View Full Version : The Flexion Book One - Part 2 of 20

September 9th, 2015, 06:10 AM
That night, dreams came to Kyle, but gifts, they were not.

Knowing what was coming Kyle tried get his arms under his head and push himself into a sitting position. The effort only gave his head an arm to rest comfortably, and he slipped back into history.

A woman ran through a field of red grain, terrified by something following her. She ran as fast she could through the field, ignoring small cuts on her exposed body and face. Every few yards she turned around looking back to see if she still followed. Several times she lost the pursuers only to hear them once more getting closer, squealing and gnashing of teeth was all she heard through the misty morning. The hunters were feral pigs running on their hind legs grunting, calling out to her to her. The hunted found another boost of strength to pull away only to be stopped by a group of giant lizards hissing at her, displaying sharp razor teeth. She screamed in terror as the lizards attacked bringing her down quickly, tearing at her with rows upon rows of yellow stained teeth. Yellow teeth quickly turned red with blood. The hunters came from behind and watched as the lizards tore at the downed woman as she screamed in agony.

Far off in small room with football posters and pennants taped to walls and toys scattered on the floor, a boy rose up from the bed, sheets drenched in sweat.. Relief flooded through him just as his alarm sounded. He still could not remember the night before last, but the talk with his father stayed with him.

For two years the nightmare returned nightly, changing only slightly from one night to another. Sometimes the pursuers were monkeys carrying bow and arrows and she would end up killed by giant feathered birds with great beaks tearing through flesh, or dragons chased his mother until she became so terrified she never saw the ledge of a deep ravine, or if she did, she did not care.

A few days later Jack sat beside his son on the very bed little Kyle woke up screaming. Up until now, Kyle hid the dreams by screaming into his pillow so not to wake his father. He hid them no longer.

“The dreams still haunt you?” Jack asked. Kyle nodded gravely, wiping his eyes. “I want you to talk to someone, Kyle. His name is Simon, I made an appointment for us to visit him this coming Monday. I want you to tell Simon everything you have told me. Your mother, the dreams, your memory lapses, everything.”
“I will not undergo another treatment that will take my mind.” Kyle told his father sternly.

“No son, that is over with, Simon is a doctor but not a medical doctor. Simon is physiatrist. He might be able to help you. Please son, try.”

Kyle walked the line once more and was about to step off to the left waking himself up. This is where the dreams usually stopped. But this time he saw himself in a doctor's office with his father. He forced himself back over to the right of the line.

Dr. Simon Truensky, foremost expert in psychological maladies of the juvenile mind, met with Kyle several days later. The quick witted child walked into the famous doctor’s office reluctantly pulled by his father, who had a firm grasp on his son’s hand. Kyle did not agree to therapy with this Simon Truensky. He read both of the doctor’s books and disagreed with many of the doctor's conclusions. He gave, what he thought to be thoughtful and insightful reasons for getting help from another psychiatrist but his arguments fell on deaf ears. He finally capitulated because his dad obviously felt the man was at the top of his field and the boy did not really have any choice in the matter.

It took the youngster all of ten seconds to scan the room cataloging everything in sight into memory. A habit he formed since his awakening. Frowning, Kyle made it perfectly clear to the adults,he did not like what he saw. The furniture was much too large for their intended purposes. With over sized furniture the office itself still held too much empty space to be comfortable. Especially for children.

In the center of the room stood a tall thin man, wearing a black three-piece suit, smiling warmly, hands out-stretched in greeting. Jack let go of his son reaching out to the man, shaking his hand.

“It is good to see you again Jack.” The doctor said in a deep rich voice. Although he talked to Jack, his eyes never left Kyle, even as the two renewed their acquaintances. He quickly released Jack’s hand and held it out to Kyle who stood close by his father. It was only his father’s eyes on him and the lectures of common courtesy living just behind those eyes, that propelled the boy to return his greeting with a firm shake of his own small hand. “Please call me Simon, Kyle Bennet.”

