Sunday, 1 February 2009
The sun peered underneath the clouds slowly choking its reign upon the sky. The corridor Shaftesbury Avenue created left the dwindling light feel like the decline of humanity - the end of days. Turning to the adjacent window the sky was a blue-black and fileld with fierce snowflakes blowing fervently through the air. The eerie lack of noise, blocked out by the vacuum of commerce inside, left everything with a movie sheen. If a tidal wave were to come to finish us off, it would be like watching the greatest cinematic shot of all time, especially as there'd be no time left to repeat such a feat.
Thursday, 8 January 2009
The Sunglass Set: Self-Analysis
Looking over this it’s not bad for something rushed out over three days. There was a gap of four days in between the first two. This was me deliberating on what would actually happen past the initial opening. I liked the idea and imagery of blindness, and not actually knowing anything about it – both from my point of view and the character. Of course the whole point of the story is to turn everything on its head. The perceived threat is from weirdos, outsiders, when really the threat is from the character himself – an unstable, confused individual who hasn’t a clue what’s changed about his circumstances. I wanted to capture a real sense of fear and survival instinct, something I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced. Well, self-preservation has kicked in a few times in my life and the adrenaline rush is a sickening feeling. I assume fearing for your life is a little like that. Of course I had to throw in a literary device to explain what the main character could not – what was actually happening. So, I step up as the all-explaining narrator. It’s stupid and jarring, but it’s the only way I could think of to do it. On reflection I could’ve posted it as a police report, except that wouldn’t have had the dramatic effect of Stefan’s escape. Again, on reflection, that probably wasn’t necessary. A police report would’ve worked so much better. Still, I quite LIKE the jarring effect the break has – it’s almost spiteful and condescending of poor Stefan, a man who has wandered into something he will never understand or comprehend. The whole point of this brief, wild journey is to make sure you’re as disorientated as he is. There are so many things flung at you that it practically makes no sense. Of course this is mainly due to the time limit and giving myself a rather sharp twist. You don’t have to search for holes as they’re gaping – I even point one out, the bus driver. How did he not notice that Stefan wasn’t wearing sunglasses? To rationalise it to myself, I simply assumed – as I hope you did – that we just don’t take enough notice of each other. This was another theme that was awakened in me, even before I started writing. Should we take more notice of each other? Should we be conversing and interacting more as a race? Of course we should. I think it’s drastically important and that’s the reason I started writing this particular tale. In the end, it’s a story of miscommunication. Why did the men sit down instead of talking to Stefan? Because they hadn’t a clue how to approach him with this information. As the narrative explains, there had been experiences of similar confused souls wandering into this world before and there was no etiquette on how to deal with them. They’re easy to spot, but not so easy to deal with. Sitting down meant the characters were not alarming Stefan. Unfortunately, the over eager do gooders caused the mess that led to Stefan running. Again, the wrong approach because we don’t communicate well. AS for the bus driver – well, in the back of my mind he’s already taking Stefan to the hospital, and that’s why he allows the two men on – he wants everything to be normal until the professionals can get to him. Of course, none of this is particularly clear – even to me, until I finished and re-read it. That’s the problem with short fiction, it can go without explanation. This one doesn’t and nor will the others. I hope you enjoyed reading it regardless. Hell, it’s pretty poor but I like some of the turn of phrases, imagery and the rollercoaster ride of it all. It was fun to write. It’ll be nice to come back to the first person delivery some time later in the year. For now, onward to new territory.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
1st Jan 09 - 7th Jan 09: The Sunglass Set
Dictation tape extract D35. Dictation as follows:
I’ve been involved in some stupefying things in my time but this has to take the trophy. Ever wondered what happens outside when you’re not there to witness it? No, me neither. But, my friend, maybe we should. Dragging myself from that lovely cottony womb into the chilled air of my badly wallpapered room could have been the worst mistake so far this year. It’s only 10:30am now, so maybe I’m jumping the gun somewhat. Now, I could get all poetical on you; the urban decay, the lost souls, the remnants of mankind’s self-decimation from alcoholic intake…..but simply I walked down my road and got on a bus. No extraordinary bus, nowt magic about it, just another example of London’s public transport. This didn’t stop it being the 2nd worst mistake of the new year.
