This will be the first installment of the Needless Things Spotlight, where I will publish fiction from various sources; maybe even myself. Let me know what you think. I know Blogger is shit for comments, so please leave feedback on my El Phantasmas Facebook page or on the Needless Things page. And if you have something you would like to publish but aren't sure how or where just drop me a message.
And now I am proud to present to you "My Own Wreckage" from Beau McKnight. Enjoy.
Beau
McKnight
My
Own Wreckage
“The
call scared me for some reason I couldn’t put my finger on. All I
heard was distant faint voices in the background. Feet shuffling,
intercom voices and phones ringing. It sounded like hospital type
noises. I looked at the caller ID. 'Unknown,' it said. For weeks now
everything has been off.
“
“Michael
when you say off, what do you mean exactly. Be more specific please.”
“For
example, when I pulled up there was a black Mercedes in the parking
lot. I noticed because it was one that I thought about buying earlier
this year.
I’m
looking out of the window and I notice it's gone. There's a different
car in its place.”
“Michael
it's gone because someone left and someone else took the parking
space. The call was probably just someone accidentally dialing you.
Happens all the time. You're just having some anxiety issues. These
are all things we can fix Michael.”
“Well
here's something that needs to be fixed. I have this feeling that my
wife isn't really
my wife. She says all the normal things and kisses me goodbye before
I leave for work each day but,
sometimes from the corner of my eye I will catch something that’s
not right. A subtle shift or change. Like she will stand there
sometimes blankly looking off into space. It's like someone paused a
DVD or something.”
“Have
you been sleeping at all Michael?”
“I
have been doing nothing but sleeping lately. Dreamless deep sleeping,
and it's been getting harder to wake up.”
“Michael
do you experience a lot of stress in your workplace?”
“My
workplace. Let’s see. My workplace is filled with people that I
know aren’t
my co-workers.
I don't know who those people are.
They certainly have some
of
the qualities of my co-workers but they
aren't them.
There's Sarah in accounting who’s worn the same clothing now for
two weeks. In the shipping and receiving department I’ve noticed
trucks leaving with no packages and delivering none. Phil in the
front office who does invoicing taps at the keyboard all
day
, but the monitor hasn't even been turned on. I've started trying to
get a reaction out of these people lately and they don't seem to
notice or react in a way that’s normal. I said to Phil today, 'Monitor’s
not on Buddy, been turned off for a week now and yet
you keep on typing.' He
says, `That’s funny Michael I’ll have to tell my wife that one
when I get home.' The
whole time he's grinning like an idiot.”
“This
sounds like a psychotic break of some
type. Has there been a recent death or some traumatic event
of
any sort?”
“No,
nothing like that. There's something else that you need to know
though. I’ve been saying and doing things lately on impulse. So
far, no repercussions.”
“Michael,
when you say impulse, what do you mean exactly? Be more specific
please.”
“Odd,
you said that earlier or damn close to it.”
“Michael,
let's discuss your impulses.”
“Okay,
since we started this session I've thought about pinning you down on
that desk like a butterfly and tearing open your blouse. I can see
the buttons fall to the floor”
“Michael,
we’re going to end this. I can't help you”
“What
do the fuck do you mean END
THIS? I need help!”
“ I’m
referring you to another doctor, Michael.”
“Please
wait! I need to understand something. Everyone keeps talking about
this snowstorm that’s coming. A blizzard with whiteout conditions.
It's like everybody wants
me
to know about it. Have you heard about this?”
“Quite
a storm is coming Michael,” she was smiling now, “Better run home
and hide.”
I
ran out of the office, caught the elevator down and threw the front
door open. Cold air and snow blasted my face as I made my way to the
car.
Everyone
was gone. The only car in the lot was mine and I couldn't even hear
the thrum of the nearby freeway. Total dead silence.
The
door handle was iced over and took some leverage to break free. The
therapist session took 45 minutes and in that time the temperature
must have plummeted 50 degrees; it all seemed so impossible.
Sitting
in the car feeling some small degree of safety, I started to calm
down.
“You're
gonna be alright old boy. Just having a psychotic break due to
stress. Could happen to anybody. Working 60 hours a week with no
vacation or break. Bound to happen at some point.
I'll
drive to my favorite bar, have a few drinks and make my way home. Not
gonna work tomorrow. Just staying in bed and getting some much
needed rest.”
The
roads were deserted. Rush hour and not a single car for the past
three miles.
“People
are probably stocking up for the blizzard. The grocery stores will be
packed.”
The
sky looked bruised and angry, my car’s wipers lashed back and forth
trying
to keep up with the volume of snow being dumped.
“Can't
linger at the bar. Stay too long and the roads will be choked with
snow and ice.”
Past
mile marker four I saw the flashing red lights of an emergency
vehicle and several police cars as they blocked two lanes of traffic.
“Wreck
most likely, people drive too damn fast in these conditions.”
As
I approached, an officer threw up his hand and told me to stop.
I
rolled down the window as the cop looked in and cocked his head to
the side with a look of confusion.
“Quite
a storm, huh? We're having to deal with some asshole who slid down
the embankment. Head cracked open like an egg when it hit the
dashboard. Blunt force trauma. Goddamn, I love my job!
Would
you like to see it? I mean it's not every day you get to see
something like that Michael.
You would have
to be careful though
it's slippery out here and I wouldn't want you to fall. I’m Officer
Orlando by the way.”
At
this the officer grinned as he put his left hand on his baton.
“Listen
Michael, I'm done fucking around here.” he said quietly through
gritted teeth.
He
said this as he glanced over towards the other officers ten feet
away.
“Get
out of this car or I’ll reach in and pull you right the fuck out. I
don't like you or your yuppie BMW. Think you're the center of the
fucking
universe don't you?”
“You
don't even know me so why
would you hate
me, and how do you know my name?”
Another
officer was walking towards the car. Big man, mid-fifties with an air
of authority and higher rank.
“Think
this is your own horror show here Orlando? Some kind of a joke maybe?
Everyone plays their part so I would advise you to play yours without
the theatrics.”
Officer
Orlando said, “Yes, sir,” and quietly walked towards his patrol
car.
“Son
I can't give you my name because I don't have one. But I have a few
things to say and you need to listen. I've been doing this job for a
really
long time, and I can see in your face that you are starting to
understand what’s going on. You know
whose car that is up ahead in that ravine, don't you son?”
“I
think so,” I said as I blinked away the tears.
“There
was just too much damage done. You have been on complete life
support, and in a coma now for a few weeks. As of 4:49 P.M. Friday,
December 20th,
you were taken off life support. You're on your own now, but fading
quick.”
“What
do I do?”
“You're
going to know what to do Michael, there's no need for me to tell you.
Forget
going to the bar though, it's closed now and forever. Go home
Michael.
Go
home and be with your wife.”
I
rolled up the window and drove past my own wreckage. Orlando waved
and I flipped him off.
She
was waiting; beautiful in her yellow summer dress. The house, filled
with a lifetime of memories was
as it had always been. A place of comfort, a place of love.
She
said nothing as I walked in but kissed my cheek as she had for the
past twenty years.
I
put my hand to her face, smiling gently, and walked out into the
unforgiving storm.
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