Cause for Investigation: vengeance a cocktail drug, #1

By Sexton Voolinwinkel

I was in an unfamiliar state of consciousness when it all took place, the voices I mean! I had amnesia and was told that it may be permanent. I was subjected to the weirdest dreams during this state of mind.

∞

It took him on an adventure through a void, where he faced the danger of the unknown. Here he met with other dangers, far worse than the unknown! He tried to escape this fantasy world, but his feeble attempts seemed to lead him back to square one each time. His main objective was to avoid the dark void and the thick dark fog which attracted scary creatures. He finally met his audience, but could these masked creatures be associates from a past lifetime? He finally gave in to curiosity and desperation.

∞

The key to the door once descended upon him in the form of exaggeration, which could be decided by neither mathematical nor scientific formula, but by introversion alone. The prophets were subjected to prophecy and the mirror of time.

∞

They were nothing but dreams, or were they? Were the dreams planted, and in what state of mind was I when experiencing them? I was led to believe that an accident had been the cause of my condition, but why was there cause for investigation?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bernard Harold Curgenven
• Release date: Feb 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393675334

Book preview

Author’s Note

Work related stress and clinical depression is as real as any other form of stress and depression. Every day somebody is dismissed from their job, and it is occurring far too often without reasonable cause. People turn on one another like zombies. Petty crime is on the rise. Thinking back twenty years: I seriously don't remember seeing security companies. Now there is a great demand for them, not only due to the steep incline in crime, but also because there is little other employment available. Employers take advantage of their employees, knowing they are desperate for employment. What ever happened to the motto, 'A happy employee is a good employee'? It has simply been dismissed along with the employees! Physical and verbal abuse seems to be the trend these days. People no longer care that they are hurting fellow human beings, who are responsible for supporting families. I beseech employers to treat their employees with more respect and help where possible, as the rise in crime is directly related to human needs. We see how the tobacco companies are getting rich from the public. Retailers actually run out of stock! Tobacco truly is very addictive. The more addictive it is, the more expensive it is, as it would seem! Personally I am opposed to smoking. Like excessive gambling and excessive use of alcohol, tobacco is robbing society of life! Anyway, make your own assumptions!

Prologue

Yes it’s true; I really did hear voices, metaphorically speaking that is! They were more like nightmares, you see! Let me explain: I was in an unfamiliar state of unconsciousness when it all took place, the voices I mean! I have been told that I was involved in a serious accident when I was only twelve years old. I have been told that my amnesia may be permanent and I would be released from hospital very soon. Well, soon probably wasn’t soon enough and they were wrong in predicting my recovery too. They kept trying to psychoanalyse me, desperate for any signs of remorse, but somehow I knew all along that they too would become orphans to society, screwed by circumstances beyond their control!

∞

Young man! Doctor Sanches said, pointing to the photograph of a happy family. This is you with your parents.

They are not my parents, I said, in denial perhaps, but I seriously couldn’t remember! I have never seen them before. Is that my brother?

No, it is you! the doctor said with a straight face.

I am so young in the picture, but I don’t feel so young anymore! Please bring me a mirror, I requested. The boy in the picture looked so much shorter than me.

You don’t need a mirror now. It won’t do you any good, because you no longer look like the boy in the mirror.

But, why not? I asked unsuspectingly.

You have had reconstructive surgery to your face, the doctor explained, once again with a straight face. How could anyone lie with a straight face?

Why? What happened to me? I asked.

You were involved in a serious car accident. You really don’t remember, do you?

No and I’m not sure I believe you, I said, without giving it much thought.

That’s alright! You are not alone. We will get through this together, he said.

Get through what? Where are the man and woman in the picture?

Your parents didn’t make it, son. I’m sorry! They’re somewhere where we all go someday, he explained.

I wasn’t really paying attention though. I wanted to go home, wherever that was. This doctor was talking in riddles. He was obviously hiding something, but what? I wanted the truth and I wanted him to stop beating around the bush.

Heaven! the doctor said. He swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. Your parents aren’t coming, because they are dead. He then came over to me, presumably to comfort me. Then he took a syringe from his cloak pocket. He removed the small cap on the tip of the syringe and inserted the tip into a valve in the tube. He squeezed gently and I traced the liquid as it flowed along the tube. The tube disappeared under my bed-sheet and I suddenly remembered seeing a plastic needle protruding from my hand, attached to a tube. Why is it that I could remember something so feeble, but had no recollection of my accident or my family?

What are you giving me now? I insisted.

It’s a mild sedative to help you sleep. Your bandages aren’t ready to come off just yet. We will take a look tomorrow, the doctor said.

Tomorrow! But I have questions now, doctor. Please don’t leave me!

Sorry! I have to attend to other patients. Sweet dreams!

I was frustrated from being bedridden all day and for who knew how long before today. Please doctor. I don’t want any more dreams. Some of them are real bad, and I don’t even know if they are memories. I struggled to free my hands from the constraints, but the straps were just too powerful. I tried to lift my legs, but they were just too heavy. In fact I couldn’t feel them at all. I knew they were there, because I remembered looking at them before. It really was frustrating being in this situation, so I was somewhat less reluctant to welcome slumber-land and the frightening fantasies which accompanied it.

Chapter 1 – First Dream

The big leaders and Nostradamus were never intertwined. He scribbled while they dined. His word and tale would never fail, and when they said his literacy was hardly on par, they actually feared it was superior by far! They even cast sticks when he declined their politics, and he really didn’t care what clothing the celebrities wore then or now wear! His perseverance had earned him much more, and so we ask from within poetic mask: Who was to blame for their awe? He never needed their ill intent, for their wicked rules were intentionally bent.

"Ohel was the forgotten descendant. He portrayed an isolated existence, and he was completely independent. He died when his son was born, and was reborn where he had died, and then he evolved to surf time and tide, of which there were many in this ocean so wide! His morsel was shed and rests in an eternal bed, and the phobia dissolved, when his being evolved. He existed as a particle in a beam, which was often distorted by smog and steam, but is this legend a myth? It was foretold, and by you it would seem! Sherry gave birth to the east of Perth, in the same stable where she had met Gable, and her intention was to fulfil the fable. She had lived an eccentric life, and never bothered becoming