Bobby Steele
Bio
I’m an artist, although I’m not sure what art is anymore. If this world is a canvas, than I am a brush. My punishment is my palette is only crimson and coal.
Stories (3)
Filter by community
The Interview
“All I ever wanted was to be wanted,” I thought to myself as I was filling out the job application. I hadn’t done one of these in years. My hand trembling at the thought of another interview. The waiting room was empty, even though the listing touted that positions were filling up fast. It looked like a hospital waiting room. I kept thinking how at any moment a surgeon would burst through the door, bloodied scrubs, and tell me that he did his best. But no. Just a regular waiting room. I glanced back down at application and gazed at the questionnaire portion. Question 21: What do you want? I had to admit, this simple question put me deep in thought for the last ten minutes or so. I tried to move past it, but found myself digging deep for an answer. An answer that a prospective employer would want to hear, not one that would have them staring at me wide-eyed, mouths agape. “What do I want”? Many answers flooded my brain. I wanted a lot of things. To be rich seemed like the logical response. Financially stable at the very least. If I was rich I’m sure it wouldn’t last though. My giving nature had put my pockets in a tight squeeze on more than one occasion. You see, giving makes me happy. If I was rich, others would be rich as well. And that would put me right back in the position I currently find myself in. Jobless and broke. I guess broke was too vague a descriptor of my troubles. I wasn’t digging in the seat cushions broke. I was more of the pawning most of my possessions broke. I’d done it many times in my life. I would buy something to make me happy, which it did, for a time. Then I found myself just staring at the items collecting dust and hating myself for spending the money. “I want to be happy?” The fact that it came to me as a question proved that I didn’t know what would make me happy. I was happy. I mean, I had been happy. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had actually been really happy. I knew contentment very well. But to be honest, happiness had always eluded me. Sad, broke and nothing to show for it. I looked up from the clipboard as if someone had heard my thoughts aloud. But, the quietness of the empty room just made me come to another conclusion. “ I want to not be lonely,” I thought. I mean, I wasn’t lonely at all though. I had friends. I had a job. Not anymore, but it was there before all of this. I had a loving wife. I couldn’t think about all that now. It was the past. Time to move on. I tapped the pencil against the clip board and sighed. As I continued to ponder the question, one of the office doors opened up. I looked up and saw a woman with bright red hair. “They are ready to see you now,” she said. I grabbed the application off the clipboard and started to explain that I didn’t finish filling it out. The woman just smiled and said, “No need. We just use them to get an idea of who we are hiring. Everyone gets placed no matter what.” A feeling of both relief and confusion came over me as I followed her into another room. Inside there were three men, all in business attire, sitting behind a long table. One of them motioned me to a single seat in front of them. I sat down and nervously straightened my tie and thought how the table looked like something I would’ve bought in the past. “I wonder how long that would’ve made me happy for” I said in my head before fearing that somehow my face might convey the thought. The man in the middle glared at me and, in a booming voice, said, “So, now that you are here, I’d like to get right into it!” God-like, his voice I thought. He must practice that tone frequently. No wonder he’s sitting behind that long table and I’m just another interviewee. I mustered my best job interview face and prepared myself for what I felt was going to be a long interrogation. He then looked down at a paper in front of him, then to the men on both sides of him. And back at me. “So, he said in his god-like voice, I guess the most important question would be...what do you want?”
By Bobby Steele5 years ago in Humans
The Doors
”I can’t believe you’re late,” he shouted as I rushed through the door. I tried to think of a lie, something witty, but he was just a glorified doorman. No need for a real response, so I smiled and started jogging down the corridor. So many doors. The main hallway was lined with at least ten doors on either side, each leading to another hall...and more doors. The building was literally a maze. “Built to keep out intruders,” I was told the first time I was here. I smirked everytime I repeated that lie to visitors. I learned quickly the real reason for the labyrinthine layout. I scanned the end of the main hall before rounding the corner. “Left, right, left” I thought as I lengthened my stride. The second hallway, longer than the first and lined with more doors. Each door was a dark maroon with black symbols in the center. Raven, wolf, heart, rose...There were as many symbols as there were doors. I still didn’t know what all the symbols meant. Only my symbol. The snake. I was running full speed now, tearing the seams of my pants. It didn’t matter, they would be off soon enough anyway. “One more hallway” I said to myself as I rounded the last corner. Now I began to slow. Something seemed, off. There was a scent in the air. I inhaled deeply, but was repulsed, almost gagging. “Cardamom”? I recognized it from the Indian restaurant I frequented, but was confused since no food was allowed inside the building. My heart rate slowed to match my footsteps. I took another whiff. I smelled oil. I began to visualize it in my head. I paused mid-step, eyes fully closed, and stuck my nose up before sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “Gun oil”. The thought came to me in the image of a black revolver. I was almost to the door. My door. I ran my hand across the black lacquer logo as if feeling for a pulse and listened. I could hear movement inside. I calmed myself and slowly put my key in the door. As I opened it the blended scents of cardamom and gun oil overwhelmed me. It was pitch black inside, but I didn’t need my eyesight. “Follow your nose” I repeated in my head as I closed the door and stepped inside. I took off my shoes one at a time, slowly and deliberately, making sure to be as silent as I could. As if the quietness would help my now heightened sense of smell. I stepped out of my pants and unbuttoned my shirt. My eyes were closed, but I could “see” the smells. It felt like the first time all over again. I began moving forward. Whatever was moving before was still now, but the smell made it impossible to hide. I was tip-toeing towards it. Deeply inhaling and then exhaling like Darth Vader. I wanted to talk for some reason. I wanted to say something, anything to let my presence be known. All I could muster was a slow satisfying growl. Then movement. Before I could turn towards the sound, the lights in the room came on. I launched myself towards the switch and grabbed the man standing there. I remember the look on his face. It wasn’t terror. Not quite. It was more disbelief. As I picked him up and threw him across the room I accidentally brushed the lights back off. Then, darkness again.