Ever feel you’re being drawn inexorably to a fate you have little control over? No, me neither but the sick feeling in my stomach had little to do with last night’s excess and a hell of a lot to do with instinct and self preservation. I mean, you expect it to be quiet don’t you? Every morning is relatively quiet, but New Year’s Day is something else. It means that rather than melting into your city sprawl for the journey to work, you actually take notice of even the slightest activity. A squirrel attacking a stationary crow for instance. Who would ever notice that with busy, rush hour traffic affecting our senses? So, when two men, standing a few feet apart yet clearly together, seemingly communicating at a distance, fall into your field of vision from the top deck of a bus, you take notice. Of course, they also take notice of you. What was so strange was their sunglasses. Well, not the eyepieces specifically, just the fact that they were wearing them. First of all, it amused me. Natural first thoughts are: “Rough night, eh lads? Hiding those bloodshots from the intense glare of daylight?” I remember grinning as I looked down upon this weird charade, like an inaudible conversation between two men with conflicting restraining orders. It was when I realised they were staring at me – I’d imagine they were staring at me behind those smoked shades – stock still, as the bus came to a halt at red traffic lights, that I stopped grinning and turned back to my book. I’d been struggling with it for a few weeks now. Too long. Not enough happening in the first few paragraphs. Too much description. I just couldn’t focus on it this morning. I almost couldn’t see the words. One hell of a night eh? I like to see things through til the end though. I did a quick double take to see…well not much. A pavement littered with what looked like last nights cans and bottles. My hairs rose on the back of my neck, for no rational reason at all.
There was a knock on the bus. For a split second, I thought someone was tapping on my window, then realised it could only have been someone stupidly knocking on the doors wanting to be let on the bus. Or two people. Ever been scared so much you feel it overwhelming you? No, me neither. Until now that is. The panic rises like an uncontrollable force – a wave, or, even better, a gale – that whips up both your pulse rate and the process of thought. Within fifteen seconds events have already travelled through your mind like a bullet. You’ve played out a scenario you expect to happen and your response according to events. It’s your body’s way of preparing you for something that can’t possibly be prepared for. As it was, it was premature – the bus driver wasn’t exactly gonna let the-
The woosh of the opening doors, some exchanged words. Footsteps. The sick feeling sunk deeper into the pit of my stomach before ever-so-timely rationality kicked in – what exactly was gonna happen here then? Two guys wanted to get the bus and because it wasn’t busy and the lights weren’t about to change, bus driver lets them on. No bleep of the Oyster card though. Tickets? Maybe. Sinking slightly lower in my chair, I listened out for footsteps. Sure enough, the reassuring click of heels upon floor, toes upon steps. Where before there was the barrier of distance and glass, now there was just a much smaller distance. Both men, sunglasses looking more and more like inky black pools of tar in their eyesockets, stood stock still at the top of the stairs. This whole parade had taken not more than a minute to happen, which is astonishing when you think how long it took me to describe it to you. I even left out the details, which aren’t even important – you can fill the colours in yourself.
Time stands still, if only for a second. You can imagine a camera panning around us, viewing us from all angles, dramatic music stirring the nerve endings, those skin-crawling frequencies that leave you feeling uneasy, uncomfortable and most of all unsure of what is to come. The suspense drags the evil out of you; suddenly you want it to be over – anticipation becomes an inscrutable barrier to progress. People who relish those moments of waiting are masochists.
The two men turned and sat down about five seats ahead of me. The sweat on my back ran swiftly down my spine, tickling me and making me shudder. I breathed out, having just realised that I’d been preventing my lungs from exhaling. I took a look outside at the empty, borderline deserted world outside. The lights turned green. The bus continued its onward journey. Even the clouds seemed to part and sunlight streamed through, making a mockery of my all-consuming fear not three minutes before. I even allowed myself to smirk at my ridiculousness. The ability to laugh at oneself after building up such an event is a relief tantamount to quenching thirst.
