Reality vs Fantasy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 11, 2017

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Submitted: December 11, 2017

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Reality vs Fantasy

I needed help. Blood flow from my wrist towards the floor, in a rhythm that sang the song of my funeral. I felt like I was trapped in a box. Waiting for a key to unlock a never ending containment. I wondered who was there to perform such an act towards a man like me. I felt like I was drifting away from society with every second that flies by. Trying to force my thoughts into submission, making sure I didn’t become its puppet. This never-ending war against an influx of negative thoughts, feeding on my life source and trying to get rid of my existence.

The door started to contact my eardrums, alerting me to a visitor on the other side. I got up and started to stroll through the piles of letters that lay dead on the floor. All of them sucking on my soul through a string, connecting me to them. I was being controlled, each movement the result of their existence, and with each movement, I grew weak and vulnerable. I opened the door, which battled with the blockade of letters, so I could see my next door neighbour.

The neighbour who was black brought an enlightening presence to any situation. She was smiling with joy and held a square package in front of me. “Merry Christmas,” she said with a joyful tone that spread through the air and burnt the strings that clung to me.

 I replied with “Merry Christmas, how are you?” in a casual monotonic voice. She gave me a reply that gave me enough evidence that she was enjoying the festive season. She then asked me a question which made me feel emotionally insecure.

“Could I come in so we can talk?” This startled me as I wasn’t used to entertaining guests in my house. The only person who knew the contents of my house was my wife, a beautiful woman who had instilled hope in me and brought relief to the problems I was experiencing. But her presence left me and this brought a shadow over me that kept me disconnected from the outside world. This also brought sadness that gave birth to other feelings. I said “yes” reluctantly as it felt weird. She stepped inside, smashing on the letters as she went to the living room. “What are all these letters?” she said with curiosity as she began to sit down on the chair.

 “Oh, just some gas bills which I never bothered to pay, that’s all,” I replied with a very straight face as I saw no use in stuttering.

She looked at me with disbelief but never gave it a second thought and just started questioning my habit of always staying indoors. “Well, I just don’t see the point in going outside, besides, it always rains and the cold is always preying on its next victim,” I said while standing up as it brought me comfort. “What is that you have got in your hand?” I said after a few seconds went past.

“It’s your present, from your friendly neighborhood black woman,” she said with a smile on her face as she handed me the present.

I took the mysterious package, very bulky and showing the outlines of the package it held. I said, “Thank you” and opened it carefully.

Inside was $20,000 which really shocked me as I was stunned as to why it had made its journey to my hand. So I looked up and asked why it had done so.

The woman looked at me and just smiled and asked if she could have some coffee. I was really taken back by this irregular statement as it didn’t join up with the statement I had made. But I went to the kitchen to make the coffee.

My kitchen was pretty dirty as I don’t wash it often. I looked through the cupboard, trying to get the materials to compose a masterful coffee, but I kept wondering about the money and what purpose it had for me. A few minutes flew by but the coffee was prepared. I put it in a small plate to make it look fancy as she was born in Britain.

When I got to the living room, I found her, rotating her head to look in my direction. “Thank you,” she said with appreciation as she took the cup of coffee from my hand.

“What is the money for?” I said, trying to get down to business and sort out the many questions that were scattered in my mind, like an incomplete puzzle whose pieces were stacked on top of each other, making it hard to put it together.

She put the coffee on the table beside her and started to speak in a more sincere tone. “We have been noticing that you have been receiving a lot of emails from the mail man to do with your bills and with your wife who passed away. We thought, why not spread the festive spirit to a man who has lost hope?”

I looked with a very straight face, trying to hide my emotions and keep myself in check. I looked at the money and wondered about the cure this medicine would bring to my life. “Thank you, it means a lot to me, I promise I will repay you however I can,” I said.

“No, please accept this and your peace of mind will be enough,” she replied, smiling while getting up. She started to make her way to the door and I followed her as if to ensure her safety on top of the piles of letters which oddly had started to feel wet. And judging by the woman’s calm expression in opening the door, I realized it was only me who could feel the soggy texture.

I looked down and was greeted by the river of blood with its tidal islands of newsprints. I was the fountain, the source. She went outside to the other side of the door and we said my au revoir in a surprised response to her.

I felt very weird. How could my life change in the span of a few hours; it all seemed unreal, like it was a dream and I was in some sort of fantasy. But whatever it was, it brought me relief, a glimpse of hope that I had never felt before and I thought would make use of this day to start a new future. 


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