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D-Lotus
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 Posted: Wed May 03, 2006 9:32 pm Post subject: The Knights in White Satin: Last Chapter (4) |
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Well, here is my entry for Stoat's Big Red Hot H&M Competition. This is currently the first chapter. (2137 words)
This is also a Storygame: you read, you suggest, and then you vote on your suggestions.
Knights in White Satin: 1
What, oh, what, are the Knights in White Satin? I wondered, almost crying. And why me? I stood up from the ground, where I had been sullenly tearing my hair out, so I could continue tugging while standing, a much more satisfying purpose.
“Maybe they don’t really exist?” said David, one of the beings. He smiled hopefully as he shifted in his white satin toga.
“Or maybe, maybe its only the name of a fraternity house!” said Jesus*, patting me on the shoulder comfortingly.
A third man sat on a stool, assuming the position of one of the ancient Greek thinkers, hunched over as his chin rested on his hand.
“Of course, it could be a metaphor for homosexuality.”
I stopped in my hair-tearing action, considered his proposition, and began crying. I stumbled over to the corner of the room, and let myself fall against the padded walls that constituted my mad house. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and the three beings exchanged pitying glances.
“I don’t need your pity!” I shouted, rolling over and facing the wall.
I wasn’t always this way. No, I’m not concerned with what you think of me, but let me inform you that I have not always dwelled in this stage of desperation. As my intelligence slowly dwindles, and I can feel the grating aura of deterioration, I’ll recount my story before it‘s too late. In my state of diseased mind, ailed by this sickness known as The Knights in White Satin, I’ll attempt to recall and evoke my ill fortune from the abysmal corners of my mind. Please do not make much of some inconsistencies; they only form part of my delirium.
It all began long ago, or possibly last Saturday. The month of March brought Spring Break, and I was released from my studial habits. The sky and sun could be described by words opposite of such as putrid, fetid, oozing, odorous, and hairy. From my succinct description, you’ll observe that it was a perfectly good day for swimming, which brings forth the subject of my anger.
I had my swimming apparel on (red and white stripes), and I had laboriously carried my surfing board and water pistol to the trunk in my car, when I noticed a letter stuffed inside one of the numerous mailboxes of the apartment complex I resided in. That the letter was, by some coincidence of fate, inside my mailbox (gasp), stunned me to such a degree that I stumbled into the street and fainted. Don’t worry, dear friend, I regained my senses shortly before any cars could inadvertently run me over, and guardedly approached the mailbox.
I eyed the letter suspiciously before I opened it and began reading. It didn’t amount to much more than a short note, and it read something like this:
Dear Mr. Andrew J. Black,
Welcome to the Knights in White Satin! As a newly registered member of our humble political party, we remind you to hasten to our address, to examine the finer views and points of our position. A meeting will be held Saturday 11:30 PM to 2:30 PM. Once again, we dearly encourage you to attend.
Enclosed was the adress, a street relatively close to my own living quarters. Normally, I would have tossed the note into the nearest garbage can, but the note had said I was a member of their political party, and I had never in my life been involved in politics. I gagged, and at the same time, through some joint action, I determined myself to get to the bottom of it all.
I got in my car and shot down the street; I was going to outline my finer points to them, they‘d learn not to inscribe people in any political party without consent. In only fifteen minutes, I was comparing the address written on my letter with that on the large Victorian house I had parked in front of. Although still fairly unsure as if I was in the right place, I got out, climbed the steps, knocked on the door, and waited under the big black sign that read The Knights of White Satin.
I waited for a few moments, drumming my fingers on the wall impatiently. I knocked again and received no reception but that of the ensuing quiet. I walked around the shrubs situated adjacent to the doorway and under the window, and tried to look through the window blinds, hopping slightly to get a better view. After fulfilled failure in my attempts to glimpse inside, I walked back to the door, hopping intermittently in reminiscence.
I breathed on my knuckles for good luck and knocked one last time.
I didn’t expect to suddenly plummet through a trap door, screaming, and accompanied by a lurching feeling in my stomach, but I did. Cute, a doormat trapdoor, I thought.
I traveled down the narrow slide at a trepidous speed as the friction with the metal scraped my legs and back. I cringed and tensed myself, opening my eyes wide and suffering from every possible symptom of extreme anxiety. A few seconds of panic later, I rocketed out of the chute before I was even aware of the light streaming in through the final stretch.
I landed on the hard ground, presumably packed dirt; but what can be expected of an underground hideout? Because that’s what it is, no doubt. There was a plain wooden table and a chair under a hanging lamp, very much as in a secret police interrogation room. The chair was turned towards the chute, and I estimated I had missed landing in it by nearly a foot. I got up, wiping the dirt off of my pinstripe swimming trunks. There was a sob in the darkness, and the figure of a man in a white suit slowly emerged, staring dejectedly at the chair. I scrambled backwards, and he turned his head towards me, as if first noticing me.
“I missed…again.” he said, trying to explain to me the injustice done to him by fate. “That’s the…Oh, God, I’ve even stopped counting. That was the absolutely last try.” he finalized as he sat down on the chair himself and broke down in tears. I edged towards the wall nearest to me, trying to find a way out. He noticed my futile escape attempts and promptly laughed in a sad, dispirited way.
“Don’t try. I’ve been here for ten years and still haven’t found a way out.” he said, sighing.
I didn’t respond, dubious. How could he have been here for ten years?