But already I could feel my breath hitching in my chest. Suddenly the cold dread which had been but a fleeting visitor came back with a warrant to ransack my body. The sun still glowered over its parched, concrete-soaked wasteland and the two men still sat where they were, silent. The bus still rolled on, no intention of stopping just yet. My glance returned to the window where more souls strode across the pavements, the roads, and piloted vehicles. A little gasp escaped me, a hiccup of surprise prompted by the dismal outlook the window had conveyed. Dark humour abided within me. “Well, at least they’re not aviators.” Every person, every figure wandering through the urban sprawl – currently more of a desert as inhabitants seemed few and far between – had donned the handy eyewear. They were looking at me too. A sudden twitch of the neck causing them to look directly at me. Drivers risked ploughing into each other to crane their necks to see this freak of nature – me – without his shades on. I’d become the equivalent of a circus freak show.
I sat back, sick to the stomach again. What exactly had happened between my sleep and my waking? Could everyone really be this hungover? Were they all hiding something? Why were they all looking at me like I’m fucking crazy? All these thoughts exploded in my head, screaming for attention, clamouring for equal scrutiny. Frankly, I just wanted to get to work and forget this temporary insanity that was unfolding around me. The overriding fear for me now was not of everyone else, but for my own personal safety. Why was I singled out here? What was so strange about not wearing-
The figure of one of the men loomed over me. I looked up and realised with horror he was about to take off those sunglasses. I felt an unstoppable urge to grab his hand but years of social etiquette and plain old frozen muscle syndrome prevented me.
The bus halted with such force that I smashed my face into the metal bar atop the seats in front of me. Pain bolted across my nose, cheekbones and forehead. My vision was immediately sprinkled with shards of light, and blood could be seen running down my nose. The man towering above me faired far worse. Thrown across the aisle to a sickening crack as his body hit the metal floor, the world momentarily turned black.
Coming too rapidly, all I could hear was commotion. My first thought was to hold my head in agony and attempt to look outside. A crowd of ten or so bodies had gathered around the bus and were clearly trying to get on. The bus driver (did he wear sunglasses?) was shouting something. I looked down at the man whose sunglasses hadn’t been removed. His friend was sitting him up. He looked groggy but otherwise pretty much untouched. This twisted rollercoaster ride had taken all of fifteen minutes now. The unsettled stomach was a consistent feature of this journey and I had a feeling I had more churning in my abdomen to cope with before even the morning was up. I’d have liked to have at least one upside to any of this.
But theres a side of you that darkness tempts out. A side of you that stealthily creeps behind your eyes, underneath the dermis and beyond your visible persona. It’s something that enables numbness, that protects the fragile human psyche from cracking and the human body from physical pain. It’s probably what fire eaters use to go through their napalm lives with. It’s what proto-punk musicians did to bleed themselves and blitz the audience with torrents of unassailable sonic noise. It’s what soldiers do in the heat of battle to render the enemy nothing more than cannon fodder. It’s what I did then to white out the extremity of the day, to make it all threatening, all shimmering hazy hurt, all harmless. The throbbing gash in my face became just that, a low ebbing throb. The clawing anxiety – terror even – became just another energy, more of an adrenaline rush than a primal instinct.
What ultimately prompted this irreversible self-preservation device, I couldn’t say. Maybe it was the smashing of glass, the roar of approval; maybe it was the man standing up, leaving his friend to collapse, bonelessly, to the floor with another jarring impact, with not a flinch, and charge for me. Perhaps it was my already fragile mind snapping, refusing to believe that a bunch of men and women in black sunglasses were inexplicably out for my blood. What follows next is the recollection I forced from the back of my mind as my personality restored itself, erasing any bad memories that may have stained my conscience.
