Black Day

Black Day

Tim clawed at his throat knowing that it was useless. The dream would play itself out as it always did and he would go through the terror, the loss of control and the dreadful certainty of his life slipping away breath by shallow breath.
He’d experienced the dream a dozen times in the past month and could recognise it for what it was. Knowing it was a dream didn’t ease the sense his windpipe was shrinking to the width of the veins that surround it. He was asphyxiating in a cold blank void. He could feel nothing but his body and there was no sensation of falling, standing or even floating. He was there, out of time and out of space dying as his body struggled vainly for air. The lungs demanding the vital oxygen and the oesophagus refusing. This, he thought, must be what it would be like to die from an asthma attack.
The shrill bleep of his bedside clock radio cut through his familiar death and he awoke taking two giant lung-fulls of air as a reward. For once he was glad to see a Monday morning. He checked the time and the glowing red display told him what he already knew, it was seven o’clock and he had to get up.
Sitting up in his bed he could already feel the cold air stealing the soporific warmth from his back so pulling the duvet about his shoulders and yawning resignedly he shuffled through to the bathroom.
Winter had taken a firm hold of not just the weather but also the mood of the public. The nights were long, overlapping into what was called morning but looked far from it and the thought of another two months of long cold evenings made getting out of bed that little bit harder.
Having accomplished all the annoying little mundanetes nature and society demand of the modern man in the morning Tim moved through to the kitchen of his small flat. He detested every aspect of it, which made him wonder why he spent so much time there. Flicking on the radio he boiled some water and drew back the curtains in the living room.
His brow creased involuntarily as Tim peered out into the darkness. It was usually lighter than this by now. There wasn’t even a faint glow of the sun on the horizon.
He checked his watch. Seven thirty five. He would be late again but that hardly registered. Moving over to the phone he dialled: one…two…three. The speaking clock told him his watch was correct (and reaffirmed his lateness) but it didn’t explain why it was still so dark outside.
An uneasy feeling began needling at his spine, feeling like an intimation that was in no way allayed by an untimely flashback of his dream. Physically shaking the memory off he finished preparing the tea and drank half of it before finally admitting that even by his own hopelessly lacksidaysical standards he was late.
* * *

Perhaps it was when Tim ran, as he was doing now, that the observer became aware of just how awkward his actions were. He was in his mid-thirties but no one noticed because he’d been that age his whole life. Some people were born to be a certain age and just stayed there.
He was too skinny to be called slim in the complementary sense of the word and clothes never sat well on his angular frame. He wore his thinning hair short but still smothered it in gel. Instead of creating a flattering style it made his scalp shine through in distracting strips.
He made the bus.
“Sun’s taking its time getting up this morning!” Tim said to the driver as he entered the warm, stuffy atmosphere of the rush-hour bus. The driver ignored the smile and, examining Tim’s bus pass morosely, punched some buttons into his computer without comment.
The smile, which had been false to begin with, was now given up completely as he hunted for a seat on the upper deck. The windows were fogged with the condensation of dozens of people sweating in their winter jackets. The only available space was next to a frumpy lady with full, red cheeks and an air of disapproval that certain middle-aged middle-class women feel honour bound to emanate. She certainly took offence at Tim’s existence.
“Very dark today isn’t it?” Tim said. He had no desire to talk to the lady but he needed to be able to express his wonder at the phenomenon if not necessarily his very real concern. He wanted to get people’s reactions but this being England it was generally thought of as impolite to make a fuss if you were on fire so the sun being a little slow to rise was not a worthy enough excuse for bothering a fellow commuter.
The faltering grin was back but he could see there would be no comforting comments or shared anxiety with this neighbour. She sniffed sharply and, turning her head as far as the tendons in her neck would allow, she began an intensely pointless study of the dark world outside.
She drew her camel coat together primly, a defence mechanism against his obviously licentious attempt at bedding her. Tim swallowed hard and blushed. Some girls were laughing shrilly a few rows back and he took it for granted that he was the object of their amusement. He always was.
Despite his embarrassment he was frustrated, angry even, which ran contrary to his apathetic nature. Something was very wrong and no one seemed to care. More then that though, nobody even appeared to have noticed. It was ten minutes past eight and there wasn’t the slightest hint of dawn. It was as dark outside as it had been at three a.m. He finished the bus journey in silence with his long skinny legs pressed uncomfortably against the seat in front.
* * *

