Thinking at the speed of Lightning

91630354-09D6-49DE-B062-B699EC559D05A relieving January feeling trespassed Rob’s twelve figure calculations as his business was retrieving new wings.

Sat at one of those new characterless franchise terrace cafes, he enjoyed that pleasant recalling of last year’s life-changing events.

No need to pull out his hat nor to charm his way to get a sheltered seat- the rain had started to embarass the locals again-  for those memories could beat a Netflix action film playing loud in a dark hotel room.

Those increadible twenty minutes under an impertinent heatwave in this same square at the coast town saved his son’s vibrating destiny.

I’ll narrate the events once more….

He was waiting for his coffee to cool diwn just to concentrate better on the a phone conversation with one of his suppliers, when there was a collective outbreak of shouting.

He had to follow the joy/fright to be able to distinguish what the turtle was going on there, when he was soaked with iced water at the medieval corner.

” Leave them, they’re thirsty!”

A pipe had burst on the road. As he whipped his eyes to see, a pullizter-prize like scene staged a very mixed-feelings atmosphere. He couldn’t even smile, for the joy that rushed through the people was explosive and brief.

The youngsters had already set their phones to video mode to capture the grateful yet very dishevelled foreigners who were drinking water.

”Heck! The ducks have just found a petrol well under their feet!

” I don’t think they even know what petrol smells like…”

Ranging from their late teens right into middle age, and dirty, almost toothless and dressed in dark worn eighties’ garnments, the brave men were trying to hide the fact that they were crying. The way they were drinking from the spree showed that this was their accostumed way of drinking, for all their bodies were shaking except for their strong hands.

The divine welcoming of overabundant civilisation was not what they had pictured all their lives, but they liked it.

Rob was now trying to profile them in origin and deeds, but these folks panther-like features along with a melodic way of expressing themselves made him fully sympathetic.

He thought that wherever they came from- that place would definetly become his family’s next holiday destination.

As the growing crowd mingled in that spontanoeous style that curiosity and wonder fuel easily, a couple of kids joined the water party. A bitter woman close to Rob ordered

„ Don’t get too near guys, they might have something contagious!”

That’s when the businessman’s spare brain locker popped open. He went on guard. His grandfather had fled war.

A desperate strange growl made silence around the square. One of the folks held a damp family photograph, and the rest started checking all their pockets for their own ones.

In no time at all two eastern european builders offered some napkins they had angrily snatched from the luxurious sandwich bar where that unscrupulous mother was sat, and as ever so grateful as these men were ,their most feared nightmare was threatning to come true- losing the photos.

As the builders efficiently showed them the snaps hadn’t been ruined, some media student asked her friend,

”Is the film crew here yet?”

That was enough. Reaching to his pocket for cash and then waved it to the smuggled, thirsty men -with no concerns over the the notes getting soaked, their eyes met for a lengthy second, enough for Rob to taste their dangerous and exhausting journeys.

Those eyes were  as eloquent as a drunk nutter’s.

”No, Dollars? Dollars? They didn’t reach for the money.

A TV van was approaching down the hill.

But Rob had already texted a mechanic he  knew around:

“Bring a large van fast thanks. “ and the young mechanic was there, buffled and not understanding a thing.

Rob’s potentiel friends or ennemies- he didn’t know yet- were still staring at the money with a question-mark twist when he attempted his best to save their lives from an unexpected disaster.

Pointing to the lorry and seeing there was the mechanic’s shopping  bags still inside at the rear, the builders joined to convince them to hop on.

Rob hadn’t even noticed that one  member of the group was a female who’s friends urged to jump in first.

The film crew lost sight of the van, its men and their four saviours and were asking questions to the dissappointed passer-bys.

Half amused and half scared, the immigrants were not repeating “Dollars” anymore but “Job” as they opened the groceries with curiosity and no greed.

It was later known that the peculiar group  fled a serious humanitarian situation and gained passionate working force strength once recovered from the journey.

