# S.Paralysis (working title maybe) 747 Words



## Tbird0000 (Aug 14, 2015)

*S.Paralysis (working title) 3965 Words*

Been a long time since Ive posted or been to this site. Looking to catch up on what some of you have been working on. Here is a little something I just whipped up. Its similar to something I wrote about a year ago but a little different. Have a read, thanks! *COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED TO LET ME KNOW WHATS GOOD OR NOT GOOD!!*

*I can feel it coming again. It’s strong this time; stronger than normal. I know I’m in bed, I know that I’m sleeping. Sleep paralysis. It randomly comes and goes. Sometimes weak; sometimes aggressively strong. The trick is to relax, tell my body to calm down and let the feeling subside. Eventually, I can open my eyes and scan the room for that mysterious entity that does this to me. And that is what it is; an entity. But when my eyes open, there is nothing to be seen, naturally.

            It’s so strong this time. The pressure builds and builds until my skull feels like it’s going to burst. And that’s when the voices come. They say things; things to scare me, things to make me give into the feeling, things that will let them inside. Once or twice, I’ve almost given in. I let the feeling come close to engulfing my entire being just to know what it feels like. And that’s when my sanity snaps back full force and I start fighting it back; fighting the feeling until its weak enough for me to move. Then, I jump from my bed and pan the room. 

            Only this time, I’m in my car, sitting on a desolate highway. My hazards are on, blinking that annoying blink sound. Click, click, click. My radio is on; there is a fuzzy static as if I was just on the edge of radio coverage. Voices and noises but nothing I’m used to hearing. Another language maybe? My head is throbbing, my muscles are achy, and my eyes are hazy.

            I open the car door and put my feet to the pavement. My legs move sluggishly, they feel heavy. And then I stand after a minute, leaning against my car. The only light in the darkness is my hazards blinking illuminating the road with that amber hue on and off again. The wind rush’s over my ears. The highway is still, quiet, and it fills me with a feeling of absolute fear. The stars shine vibrantly and off in the distance, a shooting star crosses the night sky. I close the door and shuffle over to the front of my car and sit on the hood, reach into my pants, and take out a cigarette. I lite up, take a deep inhale until my lungs are full, tilt my head back, and slowly exhale. My mind is blank, my thoughts are nothingness. And that’s when it occurs to me that I don’t even know where I am. I don’t even know how I got here. What time is it? I look at the watch on my wrist, then flick its face. The hands aren’t moving. It shows that it’s twelve forty seven in the morning. 

            In the distance, a set of head lights come over a rise in the road. They get closer and closer and soon the two lights turned to three. A spot light shines me in the face; a police car. The policeman comes from the car and walks close to me with a hand on his weapon. He asks if I’m ok and in need of assistance. I don’t know what to say. I feel like I’m stranded on the road with no idea of what I was doing or where I was going. But I know that I have a purpose. I know I was going somewhere to do something for a reason. I might have baffled him. He asks me for my name and if I have any identification.

            That’s when I reach into my back pocket and pull my driver’s license out; cigarette hanging from my lips. A name. There was a name on it. Jace Thomison. It feels foreign; it doesn’t feel like a match. But there it was, right next to a picture of me. Geezus, I don’t even know my own name. The policeman must have noticed I was acting strange and asks that I sit on the concrete while he runs my information. I comply, of course. He was gone a few minutes; I could see he was making a call on his shoulder radio. And he keeps looking at me strangely. He comes from his car and only says a few words that take me aback. 

“Son, you know there’s a missing persons report out on you? Says you’ve been missing for 36 days. I’m gonna have to take you in, if you don’t mind.”

****

            I’ve been waiting in a room for hours. The walls are grey and in typical Hollywood fashion, there’s a no smoking sign posted with tape. It’s empty except for the table in the middle and 3 chairs, one of which I’m currently seated in. The double sided glass looks like it could use a cleaning. In the corner is a tripod with a camera on top. I find the blinking red light irritating and unnerving. I know they are on the other side watching me; waiting for me to act guilty; waiting for me to double back on my words. Every few minutes, the police officer will come question me. He asks where I’ve been the whole time, why show up now, was it an act for attention? Typical questions when a missing person appears out of nowhere. I tell him the same thing. I don’t know where I was. I just woke up in my car, alone, on the highway. He says any detail will help. But there are none to give. He knows as much as I do. And even so, the situation is enigmatic. My purpose; elusive. Something; something important. I know I have to do it. But it’s puzzling. I can’t quite put my fingers on it. It’s…intangible. 

