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um. This is a little experiment I'm doing. I'm going to open a window and type a short story, from scratch, no thinking about it before-hand or anything, a kind of automatic-storywriting if you will. So ignore the spelling and join me as we journey into the unknown...
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Bill was a lonely kid. he never really wanted to go outside, only sit in his room and play with his few toys. The thing that kept him going was his imagination, it just seemed to work overtime and all the time.
It wasn't as if he could control it. At school he'd find the teacher's voice drifting away and being replaced by strange other worlds full of fantasy, romance and action. If only he could be part of that world, a world that would accept him for what he was, not shout every time he drifted off in class.
Anyway, the way he saw it, he was far better off than those children at the front who hung on every word the maths teacher said. Maths, where was the point in it? Times tables and learning to tell the time were ok, but Algebra? No. If you had a set of numbers to work out and didn’t know one of them, surely it couldn’t make that much sense in real life.
Time marched on and Bill left school. He got a job in a local firm, doing accounts for some two-bit company that thought of him as just another rodent in the exercise wheel of life. He saw this, maybe others did too, but they never let on. Nobody from his work knew anything about him, nobody seemed to want to. It didn't matter either, he wanted to keep it that way, it was certainly less complicated. He carried on dreaming, but his day dreams had changed. He now dreamed about family, his own. For some reason he could never recall the face of the woman he was with, but he knew that he was happy.
Although Bill kept to himself, he saw a lot of what went on around him. He felt his desk was also being used by someone else. Old birthday cards, even a condolence card, signed by the whole office, had been left there. Perhaps they wanted him to sign it as well, but no-one ever asked him to or told him who they were for. They were always gone by the next day anyway.
For the first few months life was bearable at the office. Then the laughter started. It wasn't much at first, just a few giggles. Then he noticed his name being mentioned.
"William" he would hear. Then a giggling sound from the girls behind him at the next desk, sometimes a cheer. He'd turn, he couldn't help it, but there would be no-one looking at him. Sometimes there was cheering too, other times even stranger sounds that he couldn't quite pin down.
Bill tried everything to catch them at it. There were times when he could tell exactly who it was. Sometimes it was the secretary pool in the office on the way to the canteen, sometimes it was just two of the women standing by the drinks machine. All the time it was the same though, they would call his name and laugh or say “Hi”. He thought about telling someone, but who could he tell? He didn't know how far up this went or who was in on the joke. He thought that the best idea was just to ignore it.
One day he had been working for the whole of the morning without anyone calling his name. Perhaps it had worn off. Was he that lucky? It was as he left the building that he heard it. This time it wasn't the low mocking sound he was used to hearing, but a more urgent voice, still female, but calling to him.
He turned around and saw a wall. Bill was about to turn back when he saw something on the floor. No, not something, but someone.
"William..." came the voice.
Squinting in the darkness he began to recognise the owner.
"Nancy?" He asked.
"…Thank you." came the reply, now barely audible.
He went to help her up, not sure what he was doing and feeling awkward. It was when she was standing that he noticed the blood on his hands, that and the fact that Nancy's clothes were torn. She fell on to him and he felt her arms around him. It was a comforting feeling, even though she was in obvious distress.
Bill guided her slowly to the seat at the side of the building and sat down, producing a clean tissue from his pocket. She took the tissue and wiped her eyes, he noticed her hands were still shaking. He felt tired and realised that his leg was cut, probably from some of the glass he had seen on the floor when he went to pick her up.
"Thank you." was all that she could manage before falling back on to his shoulder.
-----------
The sun streamed into the room and this is what caused Bill to stir. The next thing he noticed was that his back was stiff and he wasn't in his bedroom. His mind then decided to replay the events of the night before and he realised that he was in the small living room of his flat, on the couch. He had left Nancy in his own bed after she had refused to leave his side.
He didn't know much about this girl. She was younger than him, he knew that somehow, but she had not been one to raise attention to herself. Just because Bill keep a low profile, didn't mean he didn't know what was going on around him. He decided to go in to the room and check whether she was ok.
