Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

I wrote this story for Glorafilia.

Once upon a time, there was a young boy.

Obviously.

Anyway, this boy was very lonely. Every day, he'd go swimming, in hopes that he'd tone his muscles and be appealing to the opposite sex.
But his idea of swimming was floating around and walking across the shallow end for half an hour. Maybe put on some goggles and stare at the bottom of the pool for a while.

This went on for some time. The young boy became a young man, but nothing really changed.

Until one day, a beautiful woman from another country came and moved into the house next door. She was perfect. She was gorgeous, intelligent, and had the most wonderful singing voice ever.
Not to mention that accents are hot.

Anyway.

The woman would sing, and the boy (now a man) would listen to her while swimming.
"Life is slightly better," he thought to himself while having a staring contest with the pool bottom, "but I want to get to know that lovely woman next door."

But he did nothing. He kept swimming, she kept singing.

After a few weeks, another sound came from the womans house. A violin.
Upon further inspection, the boy found that there was a man playing the violin for the woman. The boy thought he could dig it, so he went back to swimming.
But after a short while of pushing an inflatable ball around the surface of the pool, the boy became annoyed. Why was this man stealing the womans voice from him? Something had to be done.
But the time for action was not the time at hand. Maybe tomorrow, maybe.
The boy went to bed to gather his courage.

The next day, the boy went over to introduce himself. But no one was home. "Alright, I'll just come back tomorrow"
And he did. But again, no one was home.
Little did he know, the night he failed to talk to her, she went out with the violin man and several other friends for drinks. She would've stayed home, had she had someone to stay with her. But her friends pestered her until she went. And having no excuse to stay home, she went out.
Later that night, she left the bar to get something out of her car. While unlocking the door, she was rushed by a couple drunk men, kidnapped, raped, and murdered. No one told the neighbors. The funeral was brief, and the violin man played the saddest song he could. It started to rain. Tears were shed, people left and moved on.

The pool boy went over to that house every day, but no one was ever home. Eventually, new people moved in, and the boy went back to his pool. He never learned what happened to his beloved voice.

The end.