Monday, 2 November 2015

If Wishes Were Horses 2



Today's word count:     1676                                   Total count 3666



There was so much more that I wanted to ask, but my visitor didn‘t wait to give me the opportunity. A few seconds after he mentioned my headache I blinked and he vanished. I didn’t see him vanish; this wasn’t like the Cheshire cat in Alice who faded slowly leaving just his grin behind, this was literally in the wink of an eye. Suddenly he just wasn’t there any more. It was like turning off a television set, only there wasn’t any noise like a switch. I leaned down to the foot of the bed and felt the wood where he’d been sitting, unsure what I thought I’d find, but there was nothing. It wasn’t warm or anything. It was a perfectly ordinary bed foot. 

“Well, that was rude,” I said out loud, and feeling slightly stupid that I was talking to an empty room, but his departure had been so sudden that I found it hard to accept he was gone. I looked around the room, half expecting that he had simply moved very quickly and would now be enthroned on a different piece of furniture, or leaning nonchalantly against the wall, but there was definitely no sign of him. I paused to think for a while and then I started to wonder if he had ever actually been there at all. Maybe I had imagined him; I do have quite a colourful mind. It goes with my dramatic streak. Perhaps he was actually a nightmare, but I hadn’t eaten anything renowned to trigger them. Could migraines cause hallucinations, I wondered.  I’d never heard of such a thing, but you never know about these things.  I figured the best plan was to play the remainder of the day by ear. If I really could have wishes come true I could have huge fun with my power, but the first job was to put the idea to the test. 

“I wish I had a bag of gold coins”, I announced, and waited for my first miracle. Nothing. Nada. Absolutely zilch. No gold. No wish. No surprise. I’d been hallucinating after all, and I decided to talk to my doctor about it next time I had to see him. Perhaps the kind of migraine that could make me see things needed special treatment. Maybe I had a brain tumour or some other incurable disease. That would be a real swine, to go from thinking I could have my dreams come true to finding I had a terminal illness. Just my luck.  I’ve been treated for depression in the past and one of my symptoms was that I always feared the worst, often before anything at all had happened to me. Lots of specialists had done their best to help me and I had learned a few useful coping strategies. One of them was to give myself a strict telling off, and that’s what I opted to do this time. “Oh pull yourself together you stupid fool. You’re tired, that’s all. You’re imagining things. There is no such thing as a genie, fairy godfather or any other kind of magical creature, so stop this nonsense now!” And with that I decided to ignore everything that had happened so far that day. I carried on with my life as if nothing untoward had gone on, and for the rest of the day nothing did. In fact nothing strange occurred for the rest of the weekend. 

By the time I got up on Monday morning I had almost forgotten my experience. I chose to ignore how realistic my visitor had seemed and how convinced I was for a while that I had a magic amulet. Eventually I started to accept that he was simply a figment of my imagination brought on by tiredness and stress, and I started getting ready for work. My choice of clothes for the day was smart casual. My office doesn’t concentrate too much on appearance because we don’t deal with the public. The boss likes us to look reasonably presentable and would frown heavily on torn jeans or rugby shirts, but he doesn’t create a fuss about relaxed outfits. I chose a plain, pale blue t-shirt and a dark blue over shirt because I thought it would present a good background for my pendant and I wanted to show off my find. I set off to work at my usual time, grateful that there was no sign of the threatened migraine remaining to make the day difficult. 

The drive was as tedious as ever. Traffic slow, drivers who apparently had never passed their tests, or had forgotten whatever they once knew; idiots changing lanes without signalling, doing thirty miles an hour in the middle of the road, speeding along in half light without headlamps, endangering others through lack of consideration, generally behaving like selfish bullies. I run  a very small car and often feel as if the big vehicles are pushing me around, so by the time I reached town I was feeling pretty fed up. “I just wish everyone would get out of my way!” I shouted as a particularly arrogant van driver cut across me in the queue as we approached a set of traffic lights. He swung all the way past me and into the inside lane so he would be able to overtake on the wrong side when the lights turned to green. I hate when people cheat that way. You just know they are laughing as they pull away on amber and rush off up the road ahead of everyone. Sure enough, Mr Van Man began roaring his engine and lurched forward as the amber light lit up, but somehow he went no further. I drove off on green and left him far behind, still trying to restart his stalled engine. For once I laughed as I pulled away in front of a bully, and the rest of my journey passed relatively easily except for my headache, which, from the tingling at the back of my skull, seemed to be returning. 

On arrival at the office I was greeted noisily by my colleague Minty Deane. Yes, I know it’s a ridiculous name and I expect it’s short for something, but I’ve never bothered to ask what. She’s just known as Minty and she is exactly the kind of person you’d expect to carry such a name. Short and slightly stocky, if I’m honest, she wears her dyed red hair in a strange kind of plaited rope wound around her head.  She pins it in place with a variety of outrageous clips that feature brightly-coloured creatures of all kinds. There are plenty of insects, and not just the pretty butterfly, moth and ladybird kind. I’ve seen spiders and wasps, and even a jewelled scorpion, over the years I’ve worked with her. You can’t help noticing them, so it’s easy to make her day by commenting on her latest trim. Today’s choice was blue, and as she approached I noticed it was a bird, with a small white flower in its beak. In spite of myself it made me smile, and I pointed towards her head and said “Nice.”  She smiled in return .The great part about her hairpin habit is the fact that she also notices anything new and sparkly being sported by anyone else. She immediately spotted my pendant and pounced on me with a shriek.  “Is that new?  It’s wonderful! Where did you find it?”

“And good morning to you too, Minty,” I answered, “Yes, it’s new. Thanks for noticing. I picked it up at an antiques place over the weekend. I wangled a fantastic deal on it too.” As I said that I felt the twinge in the back of my head again and winced slightly, and Minty reacted immediately. 

“You’re fibbing aren’t you?  Or at least you spent a small fortune in spite of your deal. That’s why you’re wincing. How much did you pay for it? I know you can’t resist stuff like that and you always spend way more than you can afford.”

“I honestly didn’t spend a fortune. I haggled for it and beat the guy down a long way.” And I felt my skull twinge again. “Actually the reason I’m wincing is because I’ve got a headache. I’ve been fending off a migraine all weekend and I thought I’d beaten it, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Oh poor you. I know you’re a martyr to them, but it’s not like you to suffer at weekends. They’re usually triggered by stress. Sure it’s not a hangover?”

“Cheeky! No it isn’t. I never touched a drop all weekend. I’ve been in bed with the curtains closed most of the weekend trying to avoid bright light. Maybe I’d have been better off if I had put away a bottle or two of red!”

“Spent all weekend in bed with who? Curtains closed is a funny name,” she grinned, “I suspect you’ve really been having a very good time and overdoing things.  I’m not surprised you’ve got a headache!”

“Oh shut up. I have not been living the high life. I’ve been on my own for the whole time, I tell you. I’ve been sick!”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’ve got a new man in your life and you’re just being secretive.  Come on. Spill”

I am very fond of Minty and I usually find her hilarious but on this occasion I couldn’t cope with her humour. I knew she was kidding but by now I was tired of the joke and I’m afraid I snapped at her.  “I’ve got a headache I tell you, and it’s getting worse. I wish you’d just leave me alone.” And that’s exactly what she did. Quickly and calmly she turned around and walked away towards her desk without another word. I was amazed, but the sensation in the back of my head was now so strong that I feared getting home. I took myself off to my own desk to sit by myself and nurse my pain.  

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