            Two men enter the room. One stands in the corner, the other takes a seat. They appear sharp, dressed in black, as if no detail could evade their intellect. There is silence for a moment; a moment of observation. I watch them watching me. Until the seated man speaks.

“How are things Mr…?”

“Thomison. Jace Thomison. I’m sorry; didn’t the officer tell you my name already?”

“That, for the time being, is irrelevant. You needn’t concern yourself with him any longer. I’m in charge of this investigation from this time forward. Now….. Mr.Thomison, I want to have a long and very specific talk with you. I hope you will oblige me in answering some text book questions.”

            His voice; assertive, deep, monotone. The way he talks; very to the point, and yet, unnatural. There’s a slight metallic resonance hidden by his superficial and unfamiliar accent. He didn’t move when he spoke as if he didn’t possess the simple body language one shows when having a conversation. It makes me uncomfortable. “He” or “They” make me uncomfortable.

“There isn’t much to say. I’ve already said what I know. This isn’t a prank or cry for attention. I didn’t even know I was “missing” until I was picked up by the cops.”

“And how is that? How does one not “know” they are missing?”

“The one thing I do know is that I was on my home from work and….”

            Shit; work, family, kids, life. It came to me suddenly. Sharp quick flashes of memories. I was on my way home from work. I’m a scientist. A Geneticist to be exact. There was a breakthrough at the lab.

“And what is it you do exactly? For work, that is.”

“I’m a scientist. Sorry, it just came to me, now, all of a sudden.”

“So you suffer from amnesia then?”

“No, I don’t think so. Amnesia is caused my some sort of trauma to the brain. As you can see, I’ve suffered no accident to give even the smallest possibility of that.”

“Aha…”

“Is my wife here? Is she outside? I’d like to see her now, if possible. I’m sure she’s worried something fierce.”

            The men look to each other slowly, and then face me again. The gesture alone is distressing. A feeling of dread overtakes me.

“Has something happened? Tell me!”

“Mr.Thomison. It would seem, contrary to what you think has happened, that you might have in fact bumped your head somehow, further explaining your current state of… forgetfulness.”

“What does that even mean? I’m, so confused.”

            That’s when I wrap my head in my hands and clench my teeth so hard that I can hear them grind together. I close my eyes and begin to calm myself down. Counting back from ten. Nine, eight, seven all the way down to one. I open my eyes. 

            I’m alone in the room. The men aren’t there. It’s eerily quiet. The hair on my neck stands tall. I rise from my seat and turn full circle. Assuredly, I am alone in this empty stale room. I walk to the doubled sided glass and cup my hands in an attempt to see the other side; futile. The policeman I’ve been cooperating with until this point enters the room, coffee in hand.

“I thought you might like some coffee, have a seat.”

“The men, the two guys in black. Where did they go? From a second ago.”

He laughed to himself softly.

“Men in black. Good one. Unfortunately, you’re not the first one to try that bit with me. Have a seat, drink some coffee and we’ll get back at it and hopefully we can send you home tonight. Actually, sorry, I have to change the tape in the recorder. Just a sec.”

            He placed the coffee on the table and made his way to the recorder. He pressed the eject button and the door containing the tape flipped open. Only; he looked to me suddenly.

“You didn’t remove the tape from this recorder, did you? Because that would be tampering with evidence and that would be obstruction of justice. Give me the tape.”

“I never touched the recorder. I swear, I’ve been in my chair this whole time except when you just came in.”

“Hands up and against the wall. I’m gonna have to search you. Don’t make this difficult, you seem like a nice guy.”

            I did as he asked. He frisked me very thoroughly. And it was as I thought; no tape. He commanded that I sit in the chair. This was the first time he talked to me in an aggressive manner.

“Where is the tape? I’m not asking you again.”

