FFF: A doctor's feelings

It's been a while since I've done some flash fiction but I was oddly inspired today. As always, I appreciate feedback.

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When I first started treating Fabian I'd been told he had amnesia due to a head injury. It took a while for it to become clear that his head injury hadn't affected his brain and that the memory loss was down to something else. I tried to delve into his dreams to get a better understanding of what his subconscious had done with those memories but the dreams were disturbing and twisted. They couldn't be memories, they were too fantastical but they did give an insight into how his mind was projecting terrible thoughts as a way of dealing with whatever trauma he'd been through.

Now that the hallucinations have come to light I suspect his illness is more along the lines of PTSD. Although, without any knowledge of his background I can't be sure. I think he's beginning to remember more and more but he's not talking about it. I feel we have become friends but now he seems more closed off. I think he thinks he can get away with not talking to me now. He completely closes down and now that he has a job, there are times were I barely see him. He gets out of our sessions because he says he has to work.

I didn't want to push him at first because I know that he struggles to talk to me. He still feels like I am going to judge him. He doesn't realise that talking about what is going on in his head is a way to exorcise it. When he was forced to talk to me it helped.

I am fond of him and I think letting him move into my house may have been a mistake. He sees us as friends. The doctor/patient relationship doesn't seem to apply, in his eyes, any more.

I probably was quite ignorant to how he'd react to this new found freedom. He's doing well and, in most ways, he is coping. He's fantastic at his job, he has colleagues who love him and he has a social life. However, there are small areas of his life where he still struggles. He can't be on his own and if he is then he seeks attention. His reaction to authority figures is getting better but he's had more than one run in with his boss and there have been multiple times where he's ended up screaming at me.

The search still continues for his identity. His name brings up nothing and we can't get anything from the tattoo on his shoulder. I first thought it might be a prisoner's number, it had that sort of format. Firstly, though, who would tattoo their prisoners in such a way? And secondly, it doesn't match up with any prison   in the world. At least not one with records. It could be the number is something to do with slave trading, which would explain a lot, but something tells me that's not the case. He's not submissive, he's not weak. His memory loss might make him very different to his former self but I can't imagine him being forced into servitude by anyone.

I do think my relationship with Fabian has become a little inappropriate. I'm trying to keep my distance from him and let him get on with his life, job and new friends. I'm there as his doctor and only that. We became too close and I think that began to affect his treatment. I'm tempted to refer him to another doctor, it would be the best course of action for his treatment but I can't help but feel he needs me.

Perhaps I should speak to him directly about me continuing his treatment. The fact that the hallucinations are getting so violent that he is hurting himself is worrying enough but the fact that he won't talk to me about any of it makes me wonder if he'd speak to another doctor.

As far as I'm aware, he's keeping most of this from his colleagues. He's just said he doesn't remember who he is and gives no reason for it. I wondering if the memories are coming back and he's struggling to deal with them. They're manifesting themselves as horrific hallucinations.

I was only present for one, the rest have been while Fabian has been on his own. The one I witnessed was violent, Fabian was thrashing out as if attacking some unseen assailant. It was a glimpse into how he was feeling and it terrified me. I should've been calm and collected about the whole thing but I was worried for Fabian's safety. It's starting to hurt me just to think what he's going through and I hate that I can't be objective anymore. I care about him and I want him to get better but because of that I'm struggling to help him.

Misty drabble

This is a very short Sanctuary-based thing I attempted on 750word.com. I like the writing but I just don't have the motivation to continue with it!

The mist was grabbing at the buildings, pausing at the open roads and swirling across to engulf them. The road changed from bright and glorious to shrouded in a fuzzy, suffocating grey. They moved through each of these patches, unsure as to whether the brightness of the sun was best or the cover of the mist.

Ryssa didn't mind either. She was still revelling in weather and sunshine, it was keeping her mind off the things she'd seen over the last 24 hours. There was no way that seeing this world for the first time in 20 years wasn't going to be a fantastic distraction.

The captain moved up alongside her. "Everything all right?"

Ryssa looked at him, his face and hair were damp from the wet air but his eyes glittered with the same excitement that she was feeling. "Fine, sir."

The Crash

I'd left work, it had been a stressful day. The sky was clear but it was beginning to get dark, it seemed like the perfect time to go for a run. With work being so busy I'd been neglecting my fitness regime, I was going to take this time to zone out, to just think about the burn in my muscles rather than everything else I had to deal with.

