Floodlights

Fighting Egghead: A Prologue #4

"How was he last night?" his Grandmother inquired.

"Ok, I suppose. I heard him wake but he settled quite quickly. I think he had another bad dream." His mother concluded. "Remember the one he had last year, when he was supposed to be on the radio for his football skills? You know the one where he ran into the garden to get a ball at night and ran into dad?"

"Oh yes. That was strange! I mean, dad in a leotard chasing him! I mean with his legs he'd never catch him!" His grandmother quipped.

"This one is different, I think. It seems more sinister. He doesn't talk about it much. He just seems to get on with things and plays football in the lounge with that sponge ball. I suppose at times it calms him down."

"Anyways Susan, shouldn't he be home from school by now?"

The door bell rung as if it were planned in a play.

"Speak of the devil!" His mum retorted.

As the boy walked into the house he went straight to the cupboard for some sugar coated pastry his Nan had specially made. He sat down sinking into the sofa and began firing off answers to the matriarchy that preceded him.

"Good day?" his mother said.

"Yeah not bad. School was pretty easy but it was really nice so we got to play in the playground at lunch. Then we had P.E. It was really good."

"How's the pastry?"

"Great. Fanks Nan. Can I go to James' this weekend?"

"Yes I think so. But you will have to be home a little earlier because your father and I are having Jason and Sheila around. Ok?"

"Ok." He readily replied knowing that a whole day's football in the back garden awaited him at the weekend.

"How are the dreams going?" his Nan softly enquired.

"Ah well same as usual. Still getting caught and beaten by, you know. It's so frustrating. I'm normally really really quick, but I just cannot get away."

"Well your mum's friend said that maybe you should try and change the dream. You know confront the guy or something? Maybe talk to him?"

"I suppose. But..." The boy starts get to a little shaken by thinking about the dreams although after his pause, he simply replied, "I'm still going to get caught."

As the boy watched television his eyes lowered and his dad lifted him and carried him to bed. He laid the pyjama clad boy into bed and turned down the lights to a distant dim. The boy's body spasmed and he finally closed his body down to stasis.

***

The boy opens his eyes. Same position, regular upbeat heart pounding and same room. He feels the same desires and again only sees darkness. Yet tonight's dream is different. Something may have changed or just his frustration ready to explode. But he doesn't move. He lies there, closes his eyes, and just waits for the growing phantom. It is easy to lie there because as he does so, the tiredness born from the energy loss relaxes him. The spirit grabs him and the boy feels the presence's disappointment. Then there is just black.

He reopens his eyes. He stands still because he knows that a struggle is futile. Planet Earth is closer than normal. He looks around and realises he is still alone and naked. The cackles of laughter echo around his ears but seem blunter than usual. Then out of the blue the boy just sighs and remarks "Just get on with it. I'm bored and want to go back to sleep." He cuts the boy. The boy loses his penis. There is no blood and equally no pain. It has been taken and now is gone. He is then pushed over by Egghead into the abyss. He accelerates downwards through the black hole and his vision fades to black.

***

Things didn't change much for the boy. He went to his friends' on the weekend and went back to school the following Monday. He saw his Nan everyday and things just steadily chugged along. Every night the dreams come back up; and every time the boy now just lays there and lets it happen. At least a year passes and his dreams no longer frustrate him as much as bore him. Sometimes, on the odd occasion the dream may change. Yet the outcome would be the same. He now simply adjusts and lets it happen so he can simply get on with his sleeping.

The boy finally gathered the courage to tell his brother what he was experiencing and strangely it was over a game of cricket in their grandparents' back garden.

"Oi, you know I've been having these dreams, right?"

"Yeah. I remember over hearing Mum talk about it with Nan. Did I hear right that the guy cuts off your penis?" his brother look at the boy with a bemused face.

"He does. It doesn't hurt and I don't feel like it is a big deal, just I don't really understand why I'm dreaming about this stuff. I used to be frightened but now I just let it happen."

"Let it happen? You stupid kid! All men have dicks! It is what makes you a man like Dad and me. Why you want to be a woman?" his brother was slightly mocking the boy at his, especially as he just scored a four.

"No! Shut up! I don't know! It's not as if I asked him to cut it off!" the boy started to double his efforts in trying to bowl his brother out. The game degraded into an intense expression of aggression.

"Hoooowwwzzzaaaat!"

The boy got his brother out with a beautiful diving catch to his left. His brother was caught and bowled for four.

As months passed the boy matured as expected and grew a little. He was still small but unusually wise for his age. However he seemed to keep picking up colds and always had a blocked nose. Then one ordinary day his mind finally dealt with what had been troubling him for so long. He was tired from school and was quietly watching a video. It was Friday and as such, was a little extra fatigued. The day was extravagant in its normality. The boy's father came home at 5.30pm and they all sat and watched a soap opera on television following it with a cheesy American sitcom. As they watched, food was being shovelled into their mouths as if they hadn't eaten for a decade.

As the family viewing bleated along his mother left to go out to work. The boy  went upstairs to get ready for bed. Clad in just pyjamas and socks the boy curled up in his father's legs while watching another boring episode of 'The Bill'. This was typical for a Friday night. Nothing out of the extraordinary and quite simply dull.

However since his brother had come into the lounge they fought over what time the boy should go to sleep. They always fought. Chris, his brother was five years his elder. He was in those awkward teenage years and the boy just irritated him. The feeling was likewise of course. The boy sometimes felt that his brother was there just to aggravate him to the point of a violent outburst.

They bickered all night and unfortunately for the boy, his bedtime was approaching.

"You idiot!"

"Oh shut up. You are such a little whiner. Oooh what you scared to go to bed?"

"No. I'm just not tired. Anyway why do I have to go to bed anyways? Chris isn't!"

"Because you are five years younger! When you are older you can stay up and watch more television. And you two stop bickering like a pair of old women. You are winding me up." his Dad abruptly responded.

"That's not fair! I always have to go to bed earlier."

"Oh just bugger off will you. We're trying to watch this!" Chris remarked.

"Fucking bastard!" The boy shouted with anger as his frustration boiled over.

"What did you say?" His father jumped up with eyes the size of the moon. Chris sniggered to himself smugly in the corner. The boy sprung up and darted for the door.

"Go to bed. Now!" his father bellowed like a furnace about to explode. His father chased him up the stairs. The boy ran and his feet hardly touch the floor. He ran into his room and closed the door.

It took some while for the boy to calm down. He sorted his stickers and designed a World Cup to play in his lounge the next day. Eventually as the hours rolled on, his eyes began to droop and feel like concrete. He cleared his stickers away, turned off the light and relaxed contemplating the dream that lay ahead of him.