53
Curio lined up a golf club against a ball, resting on a tee, then swung it back. Striking it, he shielded his eyes against the sun as he watched it sail into the air, towards the eighteenth hole. Abe nodded, his driver resting against his shoulder.
“That was good,” he said, “right on the fairway”. Abe had brought two of his colleagues from the institute, and they had spent most of the day on the course. The press conference had been organised for the following day in London, at the ‘Wood Valley house hotel’.
An apartment had been organised for Curio, and he had packed his meagre belongings into three plastic bags. He had sold his computer and telephone at a second hand goods store, where they bought such equipment at low prices. They had given him £75 for the computer, and £5 for the telephone. Curio had accepted without protest. He had neglected to inform the DHSS of his change of location, deciding to simply leave. He was to spend one last night in the flat before being driven to the capital in the morning.
The other players each took their turn, and they all walked slowly along the fairway towards their next shots. Curio hid his nervousness well. He had taken a big gamble in the choice he had made. He hoped the public would not wish for a practical demonstration, instead hoping that the approval of the scientific community would suffice in their acceptance of his truth. He knew that there would be some people who would simply say: ‘Show me’.
He hoped he would never have to try and induce them. How he would do it, he did not know. He simply wanted to convince them of his beliefs. If people chose not to believe, then that would be fine. He wondered if the hypnosis could be done through television.
Could mass hypnosis be possible? He knew that should that work, and he was given the opportunity to do it, he would not. It was too risky, but even if there was no risk involved, he would still decline, as he wished for them to believe without persuasion, without inducement, but what to show the doubters, those people who do not believe until it is presented to them. Other than the scientists he had ‘persuaded’, he knew that other scientists would want to see the evidence, and the hole he had dug for himself through the choice he had made would undoubtedly widen.
Was Abe’s and his colleagues stature enough for them to simply say: ‘Curio has shown the truth of the supernatural. We believe’? He hoped it was. If they believed, then that would maybe be enough for other scientists to simply accept it as fact, on their authority.
What evidence to show the doubters, was a bridge he knew he would maybe have to cross one day, but for now, the announcement to the world by scientists that the paranormal had been scientifically proven was Curio’s step into the world of recognition, of infamy.
Through the success of managing to keep Malcolm and his friends away from his path to eminence, he hoped he could do it in the media spotlight despite the sceptics who could see no evidence. Still, he had his other fears as to the victims of his influencing, but the lure of recognition and wealth was too much for him to ignore. If he was to go down in history as the man who proved the supernatural, then at sometime he may have to face his victims. Perhaps Malcolm, Ian, all those he had helped along to see if there was an ‘other side’, would come back to haunt him. Would they try and possess him? He was after all, possessed at the farm. At least he believed he was.
Angry ghosts were real to him, but again, that was a risk he was willing to take. He also wondered that because the consciousness was altered under hypnosis, did it stay the same in the spirit world? If you died in a trance, or your mind passed over in a state of insanity, did you revert to being ‘normal’ on the other side? He could not answer that. He simply hoped that he would not be haunted, or possessed.
It was his shot, and he lined up the ball with a four-iron. He struck it, and shielded his eyes again against the sun that had no clouds to obscure it, and had decided to give out minimal heat. His ball landed in the rough, and he saw Abe smile as he lined up to take his shot. After a few more minutes, Curio was taking his third shot with a seven-iron. He swung the club and hit the ball, but took with it a clump of grass. It bounced and rolled onto the green. Abe nodded, as he lined up his own shot. His ball landed eight feet away from the hole.
Eventually, all players managed to get onto the green, and Curio found that he was nearest to the hole at four feet away. One of Abe’s colleagues took out the pole, and watched as Curio meticulously lined up his shot. After a few moments, he hit it. It slowed as it reached the hole, then fell inside. He smiled at the others and retrieved his ball. The eighteenth hole was on a high mound, and the hill sloped down towards the club car-park, beyond which was the club-house.
As Abe was lining up his shot, the main entrance door opened and he recognised the two people that came out. One of them stopped and waved up at him. Abe waved back. They made their way through the many vehicles to the slope. Abe took his shot. He missed. It rolled to an inch from the rim. He walked across and tapped it in. The other men took their shots, each getting the hole. The two men arrived onto the green. One of them, a man who looked to be in his early forties, bearing a ‘goatee’ beard and brown suit strode across to Abe and vigorously shook his hand.
“Good to see you Abe, it’s been a while. Who won?” he said, looking around.