Kyle ignored the overture still frowning at the large desk, noticing the top only held a eband datapad, a few stacks of paper, a stapler and an ‘executive toy’ consisting of six steel balls swinging freely in the air. This left the rest of the tabletop empty. The Doctor’s chair and couch held the same motif as the desk. Kyle could easily see himself sinking between the cushions and the back of the chair was at least six times wider than the doctor’s thin frame, while it stretched well over the owner's head.

Depressing, black furniture and a dull brown desk. Just the right opening for a depressing, black and dull day, he thought.

Noticing the child’s frown, Simon dropped to one knee locking his deep purple eyes on the boy. Kyle tried to look away with a practiced disdainful turn of his head. Instead, he was held fast by his gaze.

“What do you think of my office young man?” He asked, a grin breaking upon his black bearded face. The skin around his eyelids crinkled slightly, giving the grin a genuine feeling of openness, even the jaded child could see.

Kyle did not let his guard down. He knew he was being tested and was frustrated by his ignorance of it's parameters. This made him angry more than anything else. Instead of guessing what answer the shrink was looking for, Kyle took another direction. Rudeness. “I would think, if I were old enough to understand such things,” the boy answered, slightly defiant, “someone was over compensating for a lack of physical and/or mental prowess.”

“Kyle Sebastian Bennet!” his father cried, cuffing the back of his head with a flat palm.. Jack began to apologize to the doctor for his son’s impertinence but Simon only smiled wider and motioned him into silence, never taking his eyes off his son.

“If you understood such things.” Doctor Simon echoed softly still down at eye level with his new patient. “I believe your father underestimates you, and what you do and do not understand.” Looking up to Jack who was still rigid and red faced with anger and embarrassment, he continued, “I also believe the one seventy-eight IQ score to be slightly deflated from its true level.” He told Jack as he stood back up. “Probably sabotaged by Kyle himself, when he took the tests.” Seeing Jack’s confusion and stern look at his son, Simon amended his statement. “Oh, he might not even know his own deceit Jack, so don’t go lecturing the boy further.” He reached down and clapped Kyle’s narrow shoulder, once more seizing him with his gaze. “As to your response, my young intellectual friend, while a little callus, is correct.” He turned to the desk and spoke loudly, “hologram generator off.”

Kyle watched wide eyed as the office blurred and transformed from the cold room with over large furniture to a more realistic psyche room, decorated in warm colors and comfortable furniture. The room shrunk, or seemed to shrink, to about a third of the size the hologram portrayed. Jack laughed quietly to himself.

“I let you borrow highly classified technology from my own research and development team and this is how you use it?” Jack asked Simon in wonder. Jack was more disappointed he did not recognize his own work, than angry at Simon.

“I’ve used it in several of my cases Jack, but I kept it secret as you requested. I don’t suppose you made any progress on the power requirements?”

Jack shook his head in frustration, “Sorry Simon, I cannot get the system to work with RD current. Even 110 is too weak to sustain a simple construct. Maybe in a few years we will break it down to 110 AC., but direct current stabilization is years away. And as far as achieving RD.” he lifted his hands in the air shrugging his shoulder. “I’m not sure we will ever generate even a small field with such a low yield.”

Simon waived the conversation off as irrelevant and returned his attention to Kyle. “I have another room with smaller furniture, painted cartoon figures on the wall, even a puppet named Mental Mouse you could talk to. Would you like to have our discussions in there?”

Kyle frowned. If Simon was serious, the boy felt belittled. If Simon was not serious, then he felt the man was making fun of him. Not trusting himself to speak, he said nothing, hoping the doctor would give up and allow him to go back home.

As if Simon read his mind he nodded in understanding. “I think young Kyle and I can continue without daddy present, don’t you Kyle?” The question was so patronizing the boy instantly forgot the hologram generators and their power consumption, while his question about RD current and what it was died on his lips. Angrily he glared at Simon before nodding respectfully to his father. Jack walked over and hugged his child whispering in his ear to be polite, then left the two alone.

