Our heroine thought she’d post a sample of her writing today, dear Reader.
Note that it’s extremely different from what I’m writing now. It’s an odd, old vignette from some fifteen years ago. Even then, I considered it strange.
he only knew that he wanted and that he had wanted for such a long time that he couldn’t remember any more what it was like to have. briefly, he thought of all those nice words that normal people used, words like “desire” and “yearning.” years ago he had passed those. years ago when he had been normal people. the want filled him, fueled him. the want defined him.
the bus was crowded, making it easy for him to be alone. it took all his attention to block out the sounds, the smells of all those bodies. sometimes a tentacle of odor got through his barrier, climbing into his brain and shaking it. he drew further into himself, the want beating like a pulse in his brain.
the “excuse me” was fused in time with the sudden slamming of flesh on his head. like an explosion, that moment fired into his mind, holding it captive, held captive itself by the wanting. he turned stared at her as she pushed her way out of the seat behind him. he realized she was looking at him with an odd expression. apologetic? maybe that was it. after all, she had said, “excuse me” when she bumped into him.
it was hours later, that moment still frozen in his brain, that he realized something. something that might be important. the clumsy woman’s smell hadn’t made him want to puke. and the want had shifted. it was later still when this made him laugh. the sound made his eyes hurt.
the bus was crowded. he withdrew, blocking out. glancing around, he noticed the people on the bus as though for the first time. indeed, it probably was the first time. normal people. all around him. he tried to withdraw, but the want made him look at them some more. he wondered which one of them had bumped into him. he thought about trying to smell for her, which made the want grin. when he finally made it to the apartment, he puked.
each day, he peered a bit at the normal people. there were too many of them. they were everywhere, not just on the bus. they were on the streets. in the store where he bought food and soap.they were even on his tv. he liked that. he could look at them without smelling them. he usually looked at them without hearing them. he kept the sound turned off.
That was from about 1990, I’m guessing. Like I said, even odd for me at the time. I liked it, though. I must have to have kept it all these years. However, when I’ve shared it with friends, they’ve given me odd looks and backed away slowly.
Perhaps I’ll share some of my current writing with you soon. You’ll be able to compare and contrast the pieces. In any case, I welcome your feedback.