As he opened the door, Bill was aware of a strange feeling, bashfulness and the need to say something, anything. He saw that Nancy was sitting up in bed. As their eyes met they both reached an understanding, nothing was said but they both knew what each other meant. He walked over to her and sat down on the side of the bed. They kissed and it felt to Bill that they had done this before somehow. Nancy fell into his arms and they stayed like this for what felt like hours. When Nancy had got up and dressed, she thanked him said she had to go.
At work the next day things seemed pretty quiet. Nancy was not there, he noticed, but he had not heard his name being mentioned that day at all. In fact, they seemed to be talking about one of the managers, a man that Bill had only seen in passing. His name was John Redman and from the sound of the gossip he had been involved in some sort of fight.
By the afternoon it had all died down and Bill decided that he would try out the canteen. He didn't go there usually because it was just full of the kind of people he didn't trust, or want to sit next to, but he knew by this time of day it would be more or less empty. As he reached the door he noticed that there had been a party or celebration. Streamers were lying about on the floor and a banner stood over the door on the far side of the room. He couldn’t read it from here, but he got the general idea.
It was as he sat down that Bill heard the noises again. This time they were more pronounced. It was the sound of a baby gurgling. He looked down at the seat next to him and saw a baby in a small cot. It was looking at him intently. Where had this come from? Surely someone must be around looking after it? He looked around the canteen but there was no-one in sight. Thinking that they may be in the kitchen behind, he went through the single door to the kitchen area, but no-one was there. He checked around for about 5 minutes before being satisfied that the place was empty.
As he re-entered the room he noticed that there were 7 or 8 people around now. The banners had gone and the floor was clean. He was impressed at the speed they had tidied up, he went over to one of the men eating his dinner.
“Did the person looking after the baby come and pick it up?” he asked.
The suited man just looked at him. “Sorry, don’t know anything about a baby.” He said.
When he got back to his desk he noticed that everyone was looking at him, but not in a direct way. They all seemed sad. He heard several of the woman talking about Nancy. They must have heard about what happened, but he was confused. They kept saying “Poor Nancy.” And referring to her in the past tense. Had something happened to her since the day before? He had to find out.
Bill knew where all the phone numbers were kept and he had the list on screen before he knew what he was doing. As he reached the pick up the phone, a moment’s hesitation swept over him. Was this the right thing to do? He’d only known her one day, properly anyway, should he call her?
He picked up the phone and dialled the number anyway, he could always just pretend that he was calling about work. The phone rang for a short while and was answered by an older sounding lady.
“Hello?” she answered, clearing her throat.
“Um, hello. I was just wondering if I could speak to Nancy.” Bill replied, not certain if he actually had the right number now.
There was a long pause and he thought she hadn’t heard him. Then the voice returned on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry….Nancy was taken in to hospital today, she died earlier this afternoon….” The voice trailed off and Bill left his condolences before putting the phone down.
So that was it. The only person he had ever connected with had died. That was typical, he thought, then scolded himself for thinking like that. He noticed that it was getting dark, then realised that everyone else had gone home. He must have been daydreaming again.
As he left the office, Bill thought about Nancy. What had happened to her that night? Had she been raped or beaten? He’d probably find out in the papers. He thought about her all the way home, he couldn’t prevent his mind from going over and over the events of the other night. Something just didn’t make sense.
It was just as he was finishing dinner when he heard the water. It took a while to realise that the noise was coming from the shower in the bathroom. ‘Stupid’ he thought, I must have left it on this morning. Going in to the bathroom he was surprised to see that the shower was off. The noise had stopped as well. Was he imagining things? His mind may be prone to wondering, but not this much. He went back in to the bedroom and was even more surprised to hear a baby cry, especially as it seemed to be coming from his own lounge.
