The Unconquered

A dark sinister gaze landed on the woman’s beautiful face. He felt the silkiness of her hair and sepia hued skin without even touching it. Today he would hunt. He needed to feel normal again. Not the kind of normal like everyday people. That brand of reasoning had left him eons ago along with his conscience. All he knew now was how to invoke fear.

He crossed the street and briskly walked behind her, pacing himself at a safe distance so that her survival instincts wouldn’t pick up on his looming presence. The clicking of her heels on the pavement excited the madness within him. She would not be able to run very fast, he assessed. Medium stature and petite frame. “Too easy,” he thought to himself as he increased his steps. She turned to enter the parking garage. He rushed to catch the closing glass door. The woman entered the elevator and pushed the button. Just as the door was closing, she’d heard the stranger angrily yell “wait” as he tried to put his hand inside the door. Unsure, she contemplated opening the door for an irate stranger. Maybe he's had a bad day. A kind act could possibly better his attitude. Her final thought prompted her to act. She pressed the  button and smiled warmly.

The minute he stepped on the elevator she knew her error had been a grave one. “Which floor?” she asked as she handed her purse to the stranger. He snatched the purse out of her grasp and opened it. His greedy eyes ogled a tan colored comb, a red compact mirror and a 25-cent potato chip bag. He began checking the side pocket and found $200 in cash. Bingo! The hunt was almost over, but not quite. He allowed the doors to close and the elevator ascended. Suddenly, he felt something scurry across his hand during his search for more bounty. He screamed out when he felt a ripple against his skin and quickly removed his hand. He stretched the black leather far apart to get a better view.

“Aggghhhhh!” he yelled, flapping both hands wildly and dropping her purse on the floor. He urgently pressed the button to open the door and fled. He had no fear of man, but somehow his phobia for roaches had not been conquered.

And she thought the run down house she had been rehabbing wouldn't profit her.

L.J. Wilson