Month: November 2015

Clothing

“What shall I wear today?” asked Katherine.

Every morning Katherine would ask the same question of her husband. Getting drawn into a discussion on clothing was anathema to Marius, yet unavoidable. Ignoring his wife was the only option yet it could not last forever, Katherine would always win this ritual. Marius’ strict up-bringing meant he was dressed before breakfast. The first he knew of Katherine’s attitude was when they married, that was ten years ago.

“I think I’ll try something different.” said Katherine, trying to draw Marius out.

He was reading the news as she pushed ahead. Outside the sun was busy waking up the world.

“Yes, I think I’ll go for black today.” said Katherine, looking wistfully out the window. She could hear the neighbours talking.

Jealousy had crept into her world when Maryanne had unveiled her new garden sculpture. A fifteen metre long replica of the first interstellar ship dominated the greenery. The light dancing across the structure told Katherine of the money that went into making it.

“Black is such a lovely colour, don’t you think?” she added when her husband failed to respond.

“Black?” said Marius, shaking his head and looking puzzled.

“Yes, black.”

“You can’t do that, you don’t have the skin, you’ll look ridiculous. Have you ever seen a white head on a black body?”

“There’s this new procedure, they can change your skin tone. You can do it as many times as you like. It only increases the cancer risk by twenty seven per cent. With our medical technology being what it is, we don’t need to worry about that, do we?”

“What’s the name of the company?” said Marius.

“Active Harmony.”

“Give me time to think it over.” he answered, standing.

“You’ll say no. You always say no when you give me that line.”

“I’m late for work.” he said, pointing to his watch.

“You own the company, dear.”

“I like setting a good example.”

The door buzzer sounded. An image of the chauffeur appeared on the screen by the door.

“Ready when you are, Mr. Walton. Your itinerary for the day has been loaded and your sleeping tablets and anti-pressure pills have been re-stocked. Josephine needs to talk to you about last night’s progress so I’ve scheduled her first.”

“Thank you Vernon, I’ll be right down.”

“Do I have an answer for my question?” pressed Katherine as the screen clicked off.

“It doesn’t matter what answer I give, you’ll go ahead and do whatever you want anyway.”

“Not true.” answered Katherine, trying to sound hurt.

“Fine, go with the black.”

“I’ve changed my mind, I’ll go with Indian.”

Marius threw his hands up in despair.

“Fine, fine, go with that then! I really must get going.”

Marius headed to the door, looked back and said

“Love you.” before slipping out.

“Jane, fetch me the Indian and call Active Harmony for me.”

“Yes, Mrs. Walton.” said the in-house AI.

Five minutes later, a slim Indian woman stood shivering and blinking before Katherine. Breakfast had been cleaned away, leaving Katherine to occupy centre stage. After taking in her surroundings, the woman looked at the disconnected head.

“She seems malnourished to me. I hope you’ve been remembering to feed the animals, Jane.” said Katherine.

Jane remained obstinately quiet.

“Turn around.” said Katherine, addressing the woman.

A small electric shock by Jane reminded the woman of her obligation. Katherine eyed her up.

“Hello Mrs. Walton, what can Active Harmony do for you today?”

A well groomed male had appeared on the main screen.

“I want to look like this woman.”

“Certainly madam, I’ll take her measurements and you’ll have a new skin ready for you tomorrow.”

“I want it today.”

“No problem, we have a six hour service-”

“I’m going out in an hour, have it ready by then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he answered obsequiously. His face told a different story.

“All right Jane, take the body from the base of the neck and I want a good job this time. Maryanne spotted the join from two metres away when I tried it before. I’ll not have that happen again.”

“I understand, Mrs. Walton.”

While they had been talking, the Indian woman rubbed her neck.

“Don’t worry, you won’t miss it.” said Katherine.

Maryanne looked out of her front window and saw a strange woman in her garden. It was the colour of her skin which made her stand out. All her neighbours were white, this woman was chestnut.

“Get off my property this instant!” screamed Maryanne, on opening her door.

When it garnered no reaction, she marched across to the woman.

“I said-”

“I know what you said dear, I was busy admiring your new toy.”

Maryanne looked at the woman, her mouth wide open.

“Surprised?” said Katherine, turning to her.

“Katherine?”

“Why surely you must recognise your own neighbour? Don’t tell me you were drawn in by this?” said Katherine, waving at her new body.

“That AI of yours is good, I’ll admit.”

“True.” said Katherine. “But Active Harmony completed the picture. Did you know they can take a skin tone, match it and deliver it all in under an hour?”

“They claim twenty four hours on their advert.”

“If you don’t believe me, just ask for Blair Aldrich, he’ll confirm everything I’ve said.”

As an aside Katherine said

“I have a feeling I’m going to be their favourite client. I might try Chinese tomorrow, see how it feels.”

“Or Mexican.” replied Maryanne.

“That’s so common. Everyone wants to be Mexican, I want to be different. Frankly I wanted to be black but my darling husband explained to me that the light wouldn’t be favourable to a black body. He’s such a dear.”

