Throw in the towel

“Chapelhill, next stop Chapelhill…” The voice droned on about the diner car closing in half an hour as well as a variety of routes that were available if one was to choose the train as a primary form of transport. I was back in the train. I raised my hand to my face, getting a good look at the lines that ran down the palm and the veins that travelled up my wrist and up my arms. My legs were intact, I moved my feet that were sitting snugly in my shoes. I looked down at the manuscript that was lying on the table, most probably at the page that I left it at.

So what really happened there? Was it real? I looked out the window as the train ground to a halt. A white sign on the platform read Chapelhill. I shot up from my seat, if I was to get out at my stop I would have to get a move on it.

After my rushed departure off the train I decided that I would check into a local hotel as it was late enough and get an early start in the morning. At least I could rest my head and try to figure out what was going on. I didn’t really take much notice of the small little hotel that stood tucked away from the road. There was a small lobby with a fireplace holding centre stage, a dark teak coffee table was surrounded by dark red leather couches that resembled an aging man’s wrinkled face. I took no notice of the proprietor or even how much the room cost for the night; I just muttered the words “Single room for the night.”

He muttered back some inaudible reply which was followed by the jangle of some keys that had the number 016 on it. He pointed up the stairs after which I followed the directions. If he had told me dinner was to be served at 7:30 sharp or there was a bar on the premises I wouldn’t have heard a thing as my mind was somewhere faraway.

I crashed out on my bed as soon as I entered the small one bed room that had a tv positioned on a table opposite the bed. I didn’t even bother changing my clothes or having a look around as to where I was, or if I had accidentally stumbled upon the wrong room. I curled up on my bed and closed my eyes, I was exhausted.

I found myself standing on a large conical sphere. I did not know how I had gotten there but stood and watched the blue colour that the object was omitting splash here and there. It was strange the blue light seemed to be moving and darting. There was no movement in me, all I could do was watch. I immediately thought back to the strange episode I had on the train. Was it a vision? Was it real? It couldn’t be real. All of sudden the sphere started to shutter. I had to grab onto something, or otherwise I would fall off! Panic struck me as the object began to shake with more intensity. I had to jump off, there was nothing to hold onto. But I couldn’t I was stuck. What was I to do! I heard it then a roar and a tremor of a sound boomed through the air as the object started to move slowly, building momentum ever so gradually. I surmised by the previous jolts that I had managed to stay on so hopefully I would continue to stay on. All of a sudden it started to spin like a table-top, faster and faster in intensity. I panicked, opened my mouth and screamed for help, “Someone get me off this thing!” But no one came to help, the spinning did not stop as I continued to scream.

“Help! Help!” I opened my eyes, to find myself lying in a sweat soaked bed. I was back in the hotel. The little room that I had booked for the night was still there, my leather shoes and bag had been thrown at the foot of bed.

I tried to get my head around what was happening to me, why was I being subjected to a slew of intense visions and dreams. What was going on inside my head. I thought for a second, racked my brain for another second, and thought of slamming my head into the wall for the other. What was I to do? I decided to take a shower, and then head out for some fresh air and coffee. Maybe that would do me some good.

I found a nice little café on the outskirts of the town that brewed mugs of coffee and had fresh pies of various sorts. I decided for a traditional apple pie with a bit of cream on the side. A little gust of wind blew through the rustic café as I took another bite of the pie, finishing it off with a swig of coffee. The shower and the coffee was a good idea. I felt good. There’s nothing like a bit of a scrub, some fresh air and a bite to eat. I thought for a second, I could get used this, living in a small town where life is quieter, where the population is smaller than the amount of daily shoppers in a shopping centre. I could just disappear and forget about everything, forget about the reason why I had come here in the first place.

No! Something inside me snapped. I had to continue on, a nice little bit of pie and coffee was my treat for the day and that was it. That was it. I struggled to find the right thoughts for such a realisation that someone was probably waiting for me somewhere hoping that I would help them out. I didn’t know what to think anymore. I asked for another drop of coffee and this time went the adventurous route of a strawberry and blueberry pie. I then pulled out that all dreaded manuscript out of my bag, and started to read.