Rushing in to the lounge, Bill saw the baby, the same one as in the canteen that day. It was in the same small cot as well, by the side of one of the arm chairs. Someone must have left It here, but he hadn’t heard anyone come in. He went to check the door and found it was closed but unlocked. Looking down the stairs from the flat he couldn’t see any obvious sign that anyone had been there.
As he re-entered the room his mind just gave in. The baby had vanished and there was no cot, no sign that it had ever been there. He sat in the chair and wondered if this is what it was like to go mad. Perhaps everyone would finally leave him alone if he were.
--------------
It was tough being at work the next day. He had been fine when it was just him and nothing too complicated to deal with. Making money to live on was the reason he stayed where he was, but now all he could think about was Nancy. For some reason he just felt like he was waiting for her to come around the corner of the office at any minute, but he knew that would never happen now.
By 5pm he was almost alone again. The manager who the women had been nattering about the other day was the only other person in the office, probably the only other person in the whole building. He watched as the other guy closed down his PC and went out the door. Once he had gone then Bill found himself alone. He looked at his desk. There were several cards on it today, though he noticed there was no sympathy card for Nancy’s family. One was a birthday card with balloons on the front. He flicked it open and read the words inside.
To Bill. Happy Birthday from everyone at Wathers.
He dismissed this as co-incidence at first, but then read the second card.
TO BILL. Have a happy 21st
It was signed by the whole office. His 21st had been last year. Why was the card here now? His mind started to make the mental U-turn needed to work this out and as he looked at his desk he realised that they had been here all the time, underneath other piles of work or filling draws. He had obviously opened them, he began to remember it, but why hadn’t he remembered this before?
It was about 6pm when Bill realised he was still in the office and should make his way home. Reluctantly, his body moved from out of the chair, out of the office and headed for the entrance. His mind seemed even more reluctant to follow. As he was passing the wall where he had first helped Nancy, he stopped and turned as he heard someone running behind him. It wasn’t the fact that someone was running towards him that left his mind reeling, it was that he recognised who it was.
“N…Nancy?” he stuttered as she came in to view. Her clothes were torn, just like on that day he had rescued her. “You’re supposed to be dead…”
“William…” she said, her face was full of terror. Bill saw why when he looked behind her. John Redman, the manager who had been discussed so much a few days ago, was running after her, some sort of knife held in his hand. He was calling her name.
“Please,” She pleaded, “You have to help me, he’s…..he’s trying to rape me…”
Bill ran around her, he wasn’t thinking about anything now other than Nancy’s safety. He wasn’t going to lose her again. He moved nearer to Mr Redman and realised that he didn’t have a weapon. Without even thinking he picked up a stone and his arm arced towards John, just as the manager’s knife began to cut in to his leg.
The stone came down hard on Mr Redman’s head and in an instant he was lying on the floor. In that same instant Bill finally realised what had been happening his whole life.
=-----------
People talk of visions all the time, but unless you put two and two together, how do you know what is vision and what is fantasy? Bill didn’t even know about visions until the events that he witnessed that day and these events would shape his life for ever.
Sometimes Maths does make sense, even when you don’t know all the numbers.
----------------
Bill was a lonely kid. he never really wanted to go outside, only sit in his room and play with his few toys. The thing that kept him going was his imagination, it just seemed to work overtime and all the time.
It wasn't as if he could control it. At school he'd find the teacher's voice drifting away and being replaced by strange other worlds full of fantasy, romance and action. If only he could be part of that world, a world that would accept him for what he was, not shout every time he drifted off in class.
Anyway, the way he saw it, he was far better off than those children at the front who hung on every word the maths teacher said. Maths, where was the point in it? Times tables and learning to tell the time were ok, but Algebra? No. If you had a set of numbers to work out and didn’t know one of them, surely it couldn’t make that much sense in real life.
