Post by Gabrielle de Lioncourt on Jun 25, 2020 20:58:33 GMT 1
(Page 1 - Contributed by WorldStory Club)
It shouldn't be this easy. I settle back into the business class seat of the new Boeing 787 Dreamliner and can't help but look furtively around the cabin, expecting these moments of peace to be once again shattered without warning. Oblivious to the road that has brought be here, the cabin attendant flashes a beautiful smile and hands me a complimentary champagne. I stare up at the overhead light and wonder if this is how people feel when they see that light at the end of tunnel.
Outside the window, a distant thunderstorm rains down on the mountains surrounding Krakow as the plane starts to taxi down the runway. Have I really escaped? We lift off and bank around to the north and I can do nothing now to control the relieved smile that is finally spreading across my face.
As I settle back in my seat and close my eyes, the doubts and fears start to force their way back in. What sort of escape is this if the memories of the past years continue to haunt me, to hinder my recovery? To have lived as I have with such physical and emotional torture must surely leave me scared. And to have left Poland, my birthplace and source of all my hopes and dreams, is almost insufferable. Will I ever again find a city like Kraków with its endless possibilities in my field of expertise? And yet I must remain hopeful that the road ahead will compensate for all I have lost; that champagne, a business class seat on an aircraft and being treated as royalty might be my new reality.
(Page 3 - Contributed by rcarson)
“I see you got one of those tablet things!”
A disembodied voice suddenly brings me back to the present and momentarily I am disoriented as to where it is coming from. My subconscious takes note of my potentially fatal mistake of letting my constant state of alertness over the last 48 hours be blunted by my first feeling of hope since this whole nightmare began. I’m not free yet!“I see you got one of those tablet things!” the voice again drawls beside me and I realise it is coming from the heavyset, elderly man in seat 6B beside me. I mumble something in return realising I have a “talker” beside me, and dig into my jeans pocket for my earphones. “Don’t use one me-self, but I tell ya, the youth of today . . .” the man’s voices trails off as I turn up the volume on “Bad Moon Rising” from my Creedence Clearwater Revival greatest hits album.
(Page 4 - Contributed by Foz)
It all started a year ago. The school holidays had just ended and I’d just got back from a Griswald-esque trip to Europe with my family; all eight of us. It was my first day back at work: my first day in private practice and I had a full surgical list. The only difference was that this time I’d be patching up victims of car crashes and busted up footy players instead of amputating limbs from wounded soldiers and civilians caught in the crossfire.
My day was uneventful with three ACLs, a smashed up 18yo motorcyclist, a couple of shoulder repairs and a ball room-dancer with a frozen hip. By six o’clock I’d finished my last post-op check-up and was ready to go home for a drink with my husband Dave to celebrate moving into the first house we’d ever actually owned. He’d been flat-out getting the six kids settled into their new schools and getting on with settling into the new house.
As I was leaving I ran into Kevin McMaster, an old med-school friend from over twenty years ago. He was now the head of the hospital’s emergency department and had admitted the young bloke who’d been injured in the motorbike accident. The biker was in pretty bad shape and it was probably that he had sustained permanent spinal injuries, although it was still too early to tell. My old “friend” was eager to find out what the prognosis was. Kevin and I had dated for some time way back when and only broke up after I went overseas for my first conflict zone posting. We had tried the long-distance thing but it hadn’t worked out. Kevin had never married and had dedicated his life to emergency medicine. I was straight up about his young patient’s prospects and told him that the ED doctors had done everything right, but that the motorbike rider had suffered a serious amount of trauma at the scene and that his prospects were grim. Although this was nothing that Kevin hadn’t heard before he was obviously upset. I offered to take him for a drink to talk about it further and catch up on old times. I knew Dave would be upset that I wasn’t home to celebrate moving into your new home but this was more important. Wasn’t it?