“That’ll be me,” said one of Abe’s colleagues. He pointed at the other players in turn. “Second,” he said, pointing at Curio, “Third” he pointed at Abe. “Fourth,” he pointed at the other colleague, who seemed preoccupied with putting clubs back into his stand bag. The man nodded.
“Gerry,” said Abe, “this is Curio Enchantment,” he said, gesturing in his direction. Curio walked across and shook Gerry’s hand.
“Good to meet you,” said Curio.
“I’ve brought a fan along to meet you, Curio. Somebody who’s been wanting to meet you for a while”. Curio had hardly taken any notice of the man he had come with, stood as he was, on the edge of the green, staring at the floor like he didn’t know what to do, or say, rather like a stranger surrounded by people who know each other. It didn’t matter how many people you were surrounded with, if you didn’t know anybody, it could feel like the loneliest place on earth. Yet, he wasn’t exactly lonely, rather outcast, but subject to their scrutiny.
Curio saw that he was tall, and broad. He wore a white, sleeveless shirt, open to reveal a muscled body. His hair was cut short, and he wore black, pleated trousers with ankle boots. Curio thought that he somehow didn’t suit the clothes. He had tattoos along both arms and across his chest. Even from the distance of 15 metres, he could see that he had scars on his arms. Gerry waved for the man to walk across. He did so.
“Curio, this is Dominic Ribmour”. Curio then realised who it was, and he almost fitted his description of what he thought he would look like.
“Ribbet,” he said. Ribbet nodded, and shook his hand.
“He’s a reformed character, aren’t you Ribbet?” said Gerry, smiling up at him. Reformed character! thought Curio, a psycho who exhibits good behaviour, who is then allowed to walk amongst the public. He hoped their judgements were correct, and that Ribbet was no longer a violent person, but even so, the lack of chains or bodyguards meant that they had faith in him.
“I don’t murder any more, or do things I shouldn’t,” said Ribbet, as though reading his mind.
“Yes,” said Abe, “We’ve been studying him for eight years, and he always used to attack other inmates and staff, but he hasn’t done that in a while, have you Ribbet? I think you are quite safe in the company of others now. We let you on a computer, didn’t we? You’ve got a nice sofa, and satellite television. It was Ribbet who found you, Curio. He led me to you”.
“Really? I have Ribbet to thank for this?” Curio smiled genuinely and shook Ribbet’s hand again.
“Thank-you, Ribbet, much appreciated”.
“I’m a big fan of yours,” said Ribbet. “Big fan”.
“Shall we go to the club-house?” said Abe, walking in that direction. They all turned and walked across the green, Ribbet at the back. Curio heard the sliding of metal, heard a crack, then a slump. All of them turned to see Abe, lying on the grass, twitching, a six- iron wedged into the top of his head. One trickle of blood seeped from the wound. Ribbet pulled it free and advanced towards Curio.
“Ribbet!” shouted Gerry, but Ribbet grabbed Curio’s lapels before he could turn to run. “You stay here,” he said, turning with him and throwing him to the ground. The others all ran as fast as they could down the slope. Ribbet lifted the six-iron and sent it towards Curio’s right shin. It carved through the bone easily. Curio screamed, his face red, his eyes wide. He grasped at the wound, but Ribbet cracked the other shin bone. Curio screamed again.
“Now you can’t run away,” said Ribbet. He paced around for a few moments, while Curio tried in vain to put right his feet. When he finally accepted that he could do nothing, he lay back trying to clamber away from Ribbet who walked with him, swinging the club around.
“You get away from me you fucking maniac!” Curio shouted. Ribbet pointed the club at him accusingly.
“I want to know, Curio, I want to know if you meant what you said on the e-mail”.
“What?”
“Why? Curio, Why? I respected you, you were my friend. You said you didn’t want me to email you again. I’m a fan, Curio, a fan, but you ignored me, you cut off our friendship, now tell me why”. Curio was breathing heavily.
“Have you, have you, been on good behaviour to see me?” Ribbet nodded.
“I was thinking about getting out anyway. Sometimes I think about getting out to see the rest of the world, but then I get scared. I’ve got a home, Curio. They let me have a computer, yes, TV. Comforts. Regular food. I don’t mind it. Being observed and studied doesn’t bother me.
The outside world does. It scares me, I don’t mind telling you, so I commit violence to stay inside, but you, you got me so fucking angry when you said for me not to e-mail you. You were my friend in the outside world. You ‘were’ my friend. I want to know if you meant what you said. If you didn’t, then we can go back to being friends”.
