Status: PROGRESSSS!!!
The Memoir of Irene Parsons
Erie, Pennsylvania
2:42 AM. November 17th
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He stretched out his long legs over the leather sofa in his apartment. He seized the remote control and flipped through the entire spectrum of channels, twice, before he even realized what he was doing. The euphoria hadn’t gone away just yet.
In the midst of covering up his tracks, he stumbled upon his next pursuit. She looked just like his first love in her face, but her body… damn.
He dug a small knife from the pocket of his jeans and dug bits of dried blood from his fingernails. The police scanner on the table next to him screeched to life with the reports of a dead woman, obviously the victim of foul play. What a mess he had made with her.
He smiled, despite his greatest attempts to stifle his orgasmic feeling of accomplishment. The police investigated the woman’s house lightly, not even beginning to unravel the tightly knit story this man had written in blood. He found it hard to believe how stupid men could be sometimes. He lived three blocks away from the woman’s house and workplace, but nobody ever put two and two together.
They never did.
He listened to the scanner intently, but kept his eyes focused on the crack below the door to his apartment. The dim light of the hall shone just bright enough to see the shadows of people as they walked by. Soon, he knew, she would be coming back to her own apartment. Irene.
He knew she looked familiar when he saw her at Terra’s.
He figured that she hadn't lived there for very long if Velma hadn't known her name. He liked Velma. She would live. Irene poured over her maps in a way that suggested she was looking to go somewhere, he thought. Though she hadn't lived in Erie for long at all... What was she running from?
He stopped his thought’s dead in their tracks when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. They clicked like high heels, just like what she wore. She looked like a dirty sin on a Sunday night.
He held his breath in intense anticipation as he watched her shoes walk past his door. The light perfectly outlined her ankles and the ungodly height of her shoes. She had tiny feet.
Irene lived two apartments away from him. The man could hear her work with her keys and open the door. Her door was always the loudest one, even before she lived there. Tomorrow, he would wait for her. She will be at Terra’s. She will be his.
_____________________________
He stretched out his long legs over the leather sofa in his apartment. He seized the remote control and flipped through the entire spectrum of channels, twice, before he even realized what he was doing. The euphoria hadn’t gone away just yet.
In the midst of covering up his tracks, he stumbled upon his next pursuit. She looked just like his first love in her face, but her body… damn.
He dug a small knife from the pocket of his jeans and dug bits of dried blood from his fingernails. The police scanner on the table next to him screeched to life with the reports of a dead woman, obviously the victim of foul play. What a mess he had made with her.
He smiled, despite his greatest attempts to stifle his orgasmic feeling of accomplishment. The police investigated the woman’s house lightly, not even beginning to unravel the tightly knit story this man had written in blood. He found it hard to believe how stupid men could be sometimes. He lived three blocks away from the woman’s house and workplace, but nobody ever put two and two together.
They never did.
He listened to the scanner intently, but kept his eyes focused on the crack below the door to his apartment. The dim light of the hall shone just bright enough to see the shadows of people as they walked by. Soon, he knew, she would be coming back to her own apartment. Irene.
He knew she looked familiar when he saw her at Terra’s.
He figured that she hadn't lived there for very long if Velma hadn't known her name. He liked Velma. She would live. Irene poured over her maps in a way that suggested she was looking to go somewhere, he thought. Though she hadn't lived in Erie for long at all... What was she running from?
He stopped his thought’s dead in their tracks when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. They clicked like high heels, just like what she wore. She looked like a dirty sin on a Sunday night.
He held his breath in intense anticipation as he watched her shoes walk past his door. The light perfectly outlined her ankles and the ungodly height of her shoes. She had tiny feet.
Irene lived two apartments away from him. The man could hear her work with her keys and open the door. Her door was always the loudest one, even before she lived there. Tomorrow, he would wait for her. She will be at Terra’s. She will be his.