(Page 5 – Contributed by Stephen L)
But while that was only a year ago, it seemed a lifetime ago after the events of the last twenty four hours. How could a simple blog, a blog that I felt was just a way of me staying sane lead to all that had happened. The blog had just been a way I could pour my thoughts out in writing to share with everybody and nobody. I never expected anyone really to be reading it, let alone someone who would contact me and ask me to fly half way around the world. I never expected I would ever be involved in something so dangerous and yet so exciting. It all seemed a bit surreal at first and a bit of harmless online fun when he first made contact. The events of the last day and the danger I felt I had just escaped from had changed all that. I realised now how real it all was and how there existed a world that most people never know of. A world that operates quietly in the shadows. A world that is alongside us every day but something most people will never realise or have any contact with. I was genuinely scared when I had gotten on board and sat down in seat 6A and was only now almost relaxing with Creedence and the bubbly helping settle my nerves as we taxied to the runway. I say relaxing, but I don't know if I will ever be able to truly relax again with what I now know. Perhaps it is more accurate to say I am feeling less afraid than I had in several hours.
Suddenly I felt something on my shoulder. I try to ignore it but there it was again. A tapping. I look to my right where the heavy set “talker” is sitting and pull my earpods out understanding he is trying to get my attention through that tapping on my shoulder. Obviously he had been talking and I hadn't heard him over the music. I give him a look of ‘this better be quick I really don’t want a conversation right now’ or at least that is the look I attempted.
“Anderson. Bob Anderson” he drawls, as if that was meant to mean something to me. “I’m out of New York city, heading home. It’s been a while, gee near on a year and a half now. Been doing a bit of business in Europe. Fantastic place. A bit small, but got to love all those real old buildings, man they knew how to build them back then. But the food is a bit hit and miss ain’t it. Can’t wait to get home and have a decent bit of steak cooked properly.”
Oh no I think to myself, he isn’t just a “talker” he has verbal diarrhoea and he thinks I really want to hear his story.
“But hey” he continues “listen to me just going on I haven’t even gotten your name yet” I look at him not really wanting to answer, not wanting to continue the conversation, and certainly not wanting to reveal information about myself to a stranger on a plane. He sees me pause and takes the initiative again “Hey don’t say anything. I’m actually pretty good at this, I can read minds you know. I bet I can guess your name little lady, just give me a second or two to think”
Before I can tell him I don’t want to bet whether he can read minds, or protest the condescending ‘little lady’ comment he says “Stefa…..err…..Janowski, and hey I think you are some kind of doctor too huh? Come on how was that?”
All these thoughts flash through my head. I look at Bob Anderson, he must see how panicked I look. I see a small smile start to break out on his face. “Don’t worry little lady”. There it was again, that condescending title 'little lady' but I am too shocked to say anything. “I can’t really read your mind, your boarding card, it’s on your lap still.” He then laughs at his little trick and I feel my body returning to normal from its panicked state. “Oh yeah” I say timidly. “Err very clever, you had me there” He smiles again and say’s “you just going to be visiting the big apple?” a bit more relaxed than before I answer “I am not sure at this stage, we shall see”. Bob then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card and hands it to me. “See Bob Anderson, sales, I manage the European distribution now. But hey I know you’re not interested in that. Just give me a call if you want someone to show you around sometime”. I take the card say thank you and put the earpods back in, knowing I won’t be giving him a call, or so I thought. At the time I thought that I had no idea who he really was and how he related to this whole ordeal. More importantly I didn’t know I should have trusted my first instincts: he had in fact followed me onto the plane and had, through his agency, been able to ensure he got seated next to me.
Wisteria, writing as Dr. Stefania Janowski
I smiled sweetly at his little telepathic trick hoping that my cover hadn’t been broken; praying inwardly that my face hadn’t risen to a hot pink complexion as all the fears of the past few weeks came racing forward. BE CALM! I ordered myself… breathe slowly and smile! Avoid the overwhelming gasp demanding to explode out of my lips. It was just a man, and a simple one at that, a simple man wanting a simple conversation on a simple airplane ride. Most likely, just another common trip for him, but not at all for me.
No one can be trusted!
