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obligation to, that time has come around again. Every fortnight it is.
Two weeks later and another person will be lucky, just like that. They
will have been touched by a celebrity. They do not thank me for it,
they do not get the chance but I will leave my autograph by their
side. Something for the pigs to ponder about when they arrive on the
scene. But by then it will be too late.
I know you are wondering what it is. Something like that would
intrigue you. You will see soon enough but I can tell you now, I will
stretch to that much at least. I leave a little gift you see? Nothing
too big mind you, I just remove two things from them and leave it by
their side, wristwatch and eyeball. Not a delicate manoeuvre mind you.
But always worth it, gives the whole procedure an elaborate touch. I
always like to keep my eye on the time. Never been late in my life. I
thought of that little signature when I was at school, not that I
needed school in the first place. I just went there to do the usual,
squash a few flies, keep my name on the list, have a little time away
from home. I used to put the little autograph everywhere, not the real
thing of course, but as I breathed out talent on the window I would
scratch it in or I would etch it into a desk. The next person sitting
there would notice it, I just wish they would notice me.
I kept to myself at school, not that I had any choice, the other
little brats would not come anywhere near me. They knew I was too
clever for them and the poor ones who thought they could overpower me
knew where to go; they would be kissing my feet. I could have changed
the world if somebody had let me, but I do not need to be given a
chance on a plate to do so.
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"The Touch." 123HelpMe.com. 27 Jan 2020
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I look around the scrawny flat. It is a tip and always has been. I see
the goldfish bowl on the floor and pick it up. I stare in and look at
the little blighter. It hasn't been fed in about a week, it did not
deserve it. What does it do for me? All it does is swim around in it's
own little world and I am sick of it. I swish it around and it bashes
against the sides. This is good. I sense the panic within the bowl and
decide to put it out of it's misery. I pour it rapidly into the bog.
It swims around, and gets accompanied to it's surroundings. Flush.
It's gone. A smile creeps around my face. I know I'm ready.
There is a tense atmosphere in the flat now, I claw for the cat but it
steams off. She knows I am a genius, a superstar, a God. There's
nothing that can stop me. I pull the phone off the hook and stab in
the number to the local radio station. They tell me I will be on air
in a few minutes and I stamp my foot impatiently. I'm on. I tell the
man he's talking to a superstar and that...he cuts me off. I slam the
phone back down, this has infuriated me. Nobody ever takes notice. But
they will after today. I take out the bread-knife and emerge from the
I walk down the dull grey road. It is just one of those days today, an
ordinary, boring day. Mondays are always the same, everybody hates
them. I know you are close now. Still, the clouds overhead glare at me
like great monsters, reaching out to get a piece of me. Everybody
wants to get a piece of me. I am a God after all. I play with the
knife in my trouser pocket, it makes me feel so solid, people look at
me strangely as I walk down the street. They obviously think they have
known me from somewhere before.
Suddenly the World brightens up, everything around me glitters. A
phenomenal rush runs through my body, I've seen you . There you are,
ready to write another of your stories. You sit there all pretentious
in your office but I know you will be out soon. I grab a paper from
the stand and read another one of your successes. Front page this
time. Soon your name will be on the front page for another reason.
I stare a hole through the words you write. They are like poetry, like
another language. Shakespearean or something. I would not know,
English was not really my strong point. Well, you won't be getting the
front pages any more, soon they'll realise I am the one they should
have been writing about all along. I check my watch again. You never
thought time could be such a precious thing but your eye will be
forever upon it now. The demon from within me remains strong and will
always seek justice. I imagine gauging through your precious make-up,
scraping your skin, severing your organs and slowly grabbing the life
away from you. Another smile emerges on my face and the sky becomes so
light I cannot see, but it's not the sky that produces the glow. It's
you. The dark clouds fade away to reveal your stunning figure
advancing ahead of me. I touch your arm.