Tag Archives: serial

The Dynamic Force of Being Human –Part One: Stop Motion


It’s probably better that he couldn’t ask me why I had done it.  I mean, I wouldn’t have had an answer for him anyhow.

It was just one of those things.  I’m not that kind of girl.  Not really.

But, then again, I’ll try anything once – twice if I like it.

It wasn’t even that good.  The build-up seemed rushed and the all-too-short climax left me somewhat dissatisfied.  Even the sense of danger, the thrill of being caught in the act, didn’t heighten the experience much past mundane.

And it’s not like I had planned to do it or anything.  I suppose if I had I could have relished the experience a little more.  But, as it stood, it was simply a lark.

I met him on the subway.

The flickering fluorescent lights of the train car as we rushed through the subway tunnel gave his not quite homely looks a stop-motion staccato, a still life in motion.  He was idly thumbing the corner of the briefcase on his lap and watching the underground rush by in blurred tracers of red and green and grey.

He absently glanced around every now and again, seemingly ignoring my existence in that detached way all big-city dwellers acquire over time.

We were alone in the train car.  The lights flickered.

I must have been staring.

He glanced my way and raised his hand slightly from his lap, giving a short, curt wave.  I felt the corners of my mouth raise in a slight smile before I looked away.

I stared into the black of the subway and thought of nothing.  Several minutes passed and the lights flickered.

My thoughts wandered back to the man sitting in the car with me, as did my gaze.  It was his turn to stare.

“Hello,” I said, barely audible over the screeching and rushing of the train on the track.

“Hello.”  The word was distorted in the way words are when spoken by a deaf person, coming out more like “ha-woah”.  His head tilted slightly in greeting and then he turned to look out into the dark tunnel once again.

Grabbing the small handbag next to me, I got up from my seat and slid into the one next to my trainmate.   He turned his head as he felt me settle in next to him, a slightly surprised but not unfriendly look on his face.

Neither of us spoke again.

I’m not entirely sure when I decided I was going to do it.  I don’t know that it was even a conscious decision.  Slowly, I slid one hand on to the man’s thigh, the other into my purse.  His leg felt warm against my palm.

I stared straight ahead.

I can only imagine his surprise as I pulled the pistol from my bag, pressed the muzzle against his head and pulled the trigger.

His body jerked violently into the side of the train car, his limp hand falling onto mine.

I stared straight ahead.  And the lights flickered.

The train stopped at the next station, abandoned at such a dark and lonely hour.  Sliding the gun back into my purse, I got up from the seat and made my way to the open door.

I’ll try anything once.


%d bloggers like this: