Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Blink: 9

Rick spent another few hours trying again. At the same moment it happened again. He was back in the kitchen holding the Coke. Almost subconsciously he returned to the living room and began again. The same thoughts going through his head again. His thoughts overlapping, like he was talking to himself. This time it was two voices, telling him the motions and thoughts he should have. If he did it again there would be three voices. He rolled the can in his hands, occasionally sipping form it listening to himself. The can was soon empty, this time he hardly had to think of it at all this time.
He was in the kitchen, holding a full can. He started for the living room but stopped in the doorway. His mind was pushing him to go into the room and drink the Coke and think about time travel. He could feel his previous thoughts pushing on his current ones. Against his desires he put the can back in the fridge and went up to his bed. He was tired, and was pretty sure he had not slept in what felt like the last twenty-seven hours.

He couldn't sleep with the noises in his head, and he hit a even thirty hours before his mind finally quieted. It took even more out of him to not think about getting a soda at three despite his brain screaming to go back. He was concerned, he was beyond concerned, his new found ability had drawn a fine line. He could go back and relive or change a moment, but he realized almost too late that there was a limit, or a level of discipline to it that he just didn't have the ability to control. He had nearly blinked himself out of reality, destine to relive the same mundane three house for the rest of his existence. He wondered if it kept up, would he pass out from exhaustion? Would losing consciousness stop a cycle that was ingraining into his mind. He wouldn't do it again. Not unless it was absolutely necessary, or of extreme benefit to him. He wouldn't blink back more than once... He wouldn't go back more times than he could handle. Rick sat up. He had to get a handle on himself. Subject to loose interpretation he nearly died just a few hours ago, and seemed willing to put the metaphorical loaded gun to his head again already. He needed to come up with some rules. More importantly he needed an objective opinion on the situation. As he finally fell asleep he thought about his Dad.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Blink: 8

Rick was home at a little after 3 in the morning. He woke mom up. She had fallen asleep on the couch waiting, he apologized and sent her to bed. He went to the kitchen and took a Coke from the fridge and went back to the front room. He sat in his fathers char, a chair rarely sat in. In front of him, more important to him at the moment was the oversized clock that hung over the fireplace.
Rick knew if this was real he needed to get a handle on it. Although so far it had proven to work in his benefit, the chance that it could happen while driving was a risk he was not willing to take. It was either going to take a lot of long hard nights, or one long hard night then that same night full of restful sleep.

He took a sip off of his Coke and concentrated on the clock. It slowly second by second clicked by. Each time it had happened it was reactionary, like an emotional response. First the goodbye, second was the hall, and third was to undo it all. None of it could be recreated in his living room. There was no motivation to tap into, even recalling the events was unlikely to help. He took another pull off of the Coke and leaned back into the chair. The clock continued to click away, more and more time lost if he was just dreaming it all up.
It could all be a psychotic break. The pressures of school. The shoes of his father to fill. The mysterious Millionaire's Millionaire, gone too often to make an impression, but there all the same. Rick might have just cracked. Snapped and was imagining it all up. He took one last long pull off the Coke, dripping the last of it down his throat. The clock ticking away. It was getting close to Four.

Rick mind made another pass at the time traveling being a reality. It was too vivid to just be made up. No matter how brilliant he was there was no way this was all coming out of his mind. Who hallucinates three overlapping moments. It wasn't possible. That combined with the migraines and sweats, the momentary double vision. He tipped the can on the pivot of his lower lip, It was empty.

Rick got up and walked to the kitchen tapping the can against the keys in his pocket to the ticking of the clock. He rolled the days events over and over in his mind. He tried to think of the exact moments that triggered his trips. He pulled the fridge door open and reached into the Coke box., it was empty. Empty. If ever there was a time to figure this trick out, it was now. Rick looked at the empty can in his hand, and then the empty box in the fridge. Then again at the can in his hand. He cleared his head, one word filled his entire mind. From ear to ear the word “Full” permeated.
He looked at the empty can.
He looked at the full can.
He looked at the clock. It was a quarter after three.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Blink: 7

Rick brought out two cups of decaf and met Claire's Dad on the back porch of the house. He handed him one of the cups and stepped out onto the lawn where he sat down in one of the fading lawn chairs and faced him.

“All you had was the powder stuff.”

He took a sip and winced at Ricky.

“Too hot?”

“Yeah that, and it tastes like shit. That powder stuff is from the 60's. Spaceman coffee.” He tossed the coffee onto this lawn. “Stuff will probably kill my grass.”

Ricky drank just enough to make it look like he wasn't just miming the man he admired possibly more than his own father.

“Ricky, Rick.... Ricky, we have to talk about a few things.”

Clair came down the steps with three beers and passed them out. Rick paused for a moment and gave Clair's Dad a look. “Claire, the kid had a seizure or something today. Underage drinking is one offense I am willing to commit, but negligent death or whatever it would be called is something else.”

Rick put the beer down in the grass and winked a little at Clair, “I am sure my spider senses would keep me from danger.”

“Whats that?” they both said at the same time.

“Nevermind, bad joke... inside joke maybe... maybe not.”

“Oh ho, I get it.” Claire took a pull from her lite and continued. “ Daddy, Ricky can travel back in time.”

Rick and Claire's father both rolled their eyes for different reasons. Then simultaneously spoke.

Dad, “How many did you have before you came out with these?”

Rick, “Claire, I thought we agreed to not talk about it.”

“Wait. What?” He took Claire's beer and poured it onto his lawn muttering it was going to die. “What are you dreaming about?”

Claire moved over to Rick and looked down at him, bouncing her hip against his shoulder. The chair was going to collapse. Rick kept thinking about how many time he would redo this evening if he knew what he was doing.

“Yup, like Dr. Who or HG Wells.”

“Wells didn't travel through time, he just wrote about it.” Rick smirked.

“Where did he get the idea?” Clair retorted.

“ Malcolm McDowell played HG Wells who traveled through time in a movie.” Claire's Dad added in.

“Not like Dr. Who though, no time machine, and he says he can only go back. Then has to go forward in real time like Jack Bauer but lamer.” Clair continued.

“I'm still sitting right here, And it wasn't lame when you wanted me to go... come back from tomorrow with lotto numbers.”

“ And you didn't get me the numbers, so I am not sure if I believe you yet.” She moved to sit in his lap.

“Wait don't! The chair will break.”

“Why, did it already happen?”

“No, your chairs suck.”

“Kids, I am going to bed. Rick we can talk later. Clair... nevermind. Rick you must have hit your head, you should stay up for a while. Claire, don't help him. Rick..”

“Dad! Go to bed.”