The Typewriter

By Simon Black

The Typewriter will lead you on a path where all writers want to be. A path that the ordinary human being will never understand. The price, though, is heavy and very few are prepared to pay that price. There are a few who know what the score is and that not all is what it is made out to be. There is a world beyond our world. A world that is much more interesting than the world we ordinary humans know. The Typewriter will lead you into that world. Follow with caution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bakerman Books
• Release date: Aug 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370115013

Simon Black

Simon Black is creative, expressive and intuitive. He had succeeded in looking inside himself and thus discover his true self. (He also visited the Underverse, but only came back as a writer, as all Lord Marshall titles have been already been taken) His true self is of course not without problems. This makes it possible for him to use that self-knowledge in his art, his poetry and especially his writing. Like most writers he is introverted, but that never bothered him. Like a great man once said; to be a writer is to be alone. His past is full of exploratory experiences, most of which he is probably pretty embarrassed or ashamed about. When these come out, however, he is quick to confess to them and claim them as all part of who he is. A writer. He has a sense of humour, oh yes. That is why he like to talk about himself in third person. Like an undercover king.

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The Typewriter

Copyright © 2016 Simon Black

Published by Simon Black at Smashwords

Copyright © 2016 Simon Black

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN:   9781370115013

Author: Simon Black 

Publisher: Smashwords, Inc.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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The Nightmare

He must be dreaming, because what he sees around him cannot possibly be true. Can it?

On the other hand, how can he be dreaming, as he does not remember going to sleep? The last he remember, he was sitting at his desk in his office in front of his laptop, ready to start typing out a new story. He blinked his eyes and then he was here...wherever here is. Whether he is dreaming or not, this is all very strange and he don't feel good about any of it. This is the result of extreme stress.

The place where he is, looks like the toilet at the primary school he attended many years ago. The same semi-darkness, with the buzzing of that light that never seems to work quite right, the same semi-wet floor, the same creepiness. The only difference is that this place is much bigger. The pungent smell of Jeyes Fluid hangs over everything like an invisible mist. The row of stalls on the one side and the sinks on the other side, goes off endlessly to both sides, whether he looks left or right. It is like looking into two mirrors being held opposite each other together. The toilet is also much wider with lots of nooks and crannies.

He seems to be here alone, with only the slight echo of water dripping somewhere in this cavernous place. The caretaker is not going to like that.

The basin in front of which he stands, changes into a keyboard. It is almost as if this is a normal thing. That a washbasin just changes into a keyboard. Ah, he had been working too hard. He is dreaming of his work...if this is a dream. He certainly hopes it is.

The keyboard glows orange and looks extremely hot. He looks into the mirror in front of him and his face stares back at him. He knows it is his face - it must be his face, but it doesn't look the same. The face in the mirror is much thinner and the skin much paler than he had ever seen it before. That face looks sick. He is not scared, though. He just feels a bit sad.

As he looks down at the basin, the keyboard is gone, but it is clear that it was there, because there are now what looks like pieces of glowing plastic in the basin. He quickly washes his hands. The glowing plastic goes down the drain hole. The water doesn't seem right, but he just can't make out what is wrong with it.

The usual graffiti is on the walls. The caretaker is definitely not going to like that. He wonder who wrote it there, in such a neat handwriting. It almost looks like it was typed onto the wall.

ASRUHAHAL IS COMING is written in huge letters with black felt-tipped pen on the wall. Must be a new gang, he thinks to himself as he had never seen that name before. PHONE BOLRAH NOW FOR THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE - 066 642 3351.

He walks deeper into the toilet and comes around a dark wall. This is where the dripping is coming from. It is water dripping from the ceiling onto the floor. When he looks closer, he sees it is not water. It is blood. Thick and dark red. Blood? Why did he immediately think it was blood? It must be blood. When he looks again he sees that the entire floor is filled with the blood, which seems to have a strange sheen to it. It is only the spot where he is standing that is blood free. But the blood seems to be slowly encircling him, giving him that urge to just run away as fast as he can. But his muscles won't obey the brain's commands. Damn, it is one of those dreams.

And then the thunderous roar echoing through the toilet.

He was already hearing the roar as he was looking at the graffiti, but now it was becoming louder and more prominent. Fear fills his whole body in an instant, making him cold all over. This is a fear he never felt before in his life. Now, with the roar getting louder in his ears, he realizes that he doesn't know where the exit is. This is not the toilet at his old primary school, because that toilet he knew by heart.

How will he get out of here; out of this creepy toilet? All he will need to hear now is a sheep blaring and he will know it is a nightmare.

The next moment he hears a sheep blaring right next to him. It is even touching his hand. He looks down with horror. It is not a sheep.

His daughter, Irena, is with him. Seeing her with him, fills him with even more fear.

What are we going to do, Daddy. She asks as she looks up at him with those big clear brown eyes of hers. The roar is now much louder and closer. But still he does not see anything. Is this place that big? He can't get out. And what about the thick blood on the floor?

When he looks again all the basins had changed into glowing keyboards. Keyboards which seem to be grinning at him. This is a dream. This is one of those dreams and he feels even more fear running through him. The fear eats into him like acid as all the keyboards/sinks start to bleed streams of blood onto the already blood filled floor.

He had many dreams like these before. He always tries to wake himself, but he could never succeed in doing it. No part of his body reacts when he commands them to. And this fills him with even more fear, making him strain even harder. He feels himself straining against himself to wake up, but it is to no avail.

He picks Irena up and starts running away from the roar. Even as he runs, he just hopes that he is not running deeper into this evil, semi-dark toilet with all its secret nooks and crannies. The sound of that deep roar alone, makes him very certain that he do not want to see the evil that is making that sound.

Maybe he can just hide. Maybe he can hide inside one of the stalls.

But what he saw inside one of those stalls the last time he dreamed of this place will never allow him to open one of those doors again...ever. That is definitely not something he wants to see again - even in his dream.

He runs with his daughter. He does not care about himself, if he can just get her to safety. The fear runs through him like cold dishwater. He must escape. He must save his daughter.

The roar is very close to him now and is