Soporific (What The……??)

Darkness melted away yet my vision remained a blur. Someone was looking down at me but however much I strained I couldn’t make out any features. My mind told me I was lying down on a mattress or bed of some kind but no part of my body was able to move. I felt a pin prick in my arm. Darkness took over again.

DDS 575.63

At the library I wondered round the quiet aisles looking for DDS 575.63. I walked past history, science, biology and then came across evolution where I found what I was looking for. I slid out the relevant volume and opened it slowly, eager to find out what it contained and fearful of what I might come across. I opened the cover to find the usual library stamps. It had last been taken out exactly one month ago. I went to the counter, looked nervously around, and scanned the bar code. Up popped the list of previous owners.

Gareth Bates. I noted down the address and walked over to a table to study the book in more detail. There didn’t seem anything that would obviously answer my questions. What is it I was meant to find? As I flicked further to the back I noticed a small piece of paper wedged into the spine. I tugged at the corner and it came out easily. On it, in spindly hand writing, was the following;

“If you have found this note then it is happening. Come to the Slaughtered Lamb and ask for Nathan. All will be revealed. Destroy this message”

I read over it several times trying to take it all in. Is this really for me? What have I got myself into? None of this makes sense. I got up slowly, trying to will my brain into some kind of normal functions. Leaving the book on the table I wondered gingerly out of the library. On the pavement I looked up and saw The Girl once again, standing on the opposite side of the street looking at me. I went to raise my hand in recognition but a sharp pain to the back of my head startled me. Within moments I am engulfed in darkness.

Urban running

Several days of nothing other than depressing normality had rolled by. I worried that my gift had left me and I'd have nothing other than a rather large and immovable souvenir to show for it. Was it the guilt that had caused it to seize up? Perhaps it was fatigue?

Finally the suit (or Vault as I'd affectionately named it) woke from its slumber. As the metal plates slide around my body and into position I felt the rush of power. Oh, how I'd missed it.

I decided to go for a "run" to clear the cobwebs and check out the goings on around the estate. Calvin an acquaintance had been round a couple of times over the last few days. He lived close to where Lefty had met his untimely end and had been making some rather unsettling comments. I needed to find out what he knew.

It was time to pay him a visit...

Filed in: Vault

Carpoon

From Oddball column by Brian Stort in the Daily Mail - page10-July 28th

Some of the eyewitnesses from last week's pile up on the M4 near Swindon claimed a figure on a motorway bridge was throwing spears at the passing cars minutes before the accident. Even more wild, a motorist crossing the overpass bridge claimed the figure was a young man dressed in hippy like clothes and that the youth was pulling the 'spears' out of thin air.

If you've witnessed something extraordinary Oddball wants to hear from you.

A Walk In The Park

I decided a stroll was in order to clear my thoughts. My mind had been going round and round in circles trying to make sense of it all and I wasn’t getting any closer to my next steps. Maybe I should go to a doctor? Maybe a shrink? Maybe I should do a search on the internet against my symptoms? What if I am really ill? I might have a life threatening disease? But what about the note? I could be going crazy.

I sat down on a park bench and looked out at London spread out before me. It put a smile on my face thinking of this great city where I lived and I momentarily felt relaxed and content. I took a deep breath of the air around me and could smell the grass and hedges around me damp with moisture from the rain this morning. I could hear the buzz of insects and the singing of the birds. A constant hum was starting to strain my ears and the smell was becoming intoxicating. A sudden pain in my head took me by surprise and I wanted everything to stop, the noises, the smells, everything. I couldn’t see, I cried out in fear, I didn’t know where I was. I collapsed onto the soft uncut grass.

I felt someone over me and they said something incoherent. They then touched my head and stroked my hair in a soothing way. Their words started to form into sentences I could understand. It was a women’s voice.

“You are ok. You are breathing and your heartbeat is normal. You are ok”

I opened my eyes to the sight of The Girl. She filled my vision looking down at me with concern in her eyes and voice. She was beautiful.

