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Rated: E · Short Story · Fantasy · #1675864
Is he a stalker - or something very much worse? Will the young girl escape?
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The Homecoming





I wonder if she can sense my eyes upon her as she walks along the road, hair lifting in the wind, arms swinging easily, a magazine folded in her hand.  I know she is the one - I have known it since the first time I set eyes upon her  and I have already prepared a place for her. She's not the first, but I’m hoping she'll be the last. 

It has to be tonight.  There will be a full moon, and the wind is holding its breath, leaving a weird calm over the land.  It's always like this.  The hairs on the back of my neck are electric.  As I expected, she is dressed in her jogging gear. She is a creature of habit and I like that, always out for her run at the same time each evening.  It's easy to arrange my own schedule to coincide.  She doesn’t see me as I slip into the bus queue behind her, last in the line.  Only one person turns to look my way, an old man with thick glasses, and even then he barely gives me a glance.  This is good.  No one will remember me.  Sometimes they try to strike up a conversation which I find irritating.  Not that I have any problem talking - I can be a wonderful actor if need be. No one will be able to say a wrong word about me if they're questioned later.  The hardest part for me is playing down my natural charm, for I have no wish to be memorable - not tonight.

She climbs onto the bus and sits near the front, immediately unfolding her magazine.  I chose a seat behind her from where I can see the top of her sleek blond head, slightly angled,  and I breath in the soft flowery perfume she seems to favour.  I get off one

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stop after hers and walk quickly back towards the shore line. For a moment I feel a stab of fear.  What if I have been too presumptuous?  What if today she is going elsewhere?  With everything in place, how will I be able to contain my natural desires for another lunar cycle? 

As the blood heats up and races through my veins I run back, quickly but carefully so as not to draw attention to myself.  Relief pushes the breath from my body when I see her on her way to the beach.  All is well.  I slip backwards into the shadows.  There is still an hour at least of daylight to go.

Now, all that is left is the seduction for she must come willingly. She knows my face, for we have passed each other in the street. I occasionally drop into the shop where she has a Saturday job, and we have become nodding acquaintances.  Several weeks ago I discovered her hobby, and I also took up running along the beach at sundown.  At first I acknowledged her with a nod, a smile then a quick hello as we passed each other.  It’s all that’s expected of a fellow jogger encountered  en route.     

With any other girl it might have been difficult, striking up a conversation before they plugged themselves into their ipods.  Not so with this lady.  She runs free, with only the sounds of wind, sea and birds for company, the way nature intended it - I like that.

I am well aware of my prowess with women and I know she is already attracted to me. The first day our eyes met I saw the interest spark there.

I already know all about her.  She lives with her parents in a house not far from town, and works in a  shop at the weekends.  During the day she is a student. She has a boyfriend - a pimply, scrawny youth - not nearly good enough for her.  She attends a yoga class on Wednesday nights.  She brushes her hair with long sensuous strokes - I have seen her through her lighted window. Her bedroom is on the second

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floor, at the front, and she only draws her curtains when it gets very dark.  I know all this about her - and all she knows about me is that I am a good looking young fellow who probably lives in her locality and runs along the beach as the sun sets.

Tonight though, she is not running

There is a low mist drifting in from the ocean, suffusing the fading light, and  in the distance  a fog horn moans like a lost soul.  A lone seabird cries as he heads home to roost, the traffic in the town behind us is a muted drone and  the ocean washes against the shore in long slow rollers. She has stopped now, gazing out to sea. My eyes travel along the beach to the right, to the left and to the dunes behind.  Excellent.  It is as if we are alone on a wide expanse  of universe.

It’s been a while since I’ve been filled with this sense of the inevitable. The flickering excitement that starts in the pit of my belly grows upwards until I have to fight to keep each breath at a normal pace, to stop my eyes from glittering wildly, to keep my voice easy when I speak.  I have waited patiently for this day, ever since I was drawn to  this area.  There is always a reason why I am driven in a certain direction and now that reason stands before me, splendid in her solitude.

She bends down and picks up a shell.  There are fewer shells around these days - I wonder if she realises that.  She turns, catches sight of me and starts, immediately wary. I stop, clasping my hands together hoping she hasn’t noticed the tremble. I breath slowly.  Control - that is the key.  I should not have emerged from my hiding place so abruptly - I will have to be more careful.

‘Hello, there,’ I say, calm now and surprised by it.  ‘Nice evening.’    I limp towards her.

She hesitates.  ‘Yes, very nice.’ 

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I catch the shimmer of moisture at the corners of her eyes, the tremulous intake of breath, the quiver of the lower lip, and slow my pace.  This is better than expected.  Her tears give me a reason so stop. 

’Are you all right?’ 