---
Stefan threw his full weight from his seat into the oncoming juggernaut of the 6ft 2” man mountain attempting to plough himself through his prone form. The contact was horrifyingly clear, like a whipcrack in an empty temple. It was the man mountain that toppled. Stefan had already dropped into the indefinable pit of base humanity – the caveman instinct that keeps you alive. Instead of running to the stairs, he kicked the escape hatch lock and threw open the window glass. He clambered through the porthole lowering himself as he caught sight of the ladies and gentlemen of the sunglass set. He let himself drop into a crouch as he hit the tarmac. He spared a fleeting thought for the driver – was he one of them? – before running back in the direction of Kentish Town. They were shouts as he ran. He could make out some of them. What sounded like “Don’t be a fool!” was one of them. “We can help you!” was the other. They didn’t register on anything but the most shallow of levels. Which is a shame really. He may have stopped and thought about what he was doing, what he had set in motion. Domino effects aren’t reserved solely for cataclysmic events. They’re reserved for our lives – one thing effects another which effects another which leads to our downfall. Running should never have been an option in a rational mind. He should’ve perhaps thought about the practical use of sunglasses, rather than the disguise-orientated nature of them. Of course, what makes sense to one man means nothing to another. See, leaping from the dark to an incredible light does nothing but blind someone. A Eureka moment, for instance, means that there are no other possibilities left to pursue. The human intellect is an extremely restrictive instrument, and once an idea is locked upon, it can take years to achieve, simply because all other steps and actions are ignored. Of course, being blinded physically can cause madness and an extreme amount of confusion. Being blinded mentally, at the same time, can mean utter devotion to one cause – in this case running from extreme fear. You can’t divide up the arguments and think logically – you run on instinct. Stefan’s problem was twofold – he had already decided his life was threatened by people who were, clearly to him, insane. He hadn’t looked inwards and seen that his sudden blindness had driven him crazy. Oh, he could see, that was all too true – but he was seeing shapes. Colours and details had to be filled in for him, but there was no one to do this.
The people had seen this behaviour in several others just that morning from those who hadn’t awoken to the sound of searing screams overhead, the start of an extraterrestrial payload which had already lasted months. The explosions of stars, planets and satellites are a pretty fearsome thing. There was no threat to human life, but human senses and perception was to change forever. Being partially sighted as a race is an extraordinary drawback. Wherever these poor souls, without appropriate protection, had come from, they certainly hadn’t been here before. It’s almost as if this cosmic event had more than the physical effects that everyone experienced. It may well have dilated time, something scientists were investigating. A “slip –through” is what they called it. Where people who hadn’t a clue about the drastic changes the planet, nay the universe, was going through right now appeared to skip from one time zone to another. It had so far gone unexplained.
What hadn’t was the effects. Insanity descended pretty quickly which made them a threat to innocent civilians. There were a few deaths from the first few incidents. Now people were aware that this strange and tragic event happened from time to time, they were more willing to try and help the victim in anyway they could, usually en masse. No doubt the fear of the unknown and the unexplainable feeling of dread that must fall upon them upon entering a world that explodes into brightness, without warning, led them to feel threatened and all the more dangerous.
----
I’ve been hiding here for an hour now. I don’t know if any of them have bothered to try and find me. My mobile phone must’ve been nicked on New Years Eve. Fuckers. For some reason, I didn’t realise until I’d ran away from the bus, but I can only make out shapes and an enormous amount of light, but no colour, no definition. I certainly can’t read anything. I think that blow to my face must’ve detached my retinas. I need to see a doctor or something, but I don’t know that I’m safe to do so. Surely I can’t be the only one without sunglasses on? I keep thinking, why the hell did they want me so badly? Since the adrenaline flow stemmed itself and I’ve been left shaking with the withdrawal, my ability to think properly has returned.-
Someone’s here. I can hear them. I can hear them breathing. I can hear everything now. Even the sky seems to be making eerie sounds I’ve never heard before. They say your remaining senses compensate when one is damaged. I’m gonna have to rely on my hearing to guide me away from this place, back home hopefully, to somewhere where I know people, and they can help me to a hospital. Why’s it SO bright? I keep asking myself that. Did the bus driver even see me? Do the human race ever notice anyone unless they’re different to them in some way? Perhaps we should take more notice of each other, my friend. One more thought: Ever thought you’ve fallen into a nightmare you can’t wake up from? No, me neither. Well, until now.
RECORDING ENDS.
