A few chapters...
Joe
Posts: 25
...of this thing I started writing the other day. Not really thinking about it, just writing whatever pops into my head. Only 4000 or so words and probably a few mistakes. Haven't checked it that thoroughly. Just wondering what people here think of it so far - bear in mind it's very much a work in progress. And I haven't thought of a name...here goes:
The fluorescent light flickered incessantly overhead, the steady buzz of its malfunction complementing the dull drone of voices and music from outside the door – it was a welcome relief from that cacophony outside. Constant and predictable. I just wanted to escape, just for five minutes. I sat on the toilet in the tiny cubicle, my head in my hands. Had I too much to drink? No, that wasn’t it - but I felt terrible. I dragged myself to his feet and looked upwards into the light. As if feeling my glare, the flickering stopped and the bathroom was silent. My vision wavered for a moment and I felt weak – a fear had gripped me and I didn’t know why. I felt alone despite the masses of people partying just yards away. I suddenly felt worlds apart from those people, I felt no connection to them, no idea of what they were and did and wanted…I opened the door of the cubicle gingerly almost as if I expected something to be waiting for me at the other side. Stupid, I know. But this night was different. The bathroom looked…totally new to me. I had walked in here only five minutes previous and yet…it was different somehow, unfamiliar. A blind bathroom attendant sat in the corner, utterly still behind his dark glasses. Had he been here before? Hard to remember “before”, hard to remember anything…almost as if reading my thoughts, the attendant looked up – it seemed he was looking directly into my eyes. “You don’t look so good, my friend” he chuckled. The man’s stare had an intensity about it as if he saw more than any man with sight could, as if he knew what was happening.
An inexplicable unease was rising within me. Something was not right. I walked quickly towards the door, wanting to get out of the bathroom, out of this party and back to the sanctity of my home as quickly as possible. I re-entered the party – it was loud, aggressive and wild to me - a feeling I’d usually thrive on…not now. I had been here already…hadn’t I? It seemed so strange. The people did not seem real to me, mere shadows flickering at the edge of my vision. I could not focus on them, could not see their faces. They were ghostlike to me, physically miles away even though right in front of me – it was as if my thoughts were moulding the situation. The cacophony around me seemed to build, seemed to close in around me. I had to get out of there.
And then I saw her. When I did, she was the only one in the room. She stood at the bar, looking directly at me. She was…beautiful. Dressed in red. A real femme fatale. I thought I knew her somehow, from where I didn’t know. She seemed so familiar, it was like I’d known her all my life and yet I couldn’t remember ever meeting her before. I had to speak to her. I was drawn to her, as if she was why I was there. My anxiety, my sickness, my fears…they all seemed to melt away under her gaze. “Have we met before?” I asked. As soon as I said it I regretted it. I’d regret it for more later, but it was inevitable that I talk to her. May as well regret the sunset. Back then, I regretted it as it seemed such a cliché. And yet…“Of course we have. How could you forget?” she replied as a teacher to a child, slow and condescending. She looked at me intently, studying me, watching my reaction. Her face was blank of emotion. “I can’t recall your name…” I said, by now feeling very foolish (she has that effect on me still…) She suddenly became aggressive. “Can you recall your own? You don’t look well. In fact, you look as if you don’t even know where you are. Where exactly are you?” she said angrily, staring at me.
The question and her sudden change of manner took me by total surprise. I couldn’t think of an answer…where exactly was I? What was this party? But I was there…
“I’m here…at this party…” I said uncertainly, my anxiety returning with interest. My words seemed to slur out of my mouth, as if in slow motion. She smiled now, a cold smile. “I see. Drink this…” She passed him a drink as she spoke. “…and remember your troubles. There are worse to come…” Remember? Surely you drank to forget…I downed it as she spoke, not even considering what it was. But I knew it the instant I had finished it. It was drugged, it must have been. It hit me like an express train – fast and relentless. I stumbled and grabbed the bar. “What the fuck is this…” I fell to my knees. The party goers around me seemed oblivious. Why weren’t they helping me? I felt fury now, utter rage at their apathy. I wanted to call out…I wanted their help! But I couldn’t, I was totally incapacitated – my mind functioning, my body not. The woman just stared down at me, her face still as blank as a sheet. I felt my consciousness slipping away but the last thing I remember – her cold voice…
“We’ll meet again…”
She was right of course, she’s always right.
