They started small enough. At first I would simply walk behind people in order to peer over their shoulder, a quick glimpse at the same sight and angle they perceived the items. Quite surprisingly this seemed to upset a large number of customers. They would look over their shoulder with bizarre expressions as if wildly offended by something. I, being in the state of viewing, would quickly run around to their backside once again to maintain this over the shoulder point of view. And the two of us would find ourselves spinning in circles, until somebody took hold of me and let out a loud shout – which brought the experiment to a halt. To top it off, this technique never supplied me with a true understanding. And how could it? Like standing in line behind someone at the grocery store check-out… I only saw how impatient the public was. Nothing to give me a deeper insight. A new tactic was needed.
Next, and this came about rather unexpectedly, but I jumped at the chance without hesitation. I was working as a bank teller at the time. Standing up there at my tiny little counter-space collecting and dispensing the funds. A woman, slightly overweight and probably in her 40s, approached the front. She was wearing glasses as we began talking. Yet as the conversation progressed along, the woman removed these spectacles and placed them on the counter right in front of me. I took sight of the lenses as her babble dissipated into nothingness the more I looked on. Yes, of course! Glasses! I knew it must give me a new perspective like hers. Something personal and private! And so I reached out, picked them up, and put them on. They had a slight tint that I failed to notice before. Despite the rims being a tad too tiny, I soon found myself peering out through the glass. A rush of amazement came over me! I stood motionless. The world went quiet. I stared and stared.
It felt as if I were looking into a portal, some foreign atmosphere far removed from my own. However, I was resolute in following through with the experiment and so I remained firm and steadfast with my looking. Surely anyone could see a tremendous revelation was taking place! But perhaps not…
A warm, clammy object swatted against my cheek. I blinked once to reassure myself that it had actually happened, and then it did just that again, happen, as I looked forward to see the middle-aged woman slap me across the face. Her expression consisting of a mixture of shock, anger, and desperation.
“My glasses!” she screeched.
The very next time her hand hit me in the head, she took the glasses along with it. My manager hurried over, holding an orange envelope in his grasp, as he set about handling the situation. He pulled the woman aside as he extracted something from the package. I stared onward… and in that moment I couldn’t help but notice… The viewing was empty. Like gazing at a photograph – there is no life to it, only a representation of what was. It became apparent to me that glasses were not the essence of looking. They were lines on the road; only there to guide, not the actual path. Something else was needed. I knew then exploring other outlets became a necessity.
I tried numerous methods. I changed levels, sat in chairs, used mirrors, took the backpacks from a few people who were traveling around the country on a world tour to feel as they would, snagged several dogs from the local park and took them for a walk and stare – none of these seemed to work. A few times I even hopped into cars belonging to other people as they went into the market or store for a day of shopping. I thought for sure this one would have worked. An ingenious idea. There I sat for hours and hours peering out through the windshield, sometimes the side windows or the rear, and occasionally the rearview mirror. It was during this particular experiment when one strange incident came about a while after I first entered the vehicle. I’d been in there looking when all of a sudden the door is violently whipped open, and that’s when I noticed the car alarm had been going off which had drawn the attention of a few people (including the owner of the car).
“What the hell are you doing in there!” the man had shouted.
I simply shook my head in despair, realizing this was not the correct method either as I exited the vehicle. He continued yelling and only seemed to stop when a thin orange object held underneath the windshield wipers of the car caught his eye. Another faulty method! And it had been so promising…
I went to the mall, I went to the fair, I went on Ferris wheels, I went on gondola rides, I went everywhere you can imagine – and still not a single one of these brought the satisfaction I so desperately desired. I fell into a state of despair, left to sit and stare at the setting sun without understanding, without knowing how others saw the world. These public hotspots yielded nothing of value. Despite the countless eyes which look upon them on a daily basis. Then it occurred to me as to why these viewings never worked… They were far too common! Everyone comes to these locations! How could I ever hope to truly understand people if I limited my search to the places where everybody gathered? There was nothing unique here! Nothing personal or intimate. An ah-hah! moment was had here as you might have guessed. At long last I had discovered the solution to this arduous question. Now my attention set on making it happen…
It turns out my theory was right. These past few weeks have been nothing short of miraculous! The inner workings, the intimate viewings and perspectives of people are now well known to me – and what’s more, the viewings seem almost limitless in scope and variety (or so I thought…). Why, anytime I grow tired or feel like moving on from one, that is just what I do. Move on! Generally speaking, I will aim to visit at least a few different places each given week. And if any of them should strike my fancy I will jot the location down in my little green booklet for future reference. Such as today’s spot. I’ve been here several times before. It’s one of my favorites. The staring is so pure, so innocent, so… Home is where the heart is. Just where I am. Inside the home.
I stood in front of their large, clear, sparkling window. It looked to be freshly cleaned. The big one in their living room. I positioned myself to peer out this window, motionless as I always did, and look beyond the pane and out at the various yards, streets, and houses all around. Exactly what this lovely family saw on a daily basis. A comely little neighborhood with many charms and pleasantries. This very intimate space, right inside their comfy little home. I knew how safe and secure they felt while standing on this side of the glass. How complacent and happy they would be. I could tell all of this quite easily. Too easily it seemed… as my attention, for the first time, wandered from the looking.
