This is a short story that was written a few months ago that I never received feedback on. It shall be broken down into a few parts. Tell me how you feel about it! Likes/dislikes/ideas on how the story will turn out.
"Did you honestly believe that I could be with you, Clarence? That I'd actually be able to love you, ever?" Before the words had left her mouth, there was a goddess in my eyes. A goddess with jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a pout that Zeus could only wish to kiss. Now, though, we were simply two people in a beat up '96 Escort; one with enlarged pores and thinning black hair, the other with burn wounds that made the skin appear Dalmatian-like. My how rejection clouds perception. The latter was me of course. Clarence A. Randolph, the 'A' standing for Abernathy. The other figure was Elle Rapton, my beautiful and once esteemed coworker. She had asked me for a ride home earlier that day, and I could not refuse the obvious advances of the modern-day Aphrodite. After the words left her mouth, there was only here and now; only what could be seen with the naked eye.
"Clarence... I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm too good for you. You're ...you! You have those hideous burn marks across your face and you're strange! Do you think I haven't noticed you following me around the store like some puppy?!" Her chest moved up and down quickly as beads of sweat formed above her lip. She jumped out of the car, slammed the car door then sprinted for the front of her home. Not even a 'thank you' from that irresistible immortal. Oh, how she tempted the mind and the flesh to wrap hands around her in a manner distant from love.She had to learn a lesson, and I would be the one to teach her. Prometheus had learned, Icarus had learned, and now the mighty Aphrodite would learn a lesson in humility.
The drive home spurned many ideas for revenge against Elle. Most of the plans were far too violent or would not have accomplished my goal to teach. Finally, it came to me, just as I turned into the driveway of my home. There was a strange bug that had been given to me at the time of my mother's funeral.
Closing my lids, a surge of pain and fear shot through my body. Words and scenes formed, weaving a memory to play across those lids of mine. The time was several years ago, months after the fire charred flesh and stole the lives of a family. A mother, father, and three children; all had their lives stolen by that tragedy. The eldest of three children was forced to live in the burn ward of a hospital wing, due to being horribly disfigured. His skin could barely exist as skin any longer, draping off of his skull. That little boy had been taunted and ridiculed for those marks which he could control into adulthood. Those marks now formed the face of a man sitting in the driveway of his home, after being rejected by Elle Rapton. That face belonged to me, and that rejection encouraged my walk into my home to steal the bug that had been passed to me.
