Mime Spent Apart

Part 11

The mime finished mixing his margarita on his blender, poured it into a long glass (he felt he needed a stiffer drink than a 'proper' margarita glass would allow) and sat back on his lounge. He sat back and took a sip. It was delightful, but he still could not relax. He tried to process what had happened the day before. So this guy had been going after Nicholas since he disappeared with a whole heap of money a year or so back, and had been trailing him as the only official 'face' he had put on. But how did he know it was him with his prosthetics? And if they did know, why didn't they come after him sooner? Were they waiting for him to be vulnerable? If he had been trailing him, did that mean that he saw him blow up the mime academy? He took another long drink of his margarita, this time forcing himself to separate the flavours of apple, peach and mango that he had masterfully blended in. It really was an incredible margarita, possibly the best he had ever mixed. He believed in inspiration so obviously his subconscious decided he needed the inspiration of a truly great drink to get over his traumatic episode. He put the glass down next to his lounge and tried to relax again. This time he felt the tension in his neck slowly subside. At least, slightly. He suddenly felt quite exhausted, he had barely slept at all the night before. He was constantly worried he could hear scratchings on his building, like someone was trying to scale the face of the building. Or like someone already had and was trying to get better purchase on the wall. He felt his eyelids start to droop and began to fight the oncoming sleep. He then decided he needed the rest, most likely. He cast a glance towards the door to make sure his newly bought and installed extra deadlock was still there, though the guy hadn't exactly broken in and then closed his eyes. Immediately he found his surroundings changed to be inside of a giant wooden box. He felt the rough wood in front of him and immediately got a splinter. He sucked his finger and noticed that his hand was really small. Actually so was his mouth. He looked down and saw a small boy's body. His body. He also noticed that water was coming into the box at a rapid rate. He started launching himself at the wall in front of him. It wouldn't budge. He tried the same with the other four walls, then tried jumping up to hit the ceiling of the box. He couldn't quite reach. He started battering the wall in front of him and yelling. "Can anyone hear me? I'm stuck in here. Please let me out!" There was no answer. He noticed blood start to appear on the wood in front of him. He felt like he was about to cry. Why did they even have these tests? Something sparked in the back of his memory. A loose plank? He began tearing at the planks, at the spaces in between them. Even with his small fingers they barely fit in the spaces. After a few minutes he was worried that he would rip his fingernails off. Thought that would be better than drowning in this horrible wooden box. The water was now waist height. He couldn't kick at the planks even if he wanted to now, he wished he had thought of that before. Although, with all the good banging at the wood with his fists did, he doubted his feet could've done much better. The loose plank idea popped into his head again. No that didn't work, he tried to will it away but it stuck. Loose plank? Split plank? Faulty plank? Rotting plank? He scanned the planks around him; they didn't look the best possible quality of wood but they all definitely looked solid. The water was nearly at his chest now, he could feel himself begin to shiver. Trick plank! That was it! There was a trick plank. What did the signor say the best way to find a trick was in his classes? He closed his eyes to concentrate and felt the water hit bottom of his chin. "feel it out" he would say. That's it! He would feel it out.

He stuck his hands out in front of him and began methodically placing his palms flat against the boards, two at a time. He completed the planks on the front and turned to the left. He had to keep making little hops at this point to be able to get any breaths, he knew before long he would have to take one large breath and hold it in because that would be his only option. He tried to go a bit quicker but kept the methodical nature of his testing. He could see the blood from his torn palms floating through the water like a spectral mist. He leapt up and took a large breath, he knew he wouldn't be able to leap high enough after this. The water came up just above his eye level now, then it was over his head. Maybe it was time to give up, he thought to himself, he had already lost his parents, the last three years hadn't been much of a life, what was the point in... and then his hand went seemingly straight out and into the water. He pushed the plank next to it and it did the same. He curled himself up into half a ball and rolled himself sideways into the two planks.

He felt them give way against his weight and push slowly out against the water, which felt like a semi-hard wall of set jelly. He felt his elbows scrape against the edges of the planks on either side and then his legs but he forced himself to keep going. Finally, after what felt like the amount of time it took to run down to the end of the street when the ice cream van was there waiting with its music on but you knew it couldn't last forever and the last kid was giving his order for whatever ice cream he wanted that definitely wasn't as good as the ice cream you had in mind and your chest was hurting as you ran but you knew you had to go there before the music sped up and the wheels started turning and it disappeared around the corner, he emerged out into the ocean. Of course, he emerged upside down but he quickly righted himself and began the swim up back to the surface. He had dropped further than he expected but he managed to break the surface of the water before he needed to breathe water. He treaded water and took several deep gasps of air. He had made it. He had found the trick. He still couldn't quite shake the feeling of the box still being around him, but all he could see behind him was ocean. Ahead of him he saw the pier bridge and the shore. He began to peddle towards it, feeling like something within him had fundamentally changed.