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Written: Sunday, February 15, 2015 1:52 PM
Extracts from books still to be written
Now she knew it
Now she knew it, she was going to die in a car accident, it could be twenty years from now or in the next hour, but she knew it. The wicked message sent straight from the other world was clear and the possibility of it being a hoax existed (the devils were like that, maybe he only wanted to mess with her and scare her to the point of ruining her life), but it did not seem fake at all. Linda started trying to avoid using cars, but she soon realized it was almost impossible and totally impractical. Where she lived, everyone drove cars all the time to get to any place. She could not even go to the grocery store without using a car. Of course she could use the bicycle, but it wasn’t comfortable at all and beyond all bearing in the long term.
Three days passed since she received the demonic message. She had skipped work one day, and used the bicycle to get to the bus to go to places. Tonight she had scheduled to go to a party with some friends. Melinda, Tiffany and George came to her house to pick her up to go to the party. She tried to convince them to get there by bus or taxi, and to come back by taxi. “This way we don’t have to worry about having to drive drunk”. But nobody agreed, they always used the car to go on parties, and to everywhere, it was the easiest way. So yeah, she ended up getting to the car. As she entered the SUV she felt horrible for herself and the others, if she was going to die tonight, her friend also would, or at least they would result heavily injured. When the car started to move an overwhelming angst possessed his whole existence, and that horrible sensation flooded both her body with physical uneasiness and her mind with twisted thoughts. And she shouted: “STOP! Stop the car!”
G: - What’s wrong?!
Linda: - Sorry, it’s nothing; I think I forget about my keys.
T: - Hey?! What’s the problem? Chill the fuck out! You sacred me!
G: -Have you got them?
Linda: - Yeah, sure, no problem.
That entire story was heavily affecting her life and her friends realized about it. In the beginning she thought she could handle it just by avoiding cars. She could buy a motorbike, use alternative transport, or buy and drive a van or even a truck, but aren’t those other kinds of cars? Perhaps; the fucking message should have come with instructions and small print. Maybe she should move to a big city, where cars aren’t useful anymore because you have efficient public transportation. Or move to the countryside, get a chunky peasant to hug and live a quiet and simple life of reading books under threes, organic tea, and local fairs. She didn’t fancy that idea. She wanted to become a journalist, to live in a big city and get a spicier life. Moreover, what are the chances of not dying in a car accident, not that big right? So maybe she should forget about the whole demonic message thing and just live her life. But she knew she could not, because when you know something like this and believe it like she did, you just can’t erase it from your memory and go on like nothing happened. It was stained in her brain and there was no hour she unconsciously tack her thought toward that absorbing idea. She soon decided to get physician counseling.
The first minutes in the psychiatrist’ office she knew she was officially a freak. Flash forwards about her future addiction to prescription meds, about how she will try to kill someone believing it was a monster or a ghost or whatever, about her lonely and miserable life in her apartment bathed with cold fluorescent light, dulling all her emotions. Yeah, like in the shitty horror movies. She mentally freaked out. Too bad. She had to get over it somehow. She was going survive that, to overcome that, at all cost, no matter what.
The psychiatrist she started to talk with had a shady look, even a cynical look. He looked like he wanted to lock her up, drug her, and abuse her! She found him awful, a monster. A nurse entered the room and brought some kind of beverage and tobacco to the doctor. What?! Tobacco? The nurse walked by her and before leaving the room, she told the doctor that everything was ready. Then she left the room closing – and locking! –the door. The awfully cynic doctor addressed to Linda and gazed to her perfect body, spending too much time in her flat stomach, turgid breasts and bitable neck. –Well, Miss Orwell, it seems you are in and we can start right now- He jumped over her and like a beast grabbed her like she was a sheep about to get savagely slaughtered. She shouted and cried and felt an intense pain absorbing and spoiling all of her.
*Riiiiiiing* - The alarm clock wildly loud ringing at two inches from her right ear, over the bedside table.
It was just a mean dream, a horrible and devilish nightmare. A sadistic unjustified punishment of her own mind for something she did, or didn’t do at all. Seven o’clock in the morning. But it was Saturday. She forgot to unset the alarm clock, why did she use that ridiculously loud old alarm clock having a high tech Smartphone to customize the perfect wake up every workday morning. Anyway, despite of the cracking waking up she just experienced, she was glad that it was just a nightmare and she could start another joyful Saturday. She got to the kitchen and started brewing coffee, frying eggs and even squeezing oranges to make fresh juice. Everything was bright and clear, she could rejoice all the normality and Saturday morning routine. No dark shadows in the walls, no creepy doctors, no need of meds, and no sign of depressing fluorescent light. Everything seemed right, *right until the phone rang.*
(To maybe be continued)
It's never about plagiarism but about the degree of plagiarism. After all our minds can't work without input, so their outputs are processed inputs, and we have to state that it has to be some kind of essential ideas, indivisible ones.