Wednesday, 27 August 2014

SOMETHING IS SERIOUSLY WRONG HERE... – Flash Fiction



Thoughts fire through your head extremely fast – there’s no doubt about that. Most of us have no idea how the brain works at such speed or bother trying to comprehend the fact that we can actually think 20 thoughts so quickly, they are almost on top of one another.

Some would say they travel at the speed of light, but that can’t be right. I think your head would explode if they moved that fast. I’m not a scientist, but all I know is they move pretty damn quick. I know this because as the door opened, several words and commands crashed in on my mind.

Christ, was the first one.

Followed by, kick the door shut.

What the hell is going on?

What do they want?

What do they mean?

Who was that woman?

Where is that slip of paper?

Put your fists up!

With the doorway fully exposed, a man in an expensive looking suit walked in. He had two men at his sides, dressed in the resort employee attire.

“Mr Charles. If you will?” said the man in the suit. I felt compelled to oblige him. The thoughts that had invaded my brain seconds ago, had all vanished.

“Where are we going?” I said as I stood, towering above him and his workers, who must have all been around the 5’6 mark.

“Downstairs, for a little EMDR.”

Eye movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing, I thought. I knew the procedure. A very late psychological technique developed by Francine Shapiro in 1989 – said to relieve anxiety and other disorders.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Like the sound of a mosquito inside my ear, something was bugging me furiously. I walked out of the room and downstairs with the suited man and the resort staff. We followed the staircase down to a much lower level of the hotel than the ground floor, but my inquisitiveness was sedated – not by my own choosing, but by some ominous force that held it in place.

We arrived in a bright white corridor – white walls, white ceiling and white flooring. When I say white - I do mean exactly that. White so blinding, the contrast shift from upstairs made me have to squint slightly. We stepped up to a door – it slid open automatically.

“Have a seat,” said the suited man. The room I was looking at was immaculate. Like something plucked straight out of the future. A powerful living space with a lot of underlying, suggestive concepts about meditation and the power of Zen. The furniture was crisp and clean with light colours and the wall opposite the door had a huge electronic flat screen across it, presenting the illusion of daylight outside. It was convincing. If I hadn’t have spotted a cable on the far wall, I would have thought the wall was a window showing a pleasant day outside.

I turned back to the people who had led me in. “What am I doing here?”

The man smiled. “Just have a seat and all will be revealed.”

Tuesday, 26 August 2014

FIRST TIME HEARING A FEMALE VOICE – Flash Fiction



I had definitely put it in there. That much was certain. The conviction in and proof of my actions was illuminated by the potent odium I had felt earlier when I had read the message.

I hadn’t liked it. Not one bit. It translated to me as a rebel attempting to start a revolution in a perfect society. But it begged the question - who had taken the scrunched up note from my bin?

“Excuse me, hey” a female voice whispered. “Hey,” it said again. “Over here.”

A grating on the wall – some kind of old ventilation system – hidden under the bedside table, was speaking.
I knelt down beside it and replied. “Hello?”

“Christopher,” she said – I recognised the voice. Firstly, because it felt like the only female voice I’d ever heard in my life and second, because she was the woman who had been in front of me in the queue.

“Yes,” I said.

“How are you feeling?” she said.

“Great. You?”

“O no,” I heard her drone with a disappointment that seemed to stab me right in the heart.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. There was no response.

“Hello,” I said again. The duct blew a gentle wind in my face, giving me a whiff of what must have been her scent. It smelt fantastic. And already I was missing her voice.

“Are you still there?” I said, knowing that I wasn’t going to get a reply. Just quiet.

For a moment, an intense damning feeling of loneliness and the agony that comes with absolute, bold honesty that your life is a waste, attacked me. I held my chest for a second before it disappeared. I shook my head and got up. 

Plonking myself down on the soft bed, a knock at the door slapped me from my confusion.

“Mr Charles?” a man said with a well-spoken British accent. “We would like to speak to you. It’s urgent.”

It could only have been the hotel staff - I was aware that there was no lock on the door as I’m pretty sure they were as well, but for some reason, I really didn’t want to let them in.

“I’m busy at the moment – can I talk to you later,” I said.  

“That’s just it Mr Charles. There isn’t going to be a later. Not for you.”


The door unlocked.  

Monday, 25 August 2014

Top 5 Things To Do Right Now


The process was very quick for me. It came with the intensity that follows the need to make a restroom visit. It also spilled with just as much gratification.

My top five things to do in no particular order:

(1) Travel Europe
(2) Travel the US and Canada, top to bottom
(3) Truly find peace in mind, body, and soul – unified – if the soul exists
(4) Increase my fitness to peak human levels
(5) Learn to cook as well as a gourmet chef

I got up from the couch and walked up to the desk. Instinctively, I handed the resort employee the list – she hadn’t asked for it. It just felt right to give it to her.

She looked at the list, then returned her gaze to me. I could almost detect disappointment, like a school teacher anticipating better results from her star student. It was the way her eyes just slightly narrowed before recapturing their friendliness.

“Thank you Mr Charles,” she said. “And good luck. If you need to get anything more from your room?” she continued, ending in that high tone that converted the statement into a question.

It flashed in my head. A defensive mechanism. Grab the note from the bin in my room. Don’t let anyone see it – the bizarre note that had left a pang in this pristine mind-set, like a piece of food deeply lodged in the gums.

“Yes, I do,” I responded. “Thank you.”

I hiked back up to my room, opened the door that had no locking device whatsoever – really strange – and almost dived for the bin.

The slip of paper with the note, Don’t forget who you are, scribbled like it had been rushed, was gone.