Suddenly he perked up and got up from the chair, motioning for me to sit. Seeing no other route of escape, and still wordless, I took his offer silently. He began pacing the room leisurely, galvanized.
“You must be wondering about us, about The Knights in White Satin?” he said. “Yes, of course you‘re intrigued.” he continued after my silence. “Well, we’re a secret society devoted to censoring the unwanted parts of human life.”
I didn’t move, and he began examining me with his round, sad eyes.
“Since the beginnings of secret societies, men and women alike have agreed that there are parts of their lives they’d…rather not remember. The Knights in White Satin was created by a joint association of the very most intelligent men and women in the world, and reviewed by a special committee of every major government in the world. There was a positive majority vote of one-hundred and twelve against one. Solely one country did not believe in our mission, and they are the one country that we don't operate in, although the country in question is unapproachable and hidden from the rest of the world. Our task is to wipe out unwanted memories from the lives of people. Undesirable incidents are detected by a symbiotic computer, and our agents are immediately dispatched to destroy all evidence, and 'censor' the mind of the victim. Our first assignment was to cause the association and committee that created us utterly forget of our existence. We are completely unknown to the world, and hold more power than all countries on the globe together.” He yawned. “Have you ever watched Men in Black? Throughout the 1960’s-”
“But.., but what about all those people that… that get raped, assaulted, robbed, cheated and killed?” I asked, sputtering, and cutting his chronology short.
“Our symbiotic computer doesn’t consider those incidents very important or undesirable. I am referring to things much worse, much more horrible, vile, and appalling…but of course, you wouldn’t have any recollection of it.” he said, as a matter of fact.
I remained in my state of incomprehension.
“Enough idle talk. When I’m done, you won’t even remember anything I told you, so I don’t see why I should bother.” he said, sharpening me into awareness of a rather large machine labeled Human Brainwashing Machine, which stood adjacent to a slightly larger Squirrel Brainwashing Machine.
I held on nervously to my seat, judging when was best to run, as the man began inserting plugs into sockets to charge the machine. A low and soothing humming sound emerged from the apparatus, under which influence I began to relax considerably, and the man made the final preparations as he talked. All his movements seemed practiced and knowing, and his air of dread lightened.
“Well, it turns out that you aren’t really who you think you are- (now, if you’d just put this helmet on)- we mixed up your identity at birth- (just let me strap this around your arms)- It occurred after a particular undesirable event, and nobody is to blame, considering the stress they were undergoing- (hold on for one more second)- Well, it turns out you’re actually the head of a multinational company- (No, the other way)- and we’re going to have to return you to your rightful place. Prior experience foretold us that you would resist, - (There you go, all set!)- so we had to regretfully employ other methods. Now, don’t complain; quite a few people are being brainwashed because of you, and I don’t want to hear any more nonsense. You’ll be happy, I’m sure.” he finally ended, his mood darkening with the word ‘happy’.
He made one last attempt at smiling, patted me on the shoulder, and moved towards a large switch, similar to those used to generate power for an electrical chair.
“Have a nice life!” he said, its protocol resounding in his voice. He pulled the switch. The lights flickered.
My blurred vision began recovering, and figures began taking definite shape. Slowly the specks disappeared, the lines evened out, and the circles condensed. I looked around me drowsily, and saw the concerned faces of a majority of men and a few women staring back. They were all dressed in varying colors of grey, brown, and black, and had a stack of papers lying on the table in front of them. It was a long glass table, stretching from me to the last of what I assumed to be ’executives’. The windows faced other tall buildings, and many stories below, the streets. Dazed and wondering, I suddenly recalled everything. Somehow, the man had not succeeded in wiping out my memory. He must have mixed the Human and Squirrel machines up, I thought.
“Sir, if I may ask, could you reveal to us the purpose of this… executive meeting?” asked a female in a beige outfit and with overly augmented breasts. At this moment, for lack of a better moment, I noticed I was no longer in my swimming attire.
I smiled at her, without an inkling as to what to say. My eyes shifted from her chest to the expectant faces of the others, some of which looked quite disgusted with the priors’ breasts. Then I casually looked upwards as I relaxed into my expensive leather seat and crossed my hands under my chin. A large banner greeted me, almost in a state of derision as it hung to the ceiling. The large black words glowered into my mind. The Knights in White Satin Inc..
The hush pervading the room drew my attention to the men and women around me. I cleared my throat, delaying. One man shifted his eyes towards the woman next to him and furrowed his brows apprehensively.
“You!” I shouted, “You’re fired.”
The man gawked and floundered like a fish caught in a net. I scowled at him, and he got out of his seat, quaking. He walked backwards, unable to part his eyes from mine. At last he reached the door, quickly grabbed the handle and tugged it, running out lopsidedly. His hysterical squawks resounded into the room. The other executives eyed each other fearfully, except for the woman with the augmented breasts, who beamed at me, and I smiled back.
I felt the power of a multi-national company head running through my veins, overwhelming me. I could do anything I wished. I grinned and wrung my hands together.
“Well…”
*That's just his name, okay?
_____________________________
There it was, my competition entry. I hope you think its good. I put a lot of thinking into it (I'm not sure if it shows). At first, I was aiming towards a sense of bizzarre and quick transfiguration from one event to another, and hopefully adding some humor in. In the end, its turning out to be a little of both, humor(although I recognize it may be a bit too subtle for some of you  ) and experimental (at least for me).
Well, I ended the chapter in a very open ended way, to give more variety in the decision point. It's up to you! 
