Instructions: Read the short story and once you’re done (scroll to the end of the story) VOTE on whether this story should be turned into a novel or novella. And if you don’t think the author should keep going, we have a choice for that too.
“Silent & In Awe”
First off, I would like to apologize for frightening you earlier today. I admit I may have acted a bit unusual. It was already getting a bit late, and the rain was steadily becoming heavier with time.
If it wasn’t for that lousy umbrella of mine, I feel things would have gone a bit smoother. Even so, the main reason why I had decided to approach you in that moment, was because I wanted to finally introduce myself.
I’m unsure if you are aware, but we’ve successfully passed each other every day (starting in May), at the same time (6:20 in the evening), on the same street (Grandin Ave.), for the last few weeks or so.
Why I decided to choose the ugliest day to do so, is beyond me—but I thought it is best to make a good first impression. That is before our routine interaction was to suddenly come to an end.
The truth (before I clumsily approached) is that I decided to stop and watch you as you sauntered towards wherever you were headed for the night.
Wearing a bitten lip, tussled hair, and your head held so high that rain slowly trickled down your neck. You became more and more captivating—or should I say…unique?
I bet you have heard those words a hundred times before, perhaps not in the same order. Trust me when I say, I have struggled to come up with a myriad of different ways to illustrate your beauty.
Should I call it blissful and exquisite? What if I labeled it as something rare and never to be found? I had even stumbled across the phrase, ‘too lovely to touch.’
Unfortunately, neither one of the contradictory terms exemplified your full, physical potential. And then the most drastic thing happened…you stopped at the curb (it was so sudden; I thought my mind had played tricks on me again) the one that connected Grandin to Detroit Avenue.
The curb that was just a few feet away. I swear, if it weren’t for me tripping over my untied shoelaces and uncomfortable stutters just to get to your end of the sidewalk, we may have had something decent to discuss over coffee. That was the plan.
Nonetheless, as I will soon visit your home again for the fifth night in a row. Standing behind the withered oak tree you never seem to notice. Gazing upon your beauty as you pass by the upstairs, bedroom window time and time again. I wonder what song it is you sing every night.
Hopefully, I’ll find out soon enough. Hopefully, I’ll find out everything I need to know about you. Hopefully, I will no longer find it hard to speak, while viewing your beauty as captivating, stunning, and unique.
Keep up with Lillian Taylor on the internets HERE
If you want to submit your short story, submit it HERE.
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