There she is.
She walks past and doesn’t see me. I revel in the smell of her, the whispering caress of her perfume. She’s dressed well today, as usual, with a dainty white dress that flowed around her knees. It is perfect for this sunny, bright day and she fairly shone among the lesser mortals surrounding her.
I wait, not too long to lose sight of her – never that – but not short enough that anyone will notice. As she crosses the street, I reach the corner and wait for the lights to change. My eyes flit and dart, never seeming to focus on the one thing. There is a park across the road, filled with children, smiling parents and dogs.
Just down the road, she stops at her favourite café. I am closer now, on the bench, borrowed paper held in careless hands. She won’t be much longer then ten minutes, depending on the line and her chat with Victor, the old Greek owner.
The bus arrives and passengers get off and on. I do not move and it passes me by, like her, like life and the rest of the world.
I breathe in deep, enjoying the cool, crisp air. It is almost time and my blood is singing. Just as she is leaving the café, I am crossing the street onto the block of little shops and cafés. It is busier here, but I melt into the crowd and am lost in a dizzying rush of colour and odours. This appeals to my baser side, this brush with the common filth – It's dirty and I like that.
She is almost lost to me for a moment, but there she is again – a glowing angel only metres away. I am too close, so I back away a few steps. “Fly my dove,” I murmur and it is lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday sound. The little green sign blinks on and we all move, robots triggered into motion; controlled by signs and expectations.
She likes to walk home; she thinks it's healthier and won’t harm the planet. Always thinking of others, bless her. She looks around and for one, breathless moment, our eyes meet within the crowd. Those brilliant blue orbs slide right on by and around, back to the front. I don’t mind.
It won’t be long now.
Only a few blocks left now, but here I have to leave her. The closer she gets to her suburban home, the less crowded it becomes. I would be noticed.
*
It is dark and cold.
The stars above glare down, twinkling. They demand their own back and I smile. “Soon,” I whisper. The trees press in on me, close and green and warm. They protect me and I give thanks. The holes in the house beckon me, empty doorways into her world. I open one, slide it gently across. I’m inside now and the interior is as familiar to me as my own home; I trail my hands across the walls, let the house know I’m here.
The stairs shiver beneath my feet in anticipation and I smile. I walk past the bathroom and the study to pause outside her door. It opened and my mouth parts in wonder and surprise; she is there, bewildered in her white nightie. She blinks once, confused and I clamp my hand over her mouth. Her eyes snap open, alert, and she breathes in deep. Her lips feel full and warm, soft beneath my hand. She slumps in my arms then, eyes rolled back into her head.
I carry her away.
*
The bands of steel latch closed over her smooth breasts and alabaster legs, so slim, cool and perfect. “My little angel,” I say and she opens her eyes. I watch the emotions stream through her: confusion, alarm, fear and finally, panic. She heaves at the bands, she twists and squirms but she can’t get away. Her voice box is crushed and she struggles to breathe.
Her mouth is open wide, face gone an ugly shade of crimson. There is no sound; I made sure of that. Beads of perspiration roll down her face and I mop her brow. She is filled to the brim with fear, panic and horror – it overflows and I suck it in, a void desperate to be filled.
I stroke her face, cooing. She calms eventually, lies placid beneath my hand. Her nipples are hard, poking through the thin nightie and my breath mists in the air. The moon is high in the sky, I know, and the stars are demanding.
It is time.
I lean over, look deep into her eyes.
“Bloom,” I say and slice open her throat. The river wells deep red, flows over and into the carefully prepared drainage system. Soon her heaving breaths subside into stillness and she is frozen, an image of perfection. I look down the long warehouse at the rows of beautiful, cold angels. Even amongst them, she is wonderful. Truly, my finest work yet – there is barely even a crease in her skin.
Now the brightest star is returned to the sky and I can rest easy, until another falls.
