Horror Short Story 3: So Pretty

I got nothing from the last short film I watched. I did, however, get some inspiration from the young woman living across the street…

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So Pretty

Her name is Pilar. It means ‘pillar’ in Spanish. It’s a Catholic name, I think, not that I care a lick about that.

She’s so pretty. I can’t stand how pretty she is.

I see her often. Her father doesn’t like when she’s out, doesn’t like taking her out, because he is afraid of young men looking at her, of approaching her. But he does take her out, a couple of times a day during the week. That’s when she accompanies her little daughter to school, and when she picks her daughter up after school. Every weekday they do that. Her father doesn’t take her anywhere else. He doesn’t even like taking her to the store.

I’ve talked to her father. I told him that I can keep an eye on Pilar when he’s out working, since I’m home all day. He seems to trust me. That’s how I know so much about her, from talking to her father.

She takes her daughter to school at seven-thirty, picks her up at three. I’ve set my schedule around those times, watching her come out of the house and boarding her father’s truck with her kid, or the reverse in the afternoon. Like this morning, Pilar wore a dark yellow shirt. It looked a little baggy on her slender frame. She wore jeans, too. I like the way she looks in jeans, the way she fills them out around the hips. In the afternoon, she had on a pink shirt and black Spandex pants. She looked showered.

Pilar is twenty-five. Her daughter is seven, meaning some dumb teenage boy probably got lucky with Pilar when she was too young and naive to know any better. Maybe she’s still naive, and that is why her father is so overprotective of her. Hard to believe that in this day and age a woman with such beauty could be naive, but it’s not impossible.

She’s so pretty.

I like it when they look like actresses. Then I can search for their names online and download every sexy picture of them and stare at those pictures all day. I get to know them that way, kind of, ahead of time, before I start talking to them. I like pictures of actresses smiling and wearing nice clothes. Revealing pictures, paparrazi bikini shots, those are okay, but not the full nudes. I don’t like the full nudes because then you see what’s under the wraps too early. I like to do the full unwrapping myself, if you know what I mean.

Pilar has unusual features. Her head is sort of oval-shaped, almost rectangular, but with soft, curved edges. Her eyes have a sleepy look to them, but not too much, not all the time. She has slightly rounded cheeks, small lips. I can guess at some other things about her: she’s five-five, weighs about one-fifteen, thirty or thirty-two around the chest, B cups, thirty-two or thirty-four around the hips. Brown hair. Dark brown eyes.

It finally came to me; who she looks like. Pilar has brown hair, ever since she moved in she’s had brown hair, but she recently colored it blonde. That’s when I made the connection. I used to watch this show called Monk, about how this detective would go through conniptions trying to figure out how murderers were getting away with their crimes, and he’d solve them and that was the show, about him solving the murders. He had a sidekick during the first couple of seasons, a pretty little sparkplug that I really liked, before the producers replaced here with some bland bitch that I couldn’t stand.

Bitty Schram

I had to look her name up: Bitty Schram. What a name, huh? That’s what Pilar looks like now, with her new blonde hair that’s even curly and wavy the way I remember Bitty’s hair. You could say that Pilar is a Hispanic, younger version of Bitty Schram. I like that a lot. Bitty was a little curvier, but I’d like to dress Pilar up in clothes like the stuff Bitty wears in her publicity pictures. Now that I’ve figured out Pilar looks like Bitty, I can download a bunch of her images and put them into a new folder on my computer. I’ll call it the Bitty Schram folder, in case some smart cop comes by later and starts digging into my stuff.

Sometimes, I’ll go out there at night. I’ll stand next to Pilar’s window and listen to her talk to her daughter. They’ll have conversations; Pilar with her light, soft voice, and her daughter that sounds like a squeaky toy half the time. They always sing together, nursery rhymes or songs the daughter likes. They have such pretty voices when they sing together. It’s the first time I’ve been around a woman that sings like that.

I discovered something new by hanging out next to Pilar’s window. She seems like the perfect girl, doesn’t she? When her daughter goes to sleep, and her father, because they both have to leave early, Pilar will pry the screen off the window and have herself a smoke. She puts her face up close to the opening, breathes outside, taps her cigarette on the sill so the ashes float to the grass and dirt. She’s done that twice now, while she’s been on the phone complaining about how her father never lets her go anywhere.

During the day, when she’s the only person in the house, she’ll walk outside and cover the ashes up, before her father gets home to see them. The neighbor keeps a trashcan on the edge of his yard. Pilar walks over there to dump her cigarette butts so she won’t get caught, instead of dropping them into her trash.

That’s a good time, I think, to start talking to her. I don’t even smoke, but I might just go buy me a pack today. I can say that somebody gave it to me, and do you, Pilar, my pretty Pilar, want to take these cigarettes off my hands? I’ll tell her she can dump her butts into my trashcan, because the neighbor might yell at her if he sees her walking around in his yard.

It’ll work.

It’s worked before, and she’s so, so pretty.

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