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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #1153650
Just a little story. It might be confusing, but just fill in the blanks.
He studied every monitor twenty-four hours a day. Each monitor recorded all it saw onto video tapes. If he suspected anything, he could always go through the archives and check it out. He hadn't slept in two years. He had been watching the monitors for a year and a half. In his shitty apartment all he did was watch and eat. In the murky, misty room, the floor was create with pizza boxes and the tabletop's were coffee cups. He rarely changed his clothes. The monitors were connected to small hidden cameras in the shopping district. He set up the cameras two weeks before his insomnia began. It all started as his own little conspiracy theory project. Then it became an obsession. Then, he forgot all about the theory...He watched the monitors out of habit...Now, he is too confused to know why.

Eight monitors, eight different views. Monitor one, looking down a hallway in the mall. People walking so fast in case the shops disappear before they get there. Monitor two, inside Bloomingdale's. Women picking up clothes, holding it close to their body's. Monitor three, showing outside a coffee shop. A man in a suit, sipping coffee. A businessman, sun glasses, briefcase, everything that defines a businessman.

The Voyeur began to concentrate on the businessman. He was intrigued, and he had no idea why. Then, the man on the monitor disappeared. Gone. Out of sight. One of those “Blink and you'll miss it” things. The Voyeur's heart almost stopped. His eyes opened wide, wider than they have been in years. A Camera or a phenomenon? He rewound the tape. The timer never skipped, the pigeon was still in the exact same position.

A week passed until he saw the businessman again. The same monitor, the same suit and briefcase and the same style in which he slowly sips his coffee. At the exact same time, he disappeared again. The Voyeur knew what to do next week. He had to meet this person, he had to find out the answers. Why was this man just disappearing into thin air? He changed into a clean (cleaner) pair of clothes as he noted down some questions he wished to ask.

A week passed until he saw the businessman again...face to face. The Voyeur stood underneath his hidden camera. He looked up at in, then back down to the businessman, who was just ordering his coffee. The Voyeur walked passed all the people in the street heading vertically as he moved horizontally towards the businessman. He grabbed a seat and pulled it to the suited man's table. The businessman took a sip of coffee, slowly removed his sun glasses and said “I've been waiting for you.” The Voyeur had no idea what to say. He never jotted down any notes to help him with this situation. “You...You have?”

“Of course...” Replied the brown eyed businessman, “for quite some time now actually.” This was stranger than strange. Every incident in The Voyeurs life led up to this point. “My name is Jason” the businessman said. He extended a hand. “My name is Roy Yure.” the voyeur said as his hand met Jason's. “Who are you? What are you?”

“I'm a insurance salesman.” Jason replied. Roy was hoping for a much better answer. Any answer could have been better that. “Erm... Why do you keep disappearing?”

“In about one minuet and thirty eight seconds I wont be here any more. And I wont be coming back. So listen, because I wont be able to answer any of your questions, so you will just have to interpret what I am saying any way you wish.” Jason rushed out in thirty nine seconds. Then, he said;

“Time as you know it is wrong.
Time is linear, but it does not travel forward, it travels backwards.
Everything you see, hear and do runs backwards.
I, as far as I know it, am the only person who lives forward.
I even had to learn how to speak backwards so that people could understand what I am saying.
Also I..”

And he was gone, again, forever. “Wait! What did you mean you were waiting for me? Why do you keep disappearing, wait!” Roy could never live his life again. He couldn't go on without any answers.

Confusion is a part of life. We should deal with it. If we do not get all the answers, all the information, why should we care. If you see something on the news, but miss the ending of the story, why care. Not knowing everything, is what we do best.


Make up your own information.
Make up your own answers.
Make up your own ending.
© Copyright 2006 Wee Dougie (wee-duggy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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