Seeking a soulmate (standard:horror, 2633 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Apr 19 2020	Views/Reads: 1249/899	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Looking for love? Please look elsewhere.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


"I'm Angela," they shook hands. 

He wasn't dressed for a night out, she thought, wasn't dressed to
impress, although he was 'smart but casual' she thought this was 
probably the best attire he had for any occasion. With black jeans, 
navy blue cotton shirt, long straggly hair, he stood and walked with a 
stoop and looked rather edgy and awkward. 

"Are we having a drink?" he asked, sitting opposite. 

Five minutes later Angela was bored. In those minutes he came across as
half-decent, but nervous, agitated, and talkative. Talkative because it 
seemed in order to impress he was kind of trying too hard and talking 
covered any anxiety, or at least it tried to, but because he began to 
bore her, her attention diverted elsewhere, although she put on a mask 
in order to appease him, to tell him she was listening. Nodding and 
smiling. The menu took on a more interesting appeal. Hmm, not a bad 
price for the Mojito cocktail. The couple chatting at the end of the 
bar looked enviously comfy together... 

"....so all governments," said Kieran. "Everyone of them throughout
history are corrupt. You see, it's power, and power goes to people's 
heads. If you could tell people what to do and they did it, if you 
could get anyone locked up or shot because you didn't like them and 
then not be arrested then that sort of power twists minds and you start 
getting all meglomania then you see, start throwing your weight around 
'cos you can get away with it, and the money. Money's no object to 
them. They just click their fingers and they can have it", Kieran 
clicked his fingers. Angela tried her best to look interested, and 
realised just how boring it was to listen to someone who tried to talk 
about subjects they had no knowledge of, talking as if they had all the 
answers. Like a child, or an alcoholic trying to talk science...'Let me 
tell you all about quantum physics'. 

"...an island. If they want it, they have it. All the gold and jewels.
All the poshest cars and mansions. They click their fingers and they 
can have them...so we don't need them really. They would be nowhere 
without the public, so I don't need them you know...I've got me dog. He 
knows what I'm thinking". 

"What breed is it?" she asked, not really caring. 

"Little Yorkshire Terrier. Mixie, eats anything. I cooked meself some
pasta the other day and it leaped up on the table. I thought I've just 
fed you. But you know when it looks at you with those eyes, I had to 
give it some and you know what...loved it. Eats anything" he said, 
smiling. 

Great, thought Angela, another 'dog-man'. Her previous potential
relationship ended when she realised she would be second to any one of 
his three Beagles. They only had to look at him with big sad eyes or 
yap and bark and he would leap to their attention. It was clear who 
ruled the roost in that household so that relationship never even got 
off the ground. 

"If you could excuse me for a few moments, got to go the ladies...."
Angela said. 

"Ok, I'll get the drinks in". 

After a few minutes, Angela was in the bathroom, looking in the mirror.
This was the place where so many women had been before where a life 
changing choice is made, a path long since trodden, where the poor date 
could be abandoned, wondering that she's been a long time, until it 
dawned on them that she had gone. 

If she turned left, she would walk back to the table. If right, she
would hurry to the exit. 

When she came out, she turned left. 

Outside the wine bar, it was late and raining slightly. "I suppose I'd
better ring for a taxi," she said, taking out her phone. "I only live 
ten minutes down the road," he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. 
"Fancy a night-cap?" "I've heard that before," she said, "What actually 
is a night-cap?" "I've no idea". 

She could see he was still nervous as he seemed agitated, looking around
for no obvious reasons, and waffling on about nothing as they walked 
along gloomy, rainy roads with hardly any people around. "...ye so 
ten-pin bowling. It's not as easy as it looks. There's a certain skill 
to it you see. The weights of the balls is important because of how 
strong you are. You might have noticed the finger holes. Well, you've 
got to get it just right, you know, 'cos when you bowl it you have to 
twist it from the back so you can get a good swing. That's what you do 
for the first bowl anyway, that's the best way to get a strike". 

"Really," she said. She was gradually losing him. If I go back to his
place, there may be a few drinks and a one-sided conversation. Poor guy 
may even be thinking he might be getting some action. Well, thought 
Angela, there was something about him that made her continue. Maybe 
beneath all the bluster and nerves there was just a decent ordinary 
bloke. He wasn't bad looking really, and he did offer to buy all the 
drinks. She would give him a chance though, but probably only one. 

"...got to admit, I don't mind a bit of bird-watching. Can't do much
round here though" "I spot pidgeons and seagulls all the time" said 
Angela. "You'll never believe what I spotted last year in the local 
park by the pond. A purple sandpiper". "A purple sandpiper, wow" she 
said, trying her best to sound interested. "Yes, I was amazed. I was 
walking Mixie and there it was, purple sandpiper by the pond, 'cos you 
don't see them outside of the beach on the shores. I told my mate whose 
more of a birder than me, and he was like 'you're messin', I don't 
believe you. So I was like, it's true...really. He wanted a photo, but 
the bird went into the pond and I didn't get a decent enough picture. I 
sent it to him and he was like, nah I don't believe it, get a better 
one. So I tried but I think it kind of spotted me tryin' to get closer 
and got scared away. I was ages trying to convince me mate and he 
wasn't having any of it...here we are". 