My plan was to run through the suburbs, towards the city and back. I was running down a road, one not often used by cars. My feet crunched over  fallen, orange leaves and trees hung over my head. There were a few houses down that road, each of them had a dog tied up outside. Those dogs barked at me as I ran past. I remember thinking how weird that was. Why were all those dogs outside?

I paused to catch my breath as I came out of the trees. I could see the city ahead of me. There was a shuttle being launched, one of those huge ones that was probably carrying all sorts of cargo up to the space station. At first I didn't realise quite how lethargically it was moving. It was climbing at an angle I'd never seen from such a large space shuttle. It climbed and slowed before arching over the city. I realised what was going on. Gravity grabbed it and began to sink downwards, now picking up pace.

I knew I should run, get away from what was no doubt going to be a huge explosion. I doubted that the crew would be able to right the ship now. But I couldn't drag my eyes away as it sunk behind the trees. Moments later a cloud of fire and smoke shot upwards and the ground shook. I could feel an immense heat, the smell of smoke filled the air and the sky turned red.

I began to run, north and away from the city. Back home. I wondered if my father had the sense to leave his lab and make his way home at a normal time. God, I hoped so. I spared a quick thought for all of those in the blast radius. Even I, a few miles away, could feel that heat. I was still worried that a ripple of fire was making its way towards me. I ran faster than I ever had before and didn't stop until I'd arrived at my house two miles away.

I tried to ring my father but the line was dead.

Fantasy Fiction Friday - Magic and Fire

I suppose this is a bit of a cop-out on the flash front. I wrote this a while back and am recycling for the purposes of this blog. In other news, I'm exhausted and have a personal training session in two hours! Here is my attempt at fantasy...

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The cave was dark now; the light that had once filled it had faded out and taken within the magic of the world. Two old, wizened mages stood guarding the place in which magic had once burned. They did nothing to relight the flame as they already knew it was no use. Time would only tell if magic would return to the world and, from now, their job was to protect the place in which magic had been born and died.

The myths and legends of the world told of magic coming from the heavens; a great ball of fire and ice hurtling from the sky and crashing in this very spot. The fire had burned for thousands and thousands of years and it now it had fizzled out like a candle caught by the breeze. There was no explanation nor any warning and yet it was evident that something very dark was casting its shadow over the world.

The mages knew there would be questions asked across the world and battles would be lost without magic but it was just a matter of time. If the gods deemed it necessary to return magic to the world than there would be a sign, another ball of fire and ice would fall from the sky.

"Eldred, are we to guard this flame when no magic exists and we are crippled?" One mage turned the other, his wrinkled face was crossed with more lines and he looked tired for the first time in 300 years.

"I would not worry, Sylas. The magic will return when the gods allow it.  For now, we are to keep the secret of the flame from those who would do anything to learn of its whereabouts. Whilst no flame exists, this is holy ground and only those of our order are to set foot here." Eldred had a kind face and he knew more about the laws of magic and the world of the gods than anyone else across the kingdoms.

They didn't speak any further, words seemed such trivial things when magic flowed through your veins. It was difficult for both of them to lose their life source. The residual magic coursing through them would be enough to keep them alive for a while longer but there was now the fear that both of them would die before the next members of the order could step in and take over.

Friday Flash: The beginnings of the Intergalactic Championship

No prizes for guessing what inspired this! Please comment and leave any links to your own Friday Flash pieces so I can have a read!

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I ran my hand across the carbon fibre body of the little ship. My ship. A nervous excitement shuddered through me. I was only a few hours away from competing in a race I’d only dreamed of. I’d won the Solar Championship three times but I was stepping into a world fuelled by politics, cash and some very talented pilots.

I couldn’t help but feel a little out of my depth as I talked with the engineers but I was Jackson Knight, I was known for that brave face and cocky smile. So I acted as if nothing was wrong. I kept the nerves under the surface and chatted away as if this were any other race.

The first race of the intergalactic season was around a planet named Tellar. Somewhere I’d only been once before and had never raced around until yesterday. The practice went well but I wasn’t exactly fast. It was going to be very difficult going from winning every race to being at the back of the field.

It also hadn’t escaped my mind that the Intergalactic Championship was also much, much more dangerous than the Solars. You often heard about two ships colliding along the course. Tellar was a desert planet so the track was dusty, visibility was limited and there were strict fly height restrictions to stop ships rising above the course to get away from the dust. The spectators loved to see a good crash.

