In Search of a Requiem

“What we seek is some kind of compensation for what we put up with.”
(Haruki Murakami)

Tune into this calm instrumental and hope you enjoy the narrative that follows:

“So, Mr… tell me what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong. I…”

“Then why are you here?”

“Well… because I have nowhere else to go.”

“Umm, that comes under my definition of something being wrong.”

“I guess you’re right then.”

“So we are at the beginning again. You are here at… 6 o’clock in the morning, at a mental hospital, correct?”

“Wow! It’s six already? Jeez!”

The Doppelgänger

“At what exact moment
did the real turn into the unreal, reality into reverie?
Where was the border? Where is the border?”
(Milan Kundera, ‘Identity’)

~ 1 ~

A book of sordid tales lay open on the desk, my gaze fixed on a photograph. The eyes stare from the page: holding my attention, groping my mind, fiddling with my senses.

He seems familiar.

I had seen this man before, and yet, I was not sure whether I recognized him; only that the feeling of déjà-vu wouldn’t go away. It seemed he had a hold on me. I was mesmerized by his stare, hypnotized by the thin smile, engrossed by his rugged features. He was wizened and aged, and I sensed a deep evil in his eyes.

I think this man has a dark heart!

Slightly flustered, I walked away from the book, out through the door of the curiosity shop in which I’d been browsing, and across the few yards to where my car was parked. I got into the car, started her up, and drove the couple of miles to my house. Pulling into the drive, I noticed that my front door was ajar.

Someone is in my house.