“What?” asked Curio, “Friends? Friends? Are you fucking stupid? I wouldn’t want you as a friend, you’re a mental case”. Ribbet raised the club and stepped towards him. Curio clambered back, but stopped, knowing it was futile.
“Didn’t you think?” Curio continued. “Didn’t you think that killing Abe, and breaking my legs would mean you’ll never get out. They’ll take your computer off you, and your TV, and everything else. Are you so stupid that you didn’t think of that?” Ribbet stood astride Curio at his chest, the club ready to strike. He hit his clavicle, cracking it. Curio yelled.
“I wanted to see you. Now look what you’re making me do”.
“You came here to save a friendship, but you can’t salvage it, can you?” said Curio, breathing heavily through waves of pain. “You’re one of those people who sometimes seem quite normal, yet can be absolutely insane”. Ribbet sent the four iron into his jaw, but it didn’t break. Curio screamed.
“Stop it, Curio. If you want my respect, you be nice to me, okay? I don’t want to hurt you”.
Curio fell back, his head over the eighteenth hole.
“You want me to be nice? You want me to be your friend?” Ribbet nodded.
“Yes, Curio. I want to respect you, but I can’t, until you’ve told me that what you said on the e-mail was not true”. Curio hesitated for a few seconds. This was picked up by Ribbet.
“Well?” he said “I think you meant it, didn’t you? ‘cos if you didn’t mean it, you would have said so by now, but you mean it, don’t you? You mean it?”
“How can I mean it?” said Curio, attempting to appease him. “Who wouldn’t want you as a friend?”
“You said that sarcastically, didn’t you? You did, didn’t you? What’s wrong with me?
Why don’t you want me as a friend?”
“Why the fuck would I want you as a friend?” Curio shouted. “You’re a fucking lunatic”. “No!” screamed Ribbet, and hit Curio repeatedly on the side of the head with the club. Curio screamed. Ribbet saw that lying beside Curio was the eighteenth flagpole. He threw the club aside, and reached down to pick it up. He straightened up, and held it like a sacrificial dagger. He looked down at Curio’s bloodied face, who saw the stern expression of Ribbet. Their eyes met, and Curio knew at that point, in a nano-second, that his dreams were shattered.
“Ribbet! No, no, please!” Ribbet tensed his muscular arms, and sent the pole down. Curio screamed, but the pole cut it short as it tore through his mouth, splitting his spinal vertebrae tearing out of the back of his head until it could go no further. Ribbet stepped away from him, watching him twitch. He turned and walked back towards the club house, but stopped when he reached the rough. Looking down at the grass, he sighed.
“Curio,” he said, quietly. He looked back at him. Curio was unmoving. He was dead.
A tear trickled from Ribbet’s right eye. All was quiet. He walked slowly back towards Curio, his left eye now shedding a tear.
“I’m sorry, Curio, I didn’t mean it,” he said. He reached the body and knelt down beside him. He stared at Curio’s glazed eyes.
“Wake up, Curio,” he said. “I’m your friend”. He shook Curio’s left hand in a vain attempt to wake him.
“Curio, please. Please wake up”. More tears flowed, and it dawned upon him that Curio would not be waking up. Perhaps he had discovered if the spirit world was real. If it wasn’t, then he had discovered nothing.
Ribbet’s face grew red. I’ve done it again, he thought. I’ve killed another potential friend. They always hurt me. Always disrespect my loyalty. He shook his head. He had no answers. He did not know why people avoided him. When the hand of friendship was offered his way, it was usually always retracted when Ribbet’s past history was revealed to them, but he could never let them go.
With such an unstable mind, he was prone to emotional attachments even without seeing the other person, with few interactions.
“I’m sorry Curio,” he said. “I know, like you did, that the spirit world is real, and that is where you are now. Don’t worry, we can still be friends. I’m coming. Wait for me”. He looked around him, then back at Curio. He clenched his left fist, and brought his wrist to his mouth. He forcefully bit into the skin, and tore away flesh. It fell from his lips. Blood pumped from the wound. He did the same to the other wrist. He looked up to the sky, both wrists pouring blood onto the grass.
“I’m coming Curio. We can be…friends. Wait for me”. It took a few minutes, but Ribbet began to sway, and eventually, he collapsed to the side, alongside his friend, his dead eyes staring at Curio.
A Sparrowhawk was sat upon a branch of a sapling, looking down at the green. The place was quiet, and a slight breeze ruffled its feathers. It stretched its wings, and took flight.