*     *     *

The guys’ leader and his wife were employed as keepers at Rob’s mansion, but there was still a tricky task to complete.

They had to ask to remove the screening of a short documentary a reckless reporter had shot.

Rob’s always resourceful wife suggested to pass this work to Michael, their rebellious son, who had only been asking to drop school for the past two years.

If there do exist synchronicity events in some people’s lives, this could be another example: the media company got so fed up of Michael’s determination that they became somewhat intrigued by him…. and called him up for an interview.

But as he worked his new life through, distrust from the media drew him to study part- time,aiming for photography restoration course.

Since then the mechanic always keeps an extra large box of sandwiches, drinks and party baloons inside the  van.

Rob’s family is looking forward to a six week break at the foreign workers’ village. Never has a holiday been planned so enthusiastically!

But Michael has kept this information very secret at work…. and taking only his new camera to the trip!

The End.

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Destiny’s Labyrinth

AA681EA5-12E8-4F85-B70C-725E69C8E96DIt was a sleep-through Saturday when a very pleasant, multi-dimentional dream got spoilt by a truck horn.

In the dream, a jeweller shouted „all items free today!”

As reality quickly hosted the small space in Lydia’s living room, she didn’t even bother brushing her hair to fly to the grocer’s for energy drink supplies.

The door squeaked rudely when she got back and there was mail on the floor. It looked like a greeting card.

She laughed to herself for the first time in a week.

Who would want to greet a bankrupt, overweight, cheap energy drink addict who had to dump the mail into the reclying bin just as the Doctor ordered her to ?!

The card was an ounce heavy and she forgot the shopping bag on her doorstep (recession times turn neighbours into either theives or best mates).

Lydia W. mechanically groomed for the card ritual and cleared a few empty cans dotted around. She still had a smile on her face.

”This is a joke I predict”.

It wasn’t.

As she opened it, image and sound memories surfaced from a hectic airport: a golden ring had fallen out of the envelope.

That’s right….

Three years back, she had missed a very crucial business flight because of that braty ring.

That jewel was the beginning of the life events that made her believe someone had given her the  „Evil Eye” -but she never thought she knew who it was.

It was during a summer heatwave. She was queuing for the Lost & Found Desk and determined to return the ring she  had stepped over while using the escalators. Not in time to catch her plane.

When she got back to the office her job and bits and bobs of her perfect life started crumbling apart.

As she held the card, her heart was beating slightly faster because she felt like ripping  it.

Luuuuuckily, she read it.

„Dearest Mrs W, thank you for returning my ring to the desk in summer 2016. It is a very precious charm. When I got it back, I was very happy, especially because I could pawn-broke it to pay for my Nursing Diploma.

”I have been working for some time in the addiction field and Dr Shanti and I are getting married.

„We have lots of future plans and are coming to the island to open an addiction clinic for women.

„I have had the chance to google you- please forgive me for this- and Dr Shanti had the idea of employing you to do all the Marketing…. which is the least we could do.

„We are ever so grateful you changed our lives and we pray for you.

„Please consider our proposal with the ring on your beautiful left hand.

„We look forward to getting a positive answer.

„Best wishes,

Anne and Dr Shanti.„

A tear tickled Lydia’s hand as she squeezed the ring tightly onto her finger.

A very

Mineral water…. expensive mineral water….. a wild craving took hold of her…. but she grabbed a fountain pen and her last sheet of paper to reply to them instead.

The End.

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The Price of a Passport

annie-spratt-466676-2Duncan was a happy IT programmer, and since he married Tatiana his lifetime vocation to become a Nurse had been half fulfilled.

They had met in Cyprus at a late night Hotel Can Can show and tied the knot three months later.  Duncan’s fetish for sexy hands drove him to take Tatiana to the most exclusive Gel Nails salon in Chelsea… after the “bobo” days.

“Bobo days” were what the couple called her period days when Tatiana would be ill, tortured but looked after by her husband like a toddler. This man was a gem.

