Joe Kelner a fellow artist passed along a great prompt idea for a short story:
Write a story where the Protagonist Falls in love with the writer
I am given a face, a name, and description. My eyes low, my gaze dark and serene. All this time she has no idea what she is doing to me. My breath slow and deep, like the words that she gives me to speak. She has given me spirit, and a lion’s soul. I stand tall; own my presence, provider and protector, that is my role.
She sits me down in a living room, in a loft surrounded by glass that overlooks city lights. Each sentence adds another dimension to my being. I live for her word. A well dressed maid comes and asks me about arrangements for a party that will take place in less than two hours. Suddenly she has given me a purpose, a task.
“What is the occasion?” I ask her.
The answer quickly shows itself in a change of scenery.
The loft is now filled with good looking women and men that seem to come straight out of a GQ advertisement. She dresses me well, in a suit and tie. We all mingle and drink champagne to live music being played a grand piano that seems to be mine.
What have I done to deserve this?
I search around for the answer, how all this wealth and importance has been manifested for me.
“Hey there handsome.”
The words come from a curvaceous woman so eloquently dressed in Red. She hands me a glass of scotch, licking her lips ever so slightly. What a beautiful distraction, I follow her lead.
One by one the guests stumble out with help of hired assistants. All the while my conflict sits on the velvet chaise lounge, her back bare as she looks over her shoulder at me. Waiting.
I don’t dare look back. Somehow I can sense this gaze, coming from a place farther than here and now. In the random shivers up my spine, I feel my next thought and desire manifest from a place other than my own mind.
I look in the mirror of my black slate bathroom, lit with the brightest blue LEDs. Every pore and worry line is visible to me. I lean foreword, and stare straight into the depths of my left eye.
In the center of all the green and blue is a black hole, and in that black hole I am staring into someone else’s eyes, and those eyes I see are staring at a screen. Writing the words to this very thought I am thinking.
I stop. Flushing my face with water.
A couple slaps, and a pinch. I jump onto the counter this time to get as close as possible. My gaze, narrows until I barely see the shifting of my eyes. In my left eye, lives a woman. In a completely different time and dimension, she lives, and her heart is mine. I am nothing without this woman.
A couple of raps at the door. My guests must all be gone by now.
“Hey babe, you okay in there?” So sultry and inviting is her voice. I open the door to find her without the red dress, almost as if she removed her skin and now she is hollow.
But I am the hollow one, my heart is another’s.
“You have to go now, I’m sorry”
But she didn’t hear me, her hands were already easing down my pants. I don’t want this, I pull her arm up.
“Get out! Now!”
I roar, she gathers her passion and walks towards the door but before leaving she whispers.
“What the hell has gotten into you? The wedding is off.” A clang of metal hits the hardwood and she’s gone.
I can do nothing but stand outside and watch her car drive away. This life is not mine. I am only the manifestation of another mind. I stare up into the sky, at the moon and the stars.
“If you can hear me! Please! Give me a sign!” I shout. Where the sky was once clear it begins to pour down with rain.
Somewhere my love is weeping, and I can do nothing but wait for her word.