And so I avoided conversation with this simple man least I inadvertently discuss the things that should never be spoken of again. True I was a doctor, Dr. Stefania Janowski, but I wasn’t just any kind of doctor, my trip to the Zone years ago had changed all that, and up until I met Kevin again three weeks ago my life had been fairly simple. I was a research scientist working as a secret military personnel with the U. S. Government. Chosen, among others due to my exceptionally high IQ, my single status, my military experience as an emergency physician, and my interest in medical research to improve human life, or so I thought that would be my mission when I joined.
I silently gasped inwardly and quickly turned to face the airplane window. My fears easing as my blood pressure returned to normal while the heat on my face was replaced with the rays of the beautiful autumn sunrise…or was it a sunset… I had spent so many hours on this flight and left in such a rush, barely packing anything resembling luggage, that my time zones were as messed up as my life.
With a slow face palm I wiped any obvious stress away and began to mentally recant the events of the past three weeks in my head. I had met Kevin. He brought me to the dying biker. I told Kevin I might be able to save him. Kevin responded like any other ER physician; “it’s impossible, he’s going fast!” Then I made the call. Within minutes military personal came in and the biker was gone, but not gone. I had saved the poor man. Unfortunately, in exchange for saving him the military expected more payment than the typical ER bill in the mail, which is when his DNA was used to create those mutants. Those things that should never have been made! Heartless creatures with the coldness of a snake, but with an intellect that could match my own, because my medical partners had used my DNA to complete the task!
Time to begin a new life…or finish this old one by fixing the wrongs…the creatures I had made… One way or the other my life will soon take a new path. I brushed my long blonde hair back and away from my face, as though turning the page to a hopefully brighter future. The sun seemed to agree with me as its warming rays truly calmed my fears, at least for a little while. The pilot’s voice suddenly slammed into my thoughts.
Time to disembark this plane!
By Karen
I walked nervously down the steps and once inside the terminal I constantly glanced from side to side. I felt sure I was being watched. Knowing the mutants could morph into realistic human bodies I had to regard everyone as dangerous to me and my mission.
Remembering rule number1- Never, ever lock eyes with anyone because if that 'human' is a mutant in disguise and you look into their eyes you will be powerless to resist their commands- at passport control I studied the official's hand, rather than his face.
Thankfully he waved me through and I collected my baggage.
A porter approached me but I quickly turned away, just in case!
I realised this was my new mantra. There were so many restriction in my life now- just in case. I dare not contact old friends- just in case.
I went to a coffee shop, ordered a cappuccino, took out a pen and notebook and began to list my priorities for the first 24 hours in this land I had known so well but which now was on the brink of a man made disaster.
By, Charlotte
Hot, slightly bitter, I slowly sipped, my tongue silently savouring first the creamy foam, then the rich dark liquid. The small voice deep within, shrieked Do Not panic. Easier said than done I reminded it.
Suppressing the needs which this emotion engenders, I concentrated on the task in hand. Making a To Do List, and listing in order of importance.
Suppressing the needs which this emotion engenders, I concentrated on the task in hand. Making a To Do List, and listing in order of importance.
Most important: A place to stay. My old apartment ? Tenants long since ensconced, since I rented out the place just before my departure. A stop-gap for a day or two, sleeping on the sofa, until I find a suitable place of my own ? Possible or not possible?
Sip of coffee, pause for thought. Alternative possibility: An hotel. Annonymity assured. I would be just another guest, no questions asked, no explanantions necessary. By far the better choice under the present strained conditions.
The question of cost nagged, tugged a chord on the financial purse strings. Limited funds would mean a long stay would not be viable, but maybe as a stop-gap this would be the better option. Renting: cheaper, but so many questions needing answers. Inevitable on all counts. Decisions, decisions. Thoughts veered to funds, money available, and the need to change my foreign currency to dollars. This becomes the essential first item. Without sufficient cash, nothing is possible. I drain my coffee, pick up my bag and it is as I walked towards the bureau de change, that I heard my name called out over the loud speaker.