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 Chapter 5: The Rendezvous 
Last edited by D-Lotus on Mon Jun 05, 2006 4:24 pm; edited 12 times in total
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Wed May 03, 2006 10:21 pm Post subject: |
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Great start. I love the "Oh, they're not important" answer to rape, murder and other types of violent 
Well, in the short-term, I think he needs to take the heat off himself. Turn to a random person and demand a full report and accounting of recent deeds in their department. Make them answer the questions and let yourself find out about this new position from their responses.
Then, when you've closed the meeting down, I would say it's time to indulge some of those rich-people vices. Go to some expensive clubs and restaurants, get the chauffeur to drive you around, go home, find out how many jacuzzis you've got in the house, and whether you have a family or not.
Basically, get your bearings and have a little fun on the way. The novelty will wear off soon enough, then it might be time to track down the people who did this to you 
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Wed May 03, 2006 11:25 pm Post subject: |
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Very interesting chapter D! Bizzare is quite right.
Mmm. What to do. Well, standard management tactics call for delegation. That is what you have people for. Also, divide and conquer, so they don't focus their hate on you, but each other.
Start of with a report from each individual, focus on failures and who to blame. They will soon be dishing the dirt on each other in an attempt to keep themselves clean.
[EDIT] I didn't see Stoat's answer above until after I posted mine. Great minds think alike it seems.
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Solomon Birch
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 10:15 am Post subject: |
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Very good Lotus, very funny and an original if odd concept.
Now, I think that Shady's suggestion about finding out more about his position and compant etc. by getting them to tell him things in question form.
And then I think he should abuse his position to recieve sexual favours from the woman with the jiggly assets.
*holds breath* 
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"Humankind cannot stand too much reality" - T.S. Elliot
Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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Smee
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 11:19 am Post subject: |
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What to do next has been covered, and I F5 the above.
Great start Dani, I liked it - highly original.
Happy Writing
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 2:20 pm Post subject: |
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I F5 Soily big time. He should take a "coffee break" with the woman. *wink wink*
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Eadgar's Saga Chapter 2 POLL
Abattoir Chapter 2!
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 4:24 pm Post subject: |
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Halloa! What's this?
I never expected so many replies, and from such an admired and upheld audience!
Good thinking, everyone, keep it coming. Don't worry about the bizarre beggining, it'll straighten out before becoming completely crazy again.
And seriously nobody thought of looking back at his past life? Tut, tut...such little imagination.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 4:33 pm Post subject: |
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Sorry, but big boobs took priority...
What can I say, I'm a lonely man with special needs...
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Eadgar's Saga Chapter 2 POLL
Abattoir Chapter 2!
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LordoftheNight
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 4:39 pm Post subject: |
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Does it have to straighten out - crazy is good.
Ask them each what they think the meeting is about, and hopefully they'll just start talking then. If not, he can simply choose the best sounding story the come up with.
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Thu May 04, 2006 5:04 pm Post subject: |
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| lordofthenight wrote: | | Does it have to straighten out - crazy is good. |
Well, it'll get crazy again after it gets...un-crazified? Hmm, I might need that thesaurus.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Araex
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| Posted: Fri May 05, 2006 8:26 am Post subject: |
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| Hmmm... I'm agreeing with Stoat here... lets get them to do the talking!
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Fri May 05, 2006 4:09 pm Post subject: |
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Well, since most of the usuals to this forum made their opinion, I'll post a poll.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Fri May 05, 2006 4:26 pm Post subject: |
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Poll Is Up!
By the way, all the options will most probably indulge of the woman (I mean, isn't that part of a rich lifestyle?).
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Ravagerrr
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| Posted: Fri May 05, 2006 5:57 pm Post subject: |
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Demanding a full report would be a good idea considering otherwise he'll have no idea what he has gotten himself into at this point. The indulgent positives of his situation are amusing, but he needs to be concerned about the responsibilities he might have to suffer through.
Cool story D! I like the writing style a lot. You have good structure. There were points you may have wanted to edit if you were going for being a perfectionist, but I myself make just as many errors in style when I write so they were easily overlooked
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Solomon Birch
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| Posted: Sat May 06, 2006 1:00 am Post subject: |
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Voted! Let the inter-department relations commence! Closet-frolicking!
Woo! :biggrin:
*holds breath*
_________________
"Humankind cannot stand too much reality" - T.S. Elliot
Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Sat May 06, 2006 9:16 am Post subject: |
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Wow, I think this is one of the best polls I've ever had!
Thank you everyone for your votes!
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Solomon Birch
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| Posted: Sat May 06, 2006 9:25 am Post subject: |
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Noooo! We need jiggly! 
_________________
"Humankind cannot stand too much reality" - T.S. Elliot
Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Sat May 06, 2006 10:18 am Post subject: |
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I love jiggly.
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Eadgar's Saga Chapter 2 POLL
Abattoir Chapter 2!
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Sat May 06, 2006 10:45 pm Post subject: |
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Poll is officially closed as of 11:46 Pacific Time (now).
The winning option was to demand a full report/indulge in rich lifestyle.
Thank you for all your votes an opinions. Hopefully the new chapter will be posted tomorrow or after tomorrow.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Tue May 09, 2006 6:57 pm Post subject: |
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Sorry for the delay, but I've caught a virus and have been lying in bed for two days. It seems that I still have a while to go until I return to normal, so again, sorry for the delay.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Araex
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| Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 9:00 am Post subject: |
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| That sucks man, get well soon. Can't you write while in bed though? Seems you just gonna have time on your hands and then some. Nehu, keep taking those wonder drugs, and I don't mean the ones at the back of the third draw down on the right, if you know what I mean.
