forget - forgot - forgotten

„Hello everybody. At today’s lecture we will cover the mysteries of invisibility, when does it occur, what can we do about it and so on,” the lecturer introduced his discourse. There were still some students fidgeting and talking but in whispers to each other. He cleared his throat to break the spell. Some more heads turned in his direction, if he was lucky maybe even some focus was put on him.  

“They say that “we are what we think” or that “what you think you become”... yes, our mind does wonders. Sometimes the situation, environment we are in and the people we interact with create illusions or fake opinions. They simply make us believe something. If a majority thinks something we are prone to think it, too. What I’m trying to say is that it means you don’t even need superpowers to be invisible! That’s great news, isn’t it? It’s enough to be forgotten. Forgotten by the people you love, you like to spent time with, who you call friends…”

Some students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Notes were written down. 

“It’s not that you’d ignore them or neglect your relationships,” the lecturer went on. “No. Mostly you don’t even know the reason and just like that – POP – nobody sees you. You’re invisible! Magic!” he spilt out. 

“And you know what breaks the spell?” he sized up the puzzled audience. “Help.” The simple word echoed in the spacious lecture room gradually acquiring a deeper meaning. 

“Just when they’re fucked up they’ll be sure to turn to YOU!”

 Some people gasped, some shook their heads, some scowled or audibly expressed their disapproval. 

“Well, there’s no doubt about it,” he smirked and continued as if nothing ever happened.

“Another sign of being invisible: when you check your e-mail and you see you’ve got a new message. That brightens you up a little, although it’s spam you secretly hope it’s just a misplaced e-mail from a real person so you click on the icon only to find out it’s the newest Viagra 30% off offer from Canadian Pharmacy. I mean, why not, right? But not today, thank you very much for your concern.” He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah, maybe you should do something about it… be more active or something – but why if you feel it would be a step too far taken? We don’t want to be the annoying poor fellow begging for other’s attention, do we?

You know what’s funny? That at night even your own shadow lets you down and disappears into nowhere…”

The lecturer paced the podium and made a halt at the window. 

“Michael Jackson assured us that “You Are Not Alone”. Well, sorry bro but there are moments when you can’t help it and feel completely abandoned. Like an old deteriorating building nobody gives a damn about.”

By now the atmosphere in the lecture room was very tense. Some students have even left thinking he must have gone mad or something… After all he was in general very popular among students and his colleagues. This was a one of a kind lecture.  

“You know what hard core invisibility is?” he looked around at the gobsmacked audience. 

“Is he seriously expecting an answer?” was a frequent question that passed the students’ minds.

The lecturer smiled. “It’s not that easy to perform though but yes, you can be invisible in the utter proximity of other human beings.”

The collegians shook their heads in disbelieve and argued among themselves.

“Here is an example: You are standing with friends for everybody to be clearly seen and having a conversation. Then, however, comes the crucial point. You ask a question…and they don’t answer! Not that they’d avoid answering it, they simply ignore it completely. Or well, ignore you. And just like that, congratulations! You. Are. Invisible.” 

One had the feeling he was talking specifically about himself. But why so? What was this man going through? 

“My question is, ladies and gentlemen, where does the problem lie? Is your voice too weak? Surely not. They’ve heard you just right. You even made eye contact. Maybe it didn’t come across clearly? Hmm you have asked and re-formulated it at least 3 times before you’ve given up so I’d say no again… 

I may disappoint you but honestly I don’t have an answer whatsoever. This is one of the most complex areas of my research to which increased attention is paid.

To conclude, I’d like to add that if the case of being invisible really does occur use it for your own benefit. I mean, why not right? And just to be clear I didn’t mean to be offensive towards anybody. I just wanted those of you who have experienced invisibility to know that your fight isn’t lost yet. Keep on going and you will be seen distinctly. And to those of you who enable others to be invisible…just don’t, ok?” The lecturer summed up glancing one last time at the whole audience. Some seats were already empty, some students had their stuff packed, some were texting or chatting face-to-face. He noticed also those who were paying attention from the start to the very end. This warmed the cockles of his heart. 

“Have a nice day,” he disappeared leaving them somewhat lost in their own minds.

  

Intelligent little killers

I was waiting for my best friend, Clare, to arrive. The table was set, the dinner ready and smelling good, the music was on, the film had been picked, and the only thing missing was the person responsible for all the fuss… We haven’t seen each other in a while, so this was meant to be a huge catching up night.

Finally, after some more minutes had passed there was a knock on the door. I opened it with a dramatic swing and once we saw each other we started squeaking like little girls, embraced and then burst out laughing at our silly behaviour.

She wore a creamy blazer, a red top, and a pair of blue jeans with causal trainers. Her handbag dangled from her arm, her phone was in her hand. Clare’s dark hair fell loosely to her shoulders, her brown eyes were gleaming and a wide smile sat on her face. 

