Mind unravelled

The Research

It's safe to say that time traveling is a tricky business. I had no intentions of leaving my era, but it happened anyway. The weird thing is, it all began when started my research. It was the opportunity of a life time. A well-known university had reached out to me, an EMDR-therapist specialized in war-related trauma, to research the peculiar case of Thomas Shelby. It was believed, they said, that this soldier got trauma-therapy very similar to EMDR.

My interest was sparked immediately, I knew that PTSD, or Shell shock as they would've called in the 1920's, was not acknowledged as a serious mental condition. Thus, left untreated.

Besides that, even nowadays, EMDR was a bit controversial. We were not completely sure about how it worked, but it was effective and that's all that counts. But, in order to 'invent' or use EMDR, the therapist must have had knowledge about how the brain works. And that was exactly what they didn't have so much in the 1920's.

I worked together with an historian, who had already been familiar with the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders. Recently, new sources had been found, hidden away in the deep cellar of an inconspicuous house in Small Heath, Birmingham. Among the numerous pages about accounting, enemies, allies and illegal plans, were also journal pages. Most likely to be scribbled down by Thomas Shelby.

Thomas Shelby had been a soldier in the first world war, he fought in France and, unlike most others, came back. Once returned, he led the Peaky Blinders to an absolute high. According to an older source, notes written by their aunt, his leadership was negatively affected by symptoms of shell shock.

One day, I was spitting through all the notes written by Thomas Shelby, hoping that he mentioned the therapy in one of them. I read thousands of transactions of any kind, legal and illegal. I read about murder, theft, gambling and substance abuse. But instead of anger, I felt a deep sadness as every page testified of another life destroyed.

I spend hours reading the notes, it intrigued me, yet I didn't find any reference to therapy of any kind. Business, that was all Thomas had written about. Only one vague sentence gave me the feeling I had a small peak inside his brain. On the side of paper, a small scribble said "the sounds of shovels are getting louder. Stop it."

That's enough for today, I said to myself after eight long hours of reading. When I stacked the papers and books I hadn't read yet, I tried to be hopeful, instead of disappointed. There was still so much to read, I surely would find some clues about therapy. Then I made my mistake.

I picked up the paper with the small scribble on the side. I wanted to keep it separate from the rest, so I could find it easily back. As I was looking around the office, I mumbled to myself 'I wish you could tell me what happened, Thomas'.

At that moment, I noticed the deep rumble coming from beneath my feet. I could feel it too, it vibrated through the floors and walls. A stack of papers shifted and spread all across the floor. I took a step towards it, intending to stack them again, but even though I put my one foot in front of the other, I didn't move through the room. I was stuck in place. And time, but I didn't know that at the very moment. The deep rumbling sound became so loud, that I felt like it was tearing my guts apart. My head hurt, my ears were buzzing, eyes blinded by a sharp light, feet frozen to the ground and my hands clenched into fists.

I was dying, I knew that for sure, it was the only explanation my mind could think of. Yet I felt no panic, only peace. I amazed myself with this calm approach and acceptance of my fate.

A last thing went through my head before everything went black. So this is it, now let's go and find Thomas Shelby in the after-life.