“We’ve added filters to the engine outlets and air intake tubes, it should reduce the chance of dust getting inside the ship. You shouldn’t have the problems you had yesterday.”

I looked around at my chief engineer, Derryl Ryth and smiled. I slapped him hard on the back. “Great. I can win this.” Maybe I did have a good shot. Winning might be out of the question but I wanted to be at the front of the mid-field at least.

Derryl laughed and patted me on the cheek. “That’s the spirit, boy.”

For some reason he’d insisted on calling me ‘boy’, I didn’t mind. It was endearing but he couldn’t have been more than ten years older than me and I wasn’t exactly young. I’d come into this sport late; I was older than some of the competitors who had been racing the Intergalactics for years.

I ran my hands through my hair and took the helmet from someone who had just handed it to me. I was now in the zone; a haze of pre-race adrenaline had taken over my body and was now drawing me towards the ship. It was best get myself sorted and begin all those checks that I was still getting used to.

I climbed into the ship and the hydraulics shut the door behind me with a hiss. The cockpit was narrow but I had adequate legroom and I felt protected. However, I knew there was so much power running through that ship that one real, serious mistake and I would be in trouble. It would be difficult for me to get out; there would be the risk of fire and the possibility that 30 ships could come crashing into the back of me (if I was at the front, of course).

I slid on my helmet and instantly heard the voices of the engineers. It was time to begin the checks. We got through them quite quickly and I then began to move the ship out onto the track. It looked like I was one of the first out and I did my best to smile and wave as I moved slowly. Part of this type of racing was about sponsors and the teams with the most money were often the fastest.

My new team had money and some good sponsors but nothing compared to the teams who could afford the latest technology, the best testing methods and the most talented drivers.

I was talented. I’d proved that with the Solars and then being picked up by a fairly good Intergalactic team, but I wasn’t sure I could compete with some of the men I’d been watching and admiring for years.

Again, I didn’t let the nerves show and I moved out to the starting grid. I was in position 21 out of 32 ships. The first race of the season was always started in a random order. The following races would be in reverse from the finishing position of the previous race.

That meant that even if I came last in this race, I’d be able to start from the front in the next. Not that I was going to do that, winning meant too much. I had to win and I had to push myself to show that I wasn’t willing to be counted out after the first corner.

Other ships came to join me, hovering just above the track. I began to prepare myself for the start; this was the hardest part, often with the most crashes. The buzz was growing around the track, the press were moving from ship to ship, talking to those who had their doors open. I kept mine shut and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and went over my strategy once again. Most ships moved up at the start in order to avoid kicking up any of the dust below them. I’d decided I wasn’t going to do that. I was going to risk low visibility and put my faith in my instincts and sensors. I might be able to clear the pack and get up to the front.

When I opened my eyes again the track was almost cleared and announcement bells were ringing. A voice rang out in my ship. “Welcome to the first race of the season here on Tellar. We have 32 ships racing today with a few newcomers to the track. Look out for Ashton Willis in ship 32 and Jackson Knight in ship 31. Five minutes to go”

I looked up to my in-ship camera and gave a wink. The viewers would love that.

Those next five minutes passed with lightning speed and I gripped the controls of my ship. The starting cannon went off and most of the ships in front of my swooped up. I sped forwards with maybe a little more zeal than I should’ve and swerved to avoid a ship that hadn’t managed to get off its line. From what my sensors were telling me, I was underneath the main pack and would struggle if any of them dipped down to avoid the jam. I heard the crunch of metal on metal somewhere above me but didn’t allow myself a glance up to see who had been taken out.

The dust began to rise and I glanced between the track and the sensors to try and feel my way around the first two corners. The pack began to spread out but I was now stuck at the bottom. As things began to settle down and I could take a moment to look around. The sensors were showing that I was in 14^th place, not bad for the first couple of corners. It seemed there were now only 29 ships in the running and it was bound to be a lot less by the end of the race.

The next 20 laps passed without incident and I managed to gain another four places due to some clever refuelling on the part of my tactical team. I was in tenth place, relatively unknown and in one of the, usually, lower-ranking teams. I bet the commentators were going mad. I then realised how odd it was to be flying in this race rather than watching it. I hadn’t missed an Intergalactic race for years.