“Hi!” she sighed realising, just as I did, that too much time had passed since we last saw each other. 

“Come in,” I invited her, holding the door open. 

“So good to see you!” she said when I took her blazer to put it on a hanger. She put her phone in her pocket, took off the trainers, left her handbag in the small hall, and followed me to the kitchen. 

“How’s the weather?” I asked while stirring the soup. 

“Oh, wait. I’ll look it up,” Clare answered and reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone. I tittered and shook my head in disbelieve when I saw she was serious.

“You’ve just been there…” I remarked. 

“Ehm, yeah, right,” she waved her hand. “It got cooler.”

“Well, fine…” I turned back to the oven and poured the soup into the plates. I placed them on the table and barked: “Dinner’s served, bitches!” But her eyes were fixed on the phone screen and she missed the whole point of it…

“What was it?” she looked up.

“Oh, nothing. Let’s eat,” I forced a smile. 

Dinner went fine, we reminisced about old memories and updated on recent news. Every now and then though her phone beeped quietly and she would say it’s her boyfriend writing. 

“Why don’t you call him?” I suggested.

“Oh, no, it’s not necessary… we are just chatting, you know.”

‘Well, fine. Sorry for interrupting, ‘ I wanted to snap. 

I really grew more and more annoyed by these nasty little things. Everyone seems to be captivated by them. So dependent on them. But what is it about them anyway? Well, you can be chatting while you’re shitting, now that’s what I call advanced technology! I just don’t get it. I don’t know. Am I too old for this? I ask myself despite being a part of the ‘young fast-living generation’. 

We were talking face to face, but somehow she wasn’t there with me, didn’t pick up the right tones, the gags…Neither conversation she was having in this form or another was being efficient or worthwhile.

She was on her phone again. It was like her fingers were glued to it and her eyes attached with invisible strings. I tried to ignore it. I asked her a question. Silence fell. 

“Ehm, sorry? she lifted her eyes and lowered the phone to her lap.

“Are you even listening?” I shook my head. “Or you know what? Don’t bother.”

“Hey, what’s up? Of course I’m listening, I just misheard the question. That’s all. You’re talking about…your job,” she smiled, obviously pleased with herself that she could manage everything. 

“Yeah, whatever.”

Clare scowled and put the phone aside. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t have to make a scene just because I didn’t hear one question…This can’t be seriously about a phone. It’s just…a phone.”

I sighed. 

“No. It’s not just about a phone. It’s like it’s become a new dimension you live in or something. As if the world would stop turning if you don’t grab it the second it make a sound. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind you texting whoever you like or making a call, but this,” I pointed at her smartphone, ”is just too much.”

We were both silent for a while, the meaning of my words sinking in. Clare stared into the ground and bit her lip. When she spoke up I knew she meant it. 

“You’re right. I…I’m sorry,” she reached out and squeezed my hand. Just when the corners of my lips began to curl into a smile Clare’s phone beeped again. My smile was flushed away before it was even there. I stood up and took our empty dirty plates to the kitchen sink. Then she came up to me holding her phone up in her hand. 

“See, I switched it off.” She pressed each button (there were only two) and tapped the screen to prove it. 

“Can we start the evening all over?” she smiled blushing like an embarrassed school girl. 

“No,” I said my expression firm. 

Her complexion turned from red to while, inside her heart sank. 

“The dinner has been eaten,” I stated and shrugged matter-of-factly. “I’ve only popcorn left.”

She looked at me gobsmacked and I was unsure whether she’d hit me or hug me. 

“Popcorn would be perfect!” she said instead and we both laughed.   

______________________________________________________

I'd also like to add this video :-) 

 

I really don't like nightmares, I really don't...

Hi there! Here is a fun fact: this is actually the first blog ever that I write on the computer (right on my blog) because so far every single story has been handwritten with a fountain pen in a notebook. I much prefer the old - fashioned style, you know. Although, every time I end up typing it on the computer of course... 

But today I'd like to write about something else, something that happened to me a couple of days ago. As the title says I had a nightmare the other night. Probably the most terrifying one I've ever had. I think that what made it so horrifying and scary was the fact that it may actually happen and be true. The nightmare that I suffered from could one day become my reality. I don't know whether my subconscious mind wanted to warn me or make me aware of something, of the direction I'm heading... hoping the impression it leaves will be strong enough to avoid the dreadful scenario. Because now I still have everything under control (I think at least) but step by step without even noticing everything can go wrong and I find myself having first - hand experience of my nightmare. 

I've had a plenty of nasty dreams which I considered to be nightmares such as a mad man chasing me round my grandma's court (the surrounding was very realistic) with a knife (1:0 for the man just in case you're wondering), or being shot in the chest, or having hideous spiders, bugs and other vermin crawling all over me, and so on.