And I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. The sound was like hammer blow after hammer blow to my head. The first thing I needed to do was answer that fucking phone. I fumbled and grabbed for it, struggling with my sheets. Eventually, I got the torture to stop. “….yeah?” I managed to say, struggling through my hangover – or whatever it was – with great difficulty. “Gabe my man! What’s happening? Lost you at the party last night…got pretty wild towards the end man. Where’d you get to?” My friend Kevin. Comforting, for some reason, to hear his voice. Normal. But…the party. What had happened? I could remember so little. Except her. “….the party. You see a woman there…a woman in red? I was talking to her…” I thought maybe Kevin had seen us talking, seen what had happened. His reply was not encouraging. “Yeah? You were pretty wasted last time I saw you, man. Surprised you remember anything.” “I wasn’t that drunk…” My bemusement was growing. “Yeah? Then what do you remember from last night?” inquired Kevin, obviously enjoying my discomfort. “Nothing…I think I was drugged…this woman…” I knew it was pointless the minute I said it, of course. Who would believe me? “Get to fuck, man.” Kevin laughed at the other end of the phone. “You just got wasted. Didn’t see that chick though, sorry man. Doubt you were too smooth with her in your state though.” “Can’t even remember getting home.” I stretched and rubbed my eyes. A dream, maybe? Seemed so real…still, I was here - home. Hungover. Maybe I did just get too drunk…just didn’t seem right to me at the time. “Thought I’d call and check up on you anyway, man. Obviously I woke you. Tut tut. It’s half two, Gabe. Good thing it’s a Sunday.” Kevin chuckled at the other end of the line. “See you in class tomorrow?” I sighed. “Yeah man, sure. Thanks for the call. Later.”
I hung up without waiting for a response. I had to get my head straight, and quickly. I was still alive, at least. Still Gabriel Cooper. Still a student at the university. Still living in the same flat. All present and correct. It must have been a dream, I decided. It just seemed so clear and lifelike to me still, almost more real than the Sunday morning I was living through. Time to move on, I decided. I got drunk, had a weird dream, end of story (oh, how I wish…). I surveyed my flat. Still looked as if a bomb had hit it. Make that a nuke. I got up and walked to my little kitchen, filling a glass with water. My mouth felt like wet sandpaper, a horrible and inexplicable taste still lingering. My head was swimming. My stomach was churning. In short, I was badly hungover. I downed the water in one gulp and as I placed the glass in the sink I noticed something lying on the carpet by my front door. An envelope. “On Sunday?” I thought as I looked over. “Weird…” I breathed as I walked to retrieve it – I knew there was something strange about it. Very few people had my address, my mail was still delivered to my parent’s house. Those that did had no reason to leave me mail. I thought perhaps it was from my landlord, that was the only explanation…
The envelope was unmarked. Just a plain white letter envelope, unsealed. I opened it and read the note inside.
"Do you remember me? I promised that we’d meet again. I’ll choose when and where. In the meantime – try to remember, Gabriel. You’ll need to for what’s to come."
I stared at the note. The hairs at the back of me neck crawled and a deep feeling of dread built in the pit of my stomach. And I didn’t even know why. I know now of course, I know now…and I’d give anything to get back that ignorance.