“I didn’t take the tape, I swear it. The men, it must have been the men in black. The ones that were here a few minutes ago. I’m telling you the truth. We talked for five freaking minutes. Believe me!”

“Nobody has come in or out of this room. There’s an officer posted outside the door to insure that. You don’t want to tell me where the tape is, fine. We keep a backup system in place for reasons like this. Don’t move and stay seated.”

            Then, he left. The coffee on the table still giving steam. I wasn’t going to drink it. Something was wrong. It was unsettling; heart rate rising, breathing heavy, perspiration on my brow. I had to get out of here.

            I sat in the chair and waited. I waited some more. Finally, the officer returned to the room.

“As much as I’d like to get to the bottom of this, I can’t. Also, I can’t keep you here seeing as I have nothing on you other than you went missing and now you’ve returned. For all I know, you went on a bender down in TJ.”

“And the tape?”

“Tape? What tape?”

            Lingering silence.

“Look, your wife and son are outside. It should go without saying they’ve been worried sick. Go home, spend some quality time with them, and make up for the absence. You’re free to go.”

            Surprised; confused. I left with hardly a word. I walk down the hallway, through the main office to the entrance of the building. A woman and boy are sitting in the lobby. She immediately cries as she sees me. The boy runs to me and hugs my legs. She rises from the seat and walks briskly into my arms. I don’t remember them but they seem to know me; going along with it. 

“Where have you been?” she asks.

“I’ve been here, I guess. I was in my car; but now, I’m here.”

            Uncomfortable. Should I be acting like a dad that’s been away from his family; obviously. But like my situation and my name; blank.  We drive home in silence. It’s bright and sunny outside. Almost blinding. She wants to say things, I’m sure of it. She wants to go on in typical womanly fashion and question my whereabouts. And in typical manly fashion, it would be a dead end conversation.

“Did the officer tell you about my… condition?”

“He said you don’t have any memory of where you’ve been. So I got on the phone and called the doctor to schedule a visit. He said it seems like an MRI is the first step. You’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Well, let me check my calendar, I think I can fit it in.”

            She laughs; beautiful. The boy is quiet in the backseat. Seems he didn’t even miss me, assuming this is my family.

“I’m sorry. I know this is going to sound a little stupid.” I lowered my voice. “But what’s your name? And his?”

            She replied in a similar low tone.

“You really don’t remember anything? Anything at all? You’d figure spending 15 years with someone would rub off, ya know.”

            She’s handling this well. Better than I. And the boy is the reigning champ it seems. Not a word from him. 

“We can talk more when we get home. Maybe something there will jog your memory. Scrap books, emails, journals, something.”

“I keep a journal?”

“Ever since you got into your line of work, you’ve kept detailed journals. Every time I look at you, you’re writing in those things. You keep them in your study; mountains of them.”

            Intriguing. It would make sense though; I’m a scientist. A scientist that doesn’t take notes is really just a kid in a chemistry lab doing experiments for fun.
“I am a scientist, right? I have a vague recollection.”

“Yes, Doctor Jace Thomison, Geneticist. One of the most revered in the world. Take some pride.”

            The breakthrough; something at the lab. It was of great importance. Dammit to hell, what was it?

“Where are we? I mean what state? Where do I work? Do I even still have a job?”

“Easy, we’ll get to it soon enough. I’ve taken care of everything. I let the guys at your work know what’s going on already. They’re very eager to see you come back, don’t worry. For now, just relax, take it easy, and adjust.”

            She is taking this too well. Note to self; be cautious. Crap, if there is anything in those journals I didn’t want anyone to read, I hope she’s respected that privacy, for her own safety. But for the time being; cautious and alert. Something about this is unhinging. 

            We pull into the driveway. The station wasn’t far at all. A two story house painted white with light green trimmings. Looks expensive. 

“Well, this is us. Exactly as you should remember it.”

            I come from the car and look around. The boy runs straight for the front door and disappears inside. A woman runs by on the street with her dog on a leash.

“Hey Susie” she yells as she jogs by.

“Hey Rachel. Lovely day for a run, huh?” she waves hello.

“I have to get it when I can.” She runs out of sight.