Nursing Tatiana and checking her vitals every three hours- even at night- was an experience that went beyond love, sex and drug hyper that alllowed them both to start the complicated relashionship again from scratch.  Just like a spiritual self-punishing ritual.

Little did Duncan know that these aches and pains would dissapear with his cosy settled life.

A friend of Tatiana’s from the Russian Embassy had insisted and organised treatment for her condition. An oblivious Duncan paid the ridiculous Physician’s bill thinking he was redeeming her Sins.

So no more “Bobos”. Tatiana launched an online mother’s gifts business from home and her husband started to secretly miss his nursing role.  So the relationship started to go down the pit.

One day before he was about to leave work for the weekend and as he checked his email inbox for the last time, the foundations of his lovely life crumbled down. Tatiana had mistakenly sent a sexy message to him instead of to her lover, Boris, and as Duncan auto-translated the content he stood there frozen and half dead, rereading the translation from Russian in disbelief.

The whole marriage contract was intended to get Tatiana and Boris a British Passport. Nothing else. Duncan had not been making live to this woman, but wotis’ dream working on Boris’ dream of escaping Russian justice with Tatiana.

The betrayed man’s eyes started to water after staring at the screen without blinking.

-“You ok Duncan?” Said the receptionist who was about to leave.[sociallocker][/sociallocker]

-“No. It is all a lie. A lie. A Lie! Tell the boss I am sacking myself,  can’t stand this!”

*     *     *

Four months had passed. Duncan was homeless, heart-frozen and he had also made himself amnesic with a little help from alcohol. But he hadn’t forgotten his mum’s landline number, which he dialled everyday from the last phonebox that worked in Lambeth.

He didn’t want to do as she said and come back home and get his life babysitted by her and social services. Just hearing her voice,  and also herself forcing laughter to keep him going was worth the eighty pence call.

After another row with his mum about her never allowing him to study Nursing as he wanted since age ten, he put the phone down on her and went to sit at the Cemetery, on a grave- his favourite spot that resonated with his spirits.

The whiskey was almost finished and the keeper was not there to tell him to bugger off again. He heard a very weird sound. Digging? No. Not digging. Not music.

It was a Drone. A Very funny silver drone which appeared to look like some sort of futuristic fantasy creature.

The drone hovered around him, then landed on the grass. He heard his own voice saying “cheer up Duncan! The bobo will take revenge and come back three times stronger – that doctor was only a Vet! Now take these keys to your country house and sign up for the Adult Nursing Qualification starting in two weeks!”

Had he lost it? His alter-ego talking to him through a Drone?

He got up to take a closer look but the Drone danced its way off.  It had delivered the keys to his Bath second property which Tatiana always viciously insisted on keeping, and a receipt for 5,900 pounds for the local nursing academy. Underneath this was a paper in Russian which he understood was a criminal conviction paper for Boris – and he was going to post it straight to the Home Office.

 

*     *     *

The nursing course was so cool he was wishing it would never end. Having come to terms with betrayal and even joking about it, he couldn’t make up his mind about which student to take on a date.

He finally chose Nora, a girl who bit her nails and was studying to be an expert in Terminaly Ill patients- and who loved Cemeteries like he did.

The Day he took her to the same spot where the Drone Duncan had sent himself back from the Future, he told her his story. As she started to giggle hearing that “nonsense”, another Drone came down from the clouds. This time it was metallic red.

On a screen three kids were taking to her. “Hello mummy! Bring us some Rubick’s Cubes from the past!  We’re waiting for them- you can only get them from antiques auctions in 2026! We love you!”

As a tear dropped from her cheek, Duncan removed Nora ‘s fingers from her mouth and she hugged him so strong, he thought he didn’t want to be anywhere else in time nor space.

“Lets go Nora, I’ve booked you a surprise session at the Nails Salon.”

-“Oh, no, please not today! I ve got terrible period cramps….”

 

The End

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