Looking back, I realise that I knew something had begun even then. I didn’t know what, but I knew something was happening. Call it intuition, call it my spidey sense, I don’t give a fuck. I just knew. Knowing and accepting, of course, are two very different things. I lay on my bed for what seemed like hours, just thinking. Considering the possibilities. That woman…whoever she was…had obviously dropped me back to my flat. And she obviously left that note. What wasn’t so obvious was how she knew where I lived, knew my name – seemed to know so much about me. So it had to be someone I knew. I ran through possibilities, what could be going on - and I wondered eventually whether it was some kind of prank, an elaborate hoax to make me look an idiot. And of course, I tried to convince myself that was the case even though I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t. Knowledge and acceptance…so I thought of candidates who’d go to such trouble to fuck me over. Kevin? He’d love the laugh but, and if you ever read this Kevin I love you man and my apologies etc etc, he had neither the patience nor the mental dexterity. Steve? No. Joey? No. And on this charade went. You must realise how hollow all this was sounding in my head. I knew I was wrong! But I convinced myself anyway…and decided it had to be this girl I knew. This girl I used to go out with called Jane. “That fucking bitch!” I fumed. God, I was made myself so furious and had myself so convinced. How I wish I was right back then! How I wish it was some chick I boned out to get me…and, believe me, there was a time when that would be the last thing I wanted. I pondered my possibilities. I could call the police…but a) what could I tell them? and b) that’s was a pussy’s way out. I decided for direct action. I picked up my phone and dialled Jane’s number. I was still boiling inside but it wasn’t her. It was the uncertainty, the confusion, the inexplicable fear. I think subconsciously I just wanted someone to let go on. And that someone was…
“Hello?” Jane’s voice sounded at the other end of the line. And so my assault began. “You think this is fucking funny?” I shouted down the phone, unleashing my pent up feelings. “Gabriel? What is this? Why are you ringing me, you fucking prick? Just fuck off!” she raged back. It was an interesting phone call, by all accounts. “Quit with this shit you’re pulling on me. Leaving this note, getting someone to drug my drink…what is your fucking problem?” I was in a groove now, committed and there was no turning back. “What are you talking about?! I don’t ever want anything to do with you again. If someone drugged you, great! It wasn’t me, you fuck. I wouldn’t do anything like that, unlike you you heartless prick.” she screamed back – it was obvious here emotions were getting the better of her. “I know it was you. Just stop it! You’ve been out to get me ever since we broke up…” I began before she interrupted. “Since you cheated on me you mean! I haven’t even spoken to you since then. Just leave me alone.” She was crying now. “Leave me alone…” She hung up.
My fury had been replaced by guilt. Let me tell you something about myself. I’m not a good person, never have been. I don’t help old ladies across the street. I don’t donate to charity. I’m not a gentleman where the opposite sex are concerned. It’s not that I thrive on schadenfreude – quite the opposite. I’m not an evil person, if there is such a thing – that you have to believe. I always – always – felt guilty about the things I did but I just couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I’m getting what I deserve now…
So I sat on that bed ruminating over various heinous acts I’d committed – all brought back to me by the direct onslaught of Jane. And then the phone began to ring. I didn’t even want to answer it at the time. I wish I didn’t. But I did, of course. I had to. “Hello?” I grunted down the phone. “Gabriel. You sound upset.” It was her. Was I shocked? No…not really. I think I knew she was going to contact me, perhaps subconsciously – I don’t know. I was silent for a moment, thinking of what I could say. I decided to get on with it. “You…who the fuck are you?” I said down the phone. I was…calm. Surprisingly so. She laughed, a mirthless little chuckle. “You’ve always asked the wrong questions, Gabriel. I said we’d meet again. It’ll be tonight. You’ll be there, don’t worry.” As with so many things she says, this confused me. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. This is just some fucking prank.” I said levelly. “Why do you say that? You know as well as I that isn’t true.” She sounded surprised. Disappointed even. As if I wasn’t living up to her expectations… “Then what is it?” I was louder now, more aggressive. Fear of the unknown. “That would be telling. But I just want to say…your friend Jane? She doesn’t know anything about this. No-one does. Except you and I.” she said coolly. “What happened last night? What did you do to me?” I practically shrieked it. Silence for a while…then: “I’ll see you tonight Gabriel.” The line clicked as she hung up but I sat holding the phone to my ear as if expecting an explanation to be meted out to me. Wishful thinking. I still don’t know what’s going on.
The fluorescent light flickered incessantly overhead, the steady buzz of its malfunction complementing the dull drone of voices and music from outside the door – it was a welcome relief from that cacophony outside. Constant and predictable. I just wanted to escape, just for five minutes. I sat on the toilet in the tiny cubicle, my head in my hands. Had I too much to drink? No, that wasn’t it - but I felt terrible. I dragged myself to his feet and looked upwards into the light. As if feeling my glare, the flickering stopped and the bathroom was silent. My vision wavered for a moment and I felt weak – a fear had gripped me and I didn’t know why. I felt alone despite the masses of people partying just yards away. I suddenly felt worlds apart from those people, I felt no connection to them, no idea of what they were and did and wanted…I opened the door of the cubicle gingerly almost as if I expected something to be waiting for me at the other side. Stupid, I know. But this night was different. The bathroom looked…totally new to me. I had walked in here only five minutes previous and yet…it was different somehow, unfamiliar. A blind bathroom attendant sat in the corner, utterly still behind his dark glasses. Had he been here before? Hard to remember “before”, hard to remember anything…almost as if reading my thoughts, the attendant looked up – it seemed he was looking directly into my eyes. “You don’t look so good, my friend” he chuckled. The man’s stare had an intensity about it as if he saw more than any man with sight could, as if he knew what was happening.
