I've not posted anything for ages, I know I didn't post much before anyway but I've suddenly had bursts of inspiration for a new story. It is loosely based on true life.
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Prologue
She's watching you.
Your totally unaware.
Your blending in like usual. That's why she spotted you in the first place. You had a sense of purpose to being there even though you gave the impression you'd rather be somewhere else, rather then at college, tired of being there, tired of being told what to do. Just keeping yourself to yourself. You looked about nineteen, probably second year so come September you wouldn't be a regular sight around town.
She's watched you a lot in the last fifteen or so months. Her dark brown irises following you round the building. Your slender frame bobbing up and down with every step you take on the plastic covered floors.
Your walking up the stairs to the third floor of the Creative Arts department at Townsend College. She's walking through the security glass filled double doors at the top of the flight, the sun shining in through the window that reaches up to the ceiling, making you slightly silhouetted against it and the red in amongst her dark brown hair shining through. She's captivated by you. Wanting to know more about the shy, mysterious demeanour you give to people whilst you bounce around with your floppy, dirty blonde hair.
Your watching the floor, concentrating on making every step. She's still watching you wishing you'd look up at her. Your almost in line with her, fours step from the top. You look up when you realise you're not alone. Her heart skips a beat, her wishing worked. She half smiles a nervous smile. You smile closed mouth back at her with a little bit of recognition in your soft, blue green eyes.
Truth be told, that's all she thought she'd ever get from you. She was never going to talk to you for fear of looking stalker-ish but it was enough. Even though you intrigued her beyond words and that she wanted to know why you brought a great sense of familiarity to her every time her eyes watched you.
Now your resting against the dark brown, worn out pub table in the crowded pool room at the Rose and Crown. The place filled with nearly every fourteen to twenty-five year old in the borough. You were looking downwards, something she noticed you did a lot, this time fiddling with your battered mobile phone, not seeing anything going on around you, just in your own little world.
It's New Year's Eve.
About ten to eleven, if your wondering.
* * *
I write this three months down the line. Three months of knowing him. Three months of amazing experiences. Three months of lies, arguments and fall-outs.
It seems he was still there after summer so I carried on seeing that boy and on that cold New Year's Eve when I turned my head and saw him again, I felt like I could actually talk to him, so fuelled by the alcohol flowing through my blood stream, I rise to my feet. My memories of seeing him over the past fifteen months playing like a video on fast forward, interrupting every now and again were thoughts of what I was actually going to say to him when I'd finished the ten steps towards him.
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Just a start I made. Reviews will be greatly accepted.