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140,903 Literary Works • 673,707 Reviews
Jig,
Er, I haven't been digging through the cemetery per se, but I had promised a crit on it way back when, and I wanted to follow through on it; and not be a flake.
Dude, I know. Do you think that's a problem?
Ta,
Cal.
Not one of my best, Cal? I wrote this a year ago! Lol, I feel all exposed and vulnerable; you're digging through the cemetery of my stories, bringing up old, frail bones. I guess your obligated, huh.
Well, thanks for the comments anyway. Cheers to Megan as well.
(Seriously though, only women responded to this.)
~J
This is great!
You have a very good writing style and the story is very well written.
When I started reading it I couldn't stop! It was so creepy it actually got me feeling rather afraid!
Everything works so perfectly and every line flows into the next extremely well. I couldn't stop reading it until I got to the end of the story! I instantly knew that he was a stalker because you described him so well when he was following the woman. Your descriptions are incredibly poetic and thanks to you I know how the mind of a psycho path works!
I hope you're writing the rest of this because I would definitely read it!
Keep writing!
Meg x-x
Hello, again, honey. You know the drill.
Not one of your best, but I did enjoy the description of everyday events; it makes the guy that much more creepy. Also, as already noted, watch out for the tense shifts.
Ta,
Cal.
Oh, I didn't notice all that much tense change, but I will go over it and see what needs to be fixed. Thank you all very much; my audience remains one-sided, in terms of gender XD.
Not that I'm complaining
Cheers, all.
All the comments have been appreciated.
Hello.
Just as the others have stated, this was very well-written and excellent. I really found no nitpicks, but there was one MAJOR thing I saw that no one else seemed to catch:
You switch tenses A LOT. Like throughout the whole piece. First it's in present, then past. Then so on and so forth. Need to go back and fix that.
Other than that fact, it IS good. Keep writing.
Wow.
That scared me! You successfully portrayed an obsessed freaky stalker murderer. It creeped me out, I keep looking behind my shoulder when I hear something. Thanks a lot.
It was very well written, the imagery was superb and I could see everything that was going on. When I first started reading it, my mind was trying to debate whether this was a love story or a pschopath weirdo that was stalking her, so it was kind of a shock but not at the same time... wow I'm making a lot of sense.
Anyway, fabulous job on the creepy stalker story--I will officially have nightmares tonight!
I have to say I'm surprised by how many girls are liking this - I mean, that is to say, so far its seems like an all female audience applauding (apart from the one) a story about a man killing a woman XD
I am more than a little concerned.
Thanks for your nice comments though,
Cheers
I really, really, really like this! The voice of the killer in the story is so smooth, so realistic. It's as if I can hear him narrating beside me, his entirety calm and unhurried. The killer knows what he's doing; he knows it's right and you showed us just that. Definitely awesome! Everything just flowed right!
If you'd continue with this, please PM me. I'm looking forward to it!
Ah, thank you both for those comments. I don't know if I should write another installment, but then this one didn't really take too much time or effort so I might as well.
It's great to hear people are liking this piece - means I'm not the only weird one :p
Oh, wow. This is truely remarkable.
. I'm excited for the next installment, if there is one, I mean. Which I'm sure there will be. But, anyhow, this was really really something! There were only a few things, which I mentioned below. 
. Keep up the great work!
"It is busier here, but I melt into the crowd and am lost in a dizzying rush of colours and odours."
"The bands of steel latch closed over her smooth reasts and alabaster legs; so slim, cool and perfect."
Should the sentence read "Even amongst them, she is the most wonderful"? It adds the certain... flair that makes her more important than the rest.
Sincerely,
*~*Kiss*~*
Hey Jig!!
I really loved this piece its weird but at the same time you feel happy!=) Well anyways this wasn't confusing at all because I kinda figured he was some kind of serial killer from the moment he kept watching where she was going. Sure he could have just been in love with her but since I grew up on Law & Order and shows about psychopaths I knew exactly where this was leading to.