An inexplicable unease was rising within me. Something was not right. I walked quickly towards the door, wanting to get out of the bathroom, out of this party and back to the sanctity of my home as quickly as possible. I re-entered the party – it was loud, aggressive and wild to me - a feeling I’d usually thrive on…not now. I had been here already…hadn’t I? It seemed so strange. The people did not seem real to me, mere shadows flickering at the edge of my vision. I could not focus on them, could not see their faces. They were ghostlike to me, physically miles away even though right in front of me – it was as if my thoughts were moulding the situation. The cacophony around me seemed to build, seemed to close in around me. I had to get out of there.
And then I saw her. When I did, she was the only one in the room. She stood at the bar, looking directly at me. She was…beautiful. Dressed in red. A real femme fatale. I thought I knew her somehow, from where I didn’t know. She seemed so familiar, it was like I’d known her all my life and yet I couldn’t remember ever meeting her before. I had to speak to her. I was drawn to her, as if she was why I was there. My anxiety, my sickness, my fears…they all seemed to melt away under her gaze. “Have we met before?” I asked. As soon as I said it I regretted it. I’d regret it for more later, but it was inevitable that I talk to her. May as well regret the sunset. Back then, I regretted it as it seemed such a cliché. And yet…“Of course we have. How could you forget?” she replied as a teacher to a child, slow and condescending. She looked at me intently, studying me, watching my reaction. Her face was blank of emotion. “I can’t recall your name…” I said, by now feeling very foolish (she has that effect on me still…) She suddenly became aggressive. “Can you recall your own? You don’t look well. In fact, you look as if you don’t even know where you are. Where exactly are you?” she said angrily, staring at me.
The question and her sudden change of manner took me by total surprise. I couldn’t think of an answer…where exactly was I? What was this party? But I was there…
“I’m here…at this party…” I said uncertainly, my anxiety returning with interest. My words seemed to slur out of my mouth, as if in slow motion. She smiled now, a cold smile. “I see. Drink this…” She passed him a drink as she spoke. “…and remember your troubles. There are worse to come…” Remember? Surely you drank to forget…I downed it as she spoke, not even considering what it was. But I knew it the instant I had finished it. It was drugged, it must have been. It hit me like an express train – fast and relentless. I stumbled and grabbed the bar. “What the fuck is this…” I fell to my knees. The party goers around me seemed oblivious. Why weren’t they helping me? I felt fury now, utter rage at their apathy. I wanted to call out…I wanted their help! But I couldn’t, I was totally incapacitated – my mind functioning, my body not. The woman just stared down at me, her face still as blank as a sheet. I felt my consciousness slipping away but the last thing I remember – her cold voice…
“We’ll meet again…”
She was right of course, she’s always right.
And I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. The sound was like hammer blow after hammer blow to my head. The first thing I needed to do was answer that fucking phone. I fumbled and grabbed for it, struggling with my sheets. Eventually, I got the torture to stop. “….yeah?” I managed to say, struggling through my hangover – or whatever it was – with great difficulty. “Gabe my man! What’s happening? Lost you at the party last night…got pretty wild towards the end man. Where’d you get to?” My friend Kevin. Comforting, for some reason, to hear his voice. Normal. But…the party. What had happened? I could remember so little. Except her. “….the party. You see a woman there…a woman in red? I was talking to her…” I thought maybe Kevin had seen us talking, seen what had happened. His reply was not encouraging. “Yeah? You were pretty wasted last time I saw you, man. Surprised you remember anything.” “I wasn’t that drunk…” My bemusement was growing. “Yeah? Then what do you remember from last night?” inquired Kevin, obviously enjoying my discomfort. “Nothing…I think I was drugged…this woman…” I knew it was pointless the minute I said it, of course. Who would believe me? “Get to fuck, man.” Kevin laughed at the other end of the phone. “You just got wasted. Didn’t see that chick though, sorry man. Doubt you were too smooth with her in your state though.” “Can’t even remember getting home.” I stretched and rubbed my eyes. A dream, maybe? Seemed so real…still, I was here - home. Hungover. Maybe I did just get too drunk…just didn’t seem right to me at the time. “Thought I’d call and check up on you anyway, man. Obviously I woke you. Tut tut. It’s half two, Gabe. Good thing it’s a Sunday.” Kevin chuckled at the other end of the line. “See you in class tomorrow?” I sighed. “Yeah man, sure. Thanks for the call. Later.”
