Date: Thu, 3 Oct 1996 15:49:20 MDT From: Robyn Meta Herrington Subject: SUB:CONTEST:The Watcher Yet another. . . Critiques to rmherrin@acs.ucalgary.ca ========================================================= THE WATCHER Do you know that I count how many times you run your brush through your long, chestnut hair before you go to bed? I do. Never more than seventy-five, never less than sixty. Each stroke makes you reach up high, back arched, and I watch your breasts as you breathe. You pull the long, red-handled brush through your thick and oh so lovely hair. I have some, you know, some of your curls. I keep them in a black velvet pouch around my neck. I run them through my fingers when I watch you, and wonder why they re so much softer than the velvet. I know you'll read this letter right to the end. You read all of my letters. When you find them, you always turn around, pirouetting, hoping to catch me watching you. But you never do. You never will. I know that you like frogs. Kermit sits on your desk, beside your computer. Your alias is Froggirl. Your computer has a wav file, and it goes 'ribbit ribbit' when ever you receive an incoming message. You have seven ceramic frogs in your kitchen: five green, and two brown. They came from Mexico. . . at least, that's what it says on the bottom of each. Their eyes are small and dark, like mine. Their skin is smooth and cool. I can feel how cold they are through my thin, white gloves. Not like you. You're hot, burning like fire. Your eyes. So brown. So large when you're afraid. Like now. There are frogs in your bathroom, frogs on your sheets. I don't know where you found them. I slipped between them yesterday, while you were at work, and smelled you on the pillows. I had a nice nap, drinking you in, filling my head with thoughts of you, feeling my body grow and grow tight as I remembered you in your shower. You almost caught me, then, but you didn't know it. I watched you close the window, green towel wrapped around your body, licking your skin dry, and I knew you wondered how the window got open. I wish I was your towel. And Halloween is coming. Then, we'll meet, you and I. Face to face. Skin to skin. Your body, so warm, pressed and moulded to mine. So cold. You'll breathe on me, breathe life into my mouth, life into my soul. We'll be one, you and I. I'll watch you writhe beneath me while I'm in you. I'll watch your mouth open and close. I'll hear you call out, scream out my name. It's all been arranged. Halloween is coming, and I'm watching. You'll try to catch me watching. But you never, never will. -- -------+++++++-------+++++++ +++++++-------+++++++------- Robyn Herrington Operations Manager, Microforms Services University of Calgary, MacKimmie Library Ph: (403)220-6903 http://www.ucalgary.ca/~rmherrin rmherrin@acs.ucalgary.ca -------+++++++-------+++++++--------------+++++++-------+++++++-------