STALKER

Chapter 56 - 14th -15th July

14th pm

I slid across the floor and smacked right into the wall. These running jumps are going to be the death of me. Seeing the familiar walls of my room instantly made me feel safe. I lay on the floor, my head pounding from the collision. I was still sweaty and hot. I could still smell the food stalls, the spices, the smells lingered on my clothes. I closed my eyes and fell asleep on the floor. It had been a long day and I was feeling pleased with myself.

.....

14th am

That morning after Weirdo left I spent some time researching my jump. With the little information I had, I could only make a calculated guess at time. The destination wasn't a problem, as I recognized the building. I had seen it in so many dramas I instantly recognized the two-store pavilion with its three arched gates. I googled images of the original building and how to get to it, rather than arrive in an open area. I wanted a more secluded place to arrive. Maps were nonexistent. As for the date, I had a brief glimpse in my vision, of a partial date on a newspaper headline, August 1905. I had no currency to take with me but I decided to take some shillings along just in case. It was going to be a quick reconnaissance affair, in and out. Once that chore was ticked off my list of things to do, I went on to the next.

Dinner with my family made me realise that I wanted to make my place more welcoming. I wanted them to drop over if they felt like it. It was strange to think Weirdo has been my only visitor. I really was becoming an anti-social hermit. My solution was the same as before, throw money at the problem. I was going to buy furniture for the lounge, and a dining table and chairs.

My mother, after the initial joy of seeing the designer handbag, started lecturing me about being sensible about money. It took her another10 minutes of berating me for being wasteful before reality kicked in and she was asking where the hell did I get the money to buy things like expensive bags, wine, and furniture. As I normally live from pay check to pay check I knew my sudden spending spree would freak my parents out. I easily imagined the things that ran through my mother's overactive mind; I'd mortgaged the house, sold a kidney, promised my firstborn to the devil. I told them the truth, in a fashion, that I'd won a reasonable amount on the lotto, not millions or anything like that, and being the consummate bullshit artist that I am...they believed me. It was true, if you squinted and looked sideways, after all being able to now travel back in time could be regarded as winning the lotto. I definitely foresee a lotto win in the next few months...don't judge me.

So.....I sat on my laptop, being the hermit that I am, and bought a couple of couches, more paper lampstands, the biggest coffee table I could find, a huge smart TV; and a grey modern table with 8 chairs, all online. Isn't modern technology great I could furnish my home while sitting in my room in my pj's, puffing away, drinking endless cups of coffee, and voile all of it got delivered to my door. I figured I could tell my parents I invested what was left and that will keep them happy, and keep my lying to a minimum.

Before my jump, I cooked myself a meal....who would have thought Timothy Morrison would eventually grow up and take care of himself. The boy who only ate out of cans, and lived on toast, if he couldn't order take away. My mother had doubts it would ever happen, and that I'd be living with them until some poor girl got lumbered with me.

When everything was done and dusted it was time to jump. It was early evening 7'sh and I felt a nervous knot in my stomach start to form. There's always a point just before I jumped when something in me resists, that says this isn't natural, don't do it. That voice is less strident these days and easier to ignore.

Last of all I showered and carefully got dressed for my jump. This part of the process has become a bit of a ritual. I use the time to calm my nerves, I haven't totally overcome my fear of jumping. But as soon as I slip on Granddad's clothes I suddenly feel strong, bolder. It's my imagination I know but I feel his courage rub off on me. When I slid his ring on my finger and strap on his watch, a switch flicks in me and I can do anything I put my mind to do. I drop a few shillings in one pocket, my cigarette case in another.

Standing in front of the mirror I slick my hair flat, it makes my hair darker. It changes my looks dramatically and exposes my broad forehead and the strong lines of my face and neck. Defines my cheekbones, chin and makes them more angular. I look more like John this way. Something changes even in my eyes and the way hold my head.

I took a few selfies and then got ready to jump. The last thing to do is put on my cap and my sepia-tinted round wire glasses. I walk to the middle of my room and jumped.

.....

15th am

That was yesterday and this morning I woke up with a golf ball size lump on my forehead. Otherwise, it was a successful jump and I got some brilliant photographs which I've had printed up. It must be so strange to see a face that once belonged to you. Weirdo will never see the fierce look in that man's eyes, that same intense look I have so often seen in his. He may recognise himself, or at least the emotion that creates that look. It's travelled through lifetimes with him, in his genes, his bones, his soul.

Even though I can safely, more or less, probably, say we're friends. That we have a strained, almost always awkward friendship but I have no idea how to contact him. I have no phone number or address. I've never thought of asking him. In the beginning, I didn't care if he spontaneously combusted before my very eyes. As time went by and he got less annoying, it just never came up. He always seems to appear at my door or I see him at the club. I know some extremely personal things about him and yet none of the everyday stuff. I have to wait till he makes his next appearance.

I might go to the club tonight and catch him there.  I can't help but feel excited to share the experience with someone.  Especially someone with a vested interest in the jump and its outcome.  Up to now, it has been a solitary pleasure.  I've shuffled through the photos so many times.  The images are fixed forever in my mind.  I've examined the man's face, feeling like I should recognise Weirdo somewhere in the features but I don't.     My favourite is of him as he first turned to look at me, the eyes intense and suspicious, the arms folded across his chest.  You can see the ring clearly; and luckily the newspaper folded in his pocket which identifies the date and location of the jump, it couldn't be a better combination of elements to confirm who this man was.

I am so curious to see how he reacts.  He wasn't himself when I last saw him, still shaken about the jump.  I hope this restores him to his usual obnoxious self.