I hung up without waiting for a response. I had to get my head straight, and quickly. I was still alive, at least. Still Gabriel Cooper. Still a student at the university. Still living in the same flat. All present and correct. It must have been a dream, I decided. It just seemed so clear and lifelike to me still, almost more real than the Sunday morning I was living through. Time to move on, I decided. I got drunk, had a weird dream, end of story (oh, how I wish…). I surveyed my flat. Still looked as if a bomb had hit it. Make that a nuke. I got up and walked to my little kitchen, filling a glass with water. My mouth felt like wet sandpaper, a horrible and inexplicable taste still lingering. My head was swimming. My stomach was churning. In short, I was badly hungover. I downed the water in one gulp and as I placed the glass in the sink I noticed something lying on the carpet by my front door. An envelope. “On Sunday?” I thought as I looked over. “Weird…” I breathed as I walked to retrieve it – I knew there was something strange about it. Very few people had my address, my mail was still delivered to my parent’s house. Those that did had no reason to leave me mail. I thought perhaps it was from my landlord, that was the only explanation…
The envelope was unmarked. Just a plain white letter envelope, unsealed. I opened it and read the note inside.
"Do you remember me? I promised that we’d meet again. I’ll choose when and where. In the meantime – try to remember, Gabriel. You’ll need to for what’s to come."
I stared at the note. The hairs at the back of me neck crawled and a deep feeling of dread built in the pit of my stomach. And I didn’t even know why. I know now of course, I know now…and I’d give anything to get back that ignorance.
Looking back, I realise that I knew something had begun even then. I didn’t know what, but I knew something was happening. Call it intuition, call it my spidey sense, I don’t give a fuck. I just knew. Knowing and accepting, of course, are two very different things. I lay on my bed for what seemed like hours, just thinking. Considering the possibilities. That woman…whoever she was…had obviously dropped me back to my flat. And she obviously left that note. What wasn’t so obvious was how she knew where I lived, knew my name – seemed to know so much about me. So it had to be someone I knew. I ran through possibilities, what could be going on - and I wondered eventually whether it was some kind of prank, an elaborate hoax to make me look an idiot. And of course, I tried to convince myself that was the case even though I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t. Knowledge and acceptance…so I thought of candidates who’d go to such trouble to fuck me over. Kevin? He’d love the laugh but, and if you ever read this Kevin I love you man and my apologies etc etc, he had neither the patience nor the mental dexterity. Steve? No. Joey? No. And on this charade went. You must realise how hollow all this was sounding in my head. I knew I was wrong! But I convinced myself anyway…and decided it had to be this girl I knew. This girl I used to go out with called Jane. “That fucking bitch!” I fumed. God, I was made myself so furious and had myself so convinced. How I wish I was right back then! How I wish it was some chick I boned out to get me…and, believe me, there was a time when that would be the last thing I wanted. I pondered my possibilities. I could call the police…but a) what could I tell them? and b) that’s was a pussy’s way out. I decided for direct action. I picked up my phone and dialled Jane’s number. I was still boiling inside but it wasn’t her. It was the uncertainty, the confusion, the inexplicable fear. I think subconsciously I just wanted someone to let go on. And that someone was…
“Hello?” Jane’s voice sounded at the other end of the line. And so my assault began. “You think this is fucking funny?” I shouted down the phone, unleashing my pent up feelings. “Gabriel? What is this? Why are you ringing me, you fucking prick? Just fuck off!” she raged back. It was an interesting phone call, by all accounts. “Quit with this shit you’re pulling on me. Leaving this note, getting someone to drug my drink…what is your fucking problem?” I was in a groove now, committed and there was no turning back. “What are you talking about?! I don’t ever want anything to do with you again. If someone drugged you, great! It wasn’t me, you fuck. I wouldn’t do anything like that, unlike you you heartless prick.” she screamed back – it was obvious here emotions were getting the better of her. “I know it was you. Just stop it! You’ve been out to get me ever since we broke up…” I began before she interrupted. “Since you cheated on me you mean! I haven’t even spoken to you since then. Just leave me alone.” She was crying now. “Leave me alone…” She hung up.