As I was gaining a bit of height to get past some people I’d lapped the ship started to shudder. The same problem we’d had in practice. The engines weren’t designed to eat up this much desert dust and the ship was struggling. I adjusted the air intake and moved a little higher. Hopefully the ship would last for the next 10 laps.

The orange dust was swirling up around my ship and all of a sudden there was a ball of fire heading directly towards me. I didn’t have time to look where I was going and dove down. The whole ship shuddered with an impact and my console began to flash. I’d damaged the port side of my hull as I’d dropped down almost on top of another ship.

Almost immediately I had Derryl on the comm system calling me into the pit. I growled into my helmet and coaxed my ship around the next few corners. I saw that the number of ships still in the running had dropped to 24. Whatever had caused the fire had taken out a good chunk of my competition and I couldn’t be the only one still running who had been damaged.

The pit stop took too long, a good five seconds for my hull to be repaired but soon I was off. I joined the track in 15^th place.

With nine laps to go I had to make some progress. Again I stuck close to the ground and relied on my senses to guide me through the thick orange blanket. There were fewer ships down here and no one could see me to defend their position.

By the last lap I was in eighth place and had no intention of slowing down. I passed one more ship by going right over the top of it on the final straight. I crossed the finish line in seventh place.

My whole body relaxed for the first time in two hours. My hands were shaking and my mind reeling from an exciting and exhausting race. My first race and I’d scored points. Mind you only two points, but points nonetheless!

I did waste any time in exiting my car and running into the open arms of the team. This was a good time for them. I was quickly told that my team mate had finished just outside the points in 10^th. Such a shame but I was beating a team mate who had three years experience on me. That felt good.

Fiction Friday: On a wing and a prayer

This strayed away from the prompt pretty much as soon as I started writing it... Today's Write Anything Fiction Friday prompt. (It really has nothing to do with the prompt. Damn you, brain!)

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A hand wrapped around Tain's arm and dragged her away from Harry, whose face was stricken with confusion. 

“That's enough, commander, back to your quarters.” Tain looked at the captain, then to his hand on her arm and thought about pulling away from him. She didn't, she needed his trust, she needed him to not think she was insane.

He led her back to her room, still gripping tightly onto her arm. This was a very undignified way to be taken anywhere on the ship, a ship she was second in command of, but Tain could feel the captain prickling with anger and confusion, she didn't want to aggravate him – at least not until she was back in her quarters.

As soon as they were in and the doors had shut the captain let go of Tain, almost as roughly as he'd grabbed her. “What the hell his going on here? Who is he?”

Tain sighed and moved over to sit on her bed, “I'm not sure, James.” This whole thing was messing with her head. It had been a long time since she'd called the captain by his first name.

Clearly he'd noticed that too, Tain looked up to see him standing opposite her, leaning against the wall and looking blank. It was obvious he wasn't going to contribute so Tain continued. “He doesn't feel like Harry, there's just something that's not right about him. He seems vague, different somehow... and I can't read his mind.”

“And who was Harry?” As the captain spoke, Tain looked away. She felt uncomfortable under his gaze and there was something in his voice that she didn't like. He didn't sound concerned.

“A lot of things. I knew him a long time ago, before I joined the Spaceforce. I suppose the simple explanation is that we worked together, but our relationship transcended all conventional barriers. We were colleagues, friends, lovers, enemies.” The twinge of jealousy Tain felt from the captain was painful, it penetrated every fibre of her and made her heart twist into an agonising knot.

She looked at him, he wasn't doing anything to hide how he was feeling. What was the point. Tain didn't want to know every stab of emotion that came from another person but, in moments of strong feelings, it couldn't be helped. He moved to sit beside her and went to speak but Tain stopped him by lifting her hand.

“My relationship with Harry was much like our relationship.” The captain looked puzzled but Tain went on. “He betrayed me in one foul, terrible way and I hated him. Yet I couldn't stay away. I don't know if it was because I was a glutton for punishment or if it was because I thought we could reconcile. Whatever it was, when I saw him again, I stayed around, but I kept pushing him away. I kept telling him I hated him and could never forgive him, but it wasn't like that and I only realise it now because I feel the same way about you.”

Tain looked up from her hands and to the captain. 

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This makes my heart hurt. I know Tain inside out and when I write her I can feel every emotion she does (even when they come from others, she's an empath) I'd love to know if that emotion comes across to you, the reader.

