Forget Me Not

[This is a quickie before I post the next installment to the Futile Life]

Melanie’s excitement consumed her. She had done it. She was the first in the history of humanity to have invented a time machine.

It was ironic that she was excited about the future because it was only the push of a button away. She was going to be famous. This was just brilliant.

She had to test it first. Make sure it worked so she could give a demonstration. Don’t want any embarrassing failures on her rise to stardom. No problem. What year to go to? She didn’t want to take too many risks. She was very risk averse. After all, Melanie didn’t want to go too far ahead. What dangers would she face? Maybe there wouldn’t be an inhabitable earth to go to.

She decided. Just fifty years ahead. That would be great.

Forget the past! She knew what was there and, frankly, she didn’t want to dig it all up yet. She wanted to see what was in the future.

****

Forget about HG Wells. Melanie’s time machine was tiny. It was a simple plug placed in her ear and covered by her long, straight, brown hair.

“Here we go!” she squealed excitedly. She had set the machine to transport her fifty years into the future. The “red” button was slightly exposed at the entrance to her ear canal. Countdown please…

Five… four.. three.. two… one…

“Blast off!” she shouted at no one in particular in the living room of her empty one bedroom apartment. She pressed the “red” button.

Swwwoooooosh.

****

Her apartment was gone. She found herself on the kerb at the side of a road. It was amazingly quiet. Tall, completely transparent buildings surrounded the road she was facing. She could see people inside them, going about their business.

There was an exact replica of the kerb she was standing on at the other side of the road. Strangely there was no traffic. Just a very intense breeze. Nothing like she had imagined in a busy metropolis.

Suddenly, in the distance, she spotted crowds of people crossing the road, but they were all crossing at exactly the same place. It was weird. Why weren’t people crossing the road at random like they always do?

Also, they were crossing on a bridge that stretched over the road, several metres above the surface. It didn’t make sense. There were no cars in sight. No flying cars either.

Melanie decided to investigate. She would cross the road and see the bridge from the other side. Maybe she was missing something on the side of the road that she was on.

She took a step into the road, almost pushed back by the heavy wind, and…

****

…she was hit at such a velocity that her body and the time machine in her ear were pummelled to splinters.

The strangest thing was reported in the news that day, fifty years into Melanie’s future. The report was that a woman had committed suicide by walking into the high velocity traffic. It was a suicide because no one could possibly have done that by accident.

Everyone knew that the traffic was powered by fusion which was completely silent. In the same way thay knew that the traffic travelled at a very high velocity on that road such that it was invisible to the naked eye.

****

There are no time machines in the future and no one will ever know about Melanie and her time machine. She wasn’t going to be famous after all.

The Futile Life – Part 2

The soldiers had surrounded him. They circled hungrily, waiting for his next move. One of the soldiers – who looked to be in charge – licked his lips in anticipation as he pointed his machine gun at the target.

Suddenly the target exploded into an extremely bright light. Yellow as the sun, its rays plunged like daggers into their eyes. The soldiers were momentarily blinded. Their hands reached for their foreheads to cover their eyes… but.. before they could finish that action completely, red pellets of concentrated light streamed in unison at all angles from the bright light before them. Their pain was intense. They fell like dominoes. They didn’t have time to scream.

[pussies outnumbering the single target... let them die...]

***

The Sergent felt like he was in a dream. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He was lying on the ground, his weapon still clutched tightly in his hands. He tried to say something but his throat was paralyzed.

He had had nightmares like this. In them he was always in the middle of a battlefield. The enemy was always surrounding him.

…

Looking at him.

Smiling.

Yellow crooked Teeth.

We’re going to kill you.

Not long now.

Better do something quick.

Oh, you can’t.

No pity for you.

Rifles lifting slowly to aiming position.

Slowly.

Wait for it.

He tried to get up.

Move damn it.

Move.

Get up.

Body felt like lead… too heavy to move.