“Can you get up?” she asked

My mouth was dry and I couldn’t make any noise apart from a murmur in response. She helped me to my feet and offered to walk me home. Again, I just nodded, rather than make speech like any other human. Who is this girl I thought to myself but I never asked and she didn't offer up the information.

A Scrap Of Paper

I stayed in bed for the next few days scared to go out or talk to anyone. Only after all the food in the house was gone and all I had left was tap water to sustain life did I venture out. I washed in the morning to find a pale, tired face looking back from the mirror with dark bags under my eyes. I made it down to the corner shop, picked up some provisions and came straight back to my flat. I’d made it…..no one had tried to kill me. Maybe this is all in my mind after all.

As I closed my door I noticed a folded up note on the carpet. I didn’t remember that being there when I left. A chill started to creep through me once again. I bent down, picked up the note and unfolded it.

Written in large hand writing I read, “DDC 575.63”.

Private Investors

I told them I thought it was a bad idea before we carried it out. They never listen. I suppose the investors must have put the thumb screws on them. Who can argue with them, they funded the whole thing when many people thought we were crackpots.

Ever since the incident they've seal off the whole lab. The private investors have brought in their own team of so called specialists. Where does that leave us? Do we know too much?

- Anon -

Crazy People

My local is housed in an old Victorian building with dark lighting and intimate tables tucked into the numerous corners. In the back of the pub on the left is the place I normally sit, and i'm relieved to see it empty this afternoon. After getting served, I head over to my table and sit back to read the news. Murder, Robbery, Fraud, Bombs…….

Shortly after I have settled down, a man comes in and sits down opposite me. On my table! I look up over my paper and he is looking straight at me, a man of about thirty five, wearing a weathered and stained blue woolen beanie hat. He looks like he hasn't shaved for a week and he has a strange look in his eyes, as if he is waiting for me to talk. I look around the pub and back to my newspaper. My palms are starting to sweat. Why has he sat next to me? There are lots of tables free!

I look up slowly from my newspaper again but not so much as to bring attention to myself. He is just lighting a cigarette and pulling a local paper out from a carrier bag he has brought in with him. I feel as if I can't take my eyes off him but I am desperate not to have to speak. My mouth is getting dry from nerves but I don't want to put the newspaper down for fear of giving an opportunity to converse.

It is now the situation gets worse. I hear knocking noises against the table. Although I know it's the wrong thing to do I am drawn to looking up again to find out what he is doing. With a small pen, the type you get in betting shops he is stabbing the paper and scribbling madly over people faces. Now I am getting really worried. Is he an escaped lunatic out to conduct revenge on society for his incarceration? There is an asylum close by! My mind is running wild with the possibilities and my heart is racing. Is this it? To die right here, right now.

Just as I feel I can't take much more he gets up and walks out. The paper he had is left on the table. I nervously pull the paper closer to me at the same time noticing that my hand is shaking. Amongst all the scribbling I notice he has highlighted some words by putting boxes around them. They are not together though so it is not immediately obvious what it means. I then piece it together and realise what it says.

"NOW IT BEGINS"

This is when my mind starts swimming. Is this a message for me?

Not Again

I can't do this, not again. I got back from my 'emergency' visit to Dr Morten, pouring with sweat. I can't believe they call waiting five days an emergency appointment. I told him about the blackout and the feeling of electricity on my skin that has been there ever since and he asked me if I had started smoking again. I told him that yesterday I had moved the coffee table without touching it and he asked me how I was sleeping. I asked if the changes to my medication might be responsible for my recent delusions and he told me that they hadn't changed my medication.

I can't face going through all of that again and knowing that it isn't real. Knowing that it's just my broken brain misfiring. I can't face the blackouts and finding messages I don't remember writing. I don't want to see the faces again. The knowing others in crowded tube stations and cafes, who share my secrets and hear the call too. I don't want to percieve the patterns behind the words of the news again. I don't want to believe there is a dark hand guiding humanity to destroy itself. I can't face knowing that it's just me alone, just something broken in me that makes me see and feel those things. I am not a hero, I am broken and useless, only the drugs keep me limping from day to day and now they are failing me.