            Odd; she didn’t even stop to ask about me. Have I suddenly gained the ability to turn invisible? We enter the house. Tidy and modern. The furniture is immaculate. Brand new from the look of it.

“New couches?” as I point at them from my hip.

“Not particularly. We’ve had them a few years maybe.”

            She walks me to the back part of the house and slides the two wooden double doors open to the side. Theres a very nice mahogany desk in the back center part of the room. Behind it on the wall; rows and rows of books filed neatly.

“Wow, my journals I’m to assume?”

“No, those are just books that relate to your field of research. As you can see, you were pretty involved in whatever you were doing. Your journals are over in the closet there.”

            On the right side of the room; a closet door. I open it and pull the string to the light bulb. It’s completely filled with bookshelves lining the walls. The spines are labeled by date spanning all the way back to the nineties. It’s going to take some time going through all of these. 

“I’m sorry, could I just have a minute? I’m feeling a little… flushed.”

“Take your time. I have to get dinner started anyways. I can bring you some water if…”

“No, that’ll be fine. I’ll come out when I’m ready.”

            She leaves the room and I close the doors behind her. Panic mode; hyperventilation; increased heart rate. Relax; calm down. Breathe. There ya go. Slow and steady. The answer to this is somewhere in this room, it has to be. I know it is. I can feel it. My computer. I have to check the computer first. It’s going to be a whole lot easier to sift through data than it is reading those journals. I sit at my desk. First thing of notice; comfortable chair. Nice. The computer is already on. It prompts me for a login password. Think, think, think. I’m a scientist; a smart person; a geneticist. That’s it; I type in “Genealogy”. My desktop appears. Simple enough.

            My email application is flashing on the bottom right of my screen. I click on it. There are hundreds of unread emails. I take notice to the most recent one. It was sent from… me. jacethomison@geneo.net. My hands are shaky as I open the email. It reads:

‘the fcat taht yuo’re raednig tihs mneas you’re siLtl avliE. and hpofEluLy mcuh lnoger TaHn atinciptaed. i dno’t eevn konw wrhee to satrt. siht, you RaElly got itno it tihs tmiE. the asnrews you’re Lokonig for are in yuor offIce. at wrok. i know taht none of tihs maeKs snese at the monemt, but it wlil. ocne you see it, once you hvae all the inforamtion, it’s giong to hit you lkIe a ton of brciks. jsut make srue yuo’re mnetlaly preapred for it wehn you do. i dno’t hvae much Tmie. you can’t turst anbyody. not even you’re famiLy. jsut be caerful. they are alawys watching you. alawys, and from eVeyrwehre’!’

            Shit; getting complicated real quick. A coded message; it has to be. Misspelled words; random caps; quotation exclamation point. Smart bastard. But if I can read it; so can they, whoever they are. The men in black. Need a plan. For now; decode. The words don’t have to be in order for me to read them, that’s the easy part. I pick out the capital letters and end up with: LEELTHREELIKITLV! What the hell is this supposed to mean to me? I hear steps coming this way. I scribble the letters on some paper, rip it, then place it in my pocket before the doors spread open.

“I was wondering what you wanted for… what’s wrong? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

            My “wife”; she’s not a knocker.

“Uh, no. You just startled me is all. You were going to ask what I wanted for dinner.”

“I can see you haven’t lost the ability to read my mind. But yeah, any preference?”

“No… Actually, I’m not very hungry. If it’s all the same to you, I’d really like to just look around some more. Still a little hazy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Well… ok then. I guess I can just order some pizza. Max has been begging me all week.”

“Max?”

“Yes, your son. Max. He does have a name.” 

            She giggles like it’s such a thing to giggle at; hardly appropriate.

“Sorry. Pizza sounds great. Who knows, maybe the smell of it will put me over.”

“Great. Pizza and a movie then. It’s… a date!”

            She leaves but the doors are wide open now; sneaky. Time to mingle; I can get to this later. I leave the room and walk down the hallway towards the front door. To my left is the dining room, the kitchen is adjoined towards the back part of the room. I can see ‘Susie’ placing the order for pizza over the telephone. I hear something falling down the stairs behind me. I turn to see a toy robot at my feet. At the top of the stairs; Max is standing there, staring deeply at me.

