| Horror and Thriller Fiction posted June 27, 2016 |
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Bob meets Sheila for the first time since childhood.
All in a Day's Work
by Ric Myworld
Starbucks was packed. People lined out the door, waiting.
Luckily, Bob had a table seat by the window, reading Stephen King’s new "Bazaar of Bad Dreams," and ironically, finding a mistake on page 53. Of course, King won’t receive any devastating two or three-star reviews.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a person’s shadow as she approached his table and hovered over him.
She spoke in the same soft, sweet, melodic tone that hadn’t changed since grade school. He would have known her voice anywhere.
Chilled with goose bumps, her mere presence still caused the hair on his arms to raise and his nervous stomach to flutter.
Afraid to look up, he prayed she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
She was the one. Her touch, the way she once felt, and the sweet essence of her bewitching perfume that, as always, invaded and controlled his dreams of every night since. Invisioned as his special someone of a lifetime.
He stood without ever looking up. Now, there they were, nose to nose and eye to eye like nothing had changed over all those years, and as if on cue, his mind went blank. All the words he had practiced every day, hoping someday for another chance to say them . . . and there he was, dumbfounded.
“Hi,” she said, as her long, thick lashes swept open and closed like an angel’s wings in cinematic slow motion around her stunning green eyes. The gloss glistened on her moistened kiss-me lips. His heart quivered.
“Hey,” he said, searching for the right words, with nothing witty coming to mind.
She laughed, shook her head, and flipped her lion’s mane of sparkling, highlighted auburn hair to one side. Of course, still at a loss, he just kept standing, looking stupid.
“Do you mind if I sit down,” she asked?
“Oh, please do.” He hustled to pull out her chair, sensing that he had better pick-it up or miss his chance to impress her. Giving his best shot, he said, “Hey . . . how have you been?” Okay, so his line wasn’t perfect, or even good, but it was better than nothing, or duh.
“I’ve been okay . . . and you,” she asked?
“Can’t complain . . . I don’t guess.” Then, there he sat. Blank brained. Thank goodness she spoke again.
“I've been hearing some great things about you and the new job.”
“You have? . . . From whom?” He was trying to speak properly and not act too surprised.
“News travels fast . . . big boy.”
“No one is even supposed to know that my position exists.”
“Well, then someone isn’t doing their job very well.”
“I guess not,” he said. Wondering how bamboozled he looked?
“Yes . . . you had better be more careful.”
“I guess you’re right . . .." Bob was growing more curious by the moment. What did she actually think his job was? "But it isn’t like it’s any big secret or anything.”
“If it isn’t . . . I would say it should be.”
“So what is it you think I do," he said? Hoping she might offer a hint into what she was thinking.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore here. How about I buy lunch?” Sheila offered.
“You mean right now?”
“Well . . . if you feel like eating?”
He wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. But he sure wasn’t going to miss any chance of a lunch date with Ms. Luscious.
He stood, offered his elbow, and they walked out the door arm in arm, appearing to be a happy and smiling couple.
<><><><><><>
“Pardon me, ma’am, but are you the eyewitness I’m supposed to speak with,” the officer asked?
“Yes, Sir, I think so.”
“Good. May I see your driver’s license . . . it will make things quicker, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure thing, Sir.”
After the police officer had gathered the woman’s personal information, he was ready to find out what she knew.
“Okay, now try to tell me exactly what you saw . . . in as much detail as you can remember?” He said.
“Yes. Well, let me see . . . .” The woman hesitated, obviously nervous. “The couple walked between cars as they left Starbucks. He led the way.
“I was heading toward them . . . and as they came closer there were three quick, really unfamiliar sounds . . . maybe like a butcher knife stabbing a watermelon. Sickening sounds!
“The man’s eyes opened wide, like in terror, or agonizing pain. He grabbed at his back and screamed out a horrifying ‘AH-H-H-h-h!’ He collapsed to the pavement. His knees hit first; then, his head smacked the ground with a thud.
“There she stood behind him—a knife in her hand, smiling—wearing a slinky, glittery-gold pants suit. She pulled her rubber gloves off from the inside out, pitching them and the bloody knife onto his back. Then, as she briskly walked away, I could hear her saying, 'No hard feelings, I hope,' it's just all in a day's work.'"