Fiction Friday: I miss my best friend

As part of Write Anything's Fiction Friday I've decided to introduce you to Fabian and his futuristic pinings for a certain doctor (no, not that Doctor). The prompt is 'I miss my best friend'. Again, first person. All my writing is usually in third and yet I get my flash on and it's all first. Oh well, enjoy. (Prepare for some tense fail. I hate first person.)

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I paused outside the casino and wondered if I should pop in. It was glittering at me and I could hear the soft trill of all the machines inside. There were people I liked in there and there were exciting things like cards, chips and money. But it was too close to home, my former work mates would gossip and eventually it would get back to Rae. I didn't want him to know I'd been here.

With a weary sigh I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and continued on. I missed Rae so much. It was a heart-wrenching ache that left me feeling empty but there was no way he would ever accept me back into his life.

He'd worked so hard to look after me when I had no idea who I was. He'd grown to be my best friend and the only person I thought I could trust. I understood why he wanted to stop being my doctor and pass me off to Dr. Morgan but I thought I could trust him when the memories did surface. I always knew they would be bad, that I'd be distressed and terrified of my own past. But I'd never expected him to kick me out after learning what I'd done.

I think it was my lack of remorse that threw him.

With these memories I'm a different person. I can see how I was when I knew nothing but him, his house, that stupid cat and the casino. I was happy, carefree and without the weight of such torment resting on my shoulders.

Shooting someone didn't bother me. I knew I was right doing what I did. Rae, of course, didn't think so. Regardless of the situation, to him, killing someone was wrong.

The killing didn't bother me. It was what followed that mentally scarred me. I was once again looking over my shoulder, despite the fact I was in a much safer world that had a much lower concentration of evil robots, rape gangs and temporal earthquakes.

Rae was never going to forgive me and that broke my heart.

An apocalypse of biblical proportions

I'm scheduling this post. So as it goes on the internet I may be in the throws of a rapturous apocalypse. Here is a piece of very relevant flash fiction.

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I’m on the hill overlooking our poor city. The night sky is bathed in a glow of orange from the fires, there's no escaping them. Almost all of the surrounding forest has been engulfed in flames and the sky is thick with smoke. My lungs are suffering, every breath in tastes like decay and burning. I'm watching our world die and I'm going to go down with it.

The sounds of panic are still rolling through the air. Every scream shocks my body and makes my knees weak, even though that's all I've heard for the past 15 hours.

Everyone had been talking about how the world was going to begin its end today. I laughed and joked with everyone else saying how I wouldn’t be involved in the ascent to heaven. I’d be going straight to hell.

I don’t know the particulars of heaven and hell or the mode of transport you’re suppose to take to get to either, but all the fire, zombies and earthquakes feels very much like hell to me.

I suppose I’m safe for now but all the lines of communication are down, people are panicking and no one is dying. The reanimated corpses (this includeds skeletons) are trying to kill people but they just pop back to life seconds later. I don’t want to be a reanimated corpse in hell.

This is the apocalypse, a hot, bloody, dark apocalypse of biblical proportions. Who ever thought the end of the world would be down to God.

The Bon Voyage prompt from Life, Muse, Coffee.

In reaction to yesterday's post, Claire from Life, Muse, Coffee posted the prompt 'Bon Voyage'. To write about any location of your choosing.

Well, I did exactly that. Based on Sanctuary, here is a piece from Captain Matthews' POV.

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This London is a far cry from the London I once knew. It’s eerily quiet and nothing more than varying shades of grey. As I sit here, it’s growing dark but even the orange of the sunset seems muted. I can see Big Ben just ahead of us. Despite knowing that it hasn’t worked for 25 years I still glance up at the hands of that clock and half expect it to tell me the time. It’s been quarter to three for a very long time.
 
Long shadows are being cast down the road by the sun dipping behind what buildings are still standing. It looks like the tops of the smaller ones are on fire.

My home lies almost directly beneath where I sit. You can’t tell there are 500 people down there. From here it all seems so still.

I can smell the river from here. It smells awful, like rotting flesh and excrement. Whatever measures were once in place to keep it clean, they’ve been neglected for a long time. The smell is worse on the bridge, the stagnant water just seems to waft straight up into your nostrils. I suppose that’s another reason we are supposed to wear gas masks out here. Luckily, its not too warm today. They last thing we need is for the smell to be amplified by the heat.

There’s a light breeze in the air, I can just about see the trees of Green Park from here. They’re swaying so lethargically. Heavy under the weight of the dying city.