Tales from the Asylum, Nerd Valley Uncovered

By malcolm mowbray

30 short stories from one who started off as a serious writer but who strayed into the long forgotten Nerd Valley where time stands still as does the mental capacity of the inhabitants. Nothing is as it seems because here the unusual is 'the norm'which accounts for the very strange characters and stories in this tome.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9780244721718

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Tales from the Asylum, Nerd Valley Uncovered

TALES FROM THE ASYLUM

NERD VALLEY UNCOVERED

Malcolm Mowbray

COPYRIGHT

COPYRIGHT ©2018 by Malcolm Mowbray

Malcolm Mowbray, Bernier, Lignac France 36370

[e-mail].

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First year of printing2018

ISBN 978-0-244-72171-8

Published by Lulu Press

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Many thanks to Janice Appleton for all her patience in reading through my scribblings and putting me right on my lousy spelling and grammar.

(all complaints to her)

INTRODUCTION

Whilst working from home writing these following short stories for the local free magazines I began to feel, sort of different to all the other people around me; but at the time not realising the nature of my problem.

My house was situated just over the hilltop from the little known, and preferably forgotten Valley of the Nerds, and unknown to me the wind had changed to a north westerly bringing with it my pending doom, or enlightenment, depending on how one looks at it.

The following short stories will depict my slow mental metamorphosis as the writings become more and more absurd realistic, although at the time, to me, they appeared to be quite normal, whatever normality is!!!

This non-apparent transition from ordinariness towards something else turned out to be the first stage of a terrible, debilitating disease.

(The second stage was hairs on the palms of your hands, and the third stage, looking for them!!!!)

As this book unfolds all will become apparent as to the devastating effects that living downwind of Nerd Valley can have on the human mind, the mesh grills and barbed wire surrounding this otherwise pleasant region offering no defence to the plague which crept relentlessly, silently and deadly, over, under and through the flimsy retaining barriers.

YES:-

with the wind in the wrong direction and the windows open I became inflicted with that dreaded disease:-

NERD VALLEY NORMALITY!!!

These are my memoirs of this debilitating disease where the unusual is the norm as I fervently recommend all mentally unstable people to visit this valley:-

PART 1

IN THE BEGINNING THERE WAS LIGHT AND SANITY APLENTY

NO MORE BIRTHDAYS

My wife had this burning desire to visit her old school, for the nostalgia I assumed, and as we were conveniently close by I of course agreed. What the hell I thought, remarkably we had no pressing business or engagements of any sorts, which usually dictated our busy lives, and after forty four years of marriage I had learned not to resist such requests however obscure they seemed to be at the time. We arrived at the bland red brick, single story building which was typical of these nineteen sixties school blocks, parking the car we made our way towards the black painted, solid wood, double doors of the sombre looking entrance which was set midway along the front length of the building. As I silently pushed open the doors, which remarkably did not even squeak, she turned back towards the car, telling me to continue into the reception hall, she would soon catch up with me.

Inside, the cream painted walls of the unusually quiet hallway showed the normal signs of wear and abuse attributable to the thousands of unruly hands and writing implements which had indelibly left their marks over the years. To my left, the drab reception office was situated behind a large sliding glass window, where two similarly and drably dressed middle aged women sat facing each other across two tables which were placed together to form one large working surface. Surrounded as they were by teetering mounds of black edged paperwork, they never-the-less noiselessly pounded away happily on matching ancient typewriters, impervious to the dangers they faced from the potential avalanche of falling papers should any one of the mountains decide to succumb to the unrelenting forces of gravity and vibration.

A polished wooden shelf was fitted below the reception windows on the outside which supported a telephone and a couple of ball point pens, unashamedly chained to the wood to protect them from any pilfering fingers which took a fancy to them. A fresh faced youth was sitting on one of the two high stools placed beneath the shelf waving back to the receptionists, both of whom had just paused from their labours long enough to acknowledge his presence. He had gingerish coloured hair which stood up in a sort of long crew cut and matched well with the ginger freckles on his as yet unshaven and therefore unblemished skin. He looked casually smart in the white shirt with no tie, and a pale blue blazer which I took to be the school uniform. The telephone at his elbow must have rung, although I heard no sound what-so-ever, because he picked it up to answer a call which had been put through on it. Mr Mulberry? he enquired looking in my direction, the head will see you now.

Ehhh! I thought, this is not my visit, I didn’t even know why we were here, apart for a whim on the part of my wife. Errr...no, I replied, it’s my wife you probably want, Mrs Mulberry. She’ll be here in a few seconds.

I hoped that she would be, because I didn’t have the foggiest notion of what was going on! Also if we were paying an impromptu visit to an old school, why was she expected? Strange!!!

