The Walking Woman

I wrote this piece mainly to see if I could. wanted to get into the mind of someone who is truly, truly insane, and doesn't know it. It's about a man who stalks then kills a woman he has decided is in love with him. I think I should mention that I never actually even came close to this in real life, so don't get any ideas about me from this little ditty....

He stood at the window, watching the rain beat on the glass, thinking of her. Thinking about her long blond hair, her small, perfect mouth. "Why do you torture yourself?" asked a little voice in the back of his head. But of course he knew the answer to thst one already - he thought about her because he didn't have anything else to think about. He thought about her out of love, and habit.

Whatever reason he used to think of her, he was doing it again. The rain helped. It made him feel that the worst of the memories were washed away, even as he thought of them. On a dry day, he'd just feel dirty as they clung to his mind like wet and sweaty underwear clung to his crotch. Either way, wet or dry, it was still a sad business, the stuff that went on with her. And not so long ago that it wasn't still a fresh wound.

He had first noticed her as he sat in this very spot, looking out the window one morning. She was in a little group of friends, 5 or 6 people. He didn't immediately go out to meet her, but just sat there that first time, memorizing her every feature, her every gesture. She was the perfect object of beauty. He knew that he would have to arrange a meeting with her somehow. Later on he did, but that first time he saw her would always be burned into his memory. Her hair, her body, her hips, her legs - all imprinted themselves in his memory.

The next day and the next, he sat there and watched her, found she went for a walk at the same time every day, usually with the same friends, sometimes alone. Sometimes with a walkman strapped to her waist, sometimes expieriencing the city without any filters or distractions. And he thought of how to meet her, how to let her know he existed.

Finally, he couldn't stand just watching any longer. One day he decided that it was time to meet her. He left the apartment at the right time, dressed just right and waited. Sure enough, she came along and miracle of miracles - she was alone, without her walkman. Meeting her would be easier than he ever thought. She walked up to him, not really even noticing him, and he started to rehearse the speech he had came up with in his mind. She was in front of him now, and he started. And didn't get more than a single syllable out as she passed, not even glancing his way. He just continued to stare, dumbfounded. How could she not notice him? Didn't she even realize he was standing here, just to talk to her? He walked back into his apartment, to think.

As he prowled around his room, like a tiger in a cage, thoughts swirled in his mind. How could it be that she hadn't noticed him? She should have stopped and talked! And, deep down, was the voice that said "Don't be silly - she was just bashful. She's actually probably noticed you in the window every day, looking at her and she just doesn't know what to say..." and he listened. He knew what to do.