Nightmare Fuel, Day the Twenty-First - The Sentinal

Happy Sunday!

We're getting into the homestretch of this project, which I hope some of you have found an entertaining exercise. I'm having fun, and am considering continuing with some kind of daily writing project in November.

Today I really adored Kary Gaul's take on this, and Samantha Dunaway Bryant  gave us something short but with a nice punch at the end.

The Sentinal

"Psst! Wanna make a deal?"

I jump at the voice; I'm not too proud to admit that. After all, the streets are empty, except for me. Even here on her street, within view of her window. I know the spot well, knew where the streetlights cast the best shadows, where I can duck from her nosy and cruel neighbors, yet where I can see her window.

To make sure she's safe, to catch a glimpse of her if she comes outside. You see, I love her.

Anyway, this voice out of nowhere shakes me out of my skin, and there he is. Yeah, him, looking dapper. Like he belongs here, even if his shoes fit a little funny, like they're forced onto hooves. His goatee is black and oily, his eyes a shocking bright yellow, and he smelled of expensive aftershave and sulfur. Yeah, it's him alright. Offering me a deal.

"That seems like a bad idea. You're not known for offering good deals, of fair ones."

He laughs, a low chuckle that echoed off the stone facade of the attached homes, including hers. I really don't want him to make a scene out here with me. I've been chased away enough nights already. If this'll happen, I know I  have to get it over quick.

"Maybe.. something small. For her to notice me?" His smile widens, sending my heart beating faster. I had to be careful, "But not" I added, "in a bad way. In a pleasing way. But... gently at first. Just to notice me, and not to be scared, and not to be mad. And... can you keep the neighbors from calling the cops and chasing me away again? What would that cost, in a deal?"

I'm glad with myself. All those other suckers who ask for riches or power, they get greedy and ask too much. Me, I just want love.

"So.. she'll see you here and be pleased. None of the neighbors will chase her away. Anything else?"

I run through the possibilities in my head. This seems safe to me. And better yet, it's the right thing. If she is pleased with me, she'll be happy. We'll be happy together. That's what love is, right?

Image by Tomas Nilson

"Let's see..." He strokes that oily beard, "She wouldn't much like your face, so we'll take that away. And those clothes. And the way you walk..." As he speaks I find myself changing. My face melts away, then my clothes, and my body. I can still see without eyes, hear without ears. When he finishes speaking, I stand still, tall, featureless, immobile. He lifts me and sets me on a low plinth in the middle of the street.

"There. She likes minimalism. You'll please her fine." he leans close and whispers to the place that would be my ear, "and I HATE blokes who think they're more clever than I".


He may be the devil, but I have my bit of heaven; I have my place outside her window.

Forever.