The young man relayed my message into the mouthpiece and replaced the receiver into its cradle. My wife, much to my relief appeared at that very moment through the double doors and approached me with a glow of contentment on her face. There was obviously something she knew to which I was not privy. She stopped suddenly as she spotted the youth on the seat, although she could only see the back of him and the spiky, brush like hair on his head she obviously recognised him instantly.

Michael..? she stuttered out loud, is that you? Is that really you?

The young man turned round on his seat and stopped dead as he saw her. He slipped from the stool and stood staring at my wife, speechless.

Maggie. Maggie, he murmured in disbelief, then flung himself across the small gap between them and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace so passionate that I had to look away from sheer embarrassment. Who was this.... this.... youth who was now mutually entwined with the woman to whom I had been married for almost half a century??? Finally, and much to my relief they disentangled, but hand in hand turned to face me.

Darling she said, this is my dear friend Michael, we were at school together, and I haven’t seen him for about fifty years." I looked from one to another, before warily stepping forward to clasp his hand. I don’t know whether it was because his hand was so icy cold or what, but and I could only just bring myself to hold it, rather than shake it with the vigour that an old friend of my wife’s presumably deserved. Quickly however I let it go and stepped back to take them both in once more, my eyes flitting from one to the other, something was very odd here, and I just couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.

They clung to each other like long lost lovers; perhaps they were; looking into each other’s eyes and smiling warmly, although I thought that I detected an expression of anxiety upon Michael’s youthful face. I could feel a knot of doubts rising from my stomach like a bad attack of bile, or was it jealousy? Something was very wrong here. Finally my brain stumbled into action, I found my voice and managed to croak out the few words which were whirling around in a thick fog inside my head.

You were both here at this school, together? they nodded in innocent unison in my direction whilst my panicked eyes darted from one to the other.

My spouse had aged very well and although now sixty three, she was still well preserved for her age, despite the few wrinkles creeping in (which I daren’t comment on) and the silver threads amongst the gold. On the other hand, Michael still looked like a teenager.

Errrr....errr! I stammered, if you were both here at this school at the same time, then you Michael must be about the same age as my wife, that makes you about mid sixties, and you certainly don’t look it. I’d love the recipe for whatever it is that you are taking, I added in a vain attempt to add a little mirth to this bizarre situation. Michael’s face remained impassive but my wife gave me a sort of sickly grin and tightened her grip on Michael’s arm. She leant forward slightly and said to me in almost a whisper, Michael doesn’t have birthdays anymore.

"What do you mean he doesn’t have birthdays anymore I retorted in a sort of stunned unawareness? We all have birthdays, at least until we are no longer here.

She raised her eyebrows and her wide open eyes bored into me as she willed me to understand the meaning of her statement. I just stared back into her beautiful blue pupils, willing her vibes to transmit to my befuddled brain the message she trying to impart onto me, but not really wanting to embrace what I thought it was that she was attempting to pass on.

I don’t understand, I protested lamely, knowing full well that maybe I did, but was refusing to accept it.

Oh, I think you do my darling, she purred trying to calm my evident rising panic. Michael died when he was sixteen, which is why he has no more birthdays.

No, no, no. I could not accept this as being real. "You mean he is DEAD?" I shrieked, not able to grasp the evident absurdity of what I was experiencing.

He can’t be, I continued pleadingly. The ladies in reception can see him and even acknowledged him. You can see him, I can see him. I even shook his hand for god’s sake!

The skin on my neck and up the back of my head began to prickle and crawl as I became suddenly aware of the total silence, even from the typewriters, which enveloped us, and as I recalled the icy grasp of his fingers, the total impersonality of it all began to sink in Surely this cannot be real? They both nodded gently as she took his hand, and with the other grasped mine in a futile attempt to calm me down.

Yes, she said, they can see him also.

From my dry mouth I finally managed to spit out the question which I did not want to utter but must,

Does that mean that they errr... they have no more birthdays either! She nodded slowly as the understanding finally appeared to sink into my befuddled brain.

Yes, that’s right, she cooed gently, they are the same."

I stared around me now in a blind panic, at this abnormal world inside my otherwise normal existence. Whatever was going on?

But...but,  you can see him alright as well, I blurted out at my wife, and hold him, and hang onto him. Does that mean that you also are like them?

She nodded slowly, resignedly, but not sadly as I would have expected.

So you wanted to come here to be with them, because you are the same as them? I asked her, not wanting to use any of the words which meant no longer mortal and were choking me as they stuck in my throat.

I’m afraid so, she replied softly, I was summoned by the head to this meeting, as we all are eventually.

But where does that leave me? I asked, a cold sweat trickling down my face. How come I could still see them and touch them, and converse with them if I did not belong to their non-world???

It doesn’t leave you anywhere that I cannot make you content sweetheart, she replied, "you are not out in the wilderness, on your own, never to see me again, as we will always be together now; forever and forever."

My eyes widened wildly as I tried to grapple with the terms of my situation. I fought the realisation with all my willpower, refusing desperately to believe what