My fury had been replaced by guilt. Let me tell you something about myself. I’m not a good person, never have been. I don’t help old ladies across the street. I don’t donate to charity. I’m not a gentleman where the opposite sex are concerned. It’s not that I thrive on schadenfreude – quite the opposite. I’m not an evil person, if there is such a thing – that you have to believe. I always – always – felt guilty about the things I did but I just couldn’t stop myself. Maybe I’m getting what I deserve now…
So I sat on that bed ruminating over various heinous acts I’d committed – all brought back to me by the direct onslaught of Jane. And then the phone began to ring. I didn’t even want to answer it at the time. I wish I didn’t. But I did, of course. I had to. “Hello?” I grunted down the phone. “Gabriel. You sound upset.” It was her. Was I shocked? No…not really. I think I knew she was going to contact me, perhaps subconsciously – I don’t know. I was silent for a moment, thinking of what I could say. I decided to get on with it. “You…who the fuck are you?” I said down the phone. I was…calm. Surprisingly so. She laughed, a mirthless little chuckle. “You’ve always asked the wrong questions, Gabriel. I said we’d meet again. It’ll be tonight. You’ll be there, don’t worry.” As with so many things she says, this confused me. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. This is just some fucking prank.” I said levelly. “Why do you say that? You know as well as I that isn’t true.” She sounded surprised. Disappointed even. As if I wasn’t living up to her expectations… “Then what is it?” I was louder now, more aggressive. Fear of the unknown. “That would be telling. But I just want to say…your friend Jane? She doesn’t know anything about this. No-one does. Except you and I.” she said coolly. “What happened last night? What did you do to me?” I practically shrieked it. Silence for a while…then: “I’ll see you tonight Gabriel.” The line clicked as she hung up but I sat holding the phone to my ear as if expecting an explanation to be meted out to me. Wishful thinking. I still don’t know what’s going on.
Through the darkness of futures past, the magician longs to see. One chants out between two worlds: "Fire Walk With Me." We lived among the people - I think you say convenience store? We lived above it. I mean it like it is, like it sounds. My name is Mike. His name is BOB.
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As daylight slumped away and night began to cast its shadow, my fears grew. I had so many questions in my head that I couldn’t even concentrate on answering one. Of course, it was this confusion, this utter loss as to what was happening, that was the root of my fear. Man’s greatest fear, the old adage maintains, is of the unknown. I suppose that’s why there’s always someone out there working to know the unknown, to explain away the mysteries our world has to offer. Ambitious. And futile. Some things can’t be explained, I know that now, some things are beyond science, beyond logic. Most people won’t be able to accept this, of course. I was one of those people once. To those people I say – just accept it. Accept the unknown. Accept fear. They’re never going to go away.
My T.V was blaring in the corner, one of these crap late night cop shows. I couldn’t watch no matter what was on. But the sound was comforting. I couldn’t bear silence – I was always that way. It was getting late and I was tired – mentally and physically. My eyes got heavy. My brain started to think those weird thoughts you think just before you fall asleep (you know, monkeys on bicycles, corn flakes with lager, what would I do with the head of an alligator – nonsense, but it makes so much sense when you’re thinking it; we’re a strange bunch)…and then I did.
I awoke and stood looking into a mirror. My reflection seemed strange to me, I couldn’t quite place it. Almost as if I couldn’t recognize myself. Then I saw it. A little dark crimson trickle, at first, crawling its way slowly down my cheek. Then it began to gush. Blood poured from my head and I turned away in horror, in disbelief – I don’t know what. But when I looked back it had disappeared. I touched my head gingerly, not quite believing what I had seen. Was I going crazy? Hallucinations? My thought processes were interrupted by a sharp tug at my side. A small child stood there, dressed in a black suit and utterly emotionless. He looked so familiar to me, more familiar even than my own reflection. We stared at each other for what seemed like five minutes, maybe more. Then, suddenly, the child began to scream. It was a loud unearthly scream, a scream that could in no way naturally emanate from the child. It chilled me to my core, ignited absolute terror within me. I closed my eyes, blocked my ears and began to scream myself – anything to drown out that terrible sound. It went on and on and on…
…until I opened my eyes. I was standing in a small waiting room. It was bizarrely decorated. A thick red carpet covered the floor and garish red wallpaper lined the walls. Directly across from me an old grandfather clock stood, completely out of place with its surroundings. It was twelve o’clock. Noon? Midnight? I didn’t know. Next to it sat a blind man – the blind man. That same one from the party. He looked up as I stared at him. “Time has no meaning here, Gabriel.” he chuckled, somehow knowing what I was thinking. “But it’s a handsome clock, don’t you think?” He looked away and stared vacantly into space. Same as staring at anything, I suppose, for a blind man. “Where is here?” I asked urgently. He didn’t answer, didn’t even look to me. He just pointed to a small office window to my left. It was closed and behind it lay darkness. I approached it. I felt no fear, which was surprising. It was as if…as if I just had to be there and had to do what I had to do. I gave the window a brief little knock and a light suddenly flicked on. I found myself staring at a young woman, no more than twenty-five, a receptionist. She had dead eyes, like a doll’s eyes. Just a shell of a person there to do a task. Office work can do that to a person, I guess. “Yes?” she said. “Gabriel Cooper…I’m here for…to…” I didn’t know, of course. How could I? “Mr. Cooper. Of course. Right on time. Your appointment is that way.” She pointed behind me. I turned…the waiting room had disappeared. I was standing alone in a barren wasteland, a desert, totally lifeless. It stretched for miles in every direction, flat and empty. Until I saw someone in the distance, a figure couldn’t make out. The figure emerged from the hazy horizon – as it approached I realized. Of course, it was her. She said she’d meet me that night. She was right.
