Foreword
The Collector is a spine chilling tale of a blind date gone wrong. Inspired by the childhood dark tale of Bluebeard (who kept his dead wives' corpses in a particular room under lock and key in his vast mansion; till his newest conquest of a bride unlocked the harrowing secret). Enjoy and be cautious the next time you meet someone off the virtual world. You never know who you will bump into.
Chapter 1: Her
Louisa breathed a sign of exasperation as she slowly peeled off her formal work attire in font of the full length mirror mounted onto her cream vintage wardrobe. It’s been a long and hard day at work with mounds of manuscripts to edit and the incessant rings and blinking red evil of the phone on her desk screaming for her immediate attention.
Her long dark raven hair streaked in deep plum, initially bun up, is now in disarray with strands falling out and tumbling down her shoulders. Her rich wine painted lips had faded revealing the pale true colours of her, in her own words, Angelina Jolie fish lips. They looked wrinkled, swollen and exposed without their usual coat of paint.
Her eyes appeared void of moisture and tired from straining at the minute words carelessly scribbled on the manuscripts. Her skin dry under the merciless harsh conditions of the wintry cold blasts of air-con that’s been blowing at her since 8 in the morning and her recent manicured nails chipped from all the frustrated typing on her computer keyboard. She looked old and haggard, totally unlike her 30 years of age.
Louisa allowed her hair to fall from the solemn bun and started brushing them straight. She has a date tonight and no way is she going to let him see her in such a state.
She had submitted one of her makeover shots to this newly established dating agency which was offering free trials to the first 50 members. And why not? She has been single for eons and with a free dating service with no strings attached, what has she got to lose? Well, maybe her pride and dignity if her haughty, pretty, young and slim colleagues at the media firm come to know that the big beautiful bouquet of red roses sent on every Valentine’s Day from her supposed dashing and rich boyfriend was a fluke (sent in secretly by Louisa herself).
THAT is definitely not going to happen. She swore to snag a man before Valentine’s Day by hook or by crook. Tearing her eyes away from the mirror, Louisa racked her brains on which outfit to present herself to her date.
Which shall I pick? The sexy red siren looking number? The sweet pastel pink frock? Or the safe black chiffon tube dress that spells understated chic?
The clock ticks silently by; its rusted tip silently scratching the grim face's surface.
Chapter 2: Him He walks with a slight hunch, black dusty shoes tapping nosily every time it comes in contact with the paved and uneven ground. Hair oiled and neatly slicked to the back, it does no wonder to his already receding hairline. The photo of a lady 2 years his junior, heavily made-up in a makeover shot is placed in his slightly crumpled white shirt’s breast pocket. Finally, a date after a string of failed relationships that he had was unable to let go and left him heartbroken in the process.
He had loved his previous girlfriends whole heartedly but alas all of them did not share his enthusiastic passion and gave their hearts away to other men who looked good on the outside but rotten in the inside. He was left to nurse a broken heart and became a broken man but when he saw this lady’s photo in a dating agency’s ad, he felt the tender pangs of love again.
Plucking up whatever courage he could master, he dialed the agency’s number and requested for a date and was miraculously matched to her due to their shared hobby – collecting phone cards.
In the world of advanced technology and the prevalent use of mobile phones, it is rare and much to his delight to have chance upon a lady love who treasures the simple life and tools of yesteryear. He chose his best photo taken a couple of years ago and sent it to her. She agreed to a date and the match was sealed.
Checking his watch, he looked around at the busy crowd weaving in and out of the MRT station. He was early.
Chapter 3: The Meeting
Louisa cutting a slender figure in her chiffon black tube dress, finally decided on it after whirling through numerous full dress rehearsals the last couple of hours, looked around for him with his photo in hand.
Where’s is he? Had he left? It can’t be; I am just a mere 5 minutes late.
Louisa felt a prickle of panic attack rising through her throat. The crowds swimming before her eyes started to manifest into a blur. She felt dizzy and a wave of nauseous was churning from the pit of her tummy. Louisa grabbed onto a steel rail nearby and took in deep breaths.
Calm down girl, why are you getting so anxious and over the top for a stranger you have not even met or spoken too?
He spotted her, the lady in that classy black dress standing next to the rails. Yes, it’s her indeed. She looks just like the photo he has in his hand. It’s time for an introduction.
Louisa lifted her head and saw a slight slouchy figure approaching from ahead. A man probably in his late thirties or maybe even older, no thanks to a receding hairline and a slight paunch was walking towards her direction. Dressed a little sloppily in a creased white shirt, baggy black pants and dusty black leather shoes, could it be him? But it can’t be?! The guy in the photo looks much younger and pleasant but...
He stopped before Louisa and held out a hand.
Hi! I’m Derek. You must be Louisa.
Louisa was speechless for a moment. The man looks so different in flesh.
They stood in awkward silence. His hand remains outstretched for a handshake.
Oops, I am so sorry, replied Louisa in a fluster.
Nice to meet you. I am Louisa.
