08/28/00 - 10:55 PM

I don�t think I can finish a novel. All I seem to be able to do is write these excerpts from potential stories. Not a beginning, not an ending. Just the middle, the meat. And I don�t finish. I don�t resolve the conflict, I don�t let the lovers make up, I just leave it all abruptly, losing interest in the story line faster than I lose interest in men.

Now that is a scary thought.

But sometimes I get these pieces of stories stuck in my head, I see the scene played out in my mind. I watch it closely, I take notes with my love of writing. I have to write it, I have to spit out the best way I know how. Even if its only the meat...

�It�s nothing, it�s stupid.� She said peering at him closely, blushing lightly. Quite pretty with her face shaded pink.

�Tell me,� He coaxed, tucking her hand into his and leading her outside where it was quieter. She blushed more now but followed obediently, wanting to pull away from the crowd and find herself alone with this tall, handsome stranger.

�I get the feeling,� she continued, stumbling over words and her nervousness as she became very aware of his flesh pressed so tightly against her.

�Well,� she stammered some more, losing herself in his hypnotic gaze. �Have we met before?� She finished finally, blushing deeply again, averting her eyes.

�No my dear,� he said and she basked in his charm.

�No, I am quite sure we have not.� He grinned down at her and she smiled back entranced. She opened her mouth to object, something about him was familiar.

�Because you see,� he continued as she felt cold metal press against her neck, she blinked for a second, not understanding.

�I have been watching you for awhile my sweet Christine.� He pressed deeper into her skin and with the trickle of blood that ran down her skin came understanding.

�I watch you walk across campus,� his breathe was hot in her ear. �I watch you kiss your teddy bear goodnight.� She started to cry as the real terror set in.

�I watch you talk to your friends, I watch you stare at yourself in the mirror ten minutes in the morning giving yourself a pep talk.� She trembled.

�Yes, I know you Christine.� He dug deeper into her soft flesh, �but you don�t know me at all.� And with a fluid motion, like the stroke of a paintbrush, he slit her open, her blood gushed out onto his palm, he grinned and gave her a kiss before turning and walking away, leaving her slumped in the alley dying.