So I found this lurking around on my desktop, and I honestly can't remember when I wrote it.... Or what it was supposed to be about... Or anything like that. How weird! It's like the phantom Plot Bunny....... I wish I could remember when I wrote it. It must have been while I was at Hampshire, since I didn't have this computer before then. But it's clearly not from my DIV III.... Also, my room must have been a dissaster area at the time.... Hmmm....
I have often watched people walking down the streets. Getting a tiny glimpse into their lives, never knowing exactly who they are and what they’re doing. Its better that way. It leaves me free to imagine them, to create the lives that I want them to have. This one is a surgeon on his way to an emergency. This one a banker off to be unfaithful. That one a young actress hoping for her big break.
And, of course, best of all, none of them know I’m doing it. I can control their lives from afar, creating their happily ever afters, and they never have to know that I’m there. Safe in my anonymity, I control the world.
Sometimes I follow the basic plot line. Pretty girl off to meet her prince charming. Prince ready to rescue his princess. Sometimes I like to get creative. The man with the hunch marries the successful young attorney. The princesses find each other. The ugly step sister gets the prince after all. It depends how cruel I’m feeling.
But sometimes no one gets their happy ending. Sometimes the young farm boy is just a young farm boy. Sometimes the princess is stupid and not worthy of love. Sometimes I let the witch win.
And down there on the streets, the people have no idea. They go about their little lives, never knowing that for one shining moment they were someone else. Someone better. Or worse. Only I know. And that’s what makes it so fun.
This morning there was a particularly difficult case. I usually try to find people who stand out in some way, who catch my eye. But there was nothing special about this girl. She was utterly average. So why did I keep looking at her? I watched as she loitered around a street vendor and wondered where she fit into the story. Not the princess, not the witch, not even the stepsister. She was.... I stared after her as she walked, wondering what it was about this utterly average girl that wouldn’t let me look away. Her hair was brown and hung to her shoulders. She wasn’t thin, but she wasn’t fat either. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. There were probably a hundred girls who looked exactly like her. And yet... She turned a corner and disappeared, and for the first time I wished I knew where she was actually going.
Don’t be silly. She’s just some girl.
I shook my head and got stiffly off the window seat, cursing as I stepped on something sharp. I glanced down and saw that my entire floor was covered in paper clips. When had that happened? In fact, my entire apartment was a pig stye. Every square inch of floor was covered in discarded clothes, bits of crumpled up paper, and what looked suspiciously like old food. When was the last time I had cleaned this place? I didn’t dare look in the kitchen.
I dodged the junk on my floor and made my way over to the computer. A mountain of crap had partially covered my desk, hiding the computer screen from sight. I swept it all off onto the floor and sat down. It hummed to life with a familiar sound and I opened my files. There it was. I double clicked on the icon and waited as my document opened.
God, I hate work perfect.I decided that I wold ignore the blatant formatting errors and got straight to work.
"Who was she, this mystery woman? What was it about her that made you stop and stare? How could someone so normal be so captivating?" I paused, then erased it all. "She was just like me. Just like you. But something about her screamed that she was different. That there was something special hidden just below the surface waiting to jump out at you."
"Knock knock!" James burst through my door with all the subtlety of a raging boar. I cursed myself once again for giving him a key. "Jeez Jen, this place is even worse than usual!"
"Hello James. Nice to see you too."
"I know it is." He pushed a pile of papers off my couch and flopped down. He reminded me of a young colt, all angles and restless energy. His black hair hung casually into his eyes, though I knew it must have taken a lot of time and product to make it look so perfectly nonchalant. His blue eyes scanned my living room like it might at any time come alive and eat him. He was, as I had always noticed, a strangely good looking boy. He was oddly proportioned, his eyes just a bit to far apart, his mouth just a bit to wide, his nose an inch to long. But it all came together to form a near perfect whole. In anyone’s story he would be the hero.
"Have you been outside at all since the last time I saw you?"
I blushed quickly and glanced away. I knew I must look a fright. My mousy hair was limp and hadn’t been brushed in... Well, I wasn’t sure the last time I brushed it. I was wearing the same sweats I had slept in, and I knew I must be very pale. In truth, I hadn’t been outside all week.
"Shut up James. It’s none of your business." I turned back to my computer.
"As a matter of fact, it is my business. I promised Sadie that I wold look after you."
I grimaced. Even halfway around the world Sadie still thought she could run my life.
"James, I am a grown woman. I don’t need anyone to look after me."
"Obviously." He wrinkled his nose. "What’ve you got for grub?" He stood and headed for the kitchen.
"I wouldn..." Too late.
"Holy shit! It smells like something died in here!" He poked his head out of the kitchen. "You didn’t have a cat did you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Get out James."
"No way! I bet there’s a whole new life form in here!" He disappeared again. I tried to go back to work.
"What is this? Was it cheese?" I attempted to tune him out, focusing only on the words on my screen. "WO! I think this ham may be alive!" I continued typing. "JENNA! He slid around the corner, his eyes wide. "There is a mummified lizard in your fridge!" I sighed. "No, I’m serious! It must have died in there, and now it’s all dried out and gross! What have you been eating anyway?"
I pointed to the discarded take away boxes strewn all over the floor.
"Riiight." He took a good look at me. "Okay. Get up, we’re cleaning your house."
"James..." He held up one finger, silencing me.
"No protesting! This place is not fit for human life!" He began carefully crossing my floor. "Where are your trash bags?"
"Trash bags?"
He sighed. "Okay. No trash bags. Of course not." He looked around one more time and grimaced. "I’ll be back." He made his way slowly toward the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I am getting some serious cleaning supplies. This has gone on long enough!" He opened the door, before turning back menacingly. "And when we’re done here, we are going outside!" He slammed the door dramatically behind him. I turned back to my computer and opened my email.
"Dear Sadie,
I would appreciate it if you called James off. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. As you know, I’m not a kid anymore. Please BACK OFF.
Love,
Jennifer.
I hit send and leaned back in my chair, a large wingtip I had found on the side of the road. I thought about going back to the mystery girl, but the mood was broken. I’d just have to hope someone else interesting would come along.
I settled myself back in the window seat and looked out. There, right in front of my building, stood James. He grinned, pointed up at me, and winked. He then began to dance all over the block, waving his arms and turning cartwheels in front of all the dumbstruck passsersby. I couldn’t help it, I began to laugh. He just looked so.... James. God, what kind of story would he make... Jester. Prince. Farmhand with a heart of gold...
My musings were interrupted by a beep from my computer. "You’ve got mail." Excellent.
Jen,
Nice try. I’m not telling James anything. If you want to get rid of him you’ll just have to do it yourself. Besides, I know you. Someone has to make sure you eat and get fresh air and all that important stuff.
See you in a month,
Sadie
I sighed and deleted the message before checking the one after it.
Dear Ms. Sommers,
We regret to inform you that your latest story "The Doctors Real Fairytale"is not suitable for publication in our manuscript. We feel that it is not realistic enough to interest our readers. We do, however, appreciate your particular writing style, and would be interested in receiving more prose from you. If you could send us something more suited to our publication we would be interested in considering it.
Sincerely,
Jonah Brown
Executive Publisher of somewhere