Work was hardly that. He had been sitting at the same desk with the same headset saying the same thing for three years now. The call-centre job had been a stopgap but was now his rut. The money was just enough to make the tedious day bearable. He would happily take a thirty-percent pay cut if he could find a job that compelled him. Croydon didn’t hold too many of those but maybe that was just an excuse because central London was only twenty minutes away.
Really the problem was being Tim. He had never in his life been inspired. There was no dormant talent lurking inside waiting for an opportunity to come along and let him shine. He was dull and unimaginative; the only thing separating him from his colleagues was that he had the vague notion of this truth.
“Tim, before you plug in can I see you in my office for a moment?”
Michelle was posting some results on the board as she addressed him but when Tim looked over at Gareth and saw his grinning face he knew she’d been lying in wait. Ignoring Gareth and the rest of the office he took a seat in Michelle’s office where he waited, staring out of the window trying not to fidget.
His supervisor came in and shut the door. Arranging herself primly behind her desk she jotted a note before fixing him with her best ‘now lets be serious’ stare. He knew them all but this was the most annoying, just piping the ‘I’m a cool boss who’s always up for a laugh’ look.
“This is getting serious isn’t it Timothy.”
“I should say so. It’s nearly nine and it’s still pitch black out there.” He pointed at the window but she ignored his prompt.
“I don’t see what that has to do with your constant tardiness.”
Getting to his feet Tim walked over to the window. Michelle was stunned at such a vast departure from protocol, so much so that she forgot to protest. Tim’s mind was whirling with incomprehension, fuelling emotions he had rarely tapped in the past.
“Nothing!” he shouted. “It has absolutely nothing to do with me being late but for fucks sake! Aren’t you wondering when the goddamn sun is going to come up? What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Really Timothy. I do not think there is any call for that kind of language. Why don’t you sit down and we can talk about what’s really bothering you.
“It’s the job isn’t it? Now I know you’ve been here a while now but I think if you can just show a little more enthusiasm and turn up on time you can begin moving in the right direction. If you really buckle down you could be in this chair in a year or so. What do you think about that? Timothy? Tim? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Standing by the window he glared down at his obnoxious boss and decided to do something that would make him feel deliciously happy.
“Michelle?”
“Timothy?” This was great! She was actually cowering.
“You are really and truly an awful supervisor. You have the motivational skills of a…a Geometry teacher. You can keep your shagging job and your moronically petty workforce because I quit!”
Tim stormed over to the door and flung it open, drawing the attention of the entire office. He took full advantage. “Are you all so fucking stupid that you can’t see there’s something seriously wrong? Just look out the window! It’s pitch black. There is no sun. Doesn’t this strike anyone as unusual?”
There was utter silence as Tim’s eyes went from face to face searching for even the tinniest inkling that he’d got through. All he could see was shock, fear and pity, except for Gareth who was most amused. There wasn’t the slightest trace of understanding.
“Well,” said Michelle picking her words carefully now that she knew she was dealing with a mad man, “giving up a perfectly good job isn’t going to help now is it Tim?”
He could only shake his head in wonder. All of a sudden he wanted to be as far from the office as possible. To be rid of the company and the people who chose to spend their working lives making sure people had replacement mobiles.
“Go home Timothy,” said Gareth. “Try and get some sleep. You won’t even have to draw your curtains.” There was a murmur of laughter that chased around the room making Tim want to scream. Punching Gareth hard in the face would have been bliss right then. Instead he settled for walking out of the room cursing every one of them.

* * *

Panic gripped him like a giant’s fist as soon as he cleared the building. He gazed up at the sky and was transfixed. It was too clear; there were far too many stars. They were swarming like a celestial armada ready to attack and they were much larger then they’d ever been before. Could they be getting closer? That was ridiculous though. Most of them were light-years away and some had long since expired.
He started running; still gorking up at the sky that was so wrong it crossed his mind for the first time that he might have gone mad. It came as a relief. It wasn’t the world that had changed, it was him. All of the universal principals he had grown up with and learnt to trust and rely on were still firmly in place it was the ones in his brain that had been warped out of shape.
The crowds of people pushing their way to work that morning had thinned but there were still enough to hinder his progress. He didn’t even register the angry shouts of protest as he barged them out of the way. Perhaps they weren’t there either, how could he tell anymore? His ability to distinguish truth from fiction had crumbled, freeing him from the responsibility of his actions.
He started to laugh. He laughed at the sable sky bellowing his unrestrained mirth in huge whooping fits like the lunatic he presumed himself to be until his voice went hoarse with effort and his legs grew tired from running. He slowed to a walk but still attracted disapproving glances as tears rolled off his cheeks and fat globs of snot ran into and around his mouth unchecked.
A policeman spotted this staggering figure with his head turned up and his shirt and tie undone and immediately wished he hadn’t. Reporting a possible incident back to control he approached Tim with a confident stride before addressing him firmly; text book stuff.
“Excuse me sir but I am going to have to ask that you conduct yourself in a more appropriate manner.”
Tim ignored the young officer and continued to giggle foolishly.
“Sir, stop there please,” he put a firm hand on Tim’s shoulder and brought him to a standstill.
“I must insist that you do your shirt up and start acting like a normal citizen or I shall be forced to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”
“Peace!” Tim said with amusement.
“What’s the problem sir? Perhaps I can arrange some help for you?”
“What is the problem?” Tim’s voice was steeled with indignation. “The problem?” He looked the policeman in the face for the first time and his neck popped at the change in angle. “It’s pitch fucking black in the middle of the day you idiotic drone.”
“I’ll ask you not to use that language again or I will arrest you.”
“Arrest me for swearing! Well I’m glad to see you’ve got your priorities right. Now that you’ve got me sorted out what are you going to do about this?” Tim waved his hands in the air trying to capture some of the offending atmosphere. In doing so he lost his balance and slipped down onto one knee. The policeman offered a hand.
“Leave me down,” Tim said.
“I can’t do that. Now get to your feet,” said the officer trying to pull Tim upright. The dead weight proved too much and he only succeeded in toppling the distraught man onto his back.
“Would you get up please,” the officer said losing some of his professionalism along with his patience. “Come on, Up!”
It was no use. Tim lay on the damp pavement keeping his sight fixed on the impossible sky and moaning softly. “Well? What are you going to do?”
“About the sky?” asked the policeman. Tim nodded laboriously. The young officer looked about surveying the evidence.
“Well, nothing. There isn’t anything I can do is there? No crime’s been committed.” The officer glanced quickly around again confirming his suspicion.
“What are you going to do about it?” he countered.
Tim lay deathly still for a full minute while he mulled the question over.
“I suppose I shall just have to ignore it,” he said, as a small tight line of a smile formed, turning his lips white.
The policeman seemed satisfied. “That’s the ticket,” he said, walking away happy in the knowledge that he’d helped one more confused soul.
End.