Dr Morten suggested I move to the observation ward for a few days, while they re-examine my medication. I just need a few familiar things in a bag and then I can go to the safe place.

"Case Notes on Daniel Vincent"

Lunchtime news

The home help rattled pots and pans in the kitchen, putting one of her rather mediocre lunches together. I can't wait for her to finish and leave me in peace.

"I bet this is the only decent meal you have all week, isn't it Issac?"

I glare at her, giving the finger when she turns away. Fucking stupid bitch, I'd fucking throw her of a balcony too if I thought I could get away with it.

I switched on the one o'clock news. There was some story of a piercing noise in Kensington high street shattering several shop windows and scaring the crap outta some sloanies. Naturally posh twats having their cappuccino lunches ruined is bigger news than my stuff.

The local reporter plays down the whole affair as a drug related killing. I'm relieved that there is no mention of the smashed brick wall or shattered pavement on the ground below the flats near Darren's body. Either the Police aren't telling them what they know or they don't give a shit. Only time will tell I suppose.

I didn't know that I had such potential. He had to make it hard on himself. Both these reasons help to convince myself it was an accident.... a one off.

Filed in: Vault

Adrenalin

I strode across the concrete and small grass verges which made up the estate. I was lucky enough to be on the outskirts where you can vaguely convince yourself that the place is not a rat hole. Darren "Lefty" Wright lived right in the bowels of the place and liked it that way. A convenient hub for his "business" dealings and deep enough into the estate for Police to not really bother him too much.

Hoping up the stairs trying to keep my momentum and not lose my bottle I quickly made it to his floor. You could hear the speed garage bass thumping as I started along the landing.

Who'd wanna be Lefties neighbour?

Lefty had been a year or two older than me at school and had terrorised many a kid in my year. Lucky for me I had Geoff and his crew to back me up and had avoided any serious confrontation with him. I knew from Geoff that he really didn't have much in the way of backup. He was pretty small fry but had enough cash hanging around for it to be the right price for me.

I pulled my hood over my head and tested the newly discovered voice synth....the adrenalin was pumping. I rang the doorbell (my heart raced) A shadow appeared in the frosted glass (my mouth dried) the door opened slowly....

Filed in: Vault

16:30 at Sandown

It's been two days since the incident with the mirror... Did it really happen, or was my mind playing tricks on me? Needless to say, I've been avoiding that mirror like the fucking plague. It's been two days... Am I a man or a mouse!

I stand in front of the mirror, T-shirt soaked in sweat and my heart pounding so hard it hurts. I force myself to look, to look at the scary monster in the mirror... My own reflection.

Nothing out of the ordinary. I breathe a sigh of relief, is there a hint of disappointment on my face.

"Blood Money - 9 to 1, 16:30 at Sandown. Put my entire £3000 savings on it".
Did I just say that! It looked like I did, but I would swear on my mothers grave that I didn't utter a word.
"Do it, or else!"

I walk out of the flat, clutching my HSBC bank card. I light a cigarette to calm my shredded nerves, take a pull, then toss it into drain before heading to the nearest Ladbrokes.

'The memoirs of Daniel Scott'

Finishing touches

The smooth metallic sheets now covered the once messy wiring. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment admiring the craftsmanship. My legs and arms had a smooth almost fluid metallic coating. My torso was composed of several fitted plates and my spine and ribs were reinforced with an exoskeleton.

The two grand I'd put on my credit card against the agreed loan had managed to buy about three quarters of the listed components. I needed to finish this project and I knew the bank wasn't going to give me any more cash. I also know that there are some real scumbags on this estate and I was sure as shit that the fuzz weren't going to bother too much if I shook down some of the local dealers.

It was time to put this thing to the test...

Filed in: Vault

Greasy Spoon

I decided to go to the café this morning. A quiet place at the end of a row of shops, you could smell the chip fat and bacon frying before you entered. I picked a table at the back with only one chair so as to not be disturbed. They had those plastic tables and chairs bolted to the floor so you couldn’t move them around. I got out my notepad and waited.

Within a few minutes a couple of builders came in and sat at a table in the opposite corner. I strained to hear what they were saying and was surprised that every grunt and growl carried to me as if I was sitting at the table with them.