Time marched on and Bill left school. He got a job in a local firm, doing accounts for some two-bit company that thought of him as just another rodent in the exercise wheel of life. He saw this, maybe others did too, but they never let on. Nobody from his work knew anything about him, nobody seemed to want to. It didn't matter either, he wanted to keep it that way, it was certainly less complicated. He carried on dreaming, but his day dreams had changed. He now dreamed about family, his own. For some reason he could never recall the face of the woman he was with, but he knew that he was happy.
Although Bill kept to himself, he saw a lot of what went on around him. He felt his desk was also being used by someone else. Old birthday cards, even a condolence card, signed by the whole office, had been left there. Perhaps they wanted him to sign it as well, but no-one ever asked him to or told him who they were for. They were always gone by the next day anyway.
For the first few months life was bearable at the office. Then the laughter started. It wasn't much at first, just a few giggles. Then he noticed his name being mentioned.
"William" he would hear. Then a giggling sound from the girls behind him at the next desk, sometimes a cheer. He'd turn, he couldn't help it, but there would be no-one looking at him. Sometimes there was cheering too, other times even stranger sounds that he couldn't quite pin down.
Bill tried everything to catch them at it. There were times when he could tell exactly who it was. Sometimes it was the secretary pool in the office on the way to the canteen, sometimes it was just two of the women standing by the drinks machine. All the time it was the same though, they would call his name and laugh or say “Hi”. He thought about telling someone, but who could he tell? He didn't know how far up this went or who was in on the joke. He thought that the best idea was just to ignore it.
One day he had been working for the whole of the morning without anyone calling his name. Perhaps it had worn off. Was he that lucky? It was as he left the building that he heard it. This time it wasn't the low mocking sound he was used to hearing, but a more urgent voice, still female, but calling to him.
He turned around and saw a wall. Bill was about to turn back when he saw something on the floor. No, not something, but someone.
"William..." came the voice.
Squinting in the darkness he began to recognise the owner.
"Nancy?" He asked.
"…Thank you." came the reply, now barely audible.
He went to help her up, not sure what he was doing and feeling awkward. It was when she was standing that he noticed the blood on his hands, that and the fact that Nancy's clothes were torn. She fell on to him and he felt her arms around him. It was a comforting feeling, even though she was in obvious distress.
Bill guided her slowly to the seat at the side of the building and sat down, producing a clean tissue from his pocket. She took the tissue and wiped her eyes, he noticed her hands were still shaking. He felt tired and realised that his leg was cut, probably from some of the glass he had seen on the floor when he went to pick her up.
"Thank you." was all that she could manage before falling back on to his shoulder.
-----------
The sun streamed into the room and this is what caused Bill to stir. The next thing he noticed was that his back was stiff and he wasn't in his bedroom. His mind then decided to replay the events of the night before and he realised that he was in the small living room of his flat, on the couch. He had left Nancy in his own bed after she had refused to leave his side.
He didn't know much about this girl. She was younger than him, he knew that somehow, but she had not been one to raise attention to herself. Just because Bill keep a low profile, didn't mean he didn't know what was going on around him. He decided to go in to the room and check whether she was ok.
As he opened the door, Bill was aware of a strange feeling, bashfulness and the need to say something, anything. He saw that Nancy was sitting up in bed. As their eyes met they both reached an understanding, nothing was said but they both knew what each other meant. He walked over to her and sat down on the side of the bed. They kissed and it felt to Bill that they had done this before somehow. Nancy fell into his arms and they stayed like this for what felt like hours. When Nancy had got up and dressed, she thanked him said she had to go.
At work the next day things seemed pretty quiet. Nancy was not there, he noticed, but he had not heard his name being mentioned that day at all. In fact, they seemed to be talking about one of the managers, a man that Bill had only seen in passing. His name was John Redman and from the sound of the gossip he had been involved in some sort of fight.
By the afternoon it had all died down and Bill decided that he would try out the canteen. He didn't go there usually because it was just full of the kind of people he didn't trust, or want to sit next to, but he knew by this time of day it would be more or less empty. As he reached the door he noticed that there had been a party or celebration. Streamers were lying about on the floor and a banner stood over the door on the far side of the room. He couldn’t read it from here, but he got the general idea.
