Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Freewrite #2


Freewrite #2

The injured man stopped crying and started to stand up.

"Here, let me help you." said Jack, with an outstretched arm, holding the baseball cap in his other hand.

The man spat on the hand. "Crazy lunatic. I Never should have listened to him. " Then the man walked off, opposite the way he had come, as if nothing had happened...

Listened to who?

A phone lying under a covered sidewalk rang. Sounds of Vivaldi's Four Seasons filled the atmosphere, underscoring the rainy weather.

Where did the phone come from?

It must have been that guy's. Strange that it landed on the sidewalk instead of the asphalt.

Jack picked up the phone.

“Who is this?” asked Jack.

“Hello Jack” answered a deep, calm voice. “How have you been? 'Things feeling a bit out of place? That's because they are Jack. Things change with time."

“Time? What do you mean? What are you talking about?” Jack responded.

“Oh? You don't remember? Jack, you've been a patient at the ward for three years. Please, come back and we will sort this all out.” said the voice.

“Ward? I don't remember any ward. Who are you?” said Jack.

“My name is John Fischer. I'm your doctor. And by the look of things you could use my help. You pack quite a punch!” said John, tone and pitch raised.

“I see. You are my doctor, and I am the simple patient who has lost his memory? That's pretty convenient. I will say, you have me on the memory bit. I can't remember a thing. But answer me this ... ” Jack said looking sideways at a black Honda across the street. A man with short, brown hair sat inside on a cellphone.

Jack looked forward.

“What kind of doctor stalks his patient?”

“The kind who cares.” said John, deeper again.

Jack glanced at the car once more. Something was different. Sitting in the passenger seat was a man in a brown fedora. It was him!

“Don't run Jack.” said John

“Run? Why would I run? You're just a doctor, right?” said Jack.

Jack ran.

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