In a slight change from our normal posts, SINKINGSHIP presents a new way of reading blog posts.
We hope you enjoy this short story.
Sunday evening was a very special time of the week for Ian Cope. It was the one time of the week he could truly be himself.
For the rest of the week Ian had to wear a tie.
He wore other clothes of course, but having to knot a length
of silk around his neck felt more akin to slipping on a noose.
Ian hated his job. If pressed, he couldn’t even tell what
it was that did. He went to work every day and entered a building of some kind
and sat at one of the many desks that melted into the many rows upon rows of
grey, sad and desperate slabs of plastic.
He would sit there from 8:30am until 5pm, sometimes leaving
for lunch, but sometimes not.
Once the small clock on the other side of the room reached 5
he would quietly get up, collect his coat and wander home without uttering a
word to single human being.
Sunday nights were different.
Ian didn’t wear a tie on Sunday nights.
Instead he would sit quietly in his big armchair and stare
at the TV in the corner of the room.
Pictures would flicker past his eyes at a rate of knots.
Visions of people form all over the world. Some happy and
colourful. Beautiful happy smiling people full of life and laughter. Others
were not so lucky. There were other people who were crying or just sad. People
who had lost everything. Homes, possessions loved ones. Hope.
Ian could not relate to any of these people.
He found it strange that other people had such opposing
reactions to the world around them. They all lived in the same world. Breathed
the same air and presumably, watched the same TV as he did. But Ian did not
cry. Nor did he feel the urge to laugh.
Ian was completely devoid of emotion.
It was Sunday night and Ian Cope sat in his chair and
watched the world around fumble along without purpose.
“This is wrong.” Ian thought to himself.
“It shouldn’t be like this.” He concluded.
And with that thought Ian Cope concocted a devious
diabolical and genius plan to put things right.
Lifting himself from the comfort of his chair a strange
feeling crept through his body. It started at his feet as he took the weight of
his frame. With each step he felt a pulse of energy surge through his body.
First his legs became stronger. Each stride had more meaning. His arms began to
pull him along as he walked toward his destiny.
Within seconds his head was electric with ideas and plans.
By the time he had reached the kitchen and flicked the kettle on Ian was
almost giddy with anticipation with the knowledge of what was to come.
A packet of custard creams was selected from the biscuit tin
and Ian made his way to his writing desk in order to write down his amazing
solution to the human condition.
“This is so simple I can’t believe nobody thought of it
before.” Chuckled Ian as he placed the …..
To continue reading this story of intrigue and wonderment please send a postal order for £5.45 to:
Sinkingship Productions POBOX 23455 Stockdale.
£5.45! It's too much sir! I won't pay it! Even if it's to read about such intrigue and wonderment!
ReplyDeleteGreat short story by the way.
Would it help if we told you that it involves cream eggs and/or dry weetabix?
DeleteI dont need to send you my £5.45 because I know exactly how Ian is/was feeling. This is exactly who I felt when I started my blog all those years ago. . . . however that was then and this is now I just hope Ian Cope has had more luck than I did.
ReplyDeleteI did once solve everything while relaxing in the bath more years ago than I can to remember but by the time I got out, dried my body, got dressed, had some food, and the sorted some paper to write on I had forgot my own solution to it all and it no longer made sense when I tried to write it down. However the name Ian Cope sounds like a name that knows stuff, not the sort of name that would become the Pope.
that who is how . . . . I was almost right just my fingers not quite working in the right order
DeleteIan Cope does sound like a man who knows his stuff... but if folks are not prepared to cough up the dosh - we may never know the full glory of his answers.
DeleteWe had a lot of hope for this new way of blogging. Bit like Scientology. Dangle that carrot and only give the answer when the cheque clears.... oh well, back to the drawing board!