Authors with Asperger's discussion

I just started my new short story "Hell is Everyone but You." It's about an Aspie and a normal person both coming to a ski lodge before committing suicide. What they find instead is each other.


1
There I am, sitting in the lobby of the ski lodge, a nice rug underneath my feet, and a roaring fire to my right. The snow-covered mountains outside provide breathtakingly beautiful scenery for me to gaze at.
Now normally I would stay far away from a place like this. That’s because I have Asperger’s Syndrome, a developmental disorder and a mild form of autism. It’s not Down Syndrome or anything so severe, but it does significantly limit my desire to be around other people. Social interaction has always been my greatest challenge.
However, a couple factors have enabled me to come all the way out here to spend a few days at this Colorado resort. The first is the fond memories I have of this place. My parents used to take me here when I was a kid, and I grew to love it. As I transitioned into an adult my Asperger’s became more pronounced, I stopped coming.
Nevertheless, I recently found out business had dropped off, and the place was about to close as a result. In other words, there were very few people here to bother me. This made it the ideal place to…
…well, I’d rather not get into the third reason for my coming here. The less I think about it, the better. For now, I just want to enjoy the peace of this place.
“Great place, isn’t it?”
Female. Beautiful. I have to give labels to everyone I meet. It’s one of the quirks I got from the Asperger’s. Anyway, this woman, who appears to be roughly the same age as me—late 20s or early 30s—sits down in the plush green chair across from me. A coffee table separates us.
I grunt an affirmative as I tap my fingers on the chair’s arm rest. Right to left, starting with my thumb and ending with my pinky. It has to be that way.
“You come here often?” she asks.
Reluctantly, I answer her. “This is the first time in years.” She has silky-smooth shoulder-length brown hair. I can still remember a time when I would have killed to be with a girl like her. Well, not killed. It can be argued Aspies have a reputation for violence, but honestly, we’re just misunderstood. I could never kill anyone, except…damn, there I go thinking about it again. Anyway—I no longer have any interest in anyone or anything.
She latches onto my answer like a drowning person to a flotation device. “So you used to come here? That’s cool.
I shrug. “I guess. There use to be a lot more people here back then.” Why am I allowing myself to be drawn into a conversation with a complete stranger? I don’t even like having conversations with my own family.

To be continued...

Love the voice - I can really hear all the thoughts going on in the narrator's head.

Thanks. I've tried the first-person view before, without much luck. Most of my stories are third-person. However, to really get into this guy's head it needs to be first-person, I feel.

Continued from above...
“Yeah, I heard this place is going to shut down soon. The economy and all that.”
“Mmmm-hmm.”
She says, “But hey—at least we’ve got this place all to ourselves, you know?”
I’m getting a weird vibe off her. She seems cheerful on the outside, but something’s not quite right about her. I laugh inside. Like I’m one to talk.
“Yeah, it’s great,” I reply, completely sincere. The lack of people makes this paradise. Probably the last paradise I’ll ever see.
Dammit, I keep going back to that. I don’t want to think about it, but I just can’t help it. Could anyone in my position help it?
I stand up to leave. I don’t know why, but I tell her, “I’m going back to my room now.”
“Oh.” She looks disappointed. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”
“Maybe,” I lie. I have no intention of going for something I can’t have. To do so would only torture me further.