I’ve been involved in some stupefying things in my time but this has to take the trophy. Ever wondered what happens outside when you’re not there to witness it? No, me neither. But, my friend, maybe we should. Dragging myself from that lovely cottony womb into the chilled air of my badly wallpapered room could have been the worst mistake so far this year. It’s only 10:30am now, so maybe I’m jumping the gun somewhat. Now, I could get all poetical on you; the urban decay, the lost souls, the remnants of mankind’s self-decimation from alcoholic intake…..but simply I walked down my road and got on a bus. No extraordinary bus, nowt magic about it, just another example of London’s public transport. This didn’t stop it being the 2nd worst mistake of the new year.
Ever feel you’re being drawn inexorably to a fate you have little control over? No, me neither but the sick feeling in my stomach had little to do with last night’s excess and a hell of a lot to do with instinct and self preservation. I mean, you expect it to be quiet don’t you? Every morning is relatively quiet, but New Year’s Day is something else. It means that rather than melting into your city sprawl for the journey to work, you actually take notice of even the slightest activity. A squirrel attacking a stationary crow for instance. Who would ever notice that with busy, rush hour traffic affecting our senses? So, when two men, standing a few feet apart yet clearly together, seemingly communicating at a distance, fall into your field of vision from the top deck of a bus, you take notice. Of course, they also take notice of you. What was so strange was their sunglasses. Well, not the eyepieces specifically, just the fact that they were wearing them. First of all, it amused me. Natural first thoughts are: “Rough night, eh lads? Hiding those bloodshots from the intense glare of daylight?” I remember grinning as I looked down upon this weird charade, like an inaudible conversation between two men with conflicting restraining orders. It was when I realised they were staring at me – I’d imagine they were staring at me behind those smoked shades – stock still, as the bus came to a halt at red traffic lights, that I stopped grinning and turned back to my book. I’d been struggling with it for a few weeks now. Too long. Not enough happening in the first few paragraphs. Too much description. I just couldn’t focus on it this morning. I almost couldn’t see the words. One hell of a night eh? I like to see things through til the end though. I did a quick double take to see…well not much. A pavement littered with what looked like last nights cans and bottles. My hairs rose on the back of my neck, for no rational reason at all.
There was a knock on the bus. For a split second, I thought someone was tapping on my window, then realised it could only have been someone stupidly knocking on the doors wanting to be let on the bus. Or two people. Ever been scared so much you feel it overwhelming you? No, me neither. Until now that is. The panic rises like an uncontrollable force – a wave, or, even better, a gale – that whips up both your pulse rate and the process of thought. Within fifteen seconds events have already travelled through your mind like a bullet. You’ve played out a scenario you expect to happen and your response according to events. It’s your body’s way of preparing you for something that can’t possibly be prepared for. As it was, it was premature – the bus driver wasn’t exactly gonna let the-
The woosh of the opening doors, some exchanged words. Footsteps. The sick feeling sunk deeper into the pit of my stomach before ever-so-timely rationality kicked in – what exactly was gonna happen here then? Two guys wanted to get the bus and because it wasn’t busy and the lights weren’t about to change, bus driver lets them on. No bleep of the Oyster card though. Tickets? Maybe. Sinking slightly lower in my chair, I listened out for footsteps. Sure enough, the reassuring click of heels upon floor, toes upon steps. Where before there was the barrier of distance and glass, now there was just a much smaller distance. Both men, sunglasses looking more and more like inky black pools of tar in their eyesockets, stood stock still at the top of the stairs. This whole parade had taken not more than a minute to happen, which is astonishing when you think how long it took me to describe it to you. I even left out the details, which aren’t even important – you can fill the colours in yourself.
Time stands still, if only for a second. You can imagine a camera panning around us, viewing us from all angles, dramatic music stirring the nerve endings, those skin-crawling frequencies that leave you feeling uneasy, uncomfortable and most of all unsure of what is to come. The suspense drags the evil out of you; suddenly you want it to be over – anticipation becomes an inscrutable barrier to progress. People who relish those moments of waiting are masochists.
The two men turned and sat down about five seats ahead of me. The sweat on my back ran swiftly down my spine, tickling me and making me shudder. I breathed out, having just realised that I’d been preventing my lungs from exhaling. I took a look outside at the empty, borderline deserted world outside. The lights turned green. The bus continued its onward journey. Even the clouds seemed to part and sunlight streamed through, making a mockery of my all-consuming fear not three minutes before. I even allowed myself to smirk at my ridiculousness. The ability to laugh at oneself after building up such an event is a relief tantamount to quenching thirst.
