Welcome to my writing corner. Here you'll find stand alone stories and tales that stretch much longer. You'll find tales ranging from medieval adventure to modern stories about real people with a sci-fi twist. If you like/hate what you read, drop me a line and let me know.

You can find the stories grouped by the labels just to the right.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

What If? - Chapter 4

I sit down, the seat is really uncomfortable, back of a police car uncomfortable. Pat’s cold, bony fingers start attaching little sticky sensors to the back of my neck. Next he straps a rugby looking helmet to my head and affixes the worn leather chin guard. Black stretchy scuba gloves slide over my hands, multi-colored wires fan everywhere. Lastly, the goggles, two huge, perfectly round lenses, like the bottom of beer bottles. Pat puts them over my eyes, where they sit, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“I can’t see anything through these goggles.”

“You will, you will.” I can hear Pat step back over to his monitors and controls. I feel like Frankenstein’s monster, waiting to be electrocuted into existence.

“Now what?” I lean back in the chair; the air hums lowly with the sound of electronics coming to life.

“I need you to think, very specifically about a decision you made, or something you did that could have turned out differently. It can be anything, small or large, but it has to be really clear, you have to be able to picture it perfectly in your head.”

I go silent for a moment, while perfectly confident that this crazy machine will never work, on the off chance that it does I need to be prepared. It comes quickly though, I remember it perfectly, the day I gave up my dream for comfort.

“I’m ready.” My voice exudes confidence.

I hear knobs turning and something starts clicking behind me, an annoying click, like someone adjusting the arm rest on their chair. It starts slowly, I feel my body begin vibrating.

“Um, Pat?” then it’s too late, I feel myself falling through darkness. Suddenly, with a yank, like there is a rope tied around my waist, I stop. Dangling in emptiness clouds of white appear before my eyes.

A room appears in focus, it’s an apartment, a shitty apartment. Around me, feels… soft, I’m on a frumpy, tattered couch. Wisps of smoke, there is a joint in my hand, I’m…high. I try turning my head, standing up, putting the joint down, I can’t. All I can do is watch out of glazed over eyes. I can feel everything, but I can’t do anything.

No comments:

Post a Comment