The Collector

• Lindsay Morrison , Grade 11, St Paul's College
• Short Story
• 2015

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

He stood with his arms crossed and back slanted against a brick wall. A hat was tipped low over his roving grey eyes as they scanned the bustling crowd. A jacket was wrapped around his shoulders, concealing his narrow chest.
People rushed along the busy street, hurrying to their monotonous lives. Hundreds passed his sight but none of them noticed him. He was as insignificant and inconspicuous as a tree in a forest.
He noticed them though.
No one escaped his scrutinising eye. All were categorised and disregarded as he searched.
This crowd in particular bored him. No one met his criteria. Elderly women he had enough of. Jocks were in stock. Young innocents were plentiful. Heroes were also not on his current quota. Dumb blondes he had an overabundance of. He had actually been warned off them. They were too easy to catch.
He was yet to catch the perfect specimen. The one that caught the eye and lost it.
Catching one would earn him a major bonus. They were so rare because they were hard to spot and went out of their way to avoid people. He had only caught one before and was hungering after another.
And there she was. A girl passed along his sight, her head bowed over her wad of papers. The crowd passed unconsciously around her, like she was leper. No one noticed her. She was small but pretty, shy and nervous. She didn’t meet any eyes, but hurried along, her head down and feet scuffling.
Perfect.
The Collector moved fluidly off the wall and sauntered after her. He passed smoothly through the crowd in her wake, the woman unaware of his presence as he followed her down the street. She stopped by a small black Corolla, parked on the side of the street.
She was still unaware of his presence as they both reached into their pockets, she for her keys, he for his book.
“Ahem,” he coughed.
She turned, her startled blue eyes alighting on him as he flipped open his book. Her pale lips began to form words as a blue light emulated from the book and engulfed her.
One second she was there. The next she was gone.
The Collector gazed down at the open book and watched languidly as words scrawled across the previously blank page. He smiled as he read the words, a description of the woman appearing in his mind vividly. She would make a perfect character for a teen fiction novel.
Closing the book, he slipped it back into his jacket pocket as he strolled away. He had more characters to catch.