But already I could feel my breath hitching in my chest. Suddenly the cold dread which had been but a fleeting visitor came back with a warrant to ransack my body. The sun still glowered over its parched, concrete-soaked wasteland and the two men still sat where they were, silent. The bus still rolled on, no intention of stopping just yet. My glance returned to the window where more souls strode across the pavements, the roads, and piloted vehicles. A little gasp escaped me, a hiccup of surprise prompted by the dismal outlook the window had conveyed. Dark humour abided within me. “Well, at least they’re not aviators.” Every person, every figure wandering through the urban sprawl – currently more of a desert as inhabitants seemed few and far between – had donned the handy eyewear. They were looking at me too. A sudden twitch of the neck causing them to look directly at me. Drivers risked ploughing into each other to crane their necks to see this freak of nature – me – without his shades on. I’d become the equivalent of a circus freak show.
I sat back, sick to the stomach again. What exactly had happened between my sleep and my waking? Could everyone really be this hungover? Were they all hiding something? Why were they all looking at me like I’m fucking crazy? All these thoughts exploded in my head, screaming for attention, clamouring for equal scrutiny. Frankly, I just wanted to get to work and forget this temporary insanity that was unfolding around me. The overriding fear for me now was not of everyone else, but for my own personal safety. Why was I singled out here? What was so strange about not wearing-
The figure of one of the men loomed over me. I looked up and realised with horror he was about to take off those sunglasses. I felt an unstoppable urge to grab his hand but years of social etiquette and plain old frozen muscle syndrome prevented me.
The bus halted with such force that I smashed my face into the metal bar atop the seats in front of me. Pain bolted across my nose, cheekbones and forehead. My vision was immediately sprinkled with shards of light, and blood could be seen running down my nose. The man towering above me faired far worse. Thrown across the aisle to a sickening crack as his body hit the metal floor, the world momentarily turned black.
Coming too rapidly, all I could hear was commotion. My first thought was to hold my head in agony and attempt to look outside. A crowd of ten or so bodies had gathered around the bus and were clearly trying to get on. The bus driver (did he wear sunglasses?) was shouting something. I looked down at the man whose sunglasses hadn’t been removed. His friend was sitting him up. He looked groggy but otherwise pretty much untouched. This twisted rollercoaster ride had taken all of fifteen minutes now. The unsettled stomach was a consistent feature of this journey and I had a feeling I had more churning in my abdomen to cope with before even the morning was up. I’d have liked to have at least one upside to any of this.
But theres a side of you that darkness tempts out. A side of you that stealthily creeps behind your eyes, underneath the dermis and beyond your visible persona. It’s something that enables numbness, that protects the fragile human psyche from cracking and the human body from physical pain. It’s probably what fire eaters use to go through their napalm lives with. It’s what proto-punk musicians did to bleed themselves and blitz the audience with torrents of unassailable sonic noise. It’s what soldiers do in the heat of battle to render the enemy nothing more than cannon fodder. It’s what I did then to white out the extremity of the day, to make it all threatening, all shimmering hazy hurt, all harmless. The throbbing gash in my face became just that, a low ebbing throb. The clawing anxiety – terror even – became just another energy, more of an adrenaline rush than a primal instinct.
What ultimately prompted this irreversible self-preservation device, I couldn’t say. Maybe it was the smashing of glass, the roar of approval; maybe it was the man standing up, leaving his friend to collapse, bonelessly, to the floor with another jarring impact, with not a flinch, and charge for me. Perhaps it was my already fragile mind snapping, refusing to believe that a bunch of men and women in black sunglasses were inexplicably out for my blood. What follows next is the recollection I forced from the back of my mind as my personality restored itself, erasing any bad memories that may have stained my conscience.