By Bobby Steele5 years ago in Horror
Just one drink
My headache couldn’t have come at a worse time. “Headache?” I thought, more like an aneurysm ready to burst. I chuckled briefly thinking about my late night searches on WebMD. A few weeks ago I didn’t know what a brain aneurysm was and now, well I was practically an expert on how every ache and pain could be my demise. “Brain aneurysm “ I mumbled under my breath as I scanned my closet looking for a tie. Not just any tie, but the right tie. I grabbed my phone, hoping that I had more time. 545pm. Only 5 minutes had passed since I last checked. I’m supposed to meet her at 630, but I have a thing about being early for dates. Even saying the word in my head brought anxiety. I hadn’t been on a date in years. Not a real date anyway. Tinder doesn’t count you see. I really liked this woman and I want her to like me. So much so that instead of the usual local bar I had brought so many any dates on, I decided to bring her to my favorite restaurant. The Endcut. Great food, but horrible advertising and an even worse location. But the owners were an honest migrant family who worked hard and their old style service was just what I needed. Plus it was quiet. I didn’t want to yell over barbacks and college students singing to songs that were billboard hits before they were even born. “Quiet”. Perfect place to talk, as I went over the opening conversation in my head, I grabbed a silk red tie and headed out. 606pm. I only had a four block walk to The Endcut. As its name suggested, they were famous for their steaks. When I mentioned the restaurant to her, she seemed indifferent at first, but slowly warmed up to the idea of dry aged beef. I had to explain that aged didn’t mean rotten, and luckily was able to browse through Instagram to show her some pictures. She said she would walk as well, but didn’t say how far her trip was. No matter. As I arrived I scanned the dining area through the large plate glass windows. “Empty “. 636pm. The owner of The Endcut, Joel, seated me at my usual table farthest from the door. I liked the corner. It was cozy and since I was usually alone, it was perfect for people watching through the glass. “Are you dining alone”? Joel asked, in a thick Hungarian accent. “Not tonight Joel” I responded. “First date, so I’d like something special”. “I’ve got just the thing” he smiled as he hurried back into the kitchen. One of the servers came out with warm bread followed by Joel proudly holding a dusty dark glass bottle of wine. I glanced at the dust disapprovingly, but Joel quickly stated. “This is a special vintage for special occasions “. I could tell he was proud of the bottle, and I was curious, so I asked him to elaborate. He went on to tell me that this Merlot, was from his own personal vintage. He called it the wine of love and said that it would pair perfectly with any girls f the meat selections on the menu. He also alluded to its aphrodisiac properties and blushed as he winked and opened the bottle to breathe. “Brain aneurysm and homemade wine” I thought as the smell of the Merlot wafted into my nostrils. At the very least, the wine would make conversation fluid. I poured myself a glass and looked at my phone. 737pm. Joel had been pacing back and forth as I poured the last glass from the bottle. “Maybe she got in a car accident”? He said as he cleared the uneaten bread from my table. “Maybe” I said half-jokingly. Although the thought did indeed cross my mind. I slowly came to the realization that I had been stood up. I wasn’t so much upset as I was relieved. At least now I wouldn’t have to stumble over my words trying to make conversation. I tried to make more excuses to justify her absence. But I always came to the same conclusion. She probably just didn’t want to say no. I groaned at the thought. I gulped down the remaining Merlot and stood to use the restroom. Then I heard the from door open. Before I could turn I felt a hug. A BIG hug. I was being lifted off my feet! As I was put down I turned and saw it was her. I smiled sheepishly, embarrassed that she had picked me up, but it quickly faded. “Hi”! She bubbled. “I’m starving”! She sat at the table and Joel immediately summoned the waiter for bread, grinning from ear to ear. He was as relieved as I was. I sat down and before I could say a word she began talking. The words just flowed from her lips and although I listened engagingly, I couldn’t remember what she was saying. I just sat and smiled in awe. Finally she reached out her hand across the table and I prepared for her touch. She wiped my brow gently “Hot in here, huh”? I was sweating. I blamed the wine but I knew it was her. Just being in such close proximity to her my body temperature elevated to almost a fever. Joel then came out of the kitchen with another bottle of his special Merlot. She glanced at it and then her phone. 959pm. She gave me a crooked smile and as I looked at Joel I noticed he was smiling too. But not his usual grin. It was different, almost sinister. I felt sweat dripping down the small of my back. The waiters had all left and the lights had dimmed. “Joel, are you closing”? I asked. But he did not answer. He just stood and smiled. His grin growing bigger. I looked at her and she smiled wider. Her grin no longer crooked, but perfect. Perfect red lips. Perfect white teeth. Sharp white teeth. Before I could even move she lunged across the table. “Shhhhh” she whispered in my ear. “Not time to go just yet”. I knew she was strong, but as she held me down I felt paralyzed. Joel still grinning and standing there. As I look up at him in confusion I noticed the bottle of Merlot. It was empty. As I turned to look back at her her perfect mouth was opened wide. Rows of perfectly white, perfectly sharp teeth on full display. She looked upon me one last time before she bit down. Then I remembered what she said. The only thing I could remember that she said. When I asked her out on a date. A real date. “Sure,” she said. “Just one drink”.
By Bobby Steele5 years ago in Humans
-5.jpg?fit=crop&fm=jpg&h=375&ixid=MnwzNTY3MHwwfDF8YWxsfHx8fHx8fHx8MTYxOTM4Njk3Mw&ixlib=rb-1.2.1&q=75&w=625&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=vocal.media)
