\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1338711-The-Neighbor
Item Icon
Rated: GC · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1338711
The sense of touch is the best to feel, but the hardest to control
THE NEIGHBOR


Disclaimer: This short story may contain scenes and images that may be objectionable and turbulent to other readers. The use of first person point of view does not indicate the condition of the author

         The faint glow of the sun's ray refracting on the window blinded me for a few seconds. I was waiting-- waiting, waiting, waiting. The whistle of the kettle blows angrily-- shouting at me. But-- I can't hear it. From where I stand, I stare at the porch of the house across the street. He's coming later. He's coming. It's seven...

         There! Oh th-there he is. How dashing. How tall and slim his build is. His neck-- how long and slender. His arms peep out from the sleeves of his green polo. I want to touch his hands, then his arms, then his chest, then his neck-- I want to run my fingers over his smooth fair skin...

         I want to possess his body, even for just a cold, lonely night. I've been waiting patiently. And as I wait patiently, I become more impatient.

         More impatient.

         After walking out of his door, he looks at my way and waves at me. That smile, those lips, that face-- just adorable. I could not take my eyes off him.

         The whistle of the kettle blows at its angriest, and now I could hear it. He had walked away to his work, and all the senses numbed by his sight just suddenly regained feeling. I ran to the stove and turned it off. I then made my daily cup of coffee.

          And as I drink, the sight of him lingers on my mind. My desire to possess him grows intense as each morning passes. Each morning I wait for him.

         The coffee seems to be unusually sweet this morning. Sweeter than the past mornings. Sweeter than it ever was. I then stood up and opened the radio. And then came some familiar lines...

         Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me, twice on the pipe if the answer is no...Oh my sweetness, means you'll meet me in the hallway...

         Knock Three Times by Tony Orlando and Dawn. Could my coffee being unusually sweet mean that he would meet me?

         Ever since he moved here, my days have never been brighter. It all started with a schoolgirl crush, but it then grew to this desire. It was last New Year. That urge just-just came. And it's been growing ever since...




         It was a sunny Saturday. I sat on my porch-- waiting. It is seven o'clock. Maybe it wouldn't be over the top to invite him to dinner. Maybe just get to know him better. Then rub my hands over his shoulders. Then slide my lips on his neck and--

         There he comes. Picking the daily paper. I waved at him. He waved back. I then ran across the street to his house."

         "Dinner-- um, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

         His eyes-- I could not stop staring at them. My blood was rushing fast. i could feel it close to my skin.

         "Sure. I'm not doing anything on Saturday nights. Thanks"

         He then held my right hand. His long fingers lay over mine. My fingertips could feel his smooth skin. I was trembling inside. Trembling. Trembling...

         "You're the best neighbor I ever had", he said. How it echoed. How it echoed...

         When I arrived home, I rubbed my hand on my cheek. I could feel him...

         I could feel him...




         The champagne glasses were ready, filled with sparkling champagne. The bottle was secured on the bucket just beside my plate. The candles smelled so fragrant. The food was set. I sat there, wearing a sleek, sexy red cocktail dress. I sat there waiting-- waiting...

         Everything was set. How I've waited long for this...

         Ding-dong, ding-dong...

         I stood up and opened the door. There he was, in front of me. He was always dashing. He wore a black polo and a pair of jeans. He was smelling good. Goosebumps seemed to grow on my skin. Time seemed to freeze. As we sat on the chairs, my eyes were clandestinely staring at his long slender neck...

         We chatted the whole night. His voice. How it sounds like music to my eyes.  So manly... and the corner of my eyes peeped at his almost exposed chest. The tension was high... very high.




         "Um, hey, um, I was just wondering. Would you like to dance?"

         A smile radiated from his face. "Sure, I would love to."

         He stood from his chair as I went to the record player and played an ever familiar tune...

         Hey girl what you doing down there, dancing alone every night while I live right above you...