It was as he sat down that Bill heard the noises again. This time they were more pronounced. It was the sound of a baby gurgling. He looked down at the seat next to him and saw a baby in a small cot. It was looking at him intently. Where had this come from? Surely someone must be around looking after it? He looked around the canteen but there was no-one in sight. Thinking that they may be in the kitchen behind, he went through the single door to the kitchen area, but no-one was there. He checked around for about 5 minutes before being satisfied that the place was empty.
As he re-entered the room he noticed that there were 7 or 8 people around now. The banners had gone and the floor was clean. He was impressed at the speed they had tidied up, he went over to one of the men eating his dinner.
“Did the person looking after the baby come and pick it up?” he asked.
The suited man just looked at him. “Sorry, don’t know anything about a baby.” He said.
When he got back to his desk he noticed that everyone was looking at him, but not in a direct way. They all seemed sad. He heard several of the woman talking about Nancy. They must have heard about what happened, but he was confused. They kept saying “Poor Nancy.” And referring to her in the past tense. Had something happened to her since the day before? He had to find out.
Bill knew where all the phone numbers were kept and he had the list on screen before he knew what he was doing. As he reached the pick up the phone, a moment’s hesitation swept over him. Was this the right thing to do? He’d only known her one day, properly anyway, should he call her?
He picked up the phone and dialled the number anyway, he could always just pretend that he was calling about work. The phone rang for a short while and was answered by an older sounding lady.
“Hello?” she answered, clearing her throat.
“Um, hello. I was just wondering if I could speak to Nancy.” Bill replied, not certain if he actually had the right number now.
There was a long pause and he thought she hadn’t heard him. Then the voice returned on the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry….Nancy was taken in to hospital today, she died earlier this afternoon….” The voice trailed off and Bill left his condolences before putting the phone down.
So that was it. The only person he had ever connected with had died. That was typical, he thought, then scolded himself for thinking like that. He noticed that it was getting dark, then realised that everyone else had gone home. He must have been daydreaming again.
As he left the office, Bill thought about Nancy. What had happened to her that night? Had she been raped or beaten? He’d probably find out in the papers. He thought about her all the way home, he couldn’t prevent his mind from going over and over the events of the other night. Something just didn’t make sense.
It was just as he was finishing dinner when he heard the water. It took a while to realise that the noise was coming from the shower in the bathroom. ‘Stupid’ he thought, I must have left it on this morning. Going in to the bathroom he was surprised to see that the shower was off. The noise had stopped as well. Was he imagining things? His mind may be prone to wondering, but not this much. He went back in to the bedroom and was even more surprised to hear a baby cry, especially as it seemed to be coming from his own lounge.
Rushing in to the lounge, Bill saw the baby, the same one as in the canteen that day. It was in the same small cot as well, by the side of one of the arm chairs. Someone must have left It here, but he hadn’t heard anyone come in. He went to check the door and found it was closed but unlocked. Looking down the stairs from the flat he couldn’t see any obvious sign that anyone had been there.
As he re-entered the room his mind just gave in. The baby had vanished and there was no cot, no sign that it had ever been there. He sat in the chair and wondered if this is what it was like to go mad. Perhaps everyone would finally leave him alone if he were.
--------------
It was tough being at work the next day. He had been fine when it was just him and nothing too complicated to deal with. Making money to live on was the reason he stayed where he was, but now all he could think about was Nancy. For some reason he just felt like he was waiting for her to come around the corner of the office at any minute, but he knew that would never happen now.
By 5pm he was almost alone again. The manager who the women had been nattering about the other day was the only other person in the office, probably the only other person in the whole building. He watched as the other guy closed down his PC and went out the door. Once he had gone then Bill found himself alone. He looked at his desk. There were several cards on it today, though he noticed there was no sympathy card for Nancy’s family. One was a birthday card with balloons on the front. He flicked it open and read the words inside.
