The Creative Competitor

The Stranger Fiction Competition

1st Prize: S. Walsh
2nd Prize: Maddie Barton
3rd Prize: Ruth Ford

Waiting

There he was again, dark tousled hair, mysterious deep set eyes and that angular shaven jaw. Head lowered, intent on reading his newspaper, she felt safe watching him through half-veiled eyes.

Natalie sighed; irritation welling up inside her. He seemed to be everywhere that she was of late. She would suddenly catch sight of his sullen features out of the corner of her eye, never seemingly looking at her but she could sense his interest. Somehow, she had acquired a shadow and unfortunately, her shadow had an aura of brooding intellect about it. Glancing again, she noticed how he frowned regularly, as if in deep disturbing thought, the crease line on his forehead told her that much went on behind his creamy smooth forehead.

Natalie leaned her head back on the seat. The air was stifling in the tube and space was limited. Some clumsy clot was swaying in front of her with the movement of the train, his large feet standing on her strappy sandaled toes. She tried to shuffle her feet to the side but was restricted by the large bag the woman next to her had placed on the floor. Natalie curled her toes up as much as she could to try and prevent them being squashed again. It wasn’t his fault of course, the tube was picking up pace and the ceiling straps were not enabling the man to stay still. If he only said sorry..

At last, her stop approached and she sprang lithely from her seat pushing her way through the crowds, her heart beating rapidly as she prepared for her quick exit. She wondered whether the handsome stranger was following her but didn’t dare look back as she raced out of the tube station. Placing her jacket hood over her burnished gold hair, she melted into the crowd and took the short cut home…alone.

The aroma of burned baked beans filled her small apartment and Natalie rushed to the cooker to remove them from the heat. She had so much on her mind that she didn’t really care much about food. Her stomach suddenly rumbling, denied her previous thought, maybe she was hungry tonight but with no more money until tomorrow when her pay check went in, she wasn’t able to buy even a replacement can of beans. Still the charring taste of burned beans no longer crucified her taste buds and she didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Not even the soft romantic glow of candlelight could detract from the dinginess of the flat but at least it was a place to call her own. The balcony was her favourite though and the double French doors allowed her access to a small space that allowed her to enjoy gardening on a very small scale. From her lofty perch, she could sit amongst the sweet fragrance of lavender and rosemary and view the busy streets below. No one noticed her watching the world go by and she preferred it that way.

Carrying her last glass of wine, she snuck out onto the balcony, the fresh air playing with her golden hair; and she filled her lungs with the appetising aroma of spices from the Indian restaurant further down the street. Peeking through the subtle green of her plants, her breath caught in her lungs. He was there, across the road, looking so alien in the dirty streets of London, his jacket expensive yet casual, and he was carefully propped against a lamp post looking down the road. He didn’t seem to be looking her way but she knew he was acutely aware of her as much as she was of him. She was reminded of a wild animal sniffing the wind for scent, waiting for a kill. Natalie froze, desperately wanting to peek into his mind and listen to the whirring of his thought processes. Was she in danger? She wasn’t sure. He had a dangerous air about him, sleek build but a contained strength that made her feel like an explosive response was possible.

She was lucky that the front and back of the old property was spread over two adjacent roads, so if she made her way down to the basement, she could walk through the dusty corridor by the laundry room and out into the other street. He would never see her but then where would she go to? If he stayed around he might catch her coming back in and she didn’t have a key for the alternative entrance. Heart beating irregularly, she realised that she had been clenching her eyes tightly shut and when she opened them, he had gone. Relief flooded through her in waves, perhaps he hadn’t been trying to find her, maybe she was just being paranoid, but when she closed her eyes, she could see his face, silently staring at her, mocking her. Natalie hurried in off the balcony closing the door and locking it carefully behind her, shutting him firmly out into the darkness of night that was falling over the dingy London streets.

Dreams were feverish, bedclothes wrapped around her thin body pinning her down. The stranger cruelly dug his fingers into her shoulders holding her down, his immense power visible, through eyes flooding with tears; she saw the sneer, the cruel upturn to his lips, dark eyes boring into her as he taunted his strength over her. Leaning forward, she felt his breath against her tear –stained cheeks…”You know what I want” he hissed…

She woke with a jump, eyes straining in the half light, frantically searching for signs of his presence in her small flat, but there were none. Breathing rapidly, she wiped sweat from her brow with shaking fingers. Droplets dripped down her spine, chilling her along with the realisation that she was so very scared. 3am, darkness was just breaking and early morning bird song became a distant reminder that in a few hours she would have to get up for another long day shift.

She was so tired. Her head ached and her forehead felt feverish. Unbidden, an idea snuck into her mind, one that would mean she didn’t have to go in to work, one which gave her the opportunity to escape those brooding dark eyes. Curling up in a little ball, she made her plan. She had enough money to last her for a while if she was careful and hadn’t she always been nomadic? A free spirit that had been destined to explore the streets of London, only the streets hadn’t been paved with gold but with grime. Perhaps she would head south, rent a cheap place on the coastline, and feel free for the first time in a very long time. With these thoughts, she succumbed to sleep and this time, only the imagined breaking of the waves on a soft moonlit shore, shared her mind and she dreamed with a smile on her lips.

By the time she had woken properly, head still hurting, it was too late to go into work and this somehow seemed like fate had lent a hand prompting her to run. Deciding to go with fate, she packed the barest essentials and made good her escape.

There was no sign of him when she left the house, walking quickly, her hood hiding the flaxen wave of distinctive colour. Heart pounding in her mouth, she listened intently for the sound of footsteps but heard none. The side roads were clear, deserted, perhaps uncannily so. Intuition warning her, she quickened her pace, almost running now, her jacket cumbersome and hot.

Then she knew, he was here, she could sense him. Those dark eyes malevolent as they lighted upon her small frame, vulnerable and alone.
The chase was on, she was nimble and she knew the back streets of London well. Hiding for the last two years had enabled her to concoct a million escape plans; she had plotted and planned her way to freedom for so long that now it was time to see if they actually worked.

He was like a gazelle, she realised her chest constricting, legs long, his pace equalled hers but his stride ate away at the distance between them. Twisting and turning, his hand reached out pulling her to the side, catching her off balance and she stumbled, falling back hard against a brick wall and he pinned her expertly to its unforgiving surface.

“Natalie”, he growled, restricting her movements, pushing her shoulder blades against the hard surface of brick “Look at me”
Terrified, Natalie raised her eyes to his, expecting to see hatred and anger, yet seeing only honestly, and relief…
“It’s ok” he was saying, “It’s all over. Your step father pleaded guilty, we know what he did.””
“Who are you?” she whispered hoarsely, struggling to take in the news that her childhood nightmares were over at last.

“I’m a private detective, hired by your mother. She has been desperately worried about you. She wants you to know that he took an overdose; he admitted what he had done and his shame. He can’t hurt you or anyone anymore”. He sighed “Natalie, you’re free”.

All her life she had tried to hide from him. His prying eyes and roaming hands. She had felt sick, ashamed and dirty. Worse when she had finally blurted out the truth, her mother had been distraught, unbelieving, and angry as she watched her family falling apart. The realisation that the truth had only brought more misery had made Natalie run away, desperately trying to bury the truth inside her. But now, she was finally free and he…he was dead. He couldn’t touch her again. No more shame…no more guilt…

Waves of hysterical laughter swept through her and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing with relief as the realisation struck that the ominous stranger was not an avenger but her rescuer from her own private hell…..
“Take me home” she whispered.