The question of cost nagged, tugged a chord on the financial purse strings. Limited funds would mean a long stay would not be viable, but maybe as a stop-gap this would be the better option. Renting: cheaper, but so many questions needing answers. Inevitable on all counts. Decisions, decisions. Thoughts veered to funds, money available, and the need to change my foreign currency to dollars. This becomes the essential first item. Without sufficient cash, nothing is possible. I drain my coffee, pick up my bag and it is as I walked towards the bureau de change, that I heard my name called out over the loud speaker.
I stopped in my tracks. My stomach knoted. My body involuntarily went into overdrive, I broke out into a cold sweat. Two choices leaped into my mind. Pretend I did not hear this, head for the exit, or I walk resolutely towards the Information desk. Which is it to be?
By, Kristy
My grip on the bag handle tightens, and my eyes dart around the airport foyer. So close to the exit, to freedom. A low ‘ding’ sounds off somewhere to my left, and I turn to see a varied parade of passengers pop out of the lift doors when they whoosh open. In cartoonesque formation they rush towards the outer doors as one, with the occasional traveller peeling off from the pack to dart into the newsagency, to the public phones, or darting past me towards the coffee shop. Two suited gentlemen push past me, either misjudging or not caring about their proximity to me and I am jostled from both sides as the two men rush past. I turn, and on instinct open my mouth to protest, barely a syllable escapes me when one of the men turns back to look at me over his shoulder, even as he keeps moving forwards. I drop my eyes to the floor and hear a vicious “Watch it, lady!” from the man as I watch his feet continue to move away from me. I release the breath I had been holding and then jump as the sudden shrill whistle of the milk steamer from inside the café behind me jolts me back to my current dilemma, and I feel the hard pounding of my heart. I lay my hand over the tortured organ and start to count along with my heart rate, slowing the speed of my counting as I go and feeling my heart beat also slowing; a meditative technique that served me well in the field.
I duck into the toilets adjacent to the lift doors and finding it empty, I lean back on the far wall, groaning when the loud speaker invades the relative silence of the washroom. “Janowski. Can Doctor Stefania Janowski please attend the level 1 information desk? Janowski.” I quickly pull out my tablet and check my messages. No new notifications. Not that I was expecting any, or would know what to respond with if there was one. I am momentarily distracted by the background picture that greets me. My own happy face matched by my smiling husband, and the giggling grins of the kids, standing in front of our new home. Just one year ago. I jam the tablet back into my bag, and harshly zip it shut. No time to dwell on what I can’t change. I am a survivor; a fighter. Am I about to let one little threat, one baseless fear, stop me from my plan? Heck no.
Pep talk in mind, I storm out of the bathroom, and turn towards the information desk, but before I take 3 steps in that direction, a familiar figure steps in front of me, and I find myself pulling to an abrupt stop and looking up into the many chins of my flight companion. “Hey doc! 6B, Bob. Bob Anderson!” he booms out as people flow around him, a solid boulder in a river of travellers. “Mister Anderson.“ I nod quickly, keeping my eyes downcast and I step to the left to move around him. His arm shoots out with surprising speed, and his hand falls on my shoulder with a tightening grip, stopping me beside him. “No need to be so formal, little lady. I’m Bob, and you’re Doc Janowski,” his voice drops to a more conspiratorial tone, “And for someone who is acting all meek and shy, your file sure don’t read like that, so why don’t we stop playing games here, missy.”
“Janowski. Can Doctor Stefania Janowski please attend the level 1 information desk? Janowski. Last call.” The loud speaker crackles to life again, and from the corner of my eye, I see Bob Anderson look backwards in the direction of the mentioned information desk, and craning his neck to see past the ocean of people. If it wasn’t him trying to get me to go to the desk…then who? No-one else knows I am here; though if the agency is aware of my movements, surely anything is possible. Using his distraction, I break free from the grip of the large man and bolt towards the doors behind me. I push past the mass of people waiting for a taxi, ignoring their muted grumbles as they try to maintain the pretence of politeness, tired at the end of their journeys. I slide my jacket off my arms and dump it in a trash can as I pass, hoping the olive green of my shirt will help me blend into the crowd and I half-heartedly murmur an apology to an increasingly angry crowd as I push through them, finally free from the airport building, but knowing that this ‘Bob Anderson’ or whoever he was, wasn’t far behind.
