Stories

We passed over Magdalen Bridge when the drugs kicked in and  the town looked wild. Everyone had the head of a wolf. I looked for a place to park. I saw a gap, we went into a bar. The intensity grew out of all proportion, but the place was full of wolves. I was coming up. Someone spoke. It was the barman. But I couldn’t move my lips. My friend spoke for me “he will have a water.” “Fuck that. Triple tequila and keep them coming” I had at last found my voice. “My friend you are tripping” said he. “So let's see where this ends.” I could not get off the bar stool, or the floor would hit my face. Mescaline and LSD does that to you. I slumped on the bar but didn’t want to sleep. The fucked up dreams that would come. Not now. Not now. “Give me the coke, I need to wake up” he passed it over, now I had to get through the wolves to reach the bathroom. The world slowed down, speech incomprehensible. No one seemed to move. Found a cubicle, took a heavy pinch just to clear my head. Made sure my nose was clean as I did not want to attract attention. Maybe that was too late. Turns out there were no wolves. They were the product of fevered and over stimulated imagination. Boy, was it over stimulated. I would have fucked anything that night, but there was this girl at the end of the bar, a pretty red head. As I went over the bar room chatter assaulted my ears, it was loud and banal. People looked once then immediately looked away. “Can I get you a drink?” She looked at me. Incredulity crease her brow. “You’re fucked.” “What could you possibly mean” I said with a confused flourish of hands. As if you know its your body, but you have no control. “It’s your eyes.” “My eyes?” “You have no iris.” “It’s congenital, I come from a long line of owls. Only happens at night.” She wanted to laugh but checked herself. “So you’re not a junkie?” “More of…

Psychosis     By Stephen Whittaker   Characters Gabriel Highly intelligent, wealthy man, fighting with his alcohol issues. Compassionate, but can be ruthless when needed. He cuts a lonely figure after several failed relationships. Totally honest in his dealings and generous. Never knows when he is beaten. Something of an idealist, seeking perfection. Good looking, well maintained, but has had health issues down to his previous drinking. Mike An old friend of Gabriels, bonded by fighting in Bosnia. Physically handsome and a hard worker, but not as smart as Gabriel and knows it. Loves his wife Jen but worried about his adopted autistic boy. This was not expected and threw him at the time. A solid, dependable man but perhaps not the most exciting. Jen Very smart, attractive woman. A top lawyer who gave it up to look after her son. Short fused, impatient.  No longer in love with Mike but has a sneaking attraction to Gabriel for which she hates herself. Fights with the conflict between stability and excitement. Jamie Odd character with autism. Little speech and no literacy but possesses a unique talent where he can communicate and see things others can’t by touch. Exceptional artist. His comprehension of the world is limited to the ‘here and now’. Very sensitive. Lena A pretty Russian girl with a powerful memory. Saw her father executed on their door step and bares the emotional scars. Resourceful and clever, but cynical of this world, yet unflinchingly brave. Irena The biochemist. Mother of Lena. Attractive woman with a sadness in her eyes at the loss of her husband. Hated the regime she worked for and wanted her findings to go global. Idealistic, believed in peace. Develops an interest in Gabriel, knowing he was not indifferent. She caught him looking.   Chapter 1 – Over Dinner   “That was nice.” said Jenny. “Yes thanks.” chimed in her husband Mike. Their adopted, and as it turned out, autistic son, (a young teen called Jamie), stared around the restaurant. This was unfamiliar and he was clearly uncomfortable. He had barely touched his food. His mother had said not to worry as he could have his favourite,…

     By Stephen Whittaker Two   - 1 - Next Morning Where curtain meets curtain a small gap allowed sunlight to seep into the bedroom, catching Irena’s lovely face. He gently kissed her neck and she stretched with a feline quality as she awoke. He had no idea where this would go, where it would lead, but he was compelled to follow. His life had moved from plan to plan and order gave it meaning. It was time to break that mould, lest he atrophied and became a stone monument to himself. They put on their discarded robes from the previous evening and headed downstairs, drawn by the aroma of fine coffee; which meant, of course, Lena was about. “Good morning you two. Sleep well?” “Yes thank you.” said her mother and smiled at Gabriel, "and you?” “Not too bad, but there were some odd noises coming from below. Sounded like a ghost.” She could contain herself no longer and burst out laughing. “Oh Lena, please don’t tease, you will embarrass Gabriel.” “I doubt it given what I heard. Look, I am pleased for you both, and mom you deserve it, especially after what you’ve been through. It was inevitable, I thought you would never get round to it.” “I am still here you know.” piped up Gabriel. Lena walked round the table and kissed his cheek. “Bet I know who made the first move.” looking over at her mother with a broad smile on her face. “Ok ladies, let’s get dressed and go for breakfast.” “Are you cooking tonight?” asked Irena. “If you wish, think what you may like. I will get it later.” Irena always cleared her plate, a heritage from a time when shelves were empty. Times had changed, but there was still a vast underclass, Putin’s power base. He reminded them of Stalin who murdered more people (mainly his own) than Hitler, yet still had statues in his name. It’s impossible to imagine a statue to Hitler in Germany today. Leaving the house both security men left their car as usual, one to follow, the other to guard. Gabriel had informed Irena of his psychotic…

Psychosis Three by Stephen Whittaker Chapter 1 Accident Gabriel owned several garages near his home where he stored exotic automobiles. His favourite was the Maranello Ferrari. He had owned the vehicle some fifteen years and remembered taking his third wife on a first date and she, amusingly, asking about the pony on the steering wheel and why was it there. He had told her it was the Ferrari symbol and hoped to impress. It didn’t. At least, he thought, 'not another gold digger' and they went on to dinner in Fulham. The evening went well and they went back to her place. She had invited him in for a nightcap. “But I am driving.” “Silly boy!” She had given him a long, lingering kiss and at the time he had genuinely thought she could be ‘the one’. Whilst their mutual infatuation had fallen like autumn leaves, he still loved the car and decided to take her out. It had given him such satisfaction over the years and the incalculable pleasure of ownership. Why did he so love fast machinery? It was as if he was trying to escape, and perhaps he was. He loved Irena and her daughter; his life had changed, all for the better. But sometimes he just wanted to drive fast and hard. This was such a moment. He was, in essence, a thrill seeker and there could be no greater thrill than driving at speed. He turned the ignition and the Ferrari gave a throaty roar, like a lion at night. He turned on to the road. With his foot down he felt the slam of acceleration as he moved through the gears. The car had a paddle shift, smooth as silk. He thought Enzo had produced a masterpiece and he began to relax into the cockpit. On the A4 he opened her up, radically breaking speed limits, but the fusion of mind and machine meant he felt safe. This was a grave error of judgement. You can be driving well but you are not the only man on the road and so it proved. All he knew after that was what he had been told.…