Shades of Misty Blue: A Romance of Fate and Destiny

By R.J. Boyd

Kristy’s cat, Misty Blue, is dying. The kitten had originally been Jeremy’s gift to her as an emotional compensation for her miscarriage. He had said that when she was ready, they could try again. She had waited too long. Jeremy had fallen sick, and then Jeremy had died. That was two years ago and she still missed him terribly.

Misty Blue was his only living legacy, and now she was being forced to have the animal put down. After this, she vowed that she would never have another animal in her life, and that she would never cry again. In an attempt to take her mind off things, she had been coerced by her two friends to go to the local club to see a hypnotist show.

She was supposed to be an observer only, not turn out to be one of the hypnotic subjects. She embarrassed herself when she repeatedly sat on a handsome stranger's lap, to kiss and cuddle him. She is a rural journalist, and the experience and the subsequent events of that encounter, were to rekindle emotions within her, which had so long ago been suppressed.

The handsome stranger, Blake James, is an inspector for the auspicious APACO, the Animal Protection against Cruelty Organisation. He has been tasked with the responsibility of investigating a large battery hen laying operation on the outskirts of the city, to document any evidence of animal cruelty or neglect, and to prosecute if necessary. It is an action which would see the poultry farm locked down in quarantine, with an eradication program to contain a nasty outbreak of disease.

His actions would ruffle a lot of feathers, but that one eventful evening at the hypnotist’s show and meeting the rural journalist, would shape his destiny. Their paths would cross again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Oct 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925959796

Book preview

Chapter 1

It only felt natural to want to sit on his lap. Her little voice was telling her to wrap her arms around his neck, to kiss his cheek and nibble his ear. And it didn’t seem strange that the huge crowd in the auditorium was looking at her with fascination, or that they all seemed to be laughing and jeering in her direction. Why should it? He was the love of her life. The music was the lure and this was their song.

Hold me in your arms, kiss and caress me.

Whisper in my ear, tell me you love me.

I’ll be here beside you, the whole night through.

Hold me in your arms, my one and only …

Kristy combed her fingers through his hair and kissed his neck. She snuggled her body into his, allowing herself to become intoxicated by his scent, and feeling herself becoming warmly alive by their closeness. For some reason or other, it didn’t bother her that he wasn’t reciprocating her public display of affection. Her little voice was controlling her will, until the music stopped.

She recoiled to reality, instantly springing off his lap and into the aisle. Where the hell was she, and who was this man whose lap she had been sitting on? Her nostrils flared. She glared at him, her eyes shooting daggers. He was definitely handsome, but the amused grin on his face mocked her to the core. She jerked her head around looking for her bearings. Her seat was a dozen rows back and her friends were beckoning to her with hysterical gestures. What was so goddamn funny?

Kristy glanced back at the stage as she moved quickly away. The hypnotist was having a field day. Perhaps she was under his spell. The last thing she clearly remembered, was walking up to the stage with her hands clasped tightly together. She had stood in line beside twenty or so other people, all suffering from the same affliction, to have something whispered into her ear. She remembered falling backwards to be caught by the magician’s voice, to be then guided into a seat with her name on it. After that, it was as if she were in her own dream world, acting out various fantasies. Oh God! She had been his subject and under his spell. What other embarrassing things had she done?

Oh, you were so great Kristy, said Lauren, reaching out to guide her into the seat. Do you remember what you did?

No … well kind of. Everything is like a dream. What was I doing sitting on that guy’s lap?

The hypnotist gave you a suggestion, that when you heard a particular piece of music playing, you’d automatically be out of your seat, looking for and grabbing hold of the first male you were attracted to. Then you would kiss and cuddle that person as if he was your partner. But when the music stopped, you would spring off his lap and wonder what the hell was going on.

Ohhhh…! How many times have I done that?

That was your third time, and the second time with the same fella. Cute isn’t he?

~ ~ ~

You didn’t have to be so obvious! reprimanded Amanda.

What’s that supposed to mean? asked Blake. I had no control over the situation.

Tonight was to be a make-up night. It seemed as though all they ever did was fight. He had only been dating Amanda for a few weeks, and although she satisfied the majority of his qualifying criteria, her insane jealousy was becoming all too much.

I couldn’t very well throw her off my lap, could I?

It was more the way you were looking at her. She didn’t have to single you out. Two out of three occasions is more than just a coincidence. You know her from somewhere before, don’t you?

Come on Amanda, I’ve never seen the woman before in my life. Look, this conversation is ridiculous. Every time we go out somewhere together, you accuse me of wanting to have an affair with any female who looks in my direction.

Blake had to admit to himself though, it was pretty coincidental that the young lady had sought him out a second time. The hypnotist had previously stated that subjects under hypnosis were compelled to be their true selves. They didn’t lie or hide their feelings, and if this were the case, then physically she must have been drawn to him. He felt flattered and warmed by the attention. It would be intriguing to see if the scenario repeated itself.

