Saturday, March 14, 2015

The Zone

Charles had adjusted to the fact that all the usual multitude of colours had vanished from the spectrum of his vision and had left only black, white, and shades of grey in the world around him.

When he had woken up that morning it had been quite alarming, having thought something terrible had happened to his eye sight, but soon he had realized that it wasn't just his vision; he had awoken inside an old Twilight Zone episode.

He had been watching a marathon of them on television before falling asleep on the couch the night before, and now Charles Houghton was living one; all of them in fact.

And he was having a really good time.

Going about his day, he had encountered very familiar characters, places, and situations; a man who only wanted to go home again on the train into work, an out of place slot machine in the lobby of his office building that always came up a winner, and even a stopwatch he had found on the washroom floor that indeed froze time around him.

It was great.

Anytime a new twist was about to play out in front of him, Charles would excitedly shout out what was going to happen, and then, dejectedly, the strange characters would go through the motions of their now ruined surprise.

Sadly, the players in each situation would then move along, grumbling to themselves that Charles was ruining it for everyone.

Yet, he was thoroughly enjoying being in all of his favourite moments from the classic show.

Each day would bring a few different scenarios and he would laugh and clap with delight when he remembered which one it was.

Often he remarked to the victims of each of the plot twists that he would have seen them coming a ways off and how could they not have.

This only caused more grumbling and glowering looks from them but Charles would laugh gleefully and go about his day until the next event occurred.

Until the day came when he had awoken once again in the black and white world and nothing new happened. He had exhausted all the storylines.

No more tiny alien invaders, no more living mannequins, not even any robot doppelgangers.

People on the street started to stare him as he yelled at some unseen entity to come out now, that it had been a good gag, that he wouldn't make fun anymore, he was sorry, and would just enjoy the experiences without comment.

He pleaded for them to just continue, even with newer, not as good ones; it was fine, just as long as something happened. Anything.

Charles then realized what was happening; he would have to go through his days just as he always had, normal, boring, without twists; a regular, uninteresting life.

And he began to scream.

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