Growing up, Mexican had seemed so exotic to Maryanne. She had tried and failed many times to achieve her dream of looking like one. Abandoning her dream had made her feel a failure. Katherine’s comment cut deeply. Maryanne turned on her heel to hide her tears and walked away.

Smiling to herself, Katherine headed to the shops. She had a feeling she would turn heads there too. Being the wife of the richest man on the planet had some advantages, she mused.

The End

On The Edge

Gawkers look up at me and point, but they are not the worst.  That dubious distinction goes to those who take photos.  For a second, my life is capture for posterity.

I did not want it to go this way, but it is out of my hands now.  What I valued most has gone.  The mask has slipped, unveiling my inner core.  No longer am I the life and soul.  My self-loathing is there for all to see.

The man shouts at me again, but it blends in with the rest of the noise.  closing my eyes does not help, either.  Instead of relieving me from the torture, it focusses the pain.  The mind can do such vile things to itself.  The doctor said it could be chemical, what does he know?

Before my life fell apart, I lied to myself.

‘It’s okay’ I used to say.

‘Everyone feels this way from time to time’.

Maybe they did.  But for as long as I remember, I’ve always been this way.  It’s not sadness, it goes much deeper than that.  It seeps into your everyday life, insidious and awful.  Whatever it touches, conspires against you.

Words, actions, thoughts are twisted until they no longer represent reality.  Over time, you learn to compartmentalise, to shut it away in little boxes.  No longer is it the driving force in your life.  That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

This disease of the mind, depression, call it what you will, has a way round all your defences.  For the simple reason that it is your defences.  It forms a part of it and thus undermines all you have tried to achieve.

Murphy’s Law dictates that if things can go from bad to worse, it will do so at the worst possible moment.  Sure enough, it did.  First the relationship, already a disaster from the beginning.  Soon after, the job went too.  The boss said it was the economy, but I knew better.

The bank started asking why I needed an extension on the mortgage.  When I told them about my situation, they were sympathetic.  That dried up too.

No job, no money, no place to live and no wife, you tell me what was the point in living?

“You’ve got everything to live for.”

The words brought me back to reality.  Reminiscing had felt warm, cosy.  Sat out on a ledge like this is too much to bear.  I shuffle closer, letting my feet dangle over.  It reminds me of when I was young, doing the same thing with my dad.

Back then we were fishing at the end of the pier while on holiday.  Below me are a different set of fish now.  Lights flash as cameras take pictures, helping me to recall the sun dancing on the water.

‘Now Son, I want to tell you something.’

‘What is it Dad?’

He looks around, hesitating.

‘I want you to know-‘

The words catch in his throat.  It’s too much for me to bear.  I dropped my rod and held him tightly around his neck.

‘You’re the greatest, Dad.’

I felt his tears soaking through my t-shirt.  When we part, I can see the red in his eyes.

‘Thank you for taking me fishing, Dad.’

He smiles and ruffles my hair.

‘Where would I be without you, Son?’

‘Where would I be without you, Dad?’

With those words, the dream is gone once more, to be replaced with bitter reality.

“What did you say?”

The man is shouting at me again.

I turn to him and say

“No one understands my pain.”

I see him cup his ear, but the wind snatches my words away.

“Don’t do it, Son.”

I look at him afresh and see that he is much older than me.  Maybe he has a son, just like me.

“Do you have a son?” I ask.

He nods, a sober expression on his face.

“My pride and joy.  My daughter-”

Did I see a tear in his eye?

“My daughter died five years ago now.  A drunk driver mounted the kerb and ran her over.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“He was under the limit but you could tell he wasn’t fit to drive.”

Someone understands my pain after all.  I can see the hole it has brought to his life.  Written on his face is the same that is on mine.  Standing up, I can hear the gasp from below.  The noise is meaningless.

The walk is easy now as I have something to live for.  Climbing over the parapet, I grasp the man tightly.  Tears streaming down our faces help to wash the pain away.

An age passes but soon we part.  Looking at me he says

“You’re never too old to ask for help.  You can always ask me, for I have been where you are.”

 

The End

 

I’d like to hear your thoughts on this story.

Tackling Taboo Subjects

The first question you need to ask yourself is, why do I want to do this?  Understanding your motivation for tackling a subject helps to define what sort of story you wish to write.  Personally, tackling taboo subjects is one of main motivators for writing.  I like the idea of bringing them to the fore so people can talk about them.

Sometimes I get the feeling that people want to talk about a particular issue but they wait for others to raise it first.  I have had long and deep discussions about depression, for example, and I have found them informative and rewarding.  Writing a story on the subject is like giving people an ice breaker.

I’ll admit, putting these subjects out there in story form is scary.  There are those who are not willing to discuss matters and would prefer them to remain hidden.  For too long though, we have oppressed those who cannot and possibly will not speak loudly enough.  I think it is about time we gave them a chance to be heard.