oneshots

Hypnosis

A clink echoes in my ears as I shake my head vigorously. I must have zoned out again.

My eyes are met with a blurry bright yellow blazing flame crackling within the grasp of the golden lighter my friend held in my direction.
Perplexed at the sight, I furrow my eyebrows at my friend.

She only vaguely signals at my lips.
Ah yes, the cigarette.

As if still in stupor, I clumsily bend forth as the harmless evil sets ablaze before sluggishly turning into ashes while still in the grasp of my lips.
The fumes make me lethargic, stupefied;
Yet I have no ambitions to lay my life to waste.

I, thus, crumple the deplorable roll of paper under my foot and stand up to leave.

The night was indeed lamentable and I believe I could have handed all my worries to the dripping city lights, yet there was something troubling my tranquil mind. Therefore, I deem it best to go home and sleep lest I should be looking for trouble at 3:37 a.m.

.

.
I wake up the next morning with an obscure pain in my head.
Bargaining with discomfort over time was the only way I could reach the university exam hall.

Somehow I make it to my Psychology exam.

"You are to analyze every question properly.", the professor strolls in the centre of the room but stops at my sight.

"G..Good morning"

"Im glad you could make it.", she smiles gently at me.

The voluptuous clicking sound of her heels on the wooden floor largely seems to be plunging the sanity out of my brain as I start to get irked by the rhythm of it.

However, the harboring aroma diffusing from a scented candle placed at her desk does provide me with some relish.
Thankfully the resonance stops as she hands me a sheet of paper with a gentle smile.
It was indeed the question paper.

I force a smile at her before rushing to my arranged seat.
I inhale a whale's worth as I flump on the wooden chair.

No sooner do I glance at the inked paper than she announces,

"Your writing time starts now!"

She turns around and unbuckles the metronome set on a time limit of 15 minutes.

Simply put, the test paper looks pathetic and I must be looking miserable trying to put my everything to remember.
Honestly, I don't remember a thing.
Ever since this obnoxious pain has started troubling my brain, my memory has gone downhill.

I cannot quite put my finger on when it started, but everyday, it seems to grow.
Textbooks already were a grievance to me, but now it's impossible to recall even what I learn in class everyday.

I wipe the beads of sweat sticking to my forehead as the first half hour passes.
My paper is still empty, yet my mind isn't.

There is a suspicious anxiety lingering in my brain about... What if I end up not writing anything at all... Exactly what is happening gradually.

My breathing pattern takes a strenuous stance as the metronome strikes thrice announcing only 15 minutes to go for the submission.
Now the teacher sets the machine such that it announces every second.

I look around myself to see if I was the only one getting disturbed by the beat reverberating across the silent room.
I'm pretty sure everyone is engrossed in their own work without minding the 'tik-tok' sound.

I shake my stupefied head once again and gain my attention back to the blank piece of striped paper.
The whiteness of the paper was yet again disturbing as I finally open my pouch and take out a mechanical pencil.
I write my name on the sheet and before I dare of even read the first question, another sound afflicts disruption to my comprehension.

I sceptically dawdle my head to decipher the source of the spontaneous ticking.
I peek over my shoulder to see a girl nervously pressing the thrust valve of a retractable ballpoint pen.
Hearing another ticking sound, catches my attention on the unconstrained note of the metronome.

The vibrations as if pentrate into my head and make me feel an extreme compulsion of running away while
I sense the lingering pain in my head slowly coming back.
I hold my head and press it as tight as I can with both of my arms.
I press my ears so that no noise enters anymore.

Nonetheless, I have to write something... At least something.

Once again I pick up my pencil and try to write but the noises are so perturbing to my mind that I notice how I unknowingly break the lead of the pencil.
Fumbling, I take out a gel pen from my pouch but I somehow end up breaking the nib of it as well.
Finally I draw out a sturdy wooden pencil and write the first letter.

To my horror, the pencil breaks too.

I pull my hair out in exasperation and look up to the front, chest raising up and down heavily from all the strained breathing.

I see my teacher smiling at me which astounds me once again.
My hands now shiver as I fish out a blade and carefully proceed to sharpen my pencil.
The vibrations of the metronome seem to become faded as the aroma of the candle once again calms my nerves.

My head starts feeling lighter than ever as my breaths slow down.
I feel dazed in a trance-like manner.
All my worries seem to be slowly flowing away.

It is until I am shaken by a scream from the girl on my right who looks petrified at the sight of my paper.
I look down and my eyes widen in terror.

Blood.
There is blood all over my sheet.
Thick red blood;
Still oozing out of the veins in my finger.

Perhaps it was not the pencil I was sharpening with my blade.

The professor rushes to me at once and helps me out from my seat while yelling my name.

"Call 911", she shouts.

.

.
Later on I regain consciousness in the nursing room of my college due to some murmuring beside me.
The pain in my head is eased for now, though I doubt it has subsided for good.

I open my eyes to see the professor standing right next to me talking to a police officer.
I get up slowly while she stoops to assist me.

"Do you remember what happened?", a series of questions awaited me which I have no answers for.

The police officer eventually gave up and stepped to the window with a deep sigh.
It seemed like my problem runs deeper than superficiality.

With a cigarette put in his mouth, he roams his hands all over his pants but  seems to be lacking the neccessity.

In the leap of a moment, the professor hands him a golden colored lighter with a smile.
I exhale deeply at the exchange.

In a matter of seconds, as it all comes down on me, I realize where have I  seen that lighter.

I'm sure of it.
I saw it.

Last night.

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