Something to the right caught my attention. A noise. Their front door slowly swung open. A young girl, trailed by her father, stepped inside. She gasped at the sight of me, a stranger standing in her home, and began to tug at her daddy’s sleeve.
“Daddy! Daddy!” she whined, “Daddy it’s that man again!”
The father paused for a moment, just long enough to look in and see me standing there, as if to say Yep, there is indeed a man in our home. He then looked at his daughter lovingly and said, “It’s okay, pumpkin. Just go to your room and play for a while,” before tucking an orange envelope back into his coat pocket.
I had thought for certain that this would be the true answer! But, if it were to be so, would my attention have deviated? Wouldn’t you expect the thrill of looking just as another looked to excite me endlessly? Yet in time, this too, became lifeless and bland, no longer invigorating or inviting. For even though I had seen what it was like to live as another, peering through their most intimate of spaces, there still lacked an answer to one lingering question left within. What I had done up until this point focused on seeing what others saw as they went about life. What it was like to exist as them. But… would I ever know how it felt to not exist? Those who have gone from this world; surely they must have experienced some sort of unknown view. How could the living and the dying possibly stare upon the same sights in identical ways? And so I once again set about discovering a method to peer inside this mysterious viewing.
I tried simple things at first. Such as the day I walked into the hospital ICU. The people all around me were in various stages of leaving t
his earthly realm. This much was clear to me. And yet I could not experience it myself! A cruel twist of fate. I found myself surrounded by the very thing I desired most, yet unable to attain – until the obvious answer suddenly came to me.
Over to the right there was an open door that I, for whatever reason, decided to peek into. A man lie on the bed, covered entirely in this bubble of plastic. Some large squared plastic shape, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, removing him from any of the outside world. I did not hesitate for even a second. There I found myself unzipping this plastic cocoon and entering inside. It was beautiful. Magnificent. The man was light enough that I managed to easily scoot him aside in the bed, giving myself a place to sit. This was the moment when my head lifted upward, taking sight of the clear plastic enclosure. A wonderful view – everything seemingly so much hazier, gloomier, as if life itself had been drained from the interior. Could it be what I longed for? Could it? With my eyes focused intently on this emotion, this giddy excitement, the trance took over and I lost myself.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
“Out! Out!” came a voice.
I turned just in time to see the man clad in doctor scrubs scurrying into the plastic bubble. He took hold of my shirt and began pulling quite frantically.
“What did you—“ he sputtered.
It was at this precise moment that I became aware of the high pitched beeping noise; a continuous, uninterrupted ringing. The yanking of my shirt grew fiercer and fiercer and I soon found myself tossed from the bubble.
“He’s dead! He’s dead in there!” the man said with his face rather close to mine. “What did you—“
“Jeffrey, a moment,” I heard another man say from our rear. The gentleman approaching seemed to be a bit more important (he was wearing a white doctor’s coat at any rate, so I guessed as much). He placed his hand on the other man’s shoulder before calmly saying, “It is perfectly fine. Perfectly fine.”
The important man then turned to me with a smile on his face. He nodded reassuringly. Here, as I moved to leave, something in his coat pocket caught my eye. An orange envelope extending from the top of it. However, my mind instantly gravitated in another direction. The whole experience seemed out of place. Wrong. Incorrect. Something amiss… The plastic bubble… This wasn’t death I had felt. It was despair. Not the moments of departure I sought, but the lingering seconds of anguish. A solemn yet content suffering. Far removed from my true desire. And so, once again, I found myself seeking the means to which would fulfill my curiosity.
I headed home -- looking, staring, and peering along the way. Hoping any little sign might reveal itself to me. Nothing came about. Nothing, that is, until the fateful idea suddenly struck me with such shocking force; so strongly could I feel its monumental and weighty hooks taking hold, gripping my very soul. The sound of water trickling along in a nearby drain pipe. This was my revelation. Of course! It did have to be so simple…
Sitting in that bubbled atmosphere had shown me one thing: seeing death was not something that could be felt in the slow, protracted beds of a hospital. You might bathe in the stench, yet the true view remained obscured. Through a bit of internal pondering, and with the help of an outside influence, I have learned that there is but one way to experience this great unknown. You must not only feel it… no, you must live it! I am compelled to view this for myself. And so today I took a ride downtown. Here I stand inside one of the largest and busiest shopping malls in existence. What I enjoy about this particular vantage point is the ornate fountain located directly in the center of the mall on the ground floor. A massive thing. There is a statue of some sort in the middle which sprays out water into the circular pool of liquid surrounding the piece. Crystal clear water. Up above me is a massive window – stretching far across the entire ceiling, allowing in massive amounts sunlight at this time of day, at just the right angle so the water below transforms into a near perfect mirror.
