Chapter One
Doorstep World
Doorsteps come in all shapes and sizes and York’s Micklegate has its fair share. My favourite one is half way up, or half way down this street depending on your viewpoint. After a good or a bad night out, it’s my final resting place.
Tonight or perhaps more accurately 2am early morning was however a deviation to this rule. This doorstep felt familiar yet it was further up the street than my usual. Although cold and wet (it had been raining) vital things were missing. I should be totally drunk as normal at this time and the inclination of the cobbled road (it’s on a hill) should be swaying pleasantly so that I have to hang on to the doorway. Now however I have never felt so level headed; practically buzzing. The last time I felt like this was after my divorce five years ago! It was to be short lived of course with mother dying and then losing my job, all within two months of each other. The road accident was the final straw. I realised now that had been no excuse to go to pieces and turn myself into an alcoholic. I had hit rock bottom and then discovered there had been a basement attached to it.
Fragmented thoughts filled my mind. My previous recollection was last night in my living room. There was a gap between that memory and now but this morning, painful thoughts had taken on a fresh perspective and had become more soft focussed and manageable. I had become a new dynamic person squatting within this No 84 doorway; there was a purpose in my life: if only I could remember it!
Plainly focused within my right hand was an empty whisky bottle. The equation - alcohol plus mouth- should equal oblivion? Another missing point was my clothes: they were as dry as parchment yet outside my doorway the rain was pelting down. The final thing that spooked me was on my feet. I was wearing carpet slippers. Now I know that occasionally I am forgetful but tonight coupled with all the other irregularities that took the final straw. I began to shake and it wasn’t with the cold. Something nuzzled against my left thigh. Looking up at me with shiny red eyes was a rat the size of a small cat. We gazed up at each other with curiosity and silence.
Within my mind an analytical process took place; the rat had wet black fur, slender delicate paws and shimmering whiskers. It began to wash itself vigorously. “Don’t forget behind your ears,” I whispered.
Down the far end of the street the echo of footsteps, sharp upon the dawn air began to hold dominion. Fearing that it might be the police, I cowered within the doorway being arrested for drunkenness was all he needed. A figure abruptly appeared. All black glasses, white overcoat and tousled hair he scrutinised me closely. “There you are - how are you feeling now?”
“I am fine thank you - just taking a rest.” I scrutinised him closely. “Do I know you?”
He turned as if to go. “Don’t worry; it will take some time to adjust to your new surroundings.”
He took off up the street and I watched transfixed at this retreating form. The rat too then scurried off into the rapidly advancing dish water sun. I stood up to go home. An abrupt thought trickled into my mind. I am in love with Stella, if only I could find out where or more importantly: who she is.
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Chapter Two (a sneak preview!)
A silent scream fills my head and stays there like a congealing wound. I am rigid with pain that sears from my throat and down my upper body. My face is covered preventing me from seeing anything but a dull blackness. Occasionally I smell a cold waft of ozone, and it reminded me of an electric train set I had when I was a boy. The breeze dances over my body and I know that I must be naked. If only I could see.
As if in answer my sight is restored and I gaze up into a masked face bathed in a red glow.
“Am I in hospital?”
Abruptly the masked face descends until it hovers inches away. An illusion of peace claws my senses and I am flying through soft woolly clouds. I fight against this drugged state of mind and regain consciousness but the penalty is the return of agony. Once more he is back inside my mind sifting and scattering my thoughts like confetti. I can hear the whirr of a helicopter, the smell of aviation fumes and then Auster's worried face swims into view. Pointing straight at me is a gun. There's a sound like a branch snapping and instantly I double up in pain. In stark contrast, close up, there is a woman’s bloodied face looking concerned at me.
“Stella?” With tremendous effort I snarl: “These are my private emotions, not for sharing. Love, hate, can’t you feel the difference?”
My body convulses as if a lightning bolt had skewered it. Around me are three swan-like necks bearing down upon my throat; red needle-points of light spit from each; they look like lasers. A sound like a faint swarm of bees hypnotise my senses.
“Who are you?” I gasp.
The figure totally ignores me; his entire concentration and hand movement are focused around my throat and upper body. I began to realise that this is no hospital, because I am sitting in a dentist chair. Above my head beyond the face, beyond the smell, and beyond my pain I can see an oval shaped window. Through that, I swim into a whirlpool of stars. Abruptly my friendly clouds return.
I have no concept of time but hours must surely have past before I regain consciousness. My attention is drawn towards a focused beam of light that spills from a huge porthole in the ceiling and onto the floor. The room itself is small and circular with a dank musty smell giving it a cavern like impression.It is difficult to see my surroundings with any clarity. What I do see however fills me with dread. Against the far wall are three stainless steel cabinets that look like water fountains. Protruding from each are thin swan-like necks. I glance down and see that I am wearing a single piece of white clothing that looks oriental in design and texture. Close by, I become aware of a strange swishing sound and then a subtle fragrance of cinnamon wafts into my nostrils.
"Are you rested?"
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