“A breakfast special and a brew, cheers love”

“Me too but with extra beans, ta. You see that bird walk past earlier?”

“nah, but I tell you what, m’ fist hurts loads from last night. Did you see him hit the deck. There was blood everywhere. It was great.” A grimace swept across his face. I heard his accomplice snort with laughter.

In the background other sounds started to permeate my brain, sausages sizzling on the grill, water bubbling in the kettle, a baby crying out, a women cackling. I was suddenly surrounded by a cacophony of noise that overran my senses, cars hooted, sirens blared, phones rang, microwaves beeped. My vision started to blur and my heart started to race. I stumbled from my chair, across the café, and out into the street in a bid for air. I filled my lungs and breathed out slowly. With a cold sweat upon by brow I trudged home.

Strapped for cash

Shuffling in my wheelchair I pretended to read one of the bank's pamphlets about credit cards. I hate banks, they're always so patronising and smug. I was hoping this little excursion was going to be quick and painless.

The weekend had been a drunken blur. The lads had bought the "new drug" therapy story I had concocted. The gloves were of course to cover some nasty skin side affect. I was pleased with myself for being so imaginative! They had welcomed me back with open arms and many free drinks.

A fresh shopping list lay on my bed side table this morning and I needed funds to get the supplies. Disability allowance can only get you so far, so I had to head cap in hand to the bank. I also thought it prudent to wheel myself there rather than stride. Sometimes the sympathy vote can come in handy.

Removing the "device" was easy it just simply slipped off when I wanted it to. It also reattached itself when I panicked and wanted make sure I could get it back on. I was eager to find out what this new list was going to produce.

"Mr. Mortimer?" The fit assistant came over. I looked up making sure I had a good gander at her legs on the way.

"Mr. Mortimer, the manager will see you now"

Filed in: Vault

Ocular misgivings

7:00 am, is it Monday morning again!? Do the weekends seem to be getting shorter and the weekdays longer...

I've been working for five years now, the same company I said I would leave after a year or two. Just get some experience, I told myself, then you can move on to bigger and better things... It's funny how that never happens. Five years gone in a blink of an eye, nothing but a paler Complexion and the beginnings of a beer gut to show for it!

I give myself a good hour to get ready. A nice long shower to begin with, followed by the breakfast of kings - black coffee and yes, three Weetabix! During breakfast I like to catch GMTV, but I always have to leave before LK Today begins, which thinking about it, isn't that tragic... Then, the final act of my morning routine, brushing my teeth.

I stand in front of the sink looking at myself in the mirror. I always start by brushing my front two teeth. They say narcissists always start brushing from the front, maybe there's something to that... A final gargle and spit! Minty fresh and ready to take on the world. One last glance at the mirror and a sly wink at myself.

I stand there frozen, barely able to breath. Staring at the mirror, at my reflection. It is me! of that I'm certain, but why didn't it wink back...

'The memoirs of Daniel Scott'

The Girl

I saw her again today. She was darting across the street in front of me narrowly missing a car. I am sure she stole a glance at me as she reached the other side of the road. She is a picture of perfection, slim body with long dark hair, slightly disheveled. She always has a serious expression on her face as if she is concentrating on an important task.

She soon disappears into the throng of people.

I will see her again though. I know I will.

Fear and Beer

I open my eyes to the sight of the living room's laminate ceiling and the uncomfortable prickle of the cheap carpet on my neck. Sitting up I look down at my legs and see they're covered in sheets of metal and wiring...

I panic...my hands and arms are covered too...I try to pull some of it off but something is stopping me. I try to crawl to the phone to call someone. Suddenly I feel my muscles pulse and in a moment I'm standing, walking!

I begin to laugh, I laugh so hard my sides hurt and tears stream down my face. I feel strong, powerful, alive!

.... but what now?

I cover the evidence with loose trousers and gloves...time for a long awaited pint down the Golden Fleece, I reckon.