His hand felt clammy and Louisa allowed the handshake to be a very brief one.
He had a lop-sided smile and his midnight black eyes seem to pierce right through her. He led her to a nearby hawker centre for dinner.
Louisa had lost her appetite for dinner and felt very conscious. She was sticking out like a sore thumb at the dirty and noisy hawker. Dressed in chiffon, she did not exactly expected a dinner date at a hawker centre and worst still a date that looks, well not what she what she had in mind.
He ordered chicken rice for both him and her since she could not decide what she wants. After their food arrived, he asked more about her collection of phone cards. Louisa cringed inwardly; she had just listed collecting phone cards as one of her hobbies just for the fun of it. She does not collect them at all. Who in the world still collects phone cards in the day and age where a mobile phone is a necessity as important as or even more so than one’s wallet?
What a loser.
She talked vaguely on the imaginary ones she has and asked him politely about his. His eyes lit up immediately. Gesturing widely about his collections, he ranted on the unfeeling society neglecting the precious treasure of yesteryear and how he found it a pity that only he could still see the beauty and value of the cards till he met her. She smiled in response disguising her disgust underneath the make-up and nods of her head.
He plunged into the millions of different designs and how each and every one was selected to form one of the most precious collections close to his heart. Louisa stifled a long and loud yawn that she could feel erupting at the back of her mouth. She badly wanted to check on the time on the delicate bracelet watch she worn on her fragile wrist but feared it will appear rude.
Finally his mouth clasped shut. He looked at the time on his own rusty gold watch and invited her to his house to view his collection. She will be the first person to share his passion and he sincerely hope she will not decline.
How could she? Although it’s closing to 11pm and the idea of crawling back into the soft comforts of her own bed never sounded so appealing as before, she just could not bring herself to say ‘No’ to him.
It will be my pleasure.
She heard herself replying to him despite all the unwillingness built within her.
Chapter 4: Stay with me, will you?
He got up from his seat and took her cold hand into his clammy and warm one.
Let’s go before we miss the train, he mumbled.
He hurried along with wide steps all the while holding Louisa’s hand tight. She found herself gasping for breath as she tried to match his steps.
Sorry for the mess, he apologised.
Have a seat.
He gestured towards a cushiony chair while he hurriedly cleared the loose newspapers, socks and unwashed clothes thrown and draped around the apartment.
You live by yourself? Louisa asked curiously.
He nodded his head without looking in her direction and disappeared into one of the rooms.
The apartment he lived in was pretty spacious although it’s the typical pig sty of a bachelor’s pad. It’s once whitewashed walls have turned somewhat yellowish and there were creepy looking spider webs spun at the corners of the walls. A ceiling fan spun dizzyingly above her head blowing musky damp scents up her nostrils.
Louisa felt faint.
Here it is!
Louisa jumped in her seat.
He re-emerged from the room holding a dusty cardboard box jubilantly. The shirts of his sleeves were rolled up revealing pale thin arms and swollen green veins under the translucent skin.
Gently, he laid out albums after albums filled with yellowed pages and stains and he displayed his phone cards proudly to Louisa, basking in the attention and talking rapidly immersed in his own fantasy world.
I even take them out one by to one to clean whatever dust, dirt or fingerprints got on the cards, he proclaimed.
Louisa smiled weakly. She felt sick.
Every now and then she nods her head and responds at the appropriate moments to avoid looking disinterested where in fact she is close to tears.
At long last, she could not stand it no longer.
I really got to go. It’s getting late and I have work tomorrow. It’s been nice knowing you and I had a great time looking though your collection. Thank you for your hospitality. Louisa looked at him in the eye and stood up ready to leave.
Wait! He reached out and grabbed her arm firmly.
I still have one last collection for you to see. You can say it’s my most precious collection of all. I put my heart and soul in for this. You have got to see it.
Louisa heaved a soft sigh and nodded.
He took her by the arm with an iron grip and led her to one of the unlit rooms in his apartment. A faint stench wafted up Louisa’s nostrils and she swallowed the urge to puke.
Can you please loosen your grip? It’s hurting me. Louisa pleaded to him.
He just smiled wryly.
He opened the door and flicked on the switch. The lights flickered for a moment and Louisa spied reddish brown stains on the floor and an awful pungent smell overpowering her.
The bright lights lit up the room. Louisa screamed.
Using his hands to stifle her shrill and scared screams, he pointed to the rows of dead women hung to the ceiling by a nylon roped tied tightly around their necks.
These are my past girlfriends. They had all wanted to leave me for other men but I managed to make them stay and to give me their heart and soul. But I have never felt so strongly for any of them like how I feel towards you. You will stay by my side just like all of them.
Louisa tried to struggle but she was too weak. He was surprisingly strong for such a small built man.
I promise it won’t hurt.
Salty tears started to roll down her cheeks. She pleaded with him through her eyes and shook her head. He hushed her and reaches out for a rope lying on the floor.
Soon darkness envelops her.