~ ~ ~

I’m so embarrassed.

The show isn’t over yet, and you’re still under his spell.

But I’m sitting down here with you, confirmed Kristy with a hint of panic in her voice. I’m part of the audience. He can’t get me up again. I won’t go.

Not true. He has queued your brain to respond to various posthypnotic suggestions.

Like what?

Like when you hear him asking, ‘where is my flock’, you will instantly stop what you’re doing and bleat your way back to the stage, to sit in the seat with your name on it. It’s not over for you yet.

How had she gotten herself into this predicament in the first place? This was all Lauren’s fault. Come along, we’ll have a good time, we’ll have a few laughs, she had encouraged. The problem was, she was supposed to be having a laugh at other people’s expense, not the other way around. Not that she wasn’t feeling good. Strangely enough, right here, right now, this was the best she had felt for ages. This outing had allowed her to get out of the house, to give her a short break away from her dying cat, Misty Blue, and for that distraction she was thankful. It seemed lately as if her whole life had dropped into a big black hole of emotional despair, with no way out. Why couldn’t she just wake up one morning to find that the poor animal had died in its sleep? Why did it have to reach this stage of being forced to have Misty Blue put down?

In hindsight, there was little wonder she had made such a good hypnotic subject. When asking for audience participation at the beginning of the show, the hypnotist had said that to be a good subject, it was necessary to be able to side-track the conscious mind. He had said it was important for the subject to have the ability to concentrate and focus on something else, so that his voice was talking directly to their subconscious. Now clasp your hands together and throw them out in front of yourself, he had instructed with a demonstration to show everyone what he expected. Now I want you to relax, and concentrate with all your thoughts and attentions on the minute flickering of any one of those fluorescent lights on the ceiling above you.

She had participated in the experiment along with everyone else. The minute flickering of the light had somehow misdirected her mind, off onto a sad tangent of thinking about Misty Blue’s depleting life force and how it was showing up in her eyes. Consciously her mind had been distracted, and she certainly wasn’t aware of the hypnotist’s ongoing suggestions of how her hands were being stuck together, how they were acting like a vice and were squeezing together tighter and tighter. He had suggested that it would be impossible to take these hands apart when he offered a challenge, and it was truly as if she had awoken from a dream to discover that she couldn't. It was as if they had been glued together, and in spite of her best attempts to separate them, she realised with a touch of panic that it was impossible. She’d had no other choice than to follow the other susceptible subjects up on stage, to allow him to unlock the condition with his mental key. Somehow it hadn’t ended up as simple as that, and now she was under his control until the end of the show.

He didn’t have me doing that, did he? she asked, watching in disbelief as a fellow subject munched into an onion with the belief that it was a juicy apple.

Kristy screwed up her face. The power of the mind was fascinating to watch. She could almost taste that onion’s hot pungent odour, almost feel its acrid oil squirting her in the eyes. The poor bloke was ripping into it with relish, and heading for his third mouthful, before the hypnotist could compose himself and literally snap his fingers to break the illusion. He then allowed everybody to observe his subject’s repulsive reaction, before whispering something into his ear, to have him drop blissfully off to sleep once again. No, she wouldn’t suffer this indignation. She would resist his suggestions. Lauren had told her the key words. She would listen very carefully, and be aware and forewarned to be able to actively resist his control. She didn’t have a hope in Hades.

When her call came, it was an instinct to respond, like a mother’s reaction in response to the wail of her baby. It felt strange, totally irresistible and compelling, but natural that she should be out of her seat in a flash, to be bleating like a lost lamb and moving towards centre stage. It was coincidental however, that she should turn her head and bleat at the exact spot where she had previously sat on the handsome stranger’s lap. Although fleeting, the glance was long enough for her to recognise a silent amused smile on his face, which would burn into her memory for a long while. Once up on stage though, she gave a spectacular Stella performance. Her rhythmic routine in the dance of the seven veils had the audience on their feet. They were screaming and whistling for an encore. They loved her. Why shouldn’t they? She was the world’s best. They had queued for hours and paid a lot of money just to see her perform, and wow, their accolades felt so good.

The hypnotist continued to weave his magic. He juggled his now thirteen subjects from one scenario to the next, with each act having the effect of putting his participants deeper and deeper into their hypnotic state, and deeper and deeper under his control. The audience lapped it all up. Their cheering, laughing and clapping serving as a tool to spur on and encourage his subjects to greater heights as they moved from scene to scene. Suddenly she felt so cold. Where was she? Somewhere in the Antarctic? And who were these people she was clinging to? It didn’t matter who they were, she needed their body heat. Then it got so hot. Who were these same people now crowding her space and making her feel so annoyed? Oh God, the heat was so oppressive and suffocating. But now so calm and drifting deeper and deeper asleep. Going back to relive the joyous excitement of receiving her first bicycle as a little girl, and then onto the feeling of losing her first tooth. Somehow, her dreams then skipped forward to her teenage years, and the feelings of that first high school date.

