“God damn it! Stay focused! Focus on anything, don’t drift! That ash tray, focus on that!”
No one notices Charles’s frantic eyebrow twitch as he mumbles to himself staring at a dirty ash tray widening his eyes.
No one notices as he flickers in and out for fractions of a second. Desperately he attempts to remain in existence.
No one notices as the sweat discolors the collar of his powder blue shirt.
No one except Penny, an escort from the right side of town with all the wrong intentions.
She walks toward Charles like a beautiful sultry snake. She coils around her prey. “What wrong sugar? You look a little peeked” She say pretending not to notice his condition.
“I have to focus! I have to stay focused! I can’t drift away!”
“Hell honey, I can keep you focused. How focused were you lookin to be?”
“Real focused!” he says. “About two bumps focused?” she whispers.
“You can help! Sure, whatever. If you can help, please help!” She wedges out a small vile from her bra. “Honey, help does not come cheap around these parts.” she snickers.
“I have payment! Please, if you can…help!” He reaches into his pocket to reveal a small velvet burgundy pouch. He takes out a gold coin and hands it to her. “Please!”
She passively places the vile under his nose. “Sniff it in baby.”
He sniffs in the fine granulated dust. He then begins to cough as his eyes roll into the back of his skull. “What is this!”
Penny bites down on the gold coin to verify it’s authenticity. “It’s focus dust! How’s it working?”
Charles looks around the room in Awe. “Amazing..”
Penny reaches for Charles’s other coin pouch. “For two more of those coins, I can keep you focused all night.” she says with a laugh.
“Thank you! This focus dust is wonderful…I fear it will only last another couple of moments at best” He gives her two more coins. “If you can help me remain in this time for an evening I will be happy to give you the rest of these as payment”
She smiles and hooks her arm around him. “What’s your name sugar?”
“My contact has labeled me what he refers to as Charles.”
“Haha! That’s pretty wild! Charles it is then! Sit tight Charley, I have make arrangements for our night.” She places her beer on his table along with her clutch bag as she wisps away.
Charles notices a large silhouette of a man across the bar room tucked in a dark corner. He also notices the brief exchange of words Penny shares with him in passing after a stern conversation with the barkeep before returning.
“Penny are you familiar with what a trans dimensional plane is? More specifically trans dimensional travel? he says asking casual.
“What?! Hehe no. I don’t even know what language that is…Wait, I don’t remember telling you my name either, I mean..did I?”
“You just did now, I was remembering it. Penny the focus dust! It’s beginning to fail!” Charles begins to flicker again. In fear of losing a new potentially wealthy client, she grabs his arm attempting to keep him physical.
She walks over to Charles like a beautiful sultry snake. She coils around her prey.
“What’s wrong sugar? You look a little peeked.”
“Penny, I’m sorry. The focus dust is failing! You should not have touched me!” he says in a panic.
“How do you know my name? …Wait I’ve seen you before..I don’t remember remember me telling you my name..I mean, did I?”
“You just did now. I was remembering it.”
“..Wait, stop! You said this before, you where here before! Who the hell are you?!”
“It’s not who, it’s when. Penny you said you can help me.” He said looking into her soul through her eyes. She reaches to shove him away,
She walks over to Charles like a beautiful sultry snake. She coils around her prey. “What’s wrong sugar? You look a little peeked.”Why I am peeked honey, What’s your name?” He says oddly calm.
“I’m Penny” He softly grins.
-TBC in sobering times.
Hope you like the progress. Sorry I cut it short. This is how it began. The Story that is. On my journeys to create false realities (stories) I learn to find them during environment changes and social shifts. I go to bars to write. No new process to the world I imagine, but a small discovery for me. I usually draw. I’ve wrote at bars before, but always with purpose. The intent of this story had no purpose. It’s my escape from reality.
The ideal functions of a local watering hole do not entice me. I kind of hate them. None the less, I believe it’s where creativity hides. Somewhere in the ether of shame and hopelessness it hides. I need it. I crave the electric impulse it provides, so I partake in the ritual. I drink, then I begin to write. I am always left alone. I become an island. I write.
The story (In This Moment) I have wrote here is all that was written the last time I went to a bar. When I arrive back to my dwel, I transcribe, contemplate the angles and complete the story.
Would you be interested in the rest of the story?
I appreciate if you do. It will finish either way.
Thank you for reading. I hope the explanation of this process was useful. At the very least entertaining.