"By the time I looked up, again . . . she was gone."
Starbucks was packed. People lined out the door, waiting.
Luckily, Bob had a table seat by the window, reading Stephen King’s new "Bazaar of Bad Dreams," and ironically, finding a mistake on page 53. Of course, King won’t receive any devastating two or three-star reviews.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a person’s shadow as she approached his table and hovered over him.
She spoke in the same soft, sweet, melodic tone that hadn’t changed since grade school. He would have known her voice anywhere.
Chilled with goose bumps, her mere presence still caused the hair on his arms to raise and his nervous stomach to flutter.
Afraid to look up, he prayed she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
She was the one. Her touch, the way she once felt, and the sweet essence of her bewitching perfume that, as always, invaded and controlled his dreams of every night since. Invisioned as his special someone of a lifetime.
He stood without ever looking up. Now, there they were, nose to nose and eye to eye like nothing had changed over all those years, and as if on cue, his mind went blank. All the words he had practiced every day, hoping someday for another chance to say them . . . and there he was, dumbfounded.
“Hi,” she said, as her long, thick lashes swept open and closed like an angel’s wings in cinematic slow motion around her stunning green eyes. The gloss glistened on her moistened kiss-me lips. His heart quivered.
“Hey,” he said, searching for the right words, with nothing witty coming to mind.
She laughed, shook her head, and flipped her lion’s mane of sparkling, highlighted auburn hair to one side. Of course, still at a loss, he just kept standing, looking stupid.
“Do you mind if I sit down,” she asked?
“Oh, please do.” He hustled to pull out her chair, sensing that he had better pick-it up or miss his chance to impress her. Giving his best shot, he said, “Hey . . . how have you been?” Okay, so his line wasn’t perfect, or even good, but it was better than nothing, or duh.
“I’ve been okay . . . and you,” she asked?
“Can’t complain . . . I don’t guess.” Then, there he sat. Blank brained. Thank goodness she spoke again.
“I've been hearing some great things about you and the new job.”
“You have? . . . From whom?” He was trying to speak properly and not act too surprised.
“News travels fast . . . big boy.”
“No one is even supposed to know that my position exists.”
“Well, then someone isn’t doing their job very well.”
“I guess not,” he said. Wondering how bamboozled he looked?
“Yes . . . you had better be more careful.”
“I guess you’re right . . .." Bob was growing more curious by the moment. What did she actually think his job was? "But it isn’t like it’s any big secret or anything.”
“If it isn’t . . . I would say it should be.”
“So what is it you think I do," he said? Hoping she might offer a hint into what she was thinking.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore here. How about I buy lunch?” Sheila offered.
“You mean right now?”
“Well . . . if you feel like eating?”
He wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. But he sure wasn’t going to miss any chance of a lunch date with Ms. Luscious.
He stood, offered his elbow, and they walked out the door arm in arm, appearing to be a happy and smiling couple.
<><><><><><>
“Pardon me, ma’am, but are you the eyewitness I’m supposed to speak with,” the officer asked?
“Yes, Sir, I think so.”
“Good. May I see your driver’s license . . . it will make things quicker, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure thing, Sir.”
After the police officer had gathered the woman’s personal information, he was ready to find out what she knew.
“Okay, now try to tell me exactly what you saw . . . in as much detail as you can remember?” He said.
“Yes. Well, let me see . . . .” The woman hesitated, obviously nervous. “The couple walked between cars as they left Starbucks. He led the way.
“I was heading toward them . . . and as they came closer there were three quick, really unfamiliar sounds . . . maybe like a butcher knife stabbing a watermelon. Sickening sounds!
“The man’s eyes opened wide, like in terror, or agonizing pain. He grabbed at his back and screamed out a horrifying ‘AH-H-H-h-h!’ He collapsed to the pavement. His knees hit first; then, his head smacked the ground with a thud.
“There she stood behind him—a knife in her hand, smiling—wearing a slinky, glittery-gold pants suit. She pulled her rubber gloves off from the inside out, pitching them and the bloody knife onto his back. Then, as she briskly walked away, I could hear her saying, 'No hard feelings, I hope,' it's just all in a day's work.'"
"By the time I looked up, again . . . she was gone."
