Wednesday, 24 September 2014

GUIDANCE TO REGAINING REPRESSED MEMORIES – Flash Fiction



***

The middle aged man with the terrible teeth – his choice of action as a show of his freedom from social convention - had taken a while to divulge information. But he had explained everything. At least sufficient for now. 

Apparently, I had been chosen for an extremely expensive procedure by an organisation known as The Institute. A company only billionaires could afford – this simply because of my psychological disposition and the fact that I had suffered a serious trauma. This was considered a luxury as I didn’t have to pay a dime. 

I had agreed to the terms. Signed documents. But then, somewhere during the process, I had decided against it. Opted to force my mind to remember by leaving myself a simple note that broke the brain washing course. I had absolutely no memory yet I had a tiny nagging force at the back of my mind requesting I regain my stolen identity. This was not supposed to happen.  

I also now had a bank card with infinite cash and a world to explore – given to me by The Institute as a parting gift.  I had then somehow run away from The Institute and woken up to find myself jogging down an English country road till I reached this immense estate.

 None of it made much sense, but there was this calming feeling in my mind – an emotion that warmed my body like placing myself up against a radiator: I was free. That much was clear. And it felt great to have no memories. Nothing limiting or restraining. A clear conscience ready for a new world.

As I washed my face in the basin, removed my shoes, shirt and trousers and crawled into bed in one of the country estate’s nicer bedrooms – and they were all grand – I thought about the woman. The lady I had seen just before I had been escorted down into the basement of The Institute. What did she want? What was she trying to tell me? 

It seemed completely pointless to question anything in this situation. The old man, who come to think of it still hadn’t told me his name, had said the answers would come later. Acceptable, I thought as I sighed.

Repressed memories or supressed memories, whatever it was called– they could wait. I would regain them with time, but it was now time to focus on the positive.

I’m free, I kept saying to myself. I’m free. I’m free. 

Where to go? What to do? 

I knew immediately that I wanted to go to a hotel. Any hotel. Have a fulfilling meal and be completely alone. A bottle of tequila as well would be a great addition. And some music – maybe some Miles Davis. And have a good old think in solitude. 

Tuesday, 16 September 2014

GETTING THE TRUTH – Flash Fiction



“Do you have any idea of what the event was?”

“What event?” I said, momentarily forgetting what he had just said a few seconds ago. “Oh, urrr....no.”

“Well, I’m going to explain a few things, but I don’t wish to blow your mind. Therefore, I can only provide a couple of answers. The rest will come in time.”

I nodded and leaned back in my seat.

“You are free right now,” he said. “And I do mean truly free. The bank card you have has a limitless supply of funds and you can literally do as you wish.”

“What is this?” I scoffed. “Some kind of practical joke?”

“There is no jest here, I can assure you Christopher. From here on, you are free to do as you please.”

“But free to do what?”

“Live – live as you wish.”

Somehow, I knew he was speaking the truth. I observed the massive opulently decorated living room and looked at him. “I have to say, I’m still slightly baffled by the fact that with all your wealth, you decide not to clean your teeth. That’s just really strange.”

The man laughed. “Well, that’s my personal little preference, but I’m alive and well and as you can see…” he gestured with both his hands for me to observe his surroundings. “No challenges here. I just always hated brushing my teeth as a child and as an adult. Now, I don’t have to.”

“So I take it you used to be at The Institute as well.”

“I used to work there, but I retired.”

“So what’s your deal now?”

“To guide people like you. People who somehow break free of the…mind cleaning process and find themselves a little lost. At the very least, I hope to help you start the path to recovering your memories.”

“Why?”

“I suppose because you remind me of well…me - in that you managed to retain some memory. And because evidently Christopher, through that rigorous process they do at The Institute to wipe your mind, there WAS and IS something you don't want to forget.”

Saturday, 13 September 2014

GETTING ANSWERS - Flash Fiction



I frowned and tensed my jaw as if readying myself to take a fierce blow to the face. Something was coming and I knew it was going to be a mixture of good and bad. It would test my skills of interpretation to the max – how do you roll with this punch Christopher? a voice in my head asked. 

“Christopher,” the man said. “I take it something must have happened to you for you to decide to visit The Institute. Judging by your candour-looking face and your body language, I would say you didn’t pay for The Institute. I would believe they chose you. You look like the type they choose. Strong yet reserved. Yes, definitely a chosen one.”

“What’s The Institute?”

“Simply put – it’s for people who have been traumatised by some past event or events and wish to erase their memories. Permanently.”

I shook my head.

“Now clearly, you weren’t completely sure about this,” he said.

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re here. If the erase had taken, you would have taken their shuttle bus. You must have run away. And I know your next question. I will explain. Due to your brain washing, you literally lost consciousness while you were running away. You probably woke up mid-jog due to exhaustion.”

The reminder triggered the reanimation of the pain in my joints, manipulating me to massage my legs.

“Another guess is you must have left yourself some form of stimulant to remind you of who you are.”

The note, I thought.

“Are, you did,” he said with a look of curiosity on his face.