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Sat May 13, 2006 9:26 pm Post subject: |
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Well, here is my entry for Stoat's Big Red Hot H&M Competition. This is currently the second chapter. (4527 words)- Sorry, this one's a bit longer.
This is also a Storygame: you read, you suggest, and then you vote on your suggestions.
Story so far: Andrew Black (although his name isn't mentioned much) is outraged when he finds a letter informing him that he is inscribed in a political group, The Knights In White Satin. When he goes to the informative meeting, he falls in a trap hole into a dank cellar. There he is told his life is a mistake and that The Knights, in reality a secret society that censors the lives of people, have to put him back in his rightful place. A blackout later, he's in a meeting, an executive one. It seems he's head of a multi-national corporation....
Chapter 2: A Sacrifice
I leaned over against the table, and suddenly felt something prod my side. Under the silence that had saturated the room, I took the occasion to examine the poking object. I discovered it to be a row of strange buttons under my section of the table, of which the covering lid had half-way slid off and then jabbed me. There were five main buttons in a row, colored differently, and below each one, six small metallic combination-buttons. Every button had a miniscule post-it note next to it, but the writing was illegible. It seemed as though the buttons were there for some malicious purpose. I looked up, but nobody was stealing glances my way. Although the room was completely silent for no apparent reason, all the executives were feigning not to notice any abnormality, and trying to look as natural as possible.
“Well, I want a full and comprehensive report of everything…from the beginning…” I began, after clearing my throat noisily. “You, start.” I said, pointing at a woman a few seats away from me. She got up slowly and shakily from her seat and then stood rigidly, her hands at her sides.
“W-where d-do you…want…me to start, s-sir?” she said hoarsely.
“What does this corporation make!? When was it created? Where are our standings?” I shouted.
“Yes, sir.” she said meekly. “We sell…we sell medical equipment and doorknobs-”
“Medical equipment and doorknobs? Why the hell do we make doorknobs? I want you to stop production of doorknobs this very minute! Get rid of them! From now on, we concentrate on medical equipment. Someone, hop to it!” I roared, and in response, a man in brown pulled out his cell-phone and simultaneously ran out.
“Continue.”
“Yes, sir.” said the woman that had began explaining. “T-the company was created in 1918 by Ichabod Black, your great-grandfather, an American expatriate in Europe, and a respected pioneer in the art of doorknobs. It was during this time of rebuilding in Europe that the acquisition of good doorknobs became a priority for many well-knowing families, and Ichabod began expanding his business. He employed an assistant and thrived from the large demands. It was not long before he had built his own factory and began creating different appliances that were also much in need by the people. After 1938, Ichabod moved his business to the United States, his homeland. This resulted to be a good relocation, because the demand for doorknobs in Europe greatly decreased shortly after his departure.
After 1954, your grandfather, Jack Black, took charge of the business. Under his command, the production changed towards medication and medical equipment, although doorknobs were not completely substituted. There is a possibility that his inclination for medical equipment may have resulted from his love for Clara, a nurse in a small town-”
She droned on, and I began to feel dizzy. I decided to give her a surprise, and counted the buttons on my table side over and under to where I thought her seat was represented, and pressed one of the small metallic ones. The man to the right of her, attentive and upright, suddenly jumped out of his seat as if jolted, and fell on the floor. He rolled over and didn’t get up.
“- After 1967, the company experienced a great financial boom when Jack took the decision to produce medical equipment for the army. The Knights In White Satin, Inc., named after Clara (the nurse), Jack’s reported love, sent over one-hundred-thousand first-aid kits to South Vietnam. New offices were created, and-”
The maddening drone continued, and I proceeded to press buttons, to many interesting effects, but none harming the woman who was speaking. Two men had been shocked by a bucket of water, a man and woman had had almost been asphyxiated by a rope, and another man had gotten an automated wedgie; many had suffered the ‘jolt’. The buttons didn’t appear to have any sequential logic at all, so I was entirely confused. And the woman wouldn’t stop.
“Stop!” I cried. Her eyes remained focused on the table, hypnotized by something that made her talk, and talk, and talk…. She was consumed by something, possessed. It was probably the accumulated stress, finally unleashed in the form of a monster.
“- Our current standings in the New York Stock Market are considered healthy. The price per stock amounts between $1.20 to $1.40. Our company has experienced a growth of 2% in the last week, and 4.3% two weeks ago. 30% of our stock holders are small investors and endeavoring doctors, and the other 70% is owned by the family-”
I couldn’t stand it any longer, and pushed all the buttons at once. A spark emerged from under the mechanism, and a fist-sized steel ball shot out from the ceiling. It crashed through the glass table and thudded into the floor.
“- We have been awarded numerous recognition awards, and our large donations to non-profit organizations have brought-”
I got out of my seat, stomped towards her, and shook her by the shoulder. She looked at me strangely, as if returning from a dream. I sighed, and looked around the room. Everything was in disorder, and half of the executives were in a state of unconsciousness, not to mention the steel ball and table. Deeming my mission in success, as I knew more of the company than I wished, I decided to dismiss the meeting. The remaining executives trudged out, weary. As the female in the beige outfit and augmented breasts walked by, I stopped her. Her blond pony tail bouncing in harmony with her… eyes, she smiled again. “My name is Monica.”