And as I feel the wind blowing my hair back, I see my face become clearer and clearer, closer and closer. Yes! It is perfect! I can almost feel it just now; the trance taking over—
A shrill scream went out from a pudgy woman in red. Her finger pointed to the sky, as all eyes in attendance turned to witness the spectacle. The looker, his face a blank stare, hurtled down from above in a rapid yet placid fall. The body landed with a loud splash, followed by the sickening crunch of bone colliding against cement. Never a good combination. The crowd froze, as if transfixed, stunned by the incident. Suddenly a few men rushed forward. The masses soon swarmed in behind them.
“Is he…” asked one of the men.
“I… think so,” another gent replied.
There was a red liquid seeping out into the clear water. But oddly, the starer’s body had clipped the edge of this fountain and somehow flipped over upon impact.
“Is that what I think it is?” said another man who had shoved his way to the front. He bent over for a closer look, “Yes, I think it is!”
“What is it!” the gathering began to shout. A raucous murmur rippled over the people, a sleeper wave of curiosity. “Yeah, what is it!” came the yelps from those in the rear, still unable to see.
The man, who had been hunched over, rose to yell “Why it’s—“ just as a security officer arrived on the scene. The officer placed his hand on the man to move him away from the water. This did nothing to appease the crowd as they kept hooping and hollering. However, the officer simply thrust his hands into the air, gesturing ‘calm down, calm down’ to the mob.
“It has been taken care of! Please, just go about your pleasant shopping activities today,” he said with a cheerful grin. And then the officer turned slightly to his right, revealing an orange envelope stuffed into his back pocket, as he took a peek down at the broken body inside the fountain. Here he could see, yes, he could see quite clearly -- a smile upon the dead man’s face, with the now vibrant and lively eyes staring upward into the sky.
Thoughts Of A Modest Murderer
Vincent V. Cava
Ha! She’s making her way to the bathroom! It won’t be long now, before I have my first kill! This is so exciting! Ok just like I planned, I stand here in the shower with my knife ready and drawn and when she pulls back the curtain…well, it will be curtains for her. Hehe, I made a funny. Ah, here she is. I’m just going to take a little peek so I can get into the perfect position to pounce.
Well isn’t this a treat? She’s undressing in front of me. Yes darling, Daddy likes. Slide out of those jeans why don’t you? Would you look at that bottom? It’s a very sexy rump if I do say so myself. I’m gonna enjoy running my knife through you honey. Ok time to get ready, she’s approaching the shower now. Here she comes! Oh…she’s sitting on the toilet.
I wish I could give her some privacy, but this is kind of a unique situation. I guess everything will be fine, just as long as…OH GOD! IS SHE TAKING A...SHE IS! I’m afraid this is terribly embarrassing. Lord it stinks in here! I honestly didn’t know the human body was capable of creating a stench so foul! What the hell did she have for lunch today!? It smells like three week old cat food that’s been left out in a dumpster behind a sushi restaurant. I can taste it, OH JESUS, WHY CAN I TASTE IT!?
How bout a courtesy flush darling? What, were you raised in a barn? Never mind that, even barn animals would be offended by the putrid concoction you’re brewing inside that pungent, porcelain, pot you’re sitting on.
My God...she’s picking her nose now. That’s it, this woman has lost all sex appeal as far as I’m concerned. Christ, she’s really digging deep isn’t she? What the hell is she trying to do, scratch her brain? No, don’t you…don’t you do it! DON’T YOU EAT THAT BOOGER, YOUNG LADY! She ate it. Unbelievable.
Ok, ok, stiff upper lip, you can get through this. Sure things haven’t exactly gone as expected, but that doesn’t mean this can’t still be a successful outing? She appears to be finishing up anyways. Just straighten up, wipe the tears from your eyes, and get back into position. You don’t wa
nt a nickname like The Blubbering Butcher or The Crybaby Killer do you? That’s not scary.
Oh, of course she would wipe back to front. Nothing surprises me any more. Wait, where is she going? No don’t go! I think you might need to take a shower after dropping that bomb, Craperella! You aren’t clean! At least wash your hands…
Other works penned by Mr. Tooms include:
CLANK: A Book of Madness : a humorous psychological thriller (yes, the genre does exist) chronicling the escapades of one unsavory misfit with a bent for the macabre.
When a socially inept office worker finds himself mired in the midst of a lethal and outlandish struggle - a dreadfully needless situation brought about by a bizarre occurrence... We are privileged to witness the psychological unraveling of a man who was never meant, or should never have been allowed, to set foot in the public arena.
CRAPLET The Abbreviated Tales of S.R. Tooms : a book of short, entirely spooky and at times gutbustingly humorous stories. Each entry ranges in length from a single paragraph up to several pages of nonstop thrilling entertainment. S.R. Tooms himself has assured each tale is certain to titillate, shock, or disgust. A masterful collection of flash fiction running the gamut of human emotion, where but one thing is guaranteed: You will be unable to put this book down once the cover has been lifted... and you'll never forget the narratives within once it closes.
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