However, in the course of time my fears began to change. I understood that there are far worse things than the crap film makers stage to scare the shit out of us in horrors...ghosts flying about, zombies infecting the human race, or intergalactic monsters invading the planet Earth. Actually things that influence your mind hit you far worse than any physical pain. 

Back to my nightmare tough - it started kind of abruptly, in medias res-like, the environment resembled the railway station near where I live (but it wasn't important), and I was a few steps behind my sister, who always walks fast so that I have trouble to keep up with her. I was desperate, really hopeless. Most likely because deep inside I already felt it was lost and nothing could be done about it - about her feelings towards me. The scene was like my last-ditch attempt to prove the opposite. But as I've said I knew the answer before I heard it. 

So we were arguing or to put it the other way I was sobbing and begging her, she was screaming at me and mocking me. Our pace was really fast, just to add to the whole atmosphere - as if she was hurrying away from...me. Then came the heart - breaking moment, I turned to her with an ID card (the like employees use in those big glassy buildings) on a string hanging from my hand - she wanted the card for her own benefit probably, and handing it over to her with tears streaming down my face in a shaky voice I asked: "Do you - do you really want it for your own gain or to hurt me?" 

My whole body was shaking. She turned to face me and I could see it in her eyes... she wrenched the ID card from my hand and as she spoke her voice was full of hate and malice. It was pure hatred you feel to the core. Not the playful one - oh my god I hate you so much and the other second you end up hugging and kissing. No. It was pure, undeniable, honest, genuine hate that sends shivers down your spine and tears your heart into pieces. Her answer was: "Just to hurt you." Then I woke up and cried...         

The toilet story

It was a lovely day. Such a lovely day for a disaster. Mrs Nuts was sitting in her favourite kitchen chair and reading her favourite novel by far – Shontelle l’Torque: A Strong Woman. The last pages were extremely emotional so Mrs Nuts couldn’t hold back anymore and we could see a tear rolling down her cheek. Just then her husband, Mr Nuts came in. His enormous Pringles-guy-like moustache was trembling for he had to giggle at the sight of this sentimentally not the most stable woman. 

“Oh, Edgar, darling, come here. I’ll read you this bit,” Mrs Nuts called and sniffed loudly. 

“Ah, God forbid, my dear! Everything but that…” Mr Nuts’ eyes widened. Fear crept on this big fat man. 

“Oh, Edgar, you’re being prejudicial. This is the best book that could have ever been printed in the whole wide world, in the whole history of mankind.”

Mr Nuts rolled his eyes.

“Trust me Edgar,” Mrs Nuts pursed her lips.

“I’d rather not,” Mr Nuts murmured, adjusted his trousers and sat down and one only waited for the moment for the trousers to explode and the shirt to start firing buttons. 

“Oh, Edgar,” Mrs Nuts sighed with her hand on her mouth. She wiped her round eyes and stood up. Even when she stood still she seemed to be moving or at least shivering all the time for her flowery dress looked like a meadow in the breeze. Mrs Nuts smoothed down the six hairs which were out of place, held her head high and announced: ”I’ve got to go to the loo.”

Mr Nuts didn’t give a reaction whatsoever because he was busy studying the earwax he managed to get out of his ear with his little finger. After a few second Mrs Nuts had left the kitchen, however, she came back. 

“You’re not on the toilet, Edgar,” Mrs Nuts stated more to herself, her eyes wandering uncontrollably. 

“Wait a second,” Mr Nuts said lazily, ”I’ll make sure, my dear… no, I’m not,” he looked at Mrs Nuts and raised his eyebrows. Her mouth was again covered with her hand, her brow was furrowed, her brain trying to process information.

“But the light is on…” Mrs Nuts muttered. “The light…is…on.”

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Mr Nuts was fully aware he must do something. 

“The light is on.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The LIGHT is on.”

“What do you mean?”

“The light is ON.”

“My dear, calm down and sit down for a while, will you?”

“Edgar, we must…”

“Yes?”

“…get him out.”

“Okay then.”

Mrs Nuts scratched her head sending thirteen hairs out of their place. Mr Nuts took a deep breath, the trousers and the shirt doing their best to keep the flesh clothed, and thought hard how to get him out. 

Mrs Nuts left the kitchen shivering with sobs. Mr Nuts followed. She carefully placed her ear on the door of the toilet. Then she knocked gently. Nothing. She knocked a little harder. 

“No answer,” her lip trembled. Mr Nuts swallowed hard and with a firm fist banged on the door. 

“Honey, sweetheart, are you all right? Your mum and dad are worried. Please, say something.” 

Silence.

“Oh, Edgar, what are we going to do?” Mrs Nuts lay her head on her husband’s chest. 

