Day 56 – Alienation – Part 1

This will turn into my attempt at making a comedy/drama.

 

Please accept my apologies in advance.

 

 

Word count: 1572

 

The office was very suave, very modern. Little trinkets of professionalism lined the Doctor’s desk like dominoes whilst an array of medical books stood like soldiers on regimented bookshelves behind. Draping curtains gently blew in the wind, letting in a soft grey gloom as a waterfall poured from the sky. An intricate clock ticked silently on the wall. Aside from these two acts of movement, Frank noted that everything else was very still. The paperwork on desk seemed anchored to the desk , despite the proximity of the draft. Even the fish in the acquariam swam so slowly they might have been painted on to the glass. Scattered around the room were still portraits of delightful fruit baskets and smiling Victorian children playing in the street. There was a framed certificate, no doubt of the Doctor’s doctorate, and a family portrait of a man not dissimilar to the Doctor but who had distinctly greyer hair in patches and definitely seemed to be regretting that year’s choice in glasses.

Frank, however, could not complain about the sofa. It was comfortable and the cushion his head was resting on made him feel at home. Despite these little comforts, however, Frank was far from where he belonged. Never before had he ever imagined that he would be sitting on the sofa of some psychiatrist’s; never would have ever suspected that a man would be creating a case file and a case history whilst delving into the backwaters of his subconscious to analyse and prise apart the reason and logic from the irrational and inexplicable.

Frank told himself to calm down. He was a worrier. He was definitely a worrier. His brain churned thoughts quicker than a pasteuriser could make milk. Making himself count to three in his head, he took three deep breaths.

“Are jou quite alright, d’ere, Mr Jefferson?” The Doctor had a thick Jamaican accent.

“What? Oh. Uhm. Yes,” he stuttered, “Just nervous.”

“Well you got nodin’ to be nervous aboot, ye hear? I’m gonna take care of jou,” he unfolded a collection of paper work in his hands, “I understand that it was jour wife dat referred jou to us, is dat correct?”

Frank nodded. It was indeed true. Once more Frank never thought he would ever have been referred to a psychiatrist by his own wife.

“Now why do jou think dat she would do a ding like dat?”

“Well, well,” the stuttering began once more, “The things is… a, a few years ago… something..”

“Uhuh.”

“Something.. something happened…”

“Yas.”

“It was … it was quite traumatic actually…”

“Uhuh,” the doctor leaned forward.

“You see… you see the thing is…”

“Go on,” the doctor requested, now abandoning his pen and paper for an intense stare.

“It’s hard to describe… no one believes me… no one. But it happened. It happened as real as all this is happening right now,” though Frank started to regret his similie immediately afterwards as he realised that he barely could believe any of this was happening right now. “I was, I was out in country, heading home from work… I – I used to work in another town, you see.”

Frank could see headlights streaking through the back of his eyes, the quiet hum of a car passing through the night lofted by his ear.

“It, it was a perfectly clear night… Warm, warm like the best summer’s day… I’d been working late… It was now almost midnight..”

Stars sprinkled like glitter across the sky, the mountains in the distance lit up with faint hue of the horizon’s last spec of sun. All else was a brilliant shade of blue.

“And, and… well you know how the roads get…. boring same old miles.. they don’t change. So I wasn’t paying the best of my attentions at the time, but I do remember what happened perfectly crystal clear…”

The tar mac ran underneath his wheels as he sped along the quite road. There hadn’t been a car for a mile or two now and his eyelids were beginning to droop. Far out in the middle of the surrounding fields little farms lit up like fireflies in a cosy warm light. A warm fuzz had come over Frank as the residual heat from the hot summer’s day wafted in through his open window. A yawn broke his lips apart.

But the serenity of a simple drive home was abruptly snatched within an instance. Something small and white ran across the front of his car and he was too slow to react. Frank hit the breaks too late and slammed the car to a stop a few metres afterwards. Shock reverberated to the back of his head; the tiredness had been killed stone dead. There was no traffic coming from the front and nothing for miles behind him. Frank threw open the car door, fearing that he’d hit a child – even though there were no villages nearby.