By Wisteria as Mr. Bob Anderson
Damn. She got away!…I whispered silently as I telepathically summoned my superiors and scant seconds later they responded, “It’s her, I’m sure of it!” I whispered telepathically…“No, no actual confirmation made, she barely spoke a word to me but my human sensory equipment tells me it has to be her…blood pressure skyrocketing, pulse racing, her face was flushed and her blue eyes failed to disguise her fear of capture by us!” “Yessss,” hissed my superiors, “We have received the same readings on our HSE!” They said as they paused in exasperation. “You must find her!” one of my male superiors shouted, his accent slipping into our natural slithering lisp. “You know our species depends on getting her back on that Island before THEY get to her!” “I know,” I replied with a low hiss, my own natural accent slipping through. I touched my Adam’s apple, or what would have been my Adam’s apple if I were Human, and I could feel the sweat of my brow begin to seep our own natural sticky form of sweat. Quickly, I took a cloth from out of my jacket pocket to clean the green slime away before anyone at the airport noticed.
The machine implanted into my voice box to make me sound more human was beginning to irritate me, and the irritation was causing my natural scales to show across my surgically enhanced and perfectly tan humanlike skin. “I’ll get back to you when I know more,” I told him my voice thickening at the end, “I think I might have a lead to where she might be headed, and it’s possible her….children…might be searching for her.” “She isn’t aware of this but the creatures her and her colleagues made hold a distinct and clear telepathic bond with her, which will cause her to be nearly impossible to hide from them.” “Zlemsphth!” They replied in unison and the telepath current quickly faded away. (Goodbye and get it done!)
I went to the information booth and with a big toothy grin I asked the information clerk who it was that was trying to locate Dr. Janowski, giving them a lame excuse that my wife had to slip to the ladies room. The clerk responded with a somewhat confused expression and his hand slowly reached to the back of his head, his eyes wincing in pain, “I don’t know what you mean sir, I haven’t paged anyone all afternoon.” “Thanks young man,” I said with a smile, and then I looked deeply into his worried eyes and whispered, “Don’t worry, the pain will subside soon, take a break and when you come back the pain will be gone.” “Have a great day sir!” He responded with a genuine smile.
I walked away to find a cab. Her children were definitely here and they were following closely behind her! The pain in the young man’s eyes was caused by their presence still in his mind, and from their presence in his mind I was able to zero in on their location, and they were following closely behind her!
There were so many of them, which is not unlike our species to breed in litters, my own lifeform matron had birthed six of us. However, because the team of military human research scientists had used a human mother, countless eggs had hatched! In the young man’s mind I counted 22 telepathic minds searching for their mother! Our kind was an intellectual, passive and a gentle one, but these mutations were not totally of my kind!
I slipped into the backseat of the cab and peered into the rearview mirror to make sure I still looked like the ever friendly Mr. Bob Anderson. Smiling my big toothy grin, I telepathically zoned in on the cab driver that was being followed mentally by her children. My cab driver did not say a word and hypnotically followed my mental directions that would lead me to her, hopefully before her offspring found her first!
The machine implanted into my voice box to make me sound more human was beginning to irritate me, and the irritation was causing my natural scales to show across my surgically enhanced and perfectly tan humanlike skin. “I’ll get back to you when I know more,” I told him my voice thickening at the end, “I think I might have a lead to where she might be headed, and it’s possible her….children…might be searching for her.” “She isn’t aware of this but the creatures her and her colleagues made hold a distinct and clear telepathic bond with her, which will cause her to be nearly impossible to hide from them.” “Zlemsphth!” They replied in unison and the telepath current quickly faded away. (Goodbye and get it done!)
