Storm - Part One

STORM - PART ONE

I saw him first when I was walking down one of the tiny back streets on my way up to the Minster. It was odd, I thought, for one like him to stand the way he did, loitering on the corner without apparent intent or purpose. He wore such fine clothes, yet was clearly in no rush to get to the Cathedral. What other reason could he have, then, for wearing such garments?

I hurried on.

As I rejoined the main street I was again pressed in the huddle of the crowds all heading for the beautiful Minster. I thought nothing more of him until I suddenly spotted him again, at the edge of the crowds, hands deep in his coat pockets, that same suspicious look of nonchalance about his face. What surprised me more was that for a moment, his eyes seemed to be staring straight into mine, an unreadable expression written across them, and then he turned away again, and it all seemed just a dream, a distant memory as if a thousand years old.

But his eyes. I still remember the way I shivered as though long, icy fingers had just for a moment, reached out and...touched me. So deep! So dark! So desirable! It was a feeling I shall never, ever forget.

My name is Annabelle. I am recording this, perhaps because I feel the need to, perhaps because I fear that my stumbling memory will eventually wipe away the events - though I find that a little difficult to believe.

Still, it seems, I never was a good believer.

The service bored me. It always bored me, but especially so this morning. I wasn't quite able to rid myself of that chilling moment, when this complete stranger, who I had only seen twice this morning, had looked straight at me.

It's a trap, part of my paranoid, teenage subconscious told me. It happened to that girl in London, didn't it? Some mysterious guy lured her into him, and then killed her. TRAP.

But another part was battling, as always.

You've only seen him twice. Ever. He probably just glanced at you...the way all guys glance at girls, my conscience added contemptuously. It's not like that's the first glance a boy has ever given you, Anna. Which, I realised, was perfectly true. Yes, I decided, he was just another guy.

But, of course, as had to be the way, he would not leave my head. His odd clothes! His all-too-easy posture! I tried to force him out, but could not.

I went into York again the next day, in the hope of possibly seeing him again, although I certainly would not have admitted so at the time. I went along, for the fear that I if did see him, I would not be able to...well, to what? I wasn't perfectly sure. To go up and talk to him, I suppose, but such a thing had actually seemed mad. He was so strange!

For a couple of hours I just wandered around the shops, pretending to be interested. Usually around the shops, I would be spending, spending, spending...but not today, it seemed. My heart was not in it...not even anywhere near it.

Lunchtime came, and I still had not seen him. I forced myself to buy and eat a sandwich, though I was not in the slightest bit hungry. I did not know what was in the sandwich; nor did I care. I was too busy searching?.

It was two o'clock when I eventually saw him. Exactly two o'clock, which was funny, I thought. The big clock was striking as our eyes met for the second time, but the sound was so far away, so distant. This time we were looking at each other for longer. It seemed centuries longer...but I can only have been as much as ten seconds, if that. And this time, more passed between us, know it. I don't know what passed between us, but it was something frightening, scintillating; it gave me such a warm feeling inside.