“Hey buddy. You dropped your toy.”

            He stares but says nothing; creepy bugger aren’t ya.

“Mom is ordering pizza. She tells me you’ve been begging all week for it. What’s your favorite kind? If I remember correctly, I like pepperoni.”

“She’s not my mom.”

            He sprints down the stairs and out the front door before it finally settles in my gut. ‘She’s not my mom’. It rings in my head a million times within a fraction of a second. The hair on my arm rises. And then, she’s next to me.

“What was that all about? You didn’t scare him did ya?”

“No, I guess he just wanted to go outside.”

            She walks into the living room and turns the TV on. I come around the couch and position myself in her line of sight.

“Actually, just now, when Max ran out the door, he said something. He said you weren’t his mom. Why?”

            Her smile faded.

“Yeah, um, it’s not something we really talk about.”

“What’s not to talk about?”

“Well… think about it. If we’ve been together for 15 years, and Max isn’t my son, and Max is almost ten now.”

“There was someone else?”

            She nods slowly.

“I see… I don’t… I don’t still see this woman, do I?”

“No… She hasn’t been around for a few years now. She was, uh… she was in an accident. A pretty bad one… the kind you don’t walk away from.”

             There was a long pause. A long… awkward… pause. 

“Look, I think I’m gonna go lay down. I’m not feeling well actually. I hope you understand.”

“No, it’s understandable. I’ll come to bed after dinner. Get your rest. Oh, and don’t forget we have to see the doctor tomorrow.”

            I walk up the stairs with a feigned sleepiness. Truthfully, the scrap paper with the jumble of letters was burning a hole in my pocket. I have to figure out what it says. Upstairs, there were only two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was easy to figure out which room was mine, unless I slept in a car bed with ‘Susie’. The bed was made neatly. The vanity smelled of cedar wood. I looked from the window to the outside road. Max was playing with some boys next door. I pulled the drapes shut.

            I withdrew the paper and studied it at the vanity under the lamp. LEELTHREELIKITLV! I know that the word ‘THREE’ was in the middle; quite obvious actually. That leaves LEELLIKITLV! Three? Three what? Dammit.

            I studied it for a minute more before I saw it. The second word was LEVEL. Together I have THREE LEVEL. Makes no sense; LIKITL! And as quickly as I saw the word THREE, I saw the message in its entirety. I was right; it hit me hard like a ton of bricks: LEVEL THREE KILL IT!
*


----------



## SummerPanda (Aug 16, 2015)

I like it, it's a wonderful start. It definitely gives the impression of more to come, and it could be going in any direction. 
I did notice an issue that I tend to have, there are a few places where you've mixed your tenses



Tbird0000 said:


> *I opened the car door and put my feet to the pavement. My legs move sluggishly, they feel heavy. And then I stood after a minute, leaning against my car. The only light in the darkness was my hazards blinking illuminating the road with that amber hue on and off again. The wind rushed over my ears.  *



You start in past (opened the car door) then suddenly it's present (my legs move sluggishly, they feel heavy) and then you're back to past again (I stood after a minute)

I'd keep an eye on that if I were you, meanwhile I will be keeping an eye out for more of this story. 
Thanks for sharing.


----------



## HalfRail (Aug 16, 2015)

I really enjoyed it, but i'm not sure how I feel about you rewording phrases in the same sentence that mean the same thing.

(My legs move sluggishly, they feel heavy) and (My mind was blank, my thoughts were nothingness)

Now this may be just your style of writing, but it was the first thing to catch my eye. I'm looking forward to more.


----------



## Deafmute (Aug 16, 2015)

Nice, fun little mystery here. Stuck between wondering if this guys is suffering from a mental illness or something supernatural. I would read more.


----------



## DATo (Aug 17, 2015)

Not bad. I would like to see where this goes. Please continue.

*EDITED after reading Part II*

The plot thickens. This is turning into quite a thriller / mystery. Look forward to reading more.


----------



## Tbird0000 (Aug 20, 2015)

Thread created for Chapter 2.


----------