To Bill. Happy Birthday from everyone at Wathers.
He dismissed this as co-incidence at first, but then read the second card.
TO BILL. Have a happy 21st
It was signed by the whole office. His 21st had been last year. Why was the card here now? His mind started to make the mental U-turn needed to work this out and as he looked at his desk he realised that they had been here all the time, underneath other piles of work or filling draws. He had obviously opened them, he began to remember it, but why hadn’t he remembered this before?
It was about 6pm when Bill realised he was still in the office and should make his way home. Reluctantly, his body moved from out of the chair, out of the office and headed for the entrance. His mind seemed even more reluctant to follow. As he was passing the wall where he had first helped Nancy, he stopped and turned as he heard someone running behind him. It wasn’t the fact that someone was running towards him that left his mind reeling, it was that he recognised who it was.
“N…Nancy?” he stuttered as she came in to view. Her clothes were torn, just like on that day he had rescued her. “You’re supposed to be dead…”
“William…” she said, her face was full of terror. Bill saw why when he looked behind her. John Redman, the manager who had been discussed so much a few days ago, was running after her, some sort of knife held in his hand. He was calling her name.
“Please,” She pleaded, “You have to help me, he’s…..he’s trying to rape me…”
Bill ran around her, he wasn’t thinking about anything now other than Nancy’s safety. He wasn’t going to lose her again. He moved nearer to Mr Redman and realised that he didn’t have a weapon. Without even thinking he picked up a stone and his arm arced towards John, just as the manager’s knife began to cut in to his leg.
The stone came down hard on Mr Redman’s head and in an instant he was lying on the floor. In that same instant Bill finally realised what had been happening his whole life.
=-----------
People talk of visions all the time, but unless you put two and two together, how do you know what is vision and what is fantasy? Bill didn’t even know about visions until the events that he witnessed that day and these events would shape his life for ever.
Sometimes Maths does make sense, even when you don’t know all the numbers.
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bUmp
That ruled - hooked from start to finish.
Had that certain captivating something about it.
More please.
Had that certain captivating something about it.
More please.
Interesting story pb. Enjoyed it.
I'm doing a bit of automatic/spontaneous writing at the moment. It's amazing what I find myself coming out with, especially when I 'get on the flow'.
I'm doing a bit of automatic/spontaneous writing at the moment. It's amazing what I find myself coming out with, especially when I 'get on the flow'.
I tried the whole automatic-storywriting thing.
And whadda you know? I've written 40,000 words of a book.
Everything kinda clicked together nicely. It was fun.
I didn't actually read it - it's too late, and people are telling me to get off the net. I'll save it and post some stuff tomorrow.
Something to look forward to : P
And whadda you know? I've written 40,000 words of a book.
Everything kinda clicked together nicely. It was fun.
I didn't actually read it - it's too late, and people are telling me to get off the net. I'll save it and post some stuff tomorrow.
Something to look forward to : P
I guess it partly comes from the What If? thread I started, but, yes, it was written in a window with no thought as to what the ending was to be. It suprised me, and I was writing it!
Thanks for the compliments though, I just hope it makes others think about writing, I love reading the stories on here.
Thanks for the compliments though, I just hope it makes others think about writing, I love reading the stories on here.
That was excellent.
I really enjoyed that.
I really enjoyed that.
I meandered away wondering the same things. My own conclusion is that they are flashes of his possible future depending on what he does at the point when he confronts the guy with the knife
Lovely little story there, a good ending and unexpected twist.
I like the idea of just opening a window, typing a story and posting it. If this is exactly how you did it, it turned out very well.
I really enjoyed that. Thank you.
I really enjoyed that. Thank you.
That was great. One of the best I've seen in my short time on these forums. I loved the build up and everything like that. Just kept me captivated until the end. Better than the random crap I find in my Mam's Take a break.
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