“Not Lewinsky, I hope?” I joked.
Despite the crude, insulting joke, she laughed prettily.
“Listen Monica, what do you consider a good restaurant?” I asked, coolly.
“Le Chef’s is a good French cuisine. I highly recommend it.” she said, biting her thumb.
“Then how would you respond to having dinner there with me at…say, nine?”
“No, I’m sorry, I have to draw the draft for a... factory.” she said, and before I could respond, she left, leaving me incredulous.
I thought this never happened! I thought the girl always relented to the high business man?!, I pondered. She looked so easy, too.
I remembered that maybe I was a married man, although I didn‘t conceive that as a good reason for Monica to reject me. I exited the room into a decoratively carpeted hallway and took the elevator down, twenty-eight floors in total. The first floor was a high-class waiting room with a waterfall and wide variety of exotic plants, in addition to an old attendant in her desk.
“Sir, I didn’t expect you here! I-” she began in a shrilly voice,
“Just answer me this, am I married?”
The lady appeared to be in confusion. “Why, yes, sir, don‘t you remember?”
“What about kids?”
“No, sir. But why-?”
“Thanks. Tell someone to drive me home.” I said as I picked up a warm coat on a perch and left through the front door. By the time I crossed the little walkway that divided the company building to the parking, a limousine had screeched to a halt in front of me. An African-American driver with a playful smile poked his head through the window.
“Hop in, Boss.” he said, and the door opened automatically.
I eased in and made myself comfortable as we pulled out into the street. I’m sure you’re expecting to hear a detailed report about the inside of this wonderful vehicle. I’m sure you expect me to describe every technological commodity, but I’m sure you have either heard it all before, or been inside this incredible automobile yourself, so I’ll spare you the explanation. Let it suffice that we arrived at my home in half an hour.
The large Victorian house looked strangely familiar. I sighed, but got out at the doorway, and climbed the stairs. I stepped around the doormat (just in case) and knocked on the door. This time, a butler in his traditional suit opened, and bowed before taking my coat. I stepped inside, and the butler said he’d inform my wife of my arrival. The hall was a large open space with a sofa, three chairs, and a coffee table. There was a large stairway leading above, but the ceiling covered everything except an opening in the stairway. I sat down into one of the chairs, an incredibly soft one. I got up and found one more suitable as I waited.
I wondered of her appearance and shuddered at the possibilities. I heard her footsteps as she walked towards the stair way. Well, they were light, so she couldn’t be horribly over-weight. Her legs emerged from the top. She wore high heels and had shiny lean legs. Nice legs, I thought. She continued emerging. Nice. Ohhhh, good. Oh man. I waited for her face to appear- a pretty girl, long black hair and eyes. I sighed in relief.
She was, to my judgment, what some would call a ‘trophy wife’. Smiling, I went over to her. She was dressed in a white sweater and a black skirt. I spread my arms wide and hugged her to me. I took a whiff of her aroma before releasing her.
“Hello, honey.” she said in a sweet voice. Her breasts weren’t to the amount of Monica’s, but it would be unfair to judge her solely on that.
“Sweetheart, what would you say to going to Le Chef’s tonight?”
“I’d love to!” she said, to my satisfaction. “Give me until eight to get ready.”
“Alright.” I said, giving her a quick pinch in the bosom as she ran up.
I decided to do some sight-seeing to pass the time. I called the driver around and grabbed my coat from the butler. As I approached the car, the driver poked out again.
“Boss, I got six girls in the there that wanted me to drive them to the Playboy Mansion, uptown.” he said, worriedly. “I was doing it as a favor, but seeing as you…”
I opened the door to be greeted by six pairs of blue and green eyes. They waved, laughed and giggled as I sat down among them. I took off my coat.
“Well, everything can be arranged. Right, girls?” I said cheerily.
They laughed and I draped two with my arms. The limousine emerged into the street.
“Driver, close the windows.”
“Yes, Boss.” he said, smiling.
_______________________
Eight o clock came quickly. My wife, in a stirring black dress and fur scarf waited in the porch. As we neared, she spotted us and approached. As she climbed, she asked,
“Had fun, honey?”
“Oh, ah, yes.” I said, and wiped the lipstick off of my forehead. She simply smiled and applied some of that same product to her own lips. Totally accepting! I thought.
Again, I’ll have to shorten the account of my ride, and the only thing I have to add to what I said earlier, is that I was bearing very happy thoughts. I was little to know what would happen soon.
We eventually arrived at Le Chef’s, a fancy restaurant. A valet came out and offered to show our driver to the garage. We got out of the car and entered the restaurant. A waiter indicated us to our table, a spot with a lovely view towards the lake. There was a nice murmur of conversation, many bright lights from expensive-looking lamps, and an extended variety of mirrors. The pink tones of the mantle matched cozily with the floor, and my accepting and pretty wife smiled at my from across the table. Soon, there would be appetizers and fine food on my plate, and I would have plenty of money to pay for it. If not, I would make my chaffeur drive my limousine back home and get the money.
“You know, they always used to tell me this job was tough, and stressful. People told me they would rather be normal, and at least happy. Now that I’m here, I know better. If being head of a company is so bad, then why doesn’t any head ever quit? Why do you suppose they don‘t suddenly give away their huge wealth and leave to be normal but happy!?” I said, triumphantly
“You’re happy, then, love?” said my wife, reading over the menu.
“Yes, very. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I got up and made my way to the bathroom, clearly indicated by signs in shades of pinks that created a soothing effect when looked upon.