They had reached where he lived. It wasn't anything special. Converted
housing that once used to be student accomodation. There was a gate 
which never locked, and he led her through and into his abode. There 
were other people who lived in the block but for now all was quiet. The 
place looked nicer on the outside than in. A place where everybody 
thought someone else will take responsibilty for cleaning the place, 
for taking out the bins. Someone else will do it. It's the landlord's 
responsibility. 

On the first floor he opened the door into his pokey little flat from
which it was clear from the outset, that he had made a half decent 
effort to clean just incase he brought somebody back. A group of shoes 
were neatly stacked behind the door and there was vague odour of 
air-freshener. 

Kieran tried to make an effort to take her coat but Angela took it off
and hung it behind the door along with her suede shoulder bag. He 
turned on the lights. 

"Well here we are, it's hardly a posh mansion". "Nope," she said, "It
doesn't matter. It's fine". Although the placed was 'lived-in', it was 
quite untidy but could have been much worse. Not that it would have 
been a deal-breaker, but she did like someone who looked after himself, 
not a lazy scruff whose true colours would be revealed behind closed 
doors. A sloven slob with long greasy hair, broken yellow teeth with 
litter strewn around a sofa where he watches televison all day smoking 
roll-ups. Now that would be a deal-breaker. Angela would simply turn 
and walk out, but Kieran came across as a guy who was halfway there, 
but that was ok, it was not like she was heading for the hills. If he 
tries anything on then she would leave. Kieran would join the ranks of 
men whose brain was in their trousers. She wanted personality, somebody 
to 'like', to have affection for. To engage in such activity Kieran 
would have to lower all her apprehensive defences and prove that he 
wasn't a lecherous pervert. Not that she was in any way prudish. 

In one of her previous relationships the boot was on the other foot. She
had grown to like the guy but he had seemed so reserved and coy. As it 
turned out he was asexual. Had no interest whatsoever in lustful 
affection, and that was the deal-breaker for Angela. "Can I get you a 
drink?" he asked without waiting for an answer. He went into the 
kitchen and took out two bottles of low-alcohol Peroni. 

"Come through," he said and she followed him into the living-room. Mixie
the dog came yapping over, exited. Angela stroked it and Kieran smiled. 


"She likes you". The living room was not much more than a small
rectangle. Some prisoners probably had bigger spaces, but it served its 
purpose, nothing more. There was sofa, an armchair, a television and 
not much else. A sun-bleached picture of the Eiffel Tower that had 
probably been up when he moved in, and probably there with the previous 
tenants wasn't angled properly on the wall. 

"...ye, so I wouldn't buy a car in this day and age. The congestion is
mental" he said, sitting down in the armchair, gesturing to the sofa. 
"You know there's more cars that come onto the roads than go off". "Can 
I just use the bathroom?" she asked. 

"Ye, just through there" he said, pointing. 

Two minutes later Angela was looking at the frosty mirror, listening to
him waffle. It seemed he was one of those people that carried on a 
conversation even when the other person was out of the room by raising 
their voice. 

"...not a chance. Some drivers shouldn't be allowed on the road. You
know who's the worst for it? Taxi drivers. They think they own the 
roads. I'll tell you where they've got the traffic system right. 
Australia, so I've heard anyway. They seem to do everything right over 
there. That's a place I would love to move to. Nice and sunny, no 
congested roads..." 

And there it was, thought Angela. 

The deal-breaker. 

If she got with him, there would come a point where he would want to
emigrate. She was happy here, but if he wants to move then he may go 
without her, or he may stay and mope around all the time, depressed 
because he wasn't in Australia. 

If they had children, then it would make things a lot worse. 

'Well I'm going to Australia and I'm taking the kids'! 

No way, she thought. She could see it happening. Sorry Kieran, you're
not the one. 

She left the bathroom and walked across to her hangbag, reached inside
and pulled out a shiny M9 handgun, then marched through into the living 
room where Kieran was sat in the armchair, his back to her, where he 
reached down to pick up Mixie so she could lick his face. She pointed 
the gun inches behind his head and pulled the trigger, literally 
blowing his brains out. 

The following day, Angela and Judy were sat in the same cafe, in the
same place, the laptop open. "You should have seen it Judy. It was a 
good shot if I do say so myself. I pointed the gun behind his head just 
as he was holding the dog and the bullet went through his head and blew 
half the dog away as well". "That gun certainly comes in handy for 
these guys," Judy said. "Yep, good old Dad, sending it over from the 
States as protection. Protection against any guys who try anything on 
or who don't measure up to what I want". "Exactly," said Judy, "Let's 
see who we can find. Maybe we can find somebody who you won't kill". 
"That's the guy I'll marry," Angela said, opening up the dating 
website.


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