I went to the information booth and with a big toothy grin I asked the information clerk who it was that was trying to locate Dr. Janowski, giving them a lame excuse that my wife had to slip to the ladies room. The clerk responded with a somewhat confused expression and his hand slowly reached to the back of his head, his eyes wincing in pain, “I don’t know what you mean sir, I haven’t paged anyone all afternoon.” “Thanks young man,” I said with a smile, and then I looked deeply into his worried eyes and whispered, “Don’t worry, the pain will subside soon, take a break and when you come back the pain will be gone.” “Have a great day sir!” He responded with a genuine smile.
I walked away to find a cab. Her children were definitely here and they were following closely behind her! The pain in the young man’s eyes was caused by their presence still in his mind, and from their presence in his mind I was able to zero in on their location, and they were following closely behind her!
There were so many of them, which is not unlike our species to breed in litters, my own lifeform matron had birthed six of us. However, because the team of military human research scientists had used a human mother, countless eggs had hatched! In the young man’s mind I counted 22 telepathic minds searching for their mother! Our kind was an intellectual, passive and a gentle one, but these mutations were not totally of my kind!
I slipped into the backseat of the cab and peered into the rearview mirror to make sure I still looked like the ever friendly Mr. Bob Anderson. Smiling my big toothy grin, I telepathically zoned in on the cab driver that was being followed mentally by her children. My cab driver did not say a word and hypnotically followed my mental directions that would lead me to her, hopefully before her offspring found her first!
By, MarkA, as the cab driver Jimmy
As the cab peeled away from the curb, leaving a smiling Bob Anderson to pursue Dr Janowski, the fog began clearing from the drivers mind. It wasn’t until he was approaching the rotting inner city that he regained full cognition. Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand while he drank in the familiar sights of the city. Trash strewn sidewalks, boarded over shopfronts and in the distance, a siren wailed as though the city itself was crying out in pain.
Anyone else would question losing half a day, but for Jimmy, his booze soaked nights were the only remedy for bored days, so he was able to explain it away as just another blackout.
The sun had long since fallen between the tall buildings, casting shadows down angry gridlocked streets. Now it was night, now it was the time for degenerates, criminals and vice. Good people locked themselves inside and gave over the streets to the those with less than honourable intentions.
Jimmy pulled his groaning cab into the parking lot of diner located next to a construction site, long since abandoned. Even though he was a regular, Jimmy didn’t make small talk with the server that slopped stale black coffee into the mug in front of him as he slumped down into the tattered vinyl booth.
As she waddled back behind the greasy counter, he fumbled in his coat jacket and pulled out an old cardboard drink coaster. Unfolding it, he ran his fingers over the marks made from someone pushing too hard with a pen on the soft cardboard.
“What does it mean?”
The words jolted through him like electricity, shooting him upright as he realised someone was suddenly seated across from him in the booth. Jimmy took the man in for a moment, noticing his impeccably dressed presentation and calm demeanour before stammering, “what, who… how?”.
He reminded Jimmy of an English duke or one of those posh businessmen from uptown that he would get in his cab. The man was out of place in this dive of a diner.
“What, who and how I am is of little importance to you I’m sure, compared to what you’ve go in your hands” the man replied in a clipped english accent.
Jimmy looked around the near empty diner, gripping the folded coaster in his hand even tighter.
“So do you know?” the Englishman asked again?
Jimmy crumpled his thick brow, looking from the man to the coaster clenched in his fist on the table.
“Because, if you haven’t worked it out, I know someone who can help you”
With that the Englishman stood up and walked out of the diner. Jimmy patted his pockets, retrieved a crumpled single and dropped it on the counter as he followed the man into the foul night air outside.
The Englishman was already sitting in the back of Jimmy’s cab so he lumbered into the drivers seat and creaked the door closed. The engine sputtered painfully into life as Jimmy twisted around to face the man in the back.
“You gonna tell me what you mean, and how you know about this thing I got?” Jimmy asked.
