TODAY, OUR TEAM MEMBER AND AUTHOR, DAWN TREACHER, IS SHARING HER RECENT FLASH FICTION STORY - 'THE WATCHER' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat

THE WATCHER

I always was a daydreamer, a people watcher. People walking past me in the street, my fellow passengers on the bus, in a cafe, in a waiting room. Anywhere really. I imagined their lives, made up their histories, their adventures, always so much more exciting than my own. I envied their surety, their clothes, their confidence, the lives I imagined they were living. It was so much easier to watch other people living a life than managing to live my own. My forays in life were tentative and reserved. I declined invitations, made up excuses, preferred a life indoors or one alone. That was until a rainy week in October kept me indoors, kept me people watching from my window.

Mothers rushed past with buggies cocooned within a shield of plastic, women battled with umbrellas, men with upturned collars and a quickening step. There were joggers who jogged regardless in shades of vibrant Lycra and dog walkers whose expressions said it all.

The first time I saw her, she sauntered as if the sun was shining and she wanted to enjoy each step. The second time she looked up, at the block of flats where I sat, at the window where I stood. I’m sure she saw me, for her gaze lingered just a second longer than it should.

The next day, I was waiting to spot her. I nearly missed her until I realised she was wearing a different coat. She stopped just as I spotted her and looked straight up at me, her smile bright as any sun. I found myself smiling back, even laughing a little, as if it were a game. Maybe it was, for me anyway.

Half the week was gone and so too had the rain. I opened the window in anticipation, I was even going to wave but I shouldn’t have bothered. Mothers pushed their buggies, the joggers jogged, the men and women walked briskly and the dog walkers smiled. But no matter how long I waited, she wasn’t there.

So the next day I didn’t look out of the window. I didn’t look at anything. I didn’t really care. Th e world just passed me by as it usually did. By the last day of the week when a blue sky greeted me and I couldn’t bear to be inside the flat for another whole day, I headed down the stairs and opened the door to the street. And there she stood, as if she had been waiting, waiting for me.

“Hi,” she said.

I didn’t have any words, not yet, but I smiled, just as she smiled at me. I was no longer just a people watcher, I had taken a tiny step, a step which lead to another. A step which led me to her.

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COMING SOON: On Wednesday, 13th August, we are thrilled to welcome guest author, Bridget M. Beauchamp. Bridget is an author of historical fiction, and she will be sharing an excerpt from her Ricardian Romance novel - 'Maid of Middleham'.