked when she cried after, because it was rather ugly.

This perfect creature... he remembered thinking, how could she be so ugly all of a sudden? Something about her lost it's appeal in that moment, and he felt very awake and alert although he had just come out of a deep sleep. Still, it was strange how little he could recall about the events that followed.

--

Some months passed. He didn't see her again after that. Nobody did. He had figured that she had been too embarrassed to come back to work, and so each day at work he tried to avoid making copies at the office. It reminded him too much of the beautiful thing that he had lost. Her birthday was approaching soon, but he knew that he would not have a reason to send her a song now.

After work one evening, he buried himself on the couch in blankets and flicked on the television. He lived alone, and a strange smell permeated the room. It irked him, because he had always been neat. He was thinking about cleaning out the garbage again, when a newscaster's voice caught his attention.

"An investigation has officially been launched for the missing woman we spoke about just days ago, her family is now at an utmost level of concern..." He didn't know why he was watching this newscaster and listening to her bleak words, but he was. He listened carefully. "The situation became more serious when a co-worker found a surprising document in the company's copy machine. The document, which reads as a sad cry for help contains startling references to a man who had been stalking her for months - even going so far as to get a job where she worked, and it describes what were usually friendly encounters becoming more and more distressing. Unsure of where to turn, the woman was clearly torn about what to do about this man. The most startling sentence of the document is perhaps the first sentence that reads, chillingly, 'I must write this before it's too late...'" A close up image of their work place flashed across the screen. It was followed by a portrait of his beloved, and then a portrait of his own face - which shocked him to the core.

"She loved me!" He screamed, "What are they talking about?"

And that sickening smell grew even more intense, before he began to realize that it was most certainly not the trash at all. He knew exactly what it was, quite suddenly. He panicked, frozen as he realized the past few months had all been a lie.

Author's Note

I wrote this for my old creative writing class a few months ago. When I read it in class, my face was burning... so that's why I've chosen to upload it as my first story on here. Everything I write is always something different. I would love to know how you felt the story was going to go after you've read it! Thank you.

Reviews

[zainul]

I have found it as a masterpiece work.
Really special and different.
You have expressed very eloquently.
I could see the events like different episodes of a movie.
Thanks for sharing.

I am curious to know why your face was burning when you read it in your class.
You may love to inform in a message.

[Sabrina Alexandra]

Hi! Thank you so much for your kind review.
I don't know why, but sometimes when I'm unsettled I become very nervous - usually that's how I know I've come across and/or written something 'decent' though... Because it's often so hard for me to share, due to my anxieties! I was the same way with art as a child and any creation I made. Perhaps scared of failure because I loved my (in my own opinion) best work so much?
I can't really explain it to you but my writing teacher told me that I should always be writing what comes to mind, and that nothing is 'wrong' and really stressed this in me. She made it a lot easier to accept this story for example, especially since it is quite dark. I often worry about the way certain things I put into the universe will be perceived...

Hopefully this makes sense to you! I'll check out some of your work soon,

Sabrina

[zainul]

You are most welcome,dear friend.:)
Now,I understand that it is a common phenomenon related to public speaking.
Many feel nervousness ,tremble or shiver when attempt to present to an audience.
You need not be worried for this.This is a very common problem and may be overcome through
consultation with your teachers or psychologists.
So far I remember,the problem is known as 'Stage Fever'.Reading books of Del Carnegie or relevant books/articles available in the net may help you immensely to overcome this problem.
Thanks for sharing frankly.:)

[Marie]

Well. He must have been a real psychotic. I liked the twist at the end, where images of their faces were shown...
You want to spen "throws" "as "throes"...

[Sabrina Alexandra]

Thank you! Haha, I didn't even notice that!

[John Sharp]

I really liked this. I kinda guessed that he was a stalker but the fact he didn't know it was cool. very well done. I think this has been my favorite writing i've read on this site so far.

[Sabrina Alexandra]

Thank you so much! Yes, a few people have said they picked up on the general idea but that the secondary one got them. That makes me happy either way! :) Glad you enjoyed.