Godless Monkey will be away on a photo expedition of Mexico, Central America and Columbia from March 19th to April 20th. I’m running some of my old stories in my absence for your enjoyment.
Having called in sick and then made an urgent appointment with his doctor Blake went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee and sat down to contemplate the momentous changes he had been through in the last couple of days. Unbidden, images of the strange hag in the alley kept creeping into his mind. If only he had given her some money…but no, that was insane. Surely there was no connection. He needed a thorough check-up, that would uncover the truth. He shook his head vigorously and snorted. I am a rational, sane human being he told himself. Enough silliness. He got dressed and called a cab to take him to the doctor’s office.
“Well, there’s nothing outwardly apparent, but given what you’ve told me I believe an MRI is in order.”
The doctor had told him to get dressed and meet him in his office after the examination. Blake was none the worse for wear. The doctor handed him a piece of paper with the instructions for the MRI on it.
“Just go to the hospital straight away and have this done. I’ll give you a call when I get the results. Meanwhile, not to worry Blake. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Have the blood work done while you’re there, that might give us a clue about the abdominal pain.”
Blake went outside to hail a cab and just as he did the familiar searing pain revisited him. This time it hit him in the solar plexus and knocked the wind out of him completely. He doubled over just as a cab pulled up.
“Hey buddy, you okay?”
The cab driver had lowered the passenger window and was leaning across the seat with a concerned look. Blake straightened up as the pain subsided and got in the cab. As he did so he felt a horrible pressure in his skull and the world skewed with sickening quickness.
“Hey man, are you sure you shouldn’t be back in the hospital?”
The driver was looking dubious.
“No worries, my good man, 147 Elgin Street please.”
Blake could only sit in silent awareness in his own mind as the strange voice emanated from his mouth. He tried to will himself to take control, but to no avail. He had no idea what was at the address the voice had given, and when they arrived there he saw it was the local Salvation Army headquarters. He paid the driver, then got out of the cab and went inside. He was trying desperately to regain control of his body, but there seemed to be nothing he could do.
He walked up to the receptionist and heard himself speak again.
“Good day. I would like to make a donation to your organization please.”
Blake was reeling inside his own head. What in the name of god was happening to him? He raged and struggled mentally, willing himself to regain control, but nothing happened. He reached into his inside pocket and took out his check book and opened it, searching his pockets for a pen. Again the pain came, stronger this time, just below his heart. He heard himself scream and then crumpled to the floor, blackness descending.