Saturday, 23 August 2014

THE MOST ATTRACTIVE RESORT IN THE WORLD – Flash Fiction


Don’t forget who you are.

Something about this message felt incorrect, like bad table manners or an uninvited visitor making himself at home in my house. It just didn’t sit well with me.

I placed the cash and the bank card on the table, and screwed up the strange note, dropping it in the small bin by the bed.

Looking out the huge window, green perfectly manicured fields stretched for miles in the morning rays of the sun. The windows possessed no means of opening them, but gentle air conditioning was taking care of the room’s comfort level.

I walked into the bathroom and was dazzled by the beauty of it. A huge vanity mirror glowed over a marble wash basin, a polished floor that glistened, and a huge bath tub with controls that suggested it doubled as a Jacuzzi. I turned off the tap; the source of the dripping and smiled automatically. The impulse was to draw a bath, relax on the bed while waiting for the bath to run, enjoy the bath, get changed, and head out the room. The powerful urge that the world was mine for the taking, coursed through my body – it was a great feeling.

Following that exact plan, I left the room dressed in the only clothes that hung in the wardrobe; a blue shirt and black trousers with a silver buckle belt and polished black shoes. I had pocketed the bank card and cash and looked at myself in the mirror before I left the room. My appearance felt familiar and good. I had confidence in it and grinned before departing.

Stepping out into the corridor, the exterior of the room matched the opulence of the room itself. This place was exquisite. The same bouncy red carpet and freshly varnished wooden panelling on the walls, decorated it. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling all the way down the corridor and other guests were exiting their rooms with a similar expression of tranquillity in their disposition. A smile emerged on my face again - it was almost challenging to resist it. Everything just felt so good.

Two extremely attractive hotel employees passed by - one blond and one brunette with flawless makeup application and slender figures. They were dressed in black shirts and matching trousers with oval golden name tags on their chests, clearly betraying their employment at the resort.

“Good morning Mr Charles,” they said in unison.

“Morning,” I said. It was as if I was hearing my own voice for the first time and yet again, there was a warmth and familiarity. I was excited. Life was just beginning.

At that moment, a loud speaker clicked on and a gentle female voice breezed into the atmosphere.

“Morning guests of Green Hill Suites. Please make your way to the lobby where we will be checking you out. We wish you well and hope you’ve enjoyed your stay with us. Thank you.”

I shrugged, not knowing at all what I done during my stay. I then walked in the direction that others were headed, completely oblivious about what was going on.  

Friday, 22 August 2014

WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU'VE LOST IT ALL - Flash Fiction



The closest idea I could match this memory loss to, was the morning after a boozy night.

When you wake from a dreadful overdose of the most raw, un-distilled liquor, the memory loss can be intimidating. The self-deprivation of H20 provides a high on the night – that’s for certain, but that next morning, your body is as dry as the Sahara.

Your biological function kicks in, protecting you physiologically as well as psychologically – point is, memory loss is a huge part of that process. Some say it’s because we don’t want to remember – associations of guilt with the old-fashioned dying social concept, that being drunk is humiliating. Others say it’s a form of brain damage – that the memory cells have been eaten away.

When you’re riddled with memory loss, there’s a systematic list to run off. First is the frantic scan for a memory - any memory that draws sense out of the chaos. Then there is the search of the trousers and shirt pockets - perhaps a nearby table for items that will help you remember the night. Then there is the toilet visit - either for puking up your guts again or a search for anything you might have left or dropped clumsily.

With the realisation that I couldn't remember my name, I did none of those things, and the memory loss didn’t stop there. I couldn’t recall anything about the last few days, weeks, months, or years. Sure, I had numbers down. Alphabet. My Times Tables. A love of Greek Mythology, English Literature, Religious Studies, History. A slight enjoyment in the challenge of Mental Arithmetic was present and the thrill of rational, meaningful debate. A great respect for health and fitness swam through my mind and the feeling I was pretty proficient in protecting myself. But everything that happened - maybe five years, maybe more than that – it didn’t exist.

I didn't have a mother. Didn't have a father. No siblings. No aunts or uncles. No cousins. It had just been me. Always me. Alone. Strong, but always alone. I didn't want to go looking for my personal belongings. Didn't want to find out who I was. This blissful ignorance was nice. Comforting. Acceptable.

I spotted an envelope on the table side under a red shaded lamp. The dripping tap that seemed to be coming from the other room and had aroused me from sleep in the first place, continued as I stepped up to the table and picked up the envelope.

Christopher Charles was engraved on the front in the same elegant gold font as the welcome card.
The name felt right. I opened the envelope and pulled a letter.

Good Morning Mr. Charles, 
Today begins your new life. Inside this envelope is a bank card with a considerable sum to get you started. We hope your stay has cleared your mind and refreshed your body.
Green Hill Suites.

Three $100 bills fell from the envelope onto the table.

Another note plunged out as well. A note that didn’t belong to this generous, neat bundle. A scrap of a paper that levelled my stomach with a bizarre, invasive sadness that didn’t belong. I picked it up and scrunched my eyes at the scruffy, rushed writing.

I immediately disliked what it had to say.

Thursday, 21 August 2014

I JUST LOST EVERYTHING



I woke to the sound of a dripping tap. My eyes scanned the ceiling, then travelled to the rest of the room. It was a nice room. The kind of room that immediately comforts you when you enter, like the reception of a hotel suite. The subtle smell breathed around me – mint and jasmine, intermingled, keeping me almost sedated.

As I came to my senses, something told me I’d lost a great deal, yet another force compelled me to believe that this was a good loss – a cost to progress from, like a reset button had been hit and the world was giving me a second chance.

I rose and let my feet hit the floor. The room was indeed pleasant. Heated. Calm.

Life itself felt like it was on pause, awaiting my next move. 

Soft red carpet caressed my toes and taking a second moment for observation of my surroundings, I realised it was indeed a spacious deluxe hotel room.

My body felt massaged and rejuvenated as I got up, and walking to the glass table, I reviewed the tall, cream vase cradling a red rose. A white card from Green Hill Suites greeted me with a golden, engraved font: ‘welcome to Green Hill Suites – may your stay clear your mind and refresh your body.’ The card itself was heavily scented in the same jasmine that coated the room.


It was then, that it dawned on me. In my freshness and feeling of serenity, there was a gaping, black hole – I didn’t know my name.