02
Jun
10

she… (eight)

I met Isabelle at a music store.  It was a perfect, fall in love at first sight thing.  I was storming through some CD’s like a madman looking for a Type O Negative CD.  More specifically, I was looking for Bloody Kisses.  The night before, I put the CD on Jack’s amp and he sat on the case and cracked the CD and all.  I wanted to cry… how was I going to make it through the night without being able to hear the deep bellows of “Corpus Christi” crawling in my ears? 

        Anyways, there was one copy of Bloody Kisses left and as I reached for it, so did Isabelle. 

        Her soft hand touched mine and I felt my heart flutter… and my pants.  (Give me a break, I was nineteen then!)  She had long black hair that hide some of her face.  I stood in awe.  But what did it for me was that she didn’t pull her hand back from the CD.  She held tight as did I.  She turned her head and smiled at me as if to say, ‘I’m the girl so let it the fuck go’.  Normally, I would have just let it go.  Yes, the big bad band guy like me is nothing more than a big pushover… or at least when it comes to most situations.  Honestly, if she had taken the last copy of the CD I would have just went to the other music store, the one in the mall.  See?  No big deal.

        I don’t know how or why I did it, but I asked her her name.  I never did things like that.

        “Why do you want to know my name?” she asked.  She lifted the CD and I watched as she tucked it gently into her bag.

        “I don’t know,” I replied like a dork.

        My eyes went to her bag and then back to her eyes.

        “What?  You going to tell on me?” she asked.

        “Not unless you go out with me,” I shot back without thinking about it.

        “Go where?” she asked stepping closer to me.  I could feel my entire body heating up.  My mind raced and I couldn’t find anymore words… except: 

        “I’m in a band.”

        “What does that have to do with going out?”

        “I sing.  Play guitar.  Write music.  My drummer is really tall.  But we call him Tiny.  It’s pretty funny.”

        I felt like two people for a second – one word dumping all over this beautiful girl and another watching as I word dumped all over the beautiful girl.

        “Okay, you can totally shut up now,” she finally said.

        I felt my face turn red.  I fucking hate that about myself… I can’t control it… if something happens that is out of the norm, I turn red.

        “You can still take me out,” she said stepping closer.

        Something caught my eye.  I watched as a woman was walking down the sidewalk holding her purse tight to her side.  It didn’t take me long to realize that one of the undead was chasing the woman.  Now this puts me in a tough place because I couldn’t just start yelling because honestly who would believe me?  I was just some kid in baggy jeans with a faded Metallica t-shirt… not to mention the earrings.  Oh dear, the earrings.  Maybe it’s generational or something but when people look at me, the go for the earrings first then to the hole in my jeans.  I hate being judged.  But anyways… the story at hand here…            I had to play it cool with Isabelle as I watched the undead stumbling after this woman.  Now, I’m sure you’re thinking, why didn’t anyone else see it or care?  Ah, this is where the undead get tricky.  However they are dressed when they turn is how they remain.  This undead was in suit and tie.  Holding a briefcase.  In shoes that probably cost more than my first Gibson I bought at the guitar shop on Linden Ave.  So to someone looking, it was a woman hurrying down the street and a few feet behind was a man in nice clothes.  To the “normal” eye it didn’t seem strange.  But for me, I could tell the signs… I don’t know those signs were, but I just had the feeling.

            “You want to go out but now you’re ignoring me?” Isabelle asked.

            “I’m not… ignoring… you,” I said walking by her.

            “Asshole,” she shouted.

            I turned and smiled.  I point to her bag and then to the man behind the counter.  Her faced turn white.  I did what I thought was the coolest thing in the world… I blew her a kiss.  I was officially in control of the new relationship we had.  But first, I had business to take care of…

            So I charged out of the store. 

            I crossed the street and started to follow the undead and the woman.  It pissed me off and boggled my mind as to why the undead were so hellbent on taking over Earth but yet they wouldn’t attack in broad daylight.  There I was, making a move on a girl who actually talked to me.  And there was one of the undead, trailing behind this poor woman.  I figured the undead wouldn’t want to be seen eating people and changing them into the undead in public… they’d get killed quick.  I know it because one time there was a drunk man standing in the middle of the road throwing the finger.  He had a swaying stance as he stood on the yellow line in the road.  Somebody mentioned he was a zombie and I swear to you that a hoard of people attacked the man.  Beat him to the ground with their fists, with their belts… one man even used a tire iron.  When all was said, the drunk man lay in the middle of the road in a heap of bloody flesh.  The police didn’t know who to arrest and at that point, I had band practice so I left.  People nowadays are so fucking hostile.  So quick to fight and kill…

        The woman turned right when I would have turned left.  She kept going straight when I would have turned right.  Then again, I couldn’t be that mad – she didn’t know who I was and that I was going to try and help.  But in reality, as sad as it was, she was already dead.  If I killed the undead, she’d have questions.  Then what?  I can’t kill a human, never.  My only choice was to let the undead change her and kill them both.

        “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”

        I was still walking and was so focused on that woman’s movements, I didn’t even notice that Isabelle had caught up to me.

        “Hey,” I said.  Then I realized…. “Wait, you can’t be here.”

        “Fuck you, I can’t.  What the fuck is this?  Some kind of drug deal?”

        I looked at her burning hazel eyes and felt my heart flutter… I hate saying that.  But it was true.  I knew that I was in love with her.  And if she was going to love me and we were going to be in love…. well… she’d have to know everything…

        “No drug deal,” I said, “but that would be more believeable.  Stay right next to me or else you’re going to fucking die.”

        Isabelle moved closer to me and took my hand.

        “That was kind of hot,” she whispered into my ear.

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3 Responses to “she… (eight)”


  1. June 2, 2010 at 4:24 pm

    Tribute to TON, quite excellent. I still would’ve knocked her out. Then again, it’s Type O Negative. She can have Nickelback. 😛

  2. June 3, 2010 at 11:15 am

    Awww, I wanted to see more! I really like Isabelle as a character and his whole attitude towards her. It feels authentic and you want to see him go on a date with her. The paragraph “Something caught my eye…” seemed a little rushed and the formatting tripped me up a bit, and the part with the zombie attack felt a little disorienting from the story – but this does feel stream of consciousness, so if he’s supposed to be a little scatterbrained then that’s definitely coming through. I’m new to this story, but this piece stands well on it’s own and I want to read some more and find out what happens! Great job!


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Here ya go:

Meet the band:

Gage Sloane: lead singer / guitarist
Val: rhythm guitar / back up vocals
Jack R.I.P: bass / keyboards
"Tiny" Tim Mortusfire: drums

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