I'm not a criminal. I've never used my skills for illegal ends. I just love the feeling of being unseen, something I call my pleasure. If you'd ever get to know me, you'll see I'm a stealth enthusiast. This acquaintanceship will never happen, however. You've never spotted me and you never will. That's because I've been sharpening these skills my entire life.
I move without making a sound. With each step, I probe the ground or floor for the section that makes the least noise. No bedroom floor will betray me by creaking. I'm willing to enact my pleasure with bare feet, if needed. Shoes are an acceptable sacrifice if I wish to remain unnoticed.
I can climb anything. During the day I'm alone, so I exercise my lats, forearms, biceps, legs, you name it. Hanging silently has become second nature. Without releasing a breath, I can hang onto branches, street lights and ceiling beams. You'd be surprised how rarely people look up.
Dropping without a sound is also easy. Landing on the balls of my feet, I let the impact run through my body. It always feels good. Sometimes, I need to throw down a piece of clothing for a quieter landing. There's barely any noise. Believe me, I've used a sound level meter.
I challenge myself to reach places undetected. The chance of getting caught adds to my pleasure. There's a whole process beforehand. I stake out my target for many days and many nights. It needs to be as familiar to me as my own basement. I check security measures, possible entry points and the flow of people.
One night, I successfully reached a target's roof. Nobody was aware of my presence. I knew the house's many lovely windows. Through a sky light I watched a young lady sitting on her bed. Fully clothed, of course. I'm not that kind of a voyeur. I loved observing her, unaware of my pleasure. I also know she, in turn, loved being watched. All my targets love being watched. She existed in that warmth inside, as lonesome as I am. Needless to say, I remained outside. Only outside.Don't worry. When you take your eyes off this screen, I won't be there. If your toothbrush is missing, I didn't steal it. Same goes for that beautiful clump of hair in your shower drain. Only a criminal would take that...
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Weird Thoughts
Short StoryIn my debut collection of short fiction I present six diverse stories. From the chief of an isolated tribe trying to escape death, to a young woman literally setting ablaze a haunting of her past. From fictional opinion pieces about designer babies...