Filed in: Vault

Waking Up

I woke up in a pool of sweat. The day hadn’t even started and I was feeling anxious to the point of nausea. My stomach was in knots as if something terrible was about to happen yet I couldn’t put my finger on why this would be. I tried to remember my dream but just as I was about to piece it together it slipped away just as fast.

If only I could remember these dreams I have been having.

Shopping spree

"What the fuck is it?"

Geoff, an old friend from before the illness set in. One of the only ones that still came over after I was wheelchair bound and uncomfortable to be around. Geoff didn't care about shit like that, he did much care about anything, apart from his weed and his car.

"I have no idea, I know I've done it somehow and I know that I want to see the outcome"

Geoff lit a benson and adjusted his cap....

"Well you said you needed me for summat" He bent down picking up a foot shaped object from the pile composed entirely of the electrical appliances from around the house.

"I found this list when I woke up this morning, I want you to head down to Maplins or summink and buy this stuff" I push a pile of cash into his hand. "There's a Henry in it for you if you sort it out today."

Filed in: Vault

A cigarette takes 5 minutes off your life

One of the old hags from the 3rd floor sits there, with a fag hanging out of her mouth. God, I hate the smoking room, but it beats walking down another flight of stairs, just to stand outside with the rest of the plebs... When did I become so lazy?

No, this tiny smoke filled shithole's for me, me and that hag. Margaret, I think her name is, not that I really care, nobody cares too much about the misfits down on 3rd.

I stare at that old emaciated face, wondering how many years she's got left. That's gonna be me one of these days, wrinkled and frail, barely able to draw breath without coughing. I turn and look at my refection in the window. It's funny, the longer you stare at yourself, the less like you, you become... Who are you... Why are you judging me?

She turns and gazes over at me. "Beautiful day isn't it dear, aside from that lightening we had earlier."

I turn my head towards her, take another pull of my cigarette, smile then look away. God, I hate the smoking room, but it beats walking down another flight of stairs, just to stand outside with the rest of the plebs...

'The memoirs of Daniel Scott'

BrainStorm

The entrance smells of piss and bleach, it always reminds me of the community centre I used to go to when I was young and fit.

I breath a sigh of relief when the lift arrives and hasn't been screwed by those little shits on the 5th floor. The flat seems smaller somehow, dinner more bland, I finally fall into a deep sleep.....

I wake with a start and grab the clock on the bed side table....11:00...shit. The doorbell rings again and then I can hear the key in the lock... bloody home help. I crawl out of bed and head to the bathroom, hoping to buy myself more time from "that woman".

"This place is a mess!" (She always says that. It's her way of saying hello, but it always burns an anrgy hole in my stomach)

I climb into my chair, take a deep breath and roll into the living room. The wires from the stereo and TV are strewn across the carpet. She shakes her head tutting, it's like she waited for an audience.

She bends down to clear it up.... "DON'T TOUCH THAT" I bark.

Filed in: Vault

I was out for over a minute.

These new treatments are worse than the last ones. I pull back the curtains and stare out at the little square of London gardens below my flat, nothing much to see and the sun light hurts my eyes. I'll have to call Dr Morten later and make another appointment. I don't want another episode like last time. As I think about last time I catch myself scratching the scar on the back of my hand and force my hands behind my back.

Got to find something to take my mind off it. TV that's what I need but not more of that constant stream of nothing news - cartoons or maybe something else. Anything else but having to think.

"Case Notes on Daniel Vincent"

A blinding light

Ok, did that really happen, or am I having some kind of flashback?

I scan the office, people are looking around, searching for the same answers, fearing the worst... Was that another attack? How many lives this time?

'The memoirs of Daniel Scott'

Consciousness

I fear the worst, another attack and me...me in the middle of it.

As I open my eyes I'm lying on the pavement. People standing around staring at me. I hate it when they stare..... They ask if I'm ok but I know they just feel obligated to do so. I climb unassisted into my wheelchair and thank them. I hope they know I don't mean it either.

I escape the scene as fast as possible as all good Londoners do when they've embarrassed themselves in public.

Filed in: Vault

London! - Begins

Let there be light....

A flash, pain then silence... so it begins.

17:21 13/07/05