---
Stefan threw his full weight from his seat into the oncoming juggernaut of the 6ft 2” man mountain attempting to plough himself through his prone form. The contact was horrifyingly clear, like a whipcrack in an empty temple. It was the man mountain that toppled. Stefan had already dropped into the indefinable pit of base humanity – the caveman instinct that keeps you alive. Instead of running to the stairs, he kicked the escape hatch lock and threw open the window glass. He clambered through the porthole lowering himself as he caught sight of the ladies and gentlemen of the sunglass set. He let himself drop into a crouch as he hit the tarmac. He spared a fleeting thought for the driver – was he one of them? – before running back in the direction of Kentish Town. They were shouts as he ran. He could make out some of them. What sounded like “Don’t be a fool!” was one of them. “We can help you!” was the other. They didn’t register on anything but the most shallow of levels. Which is a shame really. He may have stopped and thought about what he was doing, what he had set in motion. Domino effects aren’t reserved solely for cataclysmic events. They’re reserved for our lives – one thing effects another which effects another which leads to our downfall. Running should never have been an option in a rational mind. He should’ve perhaps thought about the practical use of sunglasses, rather than the disguise-orientated nature of them. Of course, what makes sense to one man means nothing to another. See, leaping from the dark to an incredible light does nothing but blind someone. A Eureka moment, for instance, means that there are no other possibilities left to pursue. The human intellect is an extremely restrictive instrument, and once an idea is locked upon, it can take years to achieve, simply because all other steps and actions are ignored. Of course, being blinded physically can cause madness and an extreme amount of confusion. Being blinded mentally, at the same time, can mean utter devotion to one cause – in this case running from extreme fear. You can’t divide up the arguments and think logically – you run on instinct. Stefan’s problem was twofold – he had already decided his life was threatened by people who were, clearly to him, insane. He hadn’t looked inwards and seen that his sudden blindness had driven him crazy. Oh, he could see, that was all too true – but he was seeing shapes. Colours and details had to be filled in for him, but there was no one to do this.
The people had seen this behaviour in several others just that morning from those who hadn’t awoken to the sound of searing screams overhead, the start of an extraterrestrial payload which had already lasted months. The explosions of stars, planets and satellites are a pretty fearsome thing. There was no threat to human life, but human senses and perception was to change forever. Being partially sighted as a race is an extraordinary drawback. Wherever these poor souls, without appropriate protection, had come from, they certainly hadn’t been here before. It’s almost as if this cosmic event had more than the physical effects that everyone experienced. It may well have dilated time, something scientists were investigating. A “slip –through” is what they called it. Where people who hadn’t a clue about the drastic changes the planet, nay the universe, was going through right now appeared to skip from one time zone to another. It had so far gone unexplained.
What hadn’t was the effects. Insanity descended pretty quickly which made them a threat to innocent civilians. There were a few deaths from the first few incidents. Now people were aware that this strange and tragic event happened from time to time, they were more willing to try and help the victim in anyway they could, usually en masse. No doubt the fear of the unknown and the unexplainable feeling of dread that must fall upon them upon entering a world that explodes into brightness, without warning, led them to feel threatened and all the more dangerous.
----
I’ve been hiding here for an hour now. I don’t know if any of them have bothered to try and find me. My mobile phone must’ve been nicked on New Years Eve. Fuckers. For some reason, I didn’t realise until I’d ran away from the bus, but I can only make out shapes and an enormous amount of light, but no colour, no definition. I certainly can’t read anything. I think that blow to my face must’ve detached my retinas. I need to see a doctor or something, but I don’t know that I’m safe to do so. Surely I can’t be the only one without sunglasses on? I keep thinking, why the hell did they want me so badly? Since the adrenaline flow stemmed itself and I’ve been left shaking with the withdrawal, my ability to think properly has returned.-
Someone’s here. I can hear them. I can hear them breathing. I can hear everything now. Even the sky seems to be making eerie sounds I’ve never heard before. They say your remaining senses compensate when one is damaged. I’m gonna have to rely on my hearing to guide me away from this place, back home hopefully, to somewhere where I know people, and they can help me to a hospital. Why’s it SO bright? I keep asking myself that. Did the bus driver even see me? Do the human race ever notice anyone unless they’re different to them in some way? Perhaps we should take more notice of each other, my friend. One more thought: Ever thought you’ve fallen into a nightmare you can’t wake up from? No, me neither. Well, until now.
RECORDING ENDS.
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