The bathroom was empty and spacious, and I went to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a head poke out of one of the toilets as I made my own tinkling. Quickly, more men began appearing until they flooded the bathroom, and in my defenseless position, I only had time to contemplate the armband of the uniform they wore before I was knocked senseless by someone. It read, The Knights In White Satin. Blackness.
_______________________
“Where…where am I?” I said, resting against a padded wall. I drew my hand wearily to my head, and made an effort to recollect my thoughts. My head felt as if it had been fragmented by a hammer and then dug into with a shovel to leave a fissure, through which a boulder had been constantly rolled up an down, and on which boulder was balancing an army of elephants (tanks included), but at least my hands and feet weren’t bound.
“You are inside your own mad house.” said a rich, resonant voice, in answer to my question.
I groaned and my splitting headache intensified. I opened my eyes to a narrow slit, and looked reproachfully upon the faces of three men dressed in white satin toga’s.
“What, are you going to torture me?” I spat.
“No, not at all. We are here to help you.” responded one of the three, coming forward. He had a delicate face and thoughtful glance, and dexterously stretched his hand out to me as he crouched to come into face level. His stance was soothingly natural, his face was comfortingly familiar, and he was bearing a genuine smile. He seemed, in sum, somewhat ethereal, a rumination of the past. His hand was was still held out to me, efflorescing and flawlessly proportionate, like the stem of a beautiful flower.
I kicked it away.
“You f*cking, little…” he yelped out, then let the cry subside under the watchful glance of the other two. He stepped back crabbily, and the three men stood together for the first time, allowing me to asses them. They seemed to all appearances the embodied representation of Plato, Jesus Christ, and King David (who I had seen before in a movie), except that they were wearing togas. Their semblances were vividly real, but infrequently, an aloof expression shrouded their features. I gasped, inducing three identical smiles.
“We are sorry to have caused you importunity.” began David, his voice as resounding as the last, but somewhat older and practiced. “My name is David. This is Jesus, and he over there is Plato.” I winced when I identified Jesus as the man who I had just kicked away.
“Let me explain,” resumed another, presumably Plato “We are products of your imagination, mere figments derived from the fabrications of your mind. We happen to be in this shape only because these men were foremost in your mind as friends, as men who you could trust and believe. In a way, you could say we are…imaginary friends.”
I was getting accustomed to being enlightened about absurdities lately, so I didn’t falter in asking a question, even in the presence of those men. Besides, my headache was waning.
“Wait! How can you be figments of my imagination, if I just kicked one of you?!” I questioned, at the same time I reddened at my mention of kicking Jesus Christ.
In response, they just laughed and shook their heads so vigorously, I thought they
sought to dispell my question with a mere air current.
“No, friend,” said Jesus, no longer angry (he always was a forgiving guy) “you see, you only imagined having kicked me. You might have felt my hand, but it was only your powers of invention that created the contact between us.”
“You mean I can make you guys do whatever I want?” I said, perplexed.
The three men exchanged nervous looks before David answered. It began troubling me that David did have a sort of Richard Gere-ish appearance, who had acted as David in the movie of his life (and represented the only known-image I had of him).
“No, that’s not possible. We may be imagined, but we are also envoys.” he said.
“Envoys? From who? And how can you be both things at once?” I began questioning, emboldened by their unease, and already practiced in style from afore mentioned experience.
“Yes, we are envoys for The Knights in White Satin. They sent us here, but at the same time, let you choose our form. We do not exist, yet we are alive in a plane of surrealism directly interconnected with your thoughts. It is through this plane that The Knights in White Satin can speak to us, owing to their power and influence. We are your own fancy, but at the same time, we are restricted by the proposal petitioned by The Knights in White Satin, and assuredly, we would not be here if it weren‘t for that request.” said David, answering my inquiries and creating more at the same time.
“I’m not sure I understood, but why don’t you show yourself to me normally? I mean, when I‘m not being manipulated by an all-powerful secret society.” I asked, adding a tinge of sarcasm.
Plato procured a stool out of nowhere and sat down, assuming the Greek ‘thought position’ (I guess that’s the way I always imagined him).
“We do show ourselves,” he said, conserving his air of patience, “we act as your imagination, only not so physical or tangible as presently. In some people we can be perceived more than in others, but we are always present.”
My attention turned towards something else. “So what is this place?” I said, skimming the white, padded room with my eyes. There were no doors and no windows, but there was light proceeding from a mysterious source I couldn’t locate.
“Only a padded cell, one of the numerous of this mental institution.” said Plato carelessly, getting up and strolling about the room pensively before returning to his seat.
“Is it real?”
“Yes, the room and your surroundings are very real, its only us three that are part of your imagination.” said Plato, his face frozen into one of the strange bouts of detached and distant expressions.
“How did I get here?” I asked, after sudden realization that only a few minutes before I had been somewhere so completely different.
“You were taken captive by agents of The Knights. They brought you to this mental institution where we were given instructions concerning their proposal.” said David, arms crossed and resting against the wall.
Suddenly I grew suspicious. “Wait a minute. You said you were envoys. What’s your purpose? I’m not joining their political party, if this is what its all about.”
Plainly, I must have said something amusing, because even the stool shook unsteadily for many seconds until the sonorous, plangent laughter died.
“Then why am I here?” I asked again, getting up from the floor and testing the wall with my hand.