“24th and Kensington” He replied. “You’ll get answers there”.
“24th and Kensington” He replied. “You’ll get answers there”.
Jimmy gripped the wheel with one hand and the coaster in his coat pocket with the other. He had to find out who left this note. His whole life depended on it he thought as the old cab passed block after block, seeping deeper into the heart of the crowded city.
By, Rowan Rook
I bolt the hotel room door behind me. For a while, I only stare at it, daring the knob to move. He's still after me, that so-called Mr. Anderson - I know he is. My heart drums in anticipation of footsteps in the hallway outside that never come. I suck in a breath. Maybe...maybe I really did lose him, I try and fail to convince myself. After checking the lock one more time just to be sure, I force my eyes away from the door.
It's only now that I really take in the rest of the room. Tattered blinds dangle over a single second-story window, an ancient CRT TV sits on a dresser, and a bed with some rather suspicious stains comprise my makeshift shelter. I can't help but think of all the germs that must make their home here - the doctor in me stirring uncomfortably in the back of my mind - but I have much bigger threats to worry about right now. This place will have to do until I scrounge up enough money for an upgrade.
I check the window to be sure it's locked, as well, before forcing myself to sit on the edge of the bed. My body aches, but my throbbing chest chases away any chance of sleep. What I wouldn't give to be able to close my eyes and feel safe.
Instead, I swallow down my self pity and pull out my tablet. A twinge tightens my throat when I look at my notifications. There's a voicemail from my husband. It's the first time he's called me in weeks - I would've thought he'd stopped trying by now. For a few minutes, I let my finger hover over the callback button and entertain the fantasy of hearing his voice. What would I say? How could I even begin to explain everything I've seen? I...don't even know if I'm quite the same person he married anymore. I'm stained, somehow.
My daydreams no longer pleasant, I delete the message without listening. I've already removed all of my family and friends from my contacts list, and I hope that I'll forget their numbers soon. It's easier without the temptation. Contacting anyone means putting them in danger, and I love the people I've left behind far too much to drag them down with me.
Tires squeal in the streets below my room, startling me out of my reveries. A man's voice floats up to my window next. He sounds...afraid, somehow. There's nothing below but an empty alleyway. Why is anyone here, at all?
I blink, and against my better judgement, carefully prowl closer to the blinds. Peeking through them, I see a cab parked not far from my room, and a shaking man in sweaty day clothes following another in a business suit. They disappear into the shadows of another alley. 24th and Kensington...
I blink, and against my better judgement, carefully prowl closer to the blinds. Peeking through them, I see a cab parked not far from my room, and a shaking man in sweaty day clothes following another in a business suit. They disappear into the shadows of another alley. 24th and Kensington...
I swallow, unsure of why I'm suddenly more uneasy than ever.
By, Ketu, (the thread killer)
Trying to shield my eyes from the neon light outside my window, I toss and turn in an effort to escape the thoughts cascading in every crevice of my exhausted brain. Wishing I had the freedom to respond to the frantic messages from my family, which escalated from a carefully worded e-mail to pleas for some response. And yet, knowing that it might be the only way they could navigate directly to my tenuous freedom; I had to fight with myself to ignore those I love and treasure. A cold sweat comes to a bead on my forehead as I recall how close to being discovered, I have now twice encountered. All of my sacrifice for the discoveries I made back in Krakow would be wasted efforts.
Drifting into an uneasy sleep, I dream wild things and they are jumbled up pieces of this new life and the familiar one I have abandoned for the safety of all involved. Trudging wearily through the bog of what was, I am shocked by the images developing before my eyes. They flash in random sequence jumbling together with the feelings they evoke and all my questions explode into memories. I feel more lost here than the new place that I have unwillingly transported myself to.
As I move through the territory of this dreamscape, I awaken to a sound outside my door.
Standing, it comes to me, out of my fog that I was supposed to be invisible – here and yet not here…unknown. So why am I being called by name? Or was that a figment of my weary imagination?
ooc: End of story so far....or is it?