Time Slips Away

Synopsis:
This is a fictional piece portraying a situation in which an individual reconstructs a particularly bizarre or traumatic event that previously locked away...and forbid themselves to remember. It higfhlights the manner in which people can remember, or be affected by, repressed emotions and memories. Influenced by readings on the malleability of memory and instances of supposed alien abduction that appear during regression hypnosis, I wrote this piece. Those showing some interest in both the functioning of repressed memory and the re-occuring evidence for alien abduction phenomena are the suggested audience.


Time Slips Away
Mark sat motionless in a chair and watched time slip through his fingers. The clock on the wall across from him ticked away the seconds of his life, the minutes, the hours, as he sat and watched, listening to the voices in his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting the memories of his life flow through his mind's eye. His life up until this point had been satisfying, and he had learned much in thirty-one years on this planet. His one disappointment was that he could not have children, although his wife Monique had not shared such emotions with him. She had simply stated that life with him was enough, that she would stand by him for the rest of their lives regardless of what may occur. It's funny, she actually hadn't said that lately; it must have been a couple of years ago now. He opened his eyes and reached for his coffee, growing cold, on the table in front of him. He sipped, and drank of the past.

Mark and Monique were driving towards their friends house, laughing like they used to, packed for the monthly excursion to the Matherson's for another fun-filled weekend. Mark remembered trying to turn on the radio in a lull in the conversation, unfortunately he received nothing but static. Funny, the Matherson's lived only fifteen kilometres out of town, and he didn't find the numerous gum trees ever before interfering with reception. Frustrated, he turned off the radio and turned to his wife.

"I'll have to get someone to have a look at that radio. It's never played up like this before". His wife had her arms crossed and was staring out the passenger window. "No reception on any station, damn it".

"Don't let it bother you" she replied, still looking out at the countryside, "I'm sure Jane and Ronald don't want you walking in the door whingeing about a car radio reception". She looked at him.

"I'm not whingeing" he replied, a smile playing about his mouth.

"What are you doing then?" she said, also smiling.

"I'm just expressing my concern at the ineffectiveness of our car radio" he said, pulling into the Matherson's driveway.

"Baloney! You're a whinger" she laughed, as the car came to a stop. The Matherson's came out of their house to greet the couple getting out of their car. Mark looked at the sky and saw grey clouds gathering, he shivered and closed the car door behind him.

He sipped his coffee again. It was cold but he didn't really care. He didn't really care about much anymore. Slowly, Mark moved from his seat and stood at the window, looking outside. He saw grey clouds gathering.

"Coffee?" said Ronald, dropping a game of Trivial Pursuit on the table. Everyone agreed to his proposal. And Ronald, stopping by the fire for an instant before moving to the kitchen, winked to them all. Mark enjoyed his stay with the Mathersons. He and his wife had known them since school back in their home town, and ever since moving here, the Mathersons, already settled in the area, had invited them up every month to spend a weekend. They laughed, played board games, stood by the fire, swapped stories and got up late after going to bed late. One night, he remembers...he remembers lightning outside his window, a great white flash that seemed to hang in the room as if it were solid, a presence within his bedroom.

Mark jumped, and looked frantically out the window, spilling a bit of his coffee. Had someone been there? Did he just see someone outside? No, perhaps not. He calmed himself, wondering what had just startled him so. He must have been miles away...lost.

Stars, so many stars. They decorated the blanket of night and Mark liked to stand on the Matherson's back verandah and count them, his wife beside him. But he remembered that that night the storm clouds had covered the sky, and made the shadows like ink in the moonlight. The night was almost viscous. He had crouched in front of the fire very late that night, talking to his friends, talking about something...he couldn't quite remember. Renovation plans, he thinks to himself, or a bank loan. Does it matter? His wife, Monique, had started to fall asleep on the couch beside him, her head on his shoulder. So they decided to retire for the evening...or was it morning?

Mark had gone to bed and lay there listening to the storm outside, the relaxing sound of the rain on a tin roof. The lightning flashing at the window, the faces at the window.

Mark dropped his coffee mug, and then stared in disbelief at what he had just done. What a klutz! What a butterfingers! He quickly cleaned up the brown liquid as it ran, cold, across the floor.

Monique was asleep beside him, so why was he, lying there for so long, with the rain on the roof and the house quiet, having so much trouble relaxing? He looked towards the door and watched the little men walk in. His eyes were sore, that's it, he couldn't sleep because he had a headache or something. They had big eyes. They had big black eyes. Monique woke up at some point. They took Monique, and others came for him. The lightning and the thunder was tremendous, maybe it was that racket that kept him awake. He screamed, the others did too, but the creatures told them not to yell, not to be afraid, but the little slits they had for mouths weren't even moving.

Mark rubbed his temples furiously, his forehead, his eyes. He wanted to rub the pictures away. He sat down in his chair again and looked at the stain on the floor, the broken coffee mug. It was raining outside, only a light drizzle.

They had put something inside his nose, and there was something under the skin of his temples. He had fallen asleep late that night. It's as if time had slipped away. They had taken him aboard some ship, and had stripped him naked. He was afraid. Mark had finally fallen asleep, his arm around his wife, and had awakened very late. They had brought him back, all of them back, but they were coming back.

Mark sat motionless in a chair anbd watched time slip through his fingers. The clock on the wall across from him ticked away the seconds of his life, the minutes, the hours, as he sat and watched, listening to the voices in his head. They were coming back.

Time shall destroy all...even The Musings of Dan
or
After a hard night abducting, Greys stop for a coffee in The Lair of Dan"