An excerpt from Chapter Eight – Some Rules of the Time-Portal
I sat on the top deck of a double decker bus nursing a hangover. The sound of Paul Simon drifted into my ears, his distant voice reminding me that America was very far away, but his voice also reminded me that America was a place full of wide open spaces and that made my chest tight with panic. Panic at the thought of claustrophobic England. But it was all a façade anyway as I looked at the people below me, marching to the beat of western capitalism; all making their way to work like the good worker ants they were. With this thought a familiar wave of darkness overcame me; I was just the same as them, still buying my coffee from the popular chain of coffee shops, still buying into the system.
I closed my eyes and tried to let the rumble of the bus soothe me, I dreamed of Japanese gardens and meditating on the meaning of life, I could feel the warmth of the sun on my eyelids. I opened my eyes to find I was still on the bus. The guy next to me had blown his nose into a handkerchief and was examining the contents.
Copyright John de Gruyther 2015