Luckily, Bob had a table seat by the window, reading Stephen King’s new "Bazaar of Bad Dreams," and ironically, finding a mistake on page 53. Of course, King won’t receive any devastating two or three-star reviews.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a person’s shadow as she approached his table and hovered over him.
She spoke in the same soft, sweet, melodic tone that hadn’t changed since grade school. He would have known her voice anywhere.
Chilled with goose bumps, her mere presence still caused the hair on his arms to raise and his nervous stomach to flutter.
Afraid to look up, he prayed she wasn't just a figment of his imagination.
She was the one. Her touch, the way she once felt, and the sweet essence of her bewitching perfume that, as always, invaded and controlled his dreams of every night since. Invisioned as his special someone of a lifetime.
He stood without ever looking up. Now, there they were, nose to nose and eye to eye like nothing had changed over all those years, and as if on cue, his mind went blank. All the words he had practiced every day, hoping someday for another chance to say them . . . and there he was, dumbfounded.
“Hi,” she said, as her long, thick lashes swept open and closed like an angel’s wings in cinematic slow motion around her stunning green eyes. The gloss glistened on her moistened kiss-me lips. His heart quivered.
“Hey,” he said, searching for the right words, with nothing witty coming to mind.
She laughed, shook her head, and flipped her lion’s mane of sparkling, highlighted auburn hair to one side. Of course, still at a loss, he just kept standing, looking stupid.
“Do you mind if I sit down,” she asked?
“Oh, please do.” He hustled to pull out her chair, sensing that he had better pick-it up or miss his chance to impress her. Giving his best shot, he said, “Hey . . . how have you been?” Okay, so his line wasn’t perfect, or even good, but it was better than nothing, or duh.
“I’ve been okay . . . and you,” she asked?
“Can’t complain . . . I don’t guess.” Then, there he sat. Blank brained. Thank goodness she spoke again.
“I've been hearing some great things about you and the new job.”
“You have? . . . From whom?” He was trying to speak properly and not act too surprised.
“News travels fast . . . big boy.”
“No one is even supposed to know that my position exists.”
“Well, then someone isn’t doing their job very well.”
“I guess not,” he said. Wondering how bamboozled he looked?
“Yes . . . you had better be more careful.”
“I guess you’re right . . .." Bob was growing more curious by the moment. What did she actually think his job was? "But it isn’t like it’s any big secret or anything.”
“If it isn’t . . . I would say it should be.”
“So what is it you think I do," he said? Hoping she might offer a hint into what she was thinking.
“Let’s not talk about it anymore here. How about I buy lunch?” Sheila offered.
“You mean right now?”
“Well . . . if you feel like eating?”
He wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. But he sure wasn’t going to miss any chance of a lunch date with Ms. Luscious.
He stood, offered his elbow, and they walked out the door arm in arm, appearing to be a happy and smiling couple.
<><><><><><>
“Pardon me, ma’am, but are you the eyewitness I’m supposed to speak with,” the officer asked?
“Yes, Sir, I think so.”
“Good. May I see your driver’s license . . . it will make things quicker, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure thing, Sir.”
After the police officer had gathered the woman’s personal information, he was ready to find out what she knew.
“Okay, now try to tell me exactly what you saw . . . in as much detail as you can remember?” He said.
“Yes. Well, let me see . . . .” The woman hesitated, obviously nervous. “The couple walked between cars as they left Starbucks. He led the way.
“I was heading toward them . . . and as they came closer there were three quick, really unfamiliar sounds . . . maybe like a butcher knife stabbing a watermelon. Sickening sounds!
“The man’s eyes opened wide, like in terror, or agonizing pain. He grabbed at his back and screamed out a horrifying ‘AH-H-H-h-h!’ He collapsed to the pavement. His knees hit first; then, his head smacked the ground with a thud.
“There she stood behind him—a knife in her hand, smiling—wearing a slinky, glittery-gold pants suit. She pulled her rubber gloves off from the inside out, pitching them and the bloody knife onto his back. Then, as she briskly walked away, I could hear her saying, 'No hard feelings, I hope,' it's just all in a day's work.'"
"By the time I looked up, again . . . she was gone."
 Recognized |
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A sweet friend of mine asked me this morning when I might post again. Having not given it much thought, lately, I just sat down and pecked this out. It's nice for someone to ask. Especially, when it comes from someone far more capable than me. :-)
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