All in all, great job. Keep writing,
Angel
Okay, first off, thanks to all for commenting. I wrote this last night as I was waiting for a video to upload, in an effort to stave off boredom :p
So I'm definetly happy to get some good responses.
Some of you question his motives, which I thought were clear, but perhaps not. He killed her (and the others) to basically ensure that age wouldn't tarnish her beauty. Hence the comment about the lack of wrinkles and how he'd done a good job etc.
He also believes the stars are literally demanding this of them, the returning of "angels" - not gods/godesses Colleen - to the skies.
So, not really your garden variety serial killer XD.
Thanks again!
Congratulations, you're the most recent recipient of one of my rare fiction critiques. Take a picture or something.
Meaning and purpose. I almost feel as though I've read this piece before...the creepy stalker following the beautiful woman and then killing her...yeah, it doesn't speak to me, I guess? Something like this has to be written very well to be properly pulled off, and I don't think you're there yet. What are we supposed to take away from it? He worships the woman, and so releases her from her earthly bonds with murder.
Characterization and voice. I like the way we don't know at first that the narrator is a stalker; in the first few paragraphs, he might just be a shy guy afraid to talk to a woman, but toward the end of the first section and definitely in the second section, our perceptions of him change very suddenly even though his tone has remained constant.
But as Holly said, I wish I knew him better. His motives themselves seem familiar enough, at least from watching enough SVU and murder mystery movies (your narrator reminded me a little bit of Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs in his voice and his "Fly away" thing), but his personality seems a little bland. He's typical as far as psychos go.
His characterization of the girl is also typical. He views her as perfect, which I suppose he should if he's that type of stalker. But it's boring to read! The comparisons to birds, the notes on her kind personality, the use of "alabaster" to describe her legs, the constant comparisons to gods (see "lesser mortals"). I wonder why, though, he commands her to "Bloom" at the end, like a flower, when the previous comparisons have either been to goddesses or birds?
Also, why is Victor the only person with a name?
Imagery and metaphor. As I just said, the description of the girl is typical at best. But here are some parts I really liked:
(Actually, I love the personification of the setting in the whole second part.)
-Colleen
Wow! You're an excellent writer! I must say I know exactly what goes on in a creepy stalker/madman's mind now. Hee hee. Anyway, I love your descriptions. They are very original and poetic. I only wish that there was more of a description of this girl that this guy is crazy about. More than just the color of her dress and her... er... ahem. I suppose I would also like to know just a little bit more about your MC's motives. Why does he kill all these people and keep them? Is it so he can have them always or something? But if that's the whole point, to keep us wondering, than please leave it the way it is. It's just me, as an individual; I like more answers than questions. Anywhoo, lovely atmosphere to your story, description. It's very eerie and creepy, which I love.
Holly
This is wonderful! I love the chilling voice of the narrator, the simple horror of his mission, and the ample amount of mystery that the reader is left with. You do a good job not revealing the answers to the "why" questions; it really makes the reader not want to stop.
The only sentence that distracted me in any way was this one:
The "a void desperate to be filled" is just a bit awkwardly placed; I like that the MC thirsts for fear, but maybe you could use a slightly different image to convey that desire.
Your style is polished, and this is the kind of story where you can't stop reading it until you are done. Are you going to expand on this idea, or is this really the end? Either way, it's fantastic.
River
Hi. Can I just say, first of all, that this was absolutely beautiful, this story? It had all the right elements to it.
Yeah... there shouldn't be an apostrophe there. But I guess you know that.It's
Wow, fabulous imagery here. Can just picture it.
Again, apostrophe needed.
Should really be: ...and I smile. "Soon," I whisper.
Great, great, great. You're such a good writer!
I think a semi-colon would be better placed here, rather than a comma.
Okay, so over-all? I think it is perfect. Not a fault to it. I love how you have compared the MC's victims to a collection, that they are angels and the MC bizarrely thinks he's doing the world a service.
I think you effectively got into the mind of a killer, of a 'madman'.