The memories were all so real. She could see, hear, touch, taste and smell their very existence. It was as if she were actually there reliving the moments, and being guided through them by a craftsman who led her from one emotion to another. The hypnotist was that craftsman, a brilliant technician who was an observer of human reactions. He very quickly moved from one scene to another to avoid any lingering abreactions from his subjects. It was inevitable though, that sooner or later his suggestions should open up doors of association, which would have her reliving the pain of Jeremy’s death. His suggestion, when it came, was in no way sinister. It was merely her interpretation of that suggestion which made her response so dramatic. It was an abreaction the hypnotist wasn’t expecting.

Feel the sadness of saying goodbye and of that last kiss. he instructed.

She began to wail mournfully and deep from the pit of her stomach. She awoke from her hypnotic sleep, locked onto the visual imagery of that last kiss. I will love you forever Kristy, he had uttered with his last breath and desperate squeeze of his hand. Don’t go. Jeremy. Please don’t go and leave me, she had sobbed. It was as his bloodshot distant eyes had started to flutter, that she had desperately seized upon the opportunity to leave his departing soul with the touch of her lips and taste of her breath. Sorrowful tears, containing the spiritual essence of her life force, flooded over her cheeks and rained down upon his face, as with that last kiss, she bade him goodbye.

Kristy sat in the chair with her hands covering her face. She sobbed uncontrollably. The hypnotist’s assistant attempted to calm her as her two closest friends, Lauren and Simon, left their seats to rush up the aisle towards the stage. The hypnotist took command of the situation. He masterfully dropped his other subjects into a sleeping pattern, before addressing and reminding the audience of what he had said prior to beginning his show about abreactions. He walked over to Kristy’s two friends who were assisting her exit from the stage, to give them his personal assurance of her well-being, before carrying on with his performance.

Kristy leant her head on Lauren’s shoulder, as they walked towards the back of the auditorium and the exit heading out into the lounge area. She was conscious of everybody’s eyes upon her, and once again, her eyes caught those of the mystery man. A thin compassionate smile sat encouragingly on his lips. She must look awful to him, with her swollen eyes, smudged mascara and a tear stained face, but her return smile thanked him for his understanding anyhow. His face did somehow seem familiar, but then again, so did a lot of people here tonight. After all, this was the local sports club, and these people could easily be just the locals she passed by in the streets every day.

~ ~ ~

Blake felt the physical whack of her fist on his thigh muscle, before he heard her acid tongue.

There you go again!

Come on Amanda, have a bit of compassion. The woman has just been traumatised.

And of course you can make all the difference to her.

For goodness sake, all I did was smile.

Your job has made you soft in the brain. You deal with animal suffering, not human suffering.

Well sometimes, I obviously have difficulties detecting the difference, he snapped back.

Good, that comment put her in her place. Now maybe they could enjoy the rest of the show in peace. Amanda’s current source of aggravation was now leaving the auditorium.

~ ~ ~

I have to go home Lauren, she blurted as they walked out the swing doors of the auditorium.

You were thinking of Jeremy and that last kiss goodbye weren’t you?

Oh Lauren, it was so real, it was like I was actually there. I can still taste his lips.

Sweetie, you’ve got to stop this. Jeremy was my brother and Simon’s best friend. We know he wouldn’t approve of you mourning over him, like you have for the past two years. Why are you doing this to yourself? Why are you torturing yourself?

I’ve got to go home. I’ve got to be alone. I’ll catch a taxi.

It’s that bloody cat isn’t it?

Lauren, that bloody cat as you put it, is the only living memory that I’ve got left of Jeremy, and it’s dying. I’ve got to get her put down tomorrow. How do you think that makes me feel? My life can’t start again until this is all over.

Kristy began to sob gently. Misty Blue had been Jeremy’s gift to her, but it had always been his cat. The thought association was all too much.

Come on then, we’ll drive you home, said Simon sympathetically.

No, please. I need to be alone. You two see the show out.

With that comment, she was gone, hurriedly exiting the building and heading for the taxi stand. She stepped into the first cab in the queue, knowing she’d just left her two dearest and loyal friends feeling helpless and upset.

Chapter 2

Kristy bolted in the front door. The vision of Jeremy on his death bed still haunted her. She flung her bag onto the kitchen table, kicked off her high heels, then dashed straight into the lounge room to drop beside the cane basket on the couch. She spoke softly and lovingly to Misty Blue, as she slid her hands under the absorbent towel to lift her frail body and cradle it to her chest. A strong smell of animal urine wafted to her nostrils, creating