“That’s what we’re here to adress.” said Jesus, still clutching his sides. “You’re important to The Knights, and they want us to help you decide to give up your life, to sacrifice yourself.”
The distress must have shown in my face, because the three ethereal beings began looking worried. Hearing those cruel words from the mouth of Jesus Christ was like getting a kick in the teeth. Forcibly, I reminded myself he was really only a living piece of my imagination, however anomalous that seemed.
“Does this notion not appeal to you?” said Jesus, voicing the concerns of all three men.
“No, it doesn’t appeal to me at all, so you can forget about it.” I said, gagging at their lack of feeling.
David frowned and sent meaningful glances to the other two which seemed to bear the message ‘I told you this could be a problem’.
“I don’t understand, why do The Knights want me to ‘give up my life’? What does that mean, and why to they keep toying without deciding what to do with me?”
David spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. “By sacrifice, The Knights mean only that, for you to take a knife and fall on it willingly. We are not knowledgable of why exactly they want you to sacrifice yourself; even we have limits and cannot understand many of the things The Knights have in purpose, or why they ‘toy’ with you. However, this we do know: they need you to sacrifice yourself, and the sacrifice would only be valuable if you consented to it.”
I began pacing the room, thinking. “But why? Why me? And what are The Knights in White Satin?”
The three ‘imaginary friends’ began to appear anxious.
“We are not certain…In truth, we have only been contacted through a medium in which we could not distinguish shapes or figures; after all, in our home environment, nobody is allowed a form. They did not tell us what they were, and explained only as little as needed for us to accomplish our task. We were compelled to agree with them because of their importance in our plane. Is there no way that we can convince you to do as they ask?” asked Jesus as a second thought.
“No, I don’t think so.” I said absentmindedly, as I revolved the mystery around my mind.
Then the great philosopher, the man of wisdom and passionate arguments, the man respected for his thought and intelligence thousands of years before we were born, that man; Plato, spoke.
“Kid, can’t you just do it?”
My face became petrified with disgust.
“No, and forget about trying to convince me.”
“But,” said Jesus “Look, its me, Jesus, and King David, and Plato. Would we lie to you?” His hypocrisy and pretense struck me in the face as if with an iron gauntlet.
“You’re nothing but my own imagination, and I never thought I’d think Jesus would ever say anything like that. You‘re just fake, artificial spirits in the bodies of men twenty times better than you!” I cried out in outrage.
David looked at the others again in his ‘I told you we should have tried that at the beginning’ way.
“Well, since you are so determined, I judge that persisting in our attempts would be fruitless. Is there no other way in which we can assist you?” he said.
I began walking around uncontrollably. The misery of my trials was beginning to traumatize me, and the discovery that my imagination was duplicitous and without true feelings did not aid my cause. Moreover, the puzzlement of identifying the three beings as real or fictitious, and switching back and forth in my verdict, was causing my headache to reappear.
“Yes,” I began in answer to his question, “How the hell am I supposed to get out? I’m stuck in this place with my imagination, which has been obligated to convince me to kill myself, and I’m targeted by some crazy entity of which the only sure thing I know is their name, The Knights in White Satin. If at least I knew what they are!”
Jesus Christ, Plato, and King David began brainstorming for me about the tormenting mystery as I reached the initial point of desperation. I sat down and then stood up, attempting to tear my hair out.
“Maybe they don’t really exist?” said David as he smiled hopefully. He seemed to be trying to get on my good side again.
“Of course, it could just be a metaphor for homosexuality.” mused Plato, at long last applying his cognative powers. I began crying, and let myself drop against the wall.
“Isn’t there any way I can get out? I think this room is driving me crazy by itself.” I said wearily.
“But then again, you could be imagining its driving you crazy.” smiled Plato, adding to his previous record of contemplation. David hushed him by waving his hand in the air. It became clear to me for the first time that he was in some respects the leader of the group.
“Look, there is a way you can be liberated.” he said, eyeing me speculatively.
I stood up suddenly, causing me dizziness as the blood rushed to my head. “How?”
“Well, to be released from this mad house, you have to do something crazy.” he said.
“What?” I said, trying to make sense of him.
“Yes, you heard right. You see, if The Knights hear that you are crazy, then they’ll know that your sacrifice would be useless, because your consent is only due to your ‘craziness’, and not your real, thoughtful conscience.”
I stood while thinking about this. “That sounds fine, but what am I supposed to do that would look ‘crazy’, and worse, how can I do anything like that stuck in here?”
The three beings smiled. “We can compromise for you to be set free for a short amount of time, but what you’ll do to convince The Knights in White Satin is up to you.” David said.
“Thanks.” I choked out, tearfully in gratitude. They smiled paternally and dabbed their own eyes with their togas, carrying the emotion to a climax. Finally, I couldn’t bear the extreme sentiment, and we all joined in a lasting embrace.
“Well, goodbye.” I said, as I saw Plato uncover a secret button from the wall. He held the lid, finger poised, and waited for me to get ready. I inhaled deeply and loosened my muscles.
“By the way” I said, the thought occurring to me, “was Goliath really seven feet tall?”
Plato jammed his finger into the button, and all three waved goodbye. As the room began dissipating around me, and the light dimmed, I heard David say:
“Maybe. How do you imagine him?” and he chuckled.
His smiling face was the last thing I saw before unmitigated darkness. Then, I was suddenly sitting under a large chestnut tree, reading a book titled…The Knights in White Satin, of course.
I sighed, looking around me. I seemed to be in some park, maybe New York. A short walk would bring me to the heart of the city, no doubt. But then, how do I prove I’m crazy?