“Gabriel. As promised, we meet again.” she greeted me. She was neither warm nor cold in her greeting. Just…impassive. Emotionless. “Who are you?” I demanded, getting straight to the point. By now, I was fed up with the whole thing. I just wanted answers. “Again…the wrong questions. Don’t you want to know where you are?” she smiled. “Okay…where are we?” I controlled my temper. “We’re in your dream, Gabriel. But we’re also…somewhere else.” She laughed lightly at this. “So this isn’t real.” I whispered it, I don’t know why. “No…it’s as real as you believe it be Gabriel. Which is very real indeed.” She watched for my reaction. “I don’t believe this. This isn’t real. Why should I believe it? It’s just a dream.” But I did. She looked disappointed. “Why ask that? We both know you already do.” She was right. I inhaled deeply, desperately trying to control myself – my fear, my anger. “So what is this about?” As I asked it, she smiled. “Excellent! It’s about the past…and the future. More precisely, your past and future. Something you think you know about. But you don’t.” She said this coldly. “And you do? WHO ARE YOU?” I roared it now, unable to rein in my emotions any longer. She just laughed. “That’s not the question you should be asking me, Gabriel. The question you should ask is…” And then I knew. “…who am I?” I finished in a whisper. “Precisely.” she affirmed, almost warmly. “I know who I am.” I said uncertainly. She became intense now, almost angry. “Do you, Gabriel? Do you know yourself? Look into a mirror. Look deep into your eyes. Do you?” She bowed her head. “They say the eyes are the window to the soul…” She looked up. Her eyeballs were completely black, blacker than the darkest night. They seemed to suck light away, so I could barely see her face. I recoiled at the sight of them. “…and the soul is the gateway to the infinite. How did you feel about dying?” She laughed now, loudly, coldly. I turned and ran, just ran for what seemed like hours over the endless desert, the endless dream, blood pumping, sweat pouring, fear growing. I ran until I collapsed…
…and then I woke up. The sound of a distant siren shook the otherwise silent night. I was afraid.
“…and you’ve seen her twice. Once under the influence and once in a dream. Most likely a coincidence, Gabriel. Initially, a hallucination brought on perhaps by substance abuse, then a subsequent dream which recalled the event.” She sounded distinctly unimpressed. Fucking student shrink. I’d skipped two classes to see her – at least it was free. In the monetary sense that is. To tell someone so much about your life has a price…it’s really not pleasant. “It’s more than that.” I responded levelly. “How do you know, Gabriel? If you want me to tell you that you’re crazy, I’m sorry. What I can tell you is that your abuse of substances is irresponsible and quite frankly dangerous. You binge drink frequently, smoke marijuana, dabble in hallucinogens…it’s hardly surprising you “saw” this woman at a party and certainly not surprising you saw her again in a dream.” I was surprised she could see me from her high horse. Fucking patronising bitch. “Listen, forget it. You obviously can’t help me…” I began, before being interrupted. “If I’m to help you, Gabriel, you first have to help yourself.” Jesus! Straight out of the book of shrink clichés. There was probably a compulsory module on the subject. “Fine. Thanks for your time.” I exited without waiting for her reply, I’d wasted enough time that day already.
And that's it so far... thanks to those (if any) that took the trouble to read it don't hold back on the criticism folks.