I come from a tribe of head-hunters, so I will never need a shrink.
It’s a paradox, but I believed it to be the truth. That was until the voices in my head began speaking. Just one in the beginning. But soon, nineteen others joined in. I demurred visiting a shrink even when their constant chattering and bickering began drowning out my own thoughts. On some lonely nights I would feel my entire conscious self shoved to the bottom of my mind, the voices taking over completely. For the very first time I felt that I was no longer in control of my own body. I booked an appointment with the shrink at once.
The shrink heard me out patiently, even heard out some of the statements made by the other voices. She asked me to write down the names of the voices, if I knew them. I knew all twenty of them and missed out on none. The shrink read through the list calmly, her index finger tracing a path along the page. She adjusted her glasses as she reread the list. She kept the paper aside, and pulled out her cellphone, tapping away furiously. After a minute of scrolling through it, she stood up from her chair, and stared at me with a look of horror on her face.
So, I did try visiting a shrink. In the end, even her smart little head was not enough. She only added to my troubles. Now I have to deal with twenty one voices, trying to get back at me.
“Oh God! Are we really going there?” Yup.
“You realise they are uneducated tribals right?” Yes. Very little is known about them. We can learn and share their culture with the world.
*2 hours later*
“Is keeping us locked in cages a part of their culture?!” So is cannibalism, I’m sure…
I decided to backpack across the country, visiting ghostly castles, wrecked towns and other places of historical importance. The last lap of my journey, before departing the country brought me to The Boondocks Bar and Inn. I had heard of the mysterious room 13. The stories said that many years ago, a witch lived in the room. Until one day, she was executed for her damned practices. The deadly witch had called out for Satan, even during her final confession. Everyone who lived there complained of an ominous presence. I wanted to experience it.
I entered the Inn and asked the forlorn faced innkeeper for room 13. The man looked at me stoically, handed me the key without any question and got back to listening to the dirgeful music playing on the radio.
I settled into the room, which looked quite well maintained for a supposed haunted room. I called in for dinner – a nice plate of fish and chips. Waiting for my food, I walked over to the dressing mirror. I stared at my reflection looking at my well known imperfections. My reflection stared back at me and winked. My heart skipped a beat as I remained frozen in place gawking at my reflection. Its mouth curled into a sultry smile, poison dripping out. It made a hushing gesture asking for silence. As scars appeared on its face, the reflection transformed into a scythe wielding reaper. The scythe slashed through the mirror, shattering it. The cold metal lodged itself in my chest, making me scream out in pain.
The knocking on my door brought me back to my senses. The mirror was unshattered as before. My reflection was behaving as it should. I opened the door to find the innkeeper holding a plate of fish and chips. I rejoiced inwardly. I began holding great reverence for the innkeeper for his timely arrival. He placed the plate on the table and smiled at me.
“Eat up. It will help reduce the pain in your chest.”
This question had begun to irritate me now. It was the fifth time in half an hour that I was being asked the same question. I assured my date once again, before she promptly went back to clicking selfies and her social media.
She was as much part of the date as the surrounding water was. She had zero interest in paddling or making conversation. I guess she asked me out only to get someone to paddle, while she clicked pictures. She had even kept aside her life-jacket so that she could continue flaunting her best features on social media.
Hey, my followers on insta are asking me about alligators..you are completely sure, right?
That was the last straw. This girl had driven me nuts. I pulled back the paddle and whacked her on her head with it. Down she went into the lake, phone and all.
The lake had no alligators, but I made no promises about crocodiles…