         My hands were over his shoulders, his around my hips. I could not help staring at his eyes. How I could feel the blood rush fast. I rubbed my hands on his broad shoulders. And as we felt lost in the reverie of the melody, I then pressed my warm lips against his long, slender neck, and soon my hands spread around his chest...

         "Hey... wh-what was that for?"

         He held my wrists tight. I was breathing deep. I tried to kiss his neck once more-- such short but sublime joy! But then he shoved me, and I fell beside the table.

         "You're creeping me. I'm-I'm outta here."

         He then walked to the door. I grabbed a steak knife from the table and then walked fast, chasing him. The candle wax began to melt...

         "God! Jesus Christ!"

         The steak knife stuck on his back. He was crawling to the door, gasping for air in pain. I then rode behind his back...

         Oh my darling knock three times on the ceiling if you want me...

         "No! Stop!"

         Twice on the pipe, if the answer is no...

         The sound of silver piercing on flesh continued to fill the air...

         Oh my sweetness, means you'll meet me in the hallway

         The white carpet had turned red...

         Twice on the pipe, means you ain't gonna show...




         My hand was coated with a crimson coat. I could smell that rusty scent around the whole room. The steak knife laid beside his head-- painted in that horrific shade of red. I could taste the specks of blood on my lips. His eyes faced the left wall. It was silent. The candle wax had melted halfway. Suddenly, a very deep hunger attacked me. It was not hunger for food. It was hunger for something else...

         I turned his cadaver over. I now have his body. I've waited long to crawl on him...

         I began with the neck. I ran my lips around his long, slender neck. Oh, how warm it feels! His smooth, fair skin tingles my senses. I went deeper, and then fondled my lips on his chest as I pulled off the buttons of his polo. How smooth was his skin! I let my fingers run over it. I could feel goosebumps just sprouting like mushrooms. I licked his abdomen, and that tingling sensation made me giggle.

         Oh how my cold, lonely nights have been finally warmed. I soon felt tired, and laid my head on his chest, running my fingers on his long, slender neck.

         "You're mine now. How I've waited for this moment..." And everything went dark. The song continued to play, but I could not hear it...





         I woke up, groggy from my sleep. I woke up, finding myself over a cold hard cadaver. Rigor mortis. His smooth fair skin became cold and a little coarse. His muscles have hardened. My hands have become dark red. I then ran to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Coagulated blood specks dotted my face. My hair was all messed up.

         I then sat down on the bathroom floor. I could not remember anything that happened that night. Tears washed away those blood specks. And as I sat there crying, I could hear a knock on the door...

         "What?"

         "Turn that down will ya. That song's been playing for hours!"

         I then heard the door creak. I ran to the crime scene. One of our neighbors stood there-- shocked. Her eyes were glued on the bloody cadaver staring at the ceiling.

         "Oh, oh no... no! There's a killer here, help!"

         "I didn't mean to do it!"

         She tried to run, but then I chased her. I tackled her there at the porch. And she was screaming loud. Screaming, screaming...

         "Help! She's going to kill me too!"

         I then slapped the taste out of her mouth. But it did not stop her from screaming. From afar, I could hear the sound of sirens. The sound of sirens...

         I left her lying there, bawling out loud. I ran as fast as I can, but as I tried to pass through the other end of the road, the cops cornered me. I knelt on the ground, covered in blood.

         "Freeze! Put your hands up in the air!"

         I stood up, and then tried to run a distance. But even before I could've moved an inch, gunshots pierced through my back. That sensation-- that penetration-- the music continued playing on the background as I laid on the concrete road, gasping for air in pain. All the things that happened last night came to my mind. The music lingered on my mind as I closed my eyes.

         I just wanted to touch him. And I have touched him. I have possessed him. I have no regrets...

         The music still lingered on my mind. How it played that whole night...

         Twice on the pipe means you ain't gonna show...





© Copyright 2007 palomablanca (palomablanca at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1338711-The-Neighbor