SmilesAF
10-18-2004, 02:16 PM
Hey there, this is a short crime story, was told to write one with only 500 words, which is quite a challenge. I'd really appreciate some comments on it.
Difference and Uniformity
She always wore an expression that was hard to read. A smile as if she were carrying some great secret that she wouldn’t share with anyone. We only saw her on rare occasions, going to town, crossing the road, but never mingling with the others. She was always smiling and she always wore her long leather coat.
I don’t remember having ever heard her talk more than once. No, twice. The first time was on a cloudy day outside the local store. ‘Nice day’ she commented in the passing.
The first time I saw her it was a rainy day. I was on a bus, stuck in a rather large traffic knot. We reached a stop, and through the doors stepped a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen years, wearing that leather coat and a dark green hat. The hat was absolutely soaked and water was dripping from the brim, and her pants seemed to have soaked up most the water from the ground. Despite this meagre depiction, she didn’t look upset. She was radiant, with an aura like she didn’t realise it was raining.
That’s how I remember her, always happy.
I started following her; quietly, hiding, and even climbing up a tree to avoid her spotting me. You may wonder why I went to such lengths in my pursuit, and the answer is simply that I found her intriguing. I was tired of her secret smile, and wanted to be in on the big mystery. I wanted her to tell me, I wanted to solve the case. I wanted her to be less strange, less alien, and less different from the rest of us.
I followed her through parks, through town, and finally into a compound apartment block. I heard her running up the steps and set after her immediately. I was catching up, and I could hear her above me running faster.
She had reached her door, and I could hear her fumbling for keys, I shot up the last stairs in time to see her face looking at me as she closed the door. She wasn’t smiling. She looked terrified.
At first I felt sorry for her, and then cross. How dare she be afraid of me? She was different and strange, not me! With these thoughts going through my head, a sudden burst of anger found me and I leaped for the door, preventing her from shutting it completely.
I started walking towards her; she walked backwards, facing me all the while with an anxious expression. Her fear seemed to inhibit me, ‘Why are you doing this? Why don’t you tell us your secret? Don’t you see that it’s for your own good that we tell you to become like us other people? Don’t you see what a fool you are making of yourself, and how the whole village is laughing at you?’ I asked her, and immediately felt like I had walked into a cleverly placed trap.
She stopped walking, and to my great annoyance, smiled in her coy secretive way, ‘You laugh at me because I’m different, I smile at you because you’re all the same,’ she said.
She never smiled again. I realise that she really did trap me, because I will never smile again either. I don’t regret what I did that day, I finally understood her secret. I suppose I’ve worked out my last words before the death penalty.
‘Difference is not a crime; it is the uniformity that is criminal.’
Difference and Uniformity
She always wore an expression that was hard to read. A smile as if she were carrying some great secret that she wouldn’t share with anyone. We only saw her on rare occasions, going to town, crossing the road, but never mingling with the others. She was always smiling and she always wore her long leather coat.
I don’t remember having ever heard her talk more than once. No, twice. The first time was on a cloudy day outside the local store. ‘Nice day’ she commented in the passing.
The first time I saw her it was a rainy day. I was on a bus, stuck in a rather large traffic knot. We reached a stop, and through the doors stepped a girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen years, wearing that leather coat and a dark green hat. The hat was absolutely soaked and water was dripping from the brim, and her pants seemed to have soaked up most the water from the ground. Despite this meagre depiction, she didn’t look upset. She was radiant, with an aura like she didn’t realise it was raining.
That’s how I remember her, always happy.
I started following her; quietly, hiding, and even climbing up a tree to avoid her spotting me. You may wonder why I went to such lengths in my pursuit, and the answer is simply that I found her intriguing. I was tired of her secret smile, and wanted to be in on the big mystery. I wanted her to tell me, I wanted to solve the case. I wanted her to be less strange, less alien, and less different from the rest of us.
I followed her through parks, through town, and finally into a compound apartment block. I heard her running up the steps and set after her immediately. I was catching up, and I could hear her above me running faster.
She had reached her door, and I could hear her fumbling for keys, I shot up the last stairs in time to see her face looking at me as she closed the door. She wasn’t smiling. She looked terrified.
At first I felt sorry for her, and then cross. How dare she be afraid of me? She was different and strange, not me! With these thoughts going through my head, a sudden burst of anger found me and I leaped for the door, preventing her from shutting it completely.
I started walking towards her; she walked backwards, facing me all the while with an anxious expression. Her fear seemed to inhibit me, ‘Why are you doing this? Why don’t you tell us your secret? Don’t you see that it’s for your own good that we tell you to become like us other people? Don’t you see what a fool you are making of yourself, and how the whole village is laughing at you?’ I asked her, and immediately felt like I had walked into a cleverly placed trap.
She stopped walking, and to my great annoyance, smiled in her coy secretive way, ‘You laugh at me because I’m different, I smile at you because you’re all the same,’ she said.
She never smiled again. I realise that she really did trap me, because I will never smile again either. I don’t regret what I did that day, I finally understood her secret. I suppose I’ve worked out my last words before the death penalty.
‘Difference is not a crime; it is the uniformity that is criminal.’