“Stay at piece, my dear, I’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll write him a letter. To comfort him. So that he knows we are here for him.”

“That’s a marvellous idea!” Mr Nuts agreed. Suddenly, the bell rang. 

“Bloody hell, who is this?!” Mr Nuts went to answer it.

“Helloooo neighbour!” Mrs Chaos waved. “Aw, you look…ehm… anyway can I borrow your vacuum cleaner?” she smiled. 

“It’s really not the right time, Mrs Chaos. We…”

But in the meantime Mrs Chaos managed to invite herself in and when she spotted poor Mrs Nuts not being at ease she gasped and threw up her hands.

“Oh my, what has happened?“ 

“My-my son is stuck on the toilet. He is not answering.”

“Good Heavens! He might have fainted. And hit his head really bad. He may be bleeding. Lying there unconscious in his own blood with his pants down. Soaking wet in his own red sticky blood and…” 

“Okay, thank you, Mrs Chaos, I think that’s enough,” Mr Nuts grabbed her by the arm terrified what she might have caused to Mrs Nuts’ nerve system. 

“Oh, I’m just trying to help. Lord knows I really am. Have you called the police? And the fire fighters…”

“Well, that’s actually a marvellous idea,” Mr Nuts pondered the suggestion.

“…and the gravedigger – you know just in case, to be ready…”

“MRS CHAOS,” Mr Nuts exclaimed, “it’s been lovely having you around but if you’ll excuse us, Mrs Nuts needs to take a rest now.”

“Ehm, okay. I just wanted to make myself useful…considering the situation you’re in, one would think anybody would come in handy. But no. They are picky even in an unfortunate situation like this…well, and I wanted your vacuum cleaner by the way,” Mrs Chaos looked them up and down. 

“I’ll find the way out myself, thank you very much,” and off she was. 

Mr and Mrs Nuts stared blankly at the place where Mrs Chaos was a second ago. 

“Well, Edgar and what now?”

“I’ll call the fire fighters, my dear. And Mr Stuck as well, I gather he was in a similar situation, he will have experience in this…ehm…area. And then I’ll look for my shears, maybe we could snip the hinges. And dear, supply him with water in the meantime. It could work with a straw under the door. And don’t forget about the letter!”

“Brilliant, Edgar! You are the man to count on when emergency arises. Now I know I have married the right man,” Mrs Nuts cried melodramatically. 

“Oh my dear!” Mr Nuts was touched, approached Mrs Nuts and kissed her passionately on the forehead. 

“Oh, Edgar, let’s rescue our son, shall we?”

Some time later uniformed men stood in a semicircle around the toilet, water supply was running, a letter was written and delivered and another was already being written, Mr Nuts found the shears but waited for the fire fighters to come up with a plan. Dozens of crumpled papers were scattered on the floor – unsuccessful attempts and unfinished strategies with flaws and inconsistencies. 

“Time is running out, chief,” Mr Nuts whispered to the head fire fighter. Sweat drops appeared on his forehead, he breathed heavily and tried to stay concentrated. 

“Yeah, yeah, we are working on something right now…we ehm imagine it might perhaps work…we…” the fire fighter assured Mr Nuts.

“Excuse me, but there is my son, you should…”

“Hey, calm down, we know our stuff, trust would be nice, too.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m sorry.”

“And a double espresso.”

“Of course,” Mr Nuts nodded. “Would you, by any chance, want some nuts?” Mr Nuts added.

“That would be lovely.”

“My dear, you’ve heard the man, a double espresso with nuts, and quick!” he called on Mrs Nuts. 

The atmosphere was tense. The clock was ticking. Everyone grew impatient. And the light was still on. But then, out of nowhere a sound was heard. Everybody turned in the direction of the door. The front door, however. They held their breaths and waited. Clinking of keys, insertion of a key into the lock and the door opened. There he was, the son of Mr and Mrs Nuts well and alive. He entered and raised his eyebrows at the sight in front of him. 

“Ehm, hello there. What’s up?” he asked confused. 

“Oh, my sweetheart!” Mrs Nuts rushed towards him and embraced him in a tight hug. Mr Nuts was speechless and just squeezed his shoulder. 

“Whoa, what is this all about?!”

“Oh honey, we thought you were stuck on the toilet…”

“Excuse me…?”

“But hold on a second. If you are here then…then who’s there?” she pointed at the toilet door. 

Everybody gave a little gasp. Mr and Mrs Nuts’ son came to the toilet and pressed down the handle. The door opened only to reveal an empty toilet with a huge puddle in front of it and a couple of letters with smudged ink. 

“Oh,” Mr Nuts laughed. “I must have…must have forgotten to switch off the light.”

“Ehm…yeah…” concluded the son.