“But when I got out of the car there was nothing there – nothing at all,” Frank continued.

Indeed there was nothing to be seen. From the light of his back lights he could only just in no more make out his skid marks on the road.

“I couldn’t see anything, nothing at all… except one patch of something on the road…”

Frank had motioned towards it, curiously yet carefully. His fears somewhat waylaid that it was not a child he had hit, he was still concerned for the animal that could be injured. But what he saw on the road surface was not the blood of any animal Frank knew of. It was not red. It was blue. Frank was not even sure if it was blood.

“I leant in closer to see what it was…. I reached down and touched it with my fingertips…”

It was sticky. Sticky like molasses.

“I thought then that the animal I hit was all right, cos this could not have been from any creature… it had to be man made…”

A rustling in the cornfield on the other side of the road tripped his senses into frightened mode. Perhaps instinct was overreacting, but he could feel something watching him. Whether his imagination was playing tricks on him, he swore he could have seen three eyes gulping a view of him from between the corn. A shiver circulated his body.

“Something was watching me… I knew it.”

Frank judged the distance from where he was standing to the car. It was maybe four metres at most. He stole a strategic look at the cornfield and another sideways glance at the car. Deep breath. He bolted for the car. But the rustling in the cornfields began to gallop into a terrible scratching, thumping noise – of something much larger, much stronger than he moving in on him.

“My hand was on the car door – I thought I was safe -”

But something from behind him pulled him down. His head smashed against the side of his back tyre.

“I woke up two weeks later, not a single memory of where I’d been, who I’d been with or what had happened to me.”

“Where did jou wake up?”

“Four hundred miles away. A place I’d never even been to before. It was a forest. The only emblem of my adventure was this,” Frank rolled him his shirt sleeve to reveal a white tattoo-like mark burned into his skin. It was of a sphere with strange ruin-like characters etched around the circumference. “No language known to man, that is.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

Frank was now outside the office block, umbrella shielding his head from the torrential downpour. His ride was late. Moira said she would be there to pick him up. Perhaps the traffic was holding her up. He checked his watch for the eighth time that minute.

A small river was flowing through his holey shoes and his socks were now sodden. He whimpered. At last his little red run down beauty appeared around the corner. He waved to his wife in the driver’s seat. She slowed down to where he was standing.

Folding down his umbrella and shaking it free of the small lake that had gathered on top of it, he opened the passenger door and squeezed his abnormally tall body into the Mini. His wife glared at him, she did not look amused and pulled away from the kerb immediately.

“So how did it go?” Moira asked, somewhat weary, “Did anything positive happen?”

Frank contemplated the last hour of his life. He almost could not say what he felt.

“It was alright.”

“Alright? Okay. Well In the meantime my work was hectic.”

“Is that why you were late?”

“Yes, dammit. I’m sorry.”

“I never said I was angry that you were late.”

“Well I’m sorry, anyway…” Moira sighed, flicking the indicator, “How are your socks?”

“Wet.”

“I’ll dry them for you when we get in. Give you a fresh pair. Let’s order take out tonight, yeah? It’s been a bad day all round.”

“Take out? That’s a bit extravagant, isn’t it?”

“I know, but sod it. I know we’re behind in the mortgage. Let’s get your favourite.”

The car swung round to turn the next corner and threw them both comically to the other side.

“But you hate my favourite? What’s going on?”

They had reached their street. Lovely oak trees lined the pavement. Beautiful, big houses with large gardens and lawns.

“My parents are coming to stay this weekend…”

 

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~ by S.G. Mark on December 2, 2011.

2 Responses to “Day 56 – Alienation – Part 1”

  1. good start

  2. […] 1 can be found here Share this:TwitterFacebookEmailStumbleUponRedditLike this:LikeBe the first to like this […]

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