Sorry for the length. I was going to post it in different parts, but decided it would ruin the effect. Instead, I hoped the easy style in the first part would make it quick.
_________________
Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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LordoftheNight
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| Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 8:24 am Post subject: |
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How to prove your crazy? Try to develop a split personality?
umm, it's one of those things that's hard to prove, because people who are generally think that they're not...
_________________
Punishment leads to Fear. Fear leads to Obedience. Obedience leads to Freedom. Therefore, Punishment leads to Freedom.
Ave Dominus Nox
A Fronte Praecipitium a Tergo Lupi
Blood Bowl
Scraping the Barrel
A Tale of Four Swords
Passion
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 9:08 am Post subject: |
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I found it quite easy to read. I'm a bit lost on the plot, but that's probably half the point, so I'll have faith in the author there
How to prove you're crazy?
I'd say walk through the streets spouting gospel-mixed-with-random-nonsense, look at people with wild eyes, grab their coats as they go past, tell them the end of the world is nigh.
Be a typical street-preacher/village-idiot. They're always nutters 
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 11:58 am Post subject: |
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| Shady Stoat wrote: | | I found it quite easy to read. I'm a bit lost on the plot, but that's probably half the point, so I'll have faith in the author there |
Last Chapter "explains" all! If you call explaining what they've been doing to our poor character....
Just bear with me for one last chapter.
And good suggestion, by the way.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Shady Stoat
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| Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 12:15 pm Post subject: |
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| All told in 3 chapters, eh? Great stuff, if you can do it. You're welcome to carry on for longer though, if it suits you. You'll still get the magnificent prize at the end of the third chapter, wahtever happens
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Jack_D.Mented
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| Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 3:03 pm Post subject: |
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Run around in circles, scream in gibberish, commit mopery*, and hump some old geezer's leg whilst howling like a lovesick baboon. I believe they'd think you were crazy after all that. If all else fails, paint your bottom purple and hoot like an owl, all while doing cartwheels outside an elementary school playground.
*the crime of flashing a blind person
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Eadgar's Saga Chapter 2 POLL
Abattoir Chapter 2!
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Mon May 15, 2006 2:19 pm Post subject: |
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where's your originality? Is that all you can think of?
Even I can come up with something better in half a minute- jump off of a building!
C'mon, where's the thinking that makes you guys such good players?
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Tue May 16, 2006 5:30 pm Post subject: |
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Any more suggestions?
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Tue May 16, 2006 6:47 pm Post subject: |
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Well, yes, but all he's gotta do is land on something soft the firemen or police set up down there. Or not jump at all, just say you're going to.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Solomon Birch
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| Posted: Wed May 17, 2006 6:42 am Post subject: |
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Run around taking bites out of cats and dogs and the occasional baby, and that should affirm him as just a little kooky to the Knights. Then he can run off cackling like, well, a madman! :biggrin:
Good chapter Lotus!
*holds breath*
_________________
"Humankind cannot stand too much reality" - T.S. Elliot
Thesopholis - A Noir Sci-Fi Story - Chapter 8 is up! Read it here
The End of the Voyage - Chapter 9
Shady the Furry Goblin! [Demon's, Satan and Slobadan Milosevic!] - Chapter 3
The Quest for the Legendary Rubber-Duckie! - Chapter 3
One Last Bullet.... Chapter 3
Green Eyes - Chapter 5
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Viridian
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| Posted: Thu May 18, 2006 12:28 am Post subject: |
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He has three imaginary friends and he doesn't think he's nuts––isn't that enough? Of course, he could develop even more 'friends' to help him think his way out. McGyver and the Seven Dwarves?
Do the Knights know that he didn't have all his memories wiped? If not, then he can just exaggerate and embellish his 'memories' and then start jabbering about all that. Throw in some 'past lives' where he was good friends with Plato, King David and Jesus Christ, too.
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Ravagerrr
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| Posted: Thu May 18, 2006 5:48 pm Post subject: |
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The best way to act nuts when you ARE nuts, which he most certainly IS now, would be to continue to persist that you AREN'T nuts!
Go about, believing everything and see how far that gets him.
BTW... enjoyable read, but I felt you passed by a LOT of good possible DPs which could have been the solution to the length issue. I prefer shorter chapters myself, but hey, seems many of us like the longer ones so... write on!
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SANGRARSUBIO
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| Posted: Thu May 18, 2006 8:58 pm Post subject: |
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| three imaginary friends wonderfull this man needs to be in a insane asylum hmm dont know what else to say
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D-Lotus
Venerable IFian
Joined: 21 Oct 2004
Topics: 103
Posts: 4123
Location: Hollywood, USA
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| Posted: Fri May 19, 2006 4:59 pm Post subject: |
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Well, his imagination is being MADE to convince him of something...so its not the same thing as imaginary friends. Ok, fine, point taken; he does have imaginary friends...
Oh, and welcome Viridian and 'Subio.
Thanks for the new suggestions...I'll try to put a poll together today or tomorrow.
Cheers!
_________________
Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Araex
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| Posted: Sun May 21, 2006 3:58 am Post subject: |
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| Hey Subio, nice to see you round.
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| Did you think this story was too random? |
| Yes; the story confused me and I still don't understand |
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| No; the explanation at the end cleared everything up |
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| Total Votes : 5 |
| Who Voted: Chinaren, DeadManWalking, LordoftheNight, Solomon Birch |
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