Story in First Person

Wow, I managed to write a post while I was on vacation but then once I was at home all of the tasks I needed to catch up on distracted me from posting. So sorry. I’ve been dedicated to posting regularly and yet somehow I lost a week.

I decided to post a story that I’m having a lot of fun with. I work on it a little here and a little there. It’s the first story that I’ve written in first person, so it is a bit harder for me to write. I read the story in my writers group and got some good reactions to it. Here is the first page. I hope you enjoy it.

I first saw him at Crystal’s slumber party when I was ten. He was older, like the cute guys in the movies that the girls all wanted to date. He was beautiful. I pointed him out to my friends but no one but me could see him. He moved gracefully to a chair and sat down watching us. They accused me of trying to freak them out before bed. In truth, when I realized I was the only one that could see him, it terrified me as well. He hadn’t stayed long that first time. No more then five minutes.

I saw him many times after that but always when other people were around. After that first experience I learned not to say anything. His presence never scared me; it was more the fear that I was crazy. I didn’t want to find out that I had schizophrenia or something. Whenever I saw him he would smile and wave but I never heard him speak. I yearned to hear his voice. I was always drawn to him, like he would keep me safe, but whenever I approached him he would disappear before I could reach out and touch him.

Then when I was fifteen, I was walking home from school and a car pulled over and two men jumped out and grabbed me. I screamed and kicked but nothing I did kept them from dragging me toward their car. Unexpectedly my attackers let go of me and I fell hitting my head hard on the sidewalk, dazing me. I pushed myself up onto my elbows and noticed the men scrambling into their car. As they started to drive away I felt someone touch my arm. I flinched away, “Its okay, I’m not here to hurt you.” I looked over to see him, my mystery man, kneeling next to me concern etched on his face.

“How’s your head? You hit it pretty hard.”

It took me a moment to realize he’d asked me a question. “I’m . . . fine,” I stammered.

He had taken me gently by the arm and helped me up. “You should get home and rest.”

I had reluctantly started walking home, but after a few steps I had turned and looked back at him. He had smiled his kind, beautiful smile and said, “go on.” I had walked to the end of the block and couldn’t help turning to get another look before I went around the corner but he was gone. I shouldn’t have been surprised; I knew he never stuck around long. This time I had felt different though, emptier.

That was the last time I’d seen him, that is until tonight. It’s my twenty first birthday and my friends had taken me out to a club to celebrate. There I was in the middle of laughing at something Crystal had just said, when I saw him. All I could do was stare. It’d been six years, I’d never expected to see him again and then there he was, smiling at me.

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