Can’t get out of the way.

Bang.

He always felt insecure while the blood was rushing out of him. Then he would usually wake up in a sweat.

…

Not this time. It wasn’t a dream. He was the target this time.

The light had now disappeared from the so called “target” – the enemy. The enemy was a young man dressed in black with very short black hair. He smiled, but his teeth were white. He removed his protective eye wear. He kept his eyes on the one that was still alive… The Sergent.

The Sergent began to raise his gun. They stared at each other. The man began to raise his index finger.

It was a race to see who would shoot first.

The Sergent would have cried from the pressure if he could have. He strained to move.

Suddenly…

The Futile Life – Part 1

[Here is part one of the first story on this site]

John was so sick and tired of work that he was either going commit suicide or take a holiday. Since he couldn’t be bothered killing himself because of the effort that would take, he decided that a vacation would have to be the choice. But this would be no ordinary vacation. He needed to be set free of his troubles and get some exercise. He wanted excitement with absolutely no commitment. He wanted to be on the edge of what divides fantasy from reality and life from death. Sitting there daydreaming about being a hero finally brought a smile to his face. “I’ll do it,” he whispered to himself.

“What will you do?” a voice whispered back with a severe sarcastic tone.

John’s back arched upwards in fright. He almost stood up in his chair. The anguish contorted his face. “Sh*t!” he cried out in terror. It was his boss, standing right behind his chair.

His boss was angry as always. His pudgy face was red as blood and there was the usual amount of salty sweat on his forehead. His thick eyebrows crossed his beady brown lash-less eyes and his mouth twisted in a snarl. “I’ll tell you what you’ll do,” he screamed. “You’ll get me that paper in the next half an hour because I’ve got a very angry client on the phone whose deadline I have failed to meet. And why have I failed to do this?”. He was good at asking rhetorical questions. “Because of you… Again!”.

John was angry and scared at the same time. He was absolutely fed up with working with these f*cking sociopaths. But, on the other hand, he couldn’t survive without money and he was a pretty insecure person because of the crap he had to put with as a child. [Boo hoo. Childhood sucks for all of us pussy. Stop making excuses].

He felt like retorting with “Do the f*cking work yourself then… you money grubbing fat lazy f*ck.” Of course, he didn’t have the courage or the inclination to do that. “It’s under control Paul,” he replied with a shaky tone.

“Good. Then stop talking to yourself and finish it. I’ll expect it in the next fifteen minutes.”

Paul had waddled off just as quickly as he had appeared. That f*cking manipulative devil.

John tried to get back to his work but he just couldn’t concentrate. He needed a buzz – something to look forward to instead of the usual mundane bullsh*t that bored him silly. At the press of a button the holiday pamphlet appeared on his computer screen. He really liked the look of it.

 Time Holidays - Freedom Beyond Your Wildest Dreams

 It's simple.  You choose the time.

 We replicate it and place you right in the middle of the action.

 All of your dreams come true.

 Do whatever you want.  Meet and greet the Romans... or kill the Roman Legion*.

 The choice is up to you.

 Most up to date equipment is provided to ensure your safety**.

 Call us today.

 *Case 800537 says that killing or injuring a time clone is not illegal.

 ** Safety cannot be guaranteed.

It was all so exciting. John decided then and there to do it. He was going to book a time holiday.

Things were never going to be the same again. Ever.

Don’t interrupt my birthing!

I’m one of those very sad (perhaps sadistic) individuals who likes to write “crazy” stories from whatever happens to pour out of my mind at the time. Sure I could try and get the fruits of my brain published. Maybe even for money. But that’s a pipe a dream and I know it. Not only are the odds stacked against me but there are so many rules. I hate rules. I want to write with freedom and impunity and so, in the tradition of squeezing semi large objects out of a very tiny orifice, I have given birth to this blog. Stay tuned to witness the vile (and hopefully entertaining) juices of my imagination.

Stay tuned….