‘Yes, fine.’  Her gaze lingers on me a moment, a flash of something - I‘m not sure what - in her wonderful eyes.  She lifts her determined little chin and forces a weak smile through her hurt and I know I was right about this girl.  I want to wrap her in my arms and protect her forever. 

‘Have you hurt yourself?’ she asks.

‘Think I’ve sprained my ankle.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She turns her face away.

I speak quickly in an attempt to put her at her ease - it wouldn’t do for her to be wary , and I must hold her attention. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you seem to be heading away from town.  It’ll be dark soon.  I don’t know if it’s safe for you to be out here alone.’  I smile, trying to exude respectability and honesty.  Aware of how attractive my smile can be to women, I use it to the best of my ability.

‘I’ll be fine.’ 

‘Only there is a bunch of lads further along, drinking.  They’re probably nice enough boys - it’s just that they were getting a bit loud.  When I saw you alone I was worried.  I thought I’d better warn you.’ Of course this is total fabrication.

‘Thanks.’

We both stand still for an awkward moment. I indicate my leg.  ‘I’m not running any more tonight.  If you like we can walk back together.’ 

She sniffs and blots her nose with a handkerchief.  Our eyes meet and she does not

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look away.  This time her smile is genuine.  ‘I’d like that.’ 

I smile easily, hiding my excitement. This is good.  This is how it should be. 

‘I’m a good listener,’ I say and after a moment’s silence.  ‘You’re not running tonight, and I can’t help feeling something’s wrong.’

‘I’m worried.  My boyfriend went out last night and didn’t come home.’

‘Maybe he went to a party - fell asleep. He could be home by now.’  I volunteer, knowing that was not so.  Knowing that she would not be seeing him again - ever.

‘We’d had a row. We broke up.  But I didn’t expect him to do something like this.’

I feel the trace of an icy finger down my back.

‘He’ll be back by now,’ I reassure her softly.  ‘If you were mine and you broke off with me, I would be pretty damn upset myself - I can tell you that.’

She smiles, a soft quivering smile and in her eyes is gratitude.

I take her hand and she allows it to lie in mine.  I gaze down into those still moist eyes, her smile widens and becomes more sincere and I sense the tenseness leave her  body. 

‘Are you very upset about the break up?’  I whisper.

‘Not any more.’

I tighten my grip and she leans against me.  I feel each breath she takes, and her warmth leaks into my body.  We walk a few steps . 

She speaks again. ‘Did you really sprain your ankle?’

I realise I am no longer limping.  ‘No, I wanted an excuse to stop and talk to you.  Do you mind?’

‘Of course I mind!’  but she said it lightly with laughter in her eyes.

‘‘I’ll walk you  to the taxi rank - where I could go home alone - or…’ I leave the

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question hanging in the air.

She doesn’t answer.

‘We can talk some more if you like.’ I say.

Behind us the orange lights of the town make a strange blush through the mists that have drifted inland.  Before us the sea glows strangely  in the newly emerging moonlight.  I look long into her eyes, watch them grow cloudy and I know her answer.  Her blond hair flows over her shoulders and I imagine it fanning out around her head as she sinks under the water.  She tilts her head backwards and I study the whiteness of her skin and the tiny pulse beat at her throat and trace it with my finger before I kiss her and feel the weight of her press against me.

‘We could swim,’ I whisper.

‘I’ve no costume,’ she laughs, nervous but excited at once.

‘Well?’  I raise my eyebrows.

She doesn’t resist as I lead her towards the ocean.  She allows me to help her out of her clothes and she helps me out of mine.  We walk slowly through the surf allowing the water to climb up our legs. We laugh and splash each other, tumbling over in the surf.  When our bodies come together I feel her skin cold against my own, and hold her tightly.  The water is deep here. There is no warmth now.

She tenses for a moment, suddenly wary.  ’Can we go back?’



‘No,‘ I say as I draw her downwards.  ‘We can  never go back.’  In the moonlight I see the terror in her eyes, and for a moment she tries to struggle against me, her hair fanning out in the water as I knew it would.  'It's okay,'I tell her. 'I'm not going to hurt you.'.  Then she relaxes, accepting the inevitable, whatever it might be. 

 

‘What are they?’  she breathes. As the sea is suddenly filled with dark bodies that swim silently around us.

‘It’s only the seals, my family, they’ve come to escort me home with my new wife,’ I whisper.    The fear in her eyes is now replaced by the dawning of understanding and a new excitement  I let go of her, for there is no longer any reason to hold her and my body is caught in the tremors of metamorphism.



Tomorrow morning there will be another missing teenager in the town.  They will assume she has drowned  as they will find her clothes on the beach, and beside them they will find a pair of sealskin trousers that they will not understand.



End





Approx  2070 wds
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