2
Later that evening I return to the lobby and, after grabbing some food, sit down in the same place to eat it. When I think about it, eating seems kind of pointless. Then I once again shake those thoughts out of my head. Regardless of what will happen soon, my stomach still has a say. Besides, the food is really quite good. I got sliders. I love sliders.
I frequently look around the room to see if that girl is here. She isn’t. I also try not to think about what a lovely vision she is and what kind of future we have had together in an alternate timeline.
My attention lapse comes back to bite me in the ass, however. “Hey, it’s you again!” It’s her. Again.
“H-Hey.” You ever have those moments when you don’t know what to say, but words leave your mouth anyway? Your brain just sorta goes on half-assed autopilot.
She sits down opposite me like earlier. “I’m loving this place. Especially the hot tub.”
“I, uh, haven’t seen that yet.” I stuff a chunk of slider into my mouth to avoid having to say anything else.
“Oh, you have to! It’s amazing, being outside in the beautiful weather but still warm.”
“I’ll be sure to check it out later.” My confidence is gradually building up.
“I’m Audrey, by the way.”
I respond, “Brian.”
“Nice to meet you, Brian. How long are you going to be here?”
She had no way of knowing it, but she just asked a sticky question. “A few days,” I say cryptically.
“Me, too.”
Before she can ask me to elaborate, I decide to change the subject. “So, Audrey, what do you do for a living?”
She looks away nervously. “Well, I’m, uh…a writer. I’ve already got a few novels under my belt.”
Her story sounds fishy, but I don’t care. I just want to keep attention away from my situation. “Oh, yeah? Anything I’ve read?”
“Probably not,” she says evasively.
“Come on,” I pry, suddenly interested. “I read a lot of novels. What’s yours called?”
“M-Midnight Falls.”
“Hmmm. No, I haven’t read that.”
She mumbles something under her breath. I’m not sure, but it sounds like “No one has.”
I don’t really know what to say, so I do a little mumbling of my own. “Yeah, well, you know…” Maybe it was a bad idea to change the subject.
“Oh, but I have a copy in my room. I can give it to you later, if you want.”
“Sure, I guess,” I say. I don’t mention that I won’t be around to read it. It’s better if she thinks she’s gained a new fan.
“Great. Meet you back here in an hour?” She definitely seems to have perked up.

3
An hour later, night has fallen and I’m back in what has become my designated spot. Audrey returns with a copy of her novel Midnight Falls and hands it to me.
“It’s about a man with AIDS who falls in love with a woman who has cancer. They have to overcome the stigmas surrounding their illnesses to be together.”
“Whoah,” I say. “That’s…what’s the word…risqué?” I admired her for having the guts to write a story like that. “I’m amazed your publisher was willing to put that out there.”
She again mumbles something, but I can’t make it out. She then quickly says, “Hey, you feel like tying one on?”
“A drink? Sure; why not.” I’m a pretty experienced drinker. I wouldn’t say I’m an alcoholic yet, but that particular mistress is well-acquainted with me.
She goes and gets a couple martini glasses full of something red and hands one to me. As we clink, she says, “Cheers.”

4
The next thing I remember, it’s morning and I’m sitting on the love seat in the lobby near my usual chair. There is a blanket around me.
Around us, actually. Because Audrey is dozing with her head against my shoulder. If it weren’t for the hangover, I could have enjoyed this.
She soon stirs. She notices the situation we’re in and says, “Oh, God. Did we…do it?”
I stare at her for a moment, trying to sort my thoughts in spite of the jackhammer in my head. Finally: “Our clothes are still on.”
“Oh, thank God! Not that I have anything against you, of course. It’s just that I don’t know you yet.” Nor will you, I think to myself.
“No offense taken,” I assure her.
“Good. I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, but for all I know, you’re married.” I notice she has moved away from me.
“No, not married.” And I never will be. “I’m one hundred percent single.”
She says, “Oh, that’s great. I mean—not great for you. Or maybe it is, I don’t know.”
This is an interesting conversation, but my head is killing me, so I decide to leave. “Sorry, but I’m going to go hop into a real bed. I’ll see you later.”

5
I make my way back to my room. As I stand in the hallway sifting through my pockets for the keycard, I notice Audrey has followed me. She’s standing there, staring at me. I’m about to say something, but she beats me to it. “You said some interesting things while you were wasted last night.”
That sends a chill through me. “Like what?”
“Well, my memory’s a little hazy, but I distinctly remember five words: ‘I came here to die’.”

You can now download the full story as a free ebook: http://depositfiles.com/files/39bte8s...