Kyle crossed his arms waiting for the inevitable command to lie on the shrink’s couch. Giving the doctor every indication, he would refuse to speak. There wasn’t any logical explanation why he felt the need to defy the psychiatrist. His inaction would gain him nothing, not to mention, it was childish. He only knew he very seldom had a reason to pout and he felt now was a good time to rediscover this behavioral trait. However, Simon did not ask him to lie down, which seemed unfair and a waste of a good pout. After all, he couldn’t be defiant if he wasn’t given any commands to defy. Instead, Simon lied down on his own couch, ignoring him and began to talk.

The first hour consisted of a one-sided conversation where Dr. Truensky related to the unmoving child, several tales of his youth. Kyle listened politely, nodding when necessary remaining silent. Without meaning to the serious child followed the tales of young Simon and his gang of delinquents running through city streets. Trouble followed the group although most of their pranks were harmless enough. During the second hour the amusing stories became tales of excitement and bravado, keeping the boy glued to his seat, a seat he took without realizing it an hour earlier. By the third hour, the stories of excitement and mischief changed to dull lectures voiced in a monotonous drone. Slowly Kyle’s feet began to move on their own. His hands started to fidget. The clock on the wall which moved quickly at forst now sounded off every move of it’s hand with a loud click making his eye lid twitch each second that passed. Anger overtook his stubbornness.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” the boy demanded angrily. Interrupting the doctor’s lecture on the high’s and lows of owning timeshare properties on some island whose name the man never mentioned. “Is this how you help your patients, boring them to death?” He demanded.

Simon looked at the boy thoughtfully, making sure he finally had the his attention. He laid the book he was reading down on the table in front of the couch. Kyle, by habit read the title “The high’s and low’s of Owning Timeshare Properties. Kyle groaned.

“I help those who want my help, Kyle Bennet.” He told the boy. “Now, if you are ready to talk, I will do my best to help you.” Kyle dropped his eyes in embarrassment, nodding once. The boy even laughed at himself as he read the title again.

Even at the young age of eight, Kyle usually gained the upper hand while conversing with adults. This man would be more difficult. Almost as if the doctor read his thoughts, he nodded at the boy and pointed a finger at him.

“One thing I will teach you Kyle is how to be average. Does that frighten you?”

“No. Although, I do not see why you should set a goal, where the end result is a regression.” Kyle said innocently.
“Tell me, how your failures at school, your fighting and withdrawing into yourself. Not to mention your dreams, are not forms of regression.”

Kyle thought through the question for several minutes before answering. “Those are not regressive, they are merely a reassessment of focus.” Simon shook his head sadly. Seeing this Kyle became concerned for himself for the first time. “Am I broken, doctor?” He asked Simon, unsure he wanted to know the answer.
“Only your childhood Kyle.” Simon said “only your childhood.” He repeated quietly. “We are nearly finished for the day. I want you here tomorrow morning. I pulled you from school the rest of the year. You will spend it with me.” Kyle nodded without committing to any reaction. “I need to talk to your father for few minutes, would you mind going through that door into the play room while we talk?”

“Sure.” The boy said as he headed toward the door Simon pointed out.

The children’s room was exactly as Simon described. Small desk, small chairs, and bright colors, bombarded his vision. Sitting on one of the small chairs was a child, maybe a year younger than Kyle, playing with a doll. She looked up when the door opened. The little girl wore a white sundress with pink flowers making her strawberry blond hair stand out in contrast. She stopped brushing her doll’s hair, turning her green eyes on Kyle, watching him as he scanned the room. When he finished categorizing every item he could see, Kyle brought his gaze to the girl only to lock eyes on her own. Kyle saw something in those eyes currently denied him. Her sunny disposition and bright starry eyes held within them the ability to instantly trust and build a friendship all within first sight of another. Kyle was looking at the innocents of a child.

“Hello.” She said. “My name is Jessie” she introduced herself, getting up hand extended. Shyly he shook her hand. “Are you crazy?” she asked bluntly as she sat back down with her doll.

After a few minutes of self-contemplation he could only answer “Maybe”

“I don’t know either,” she said in a stern voice. “No one will tell me if I am or not.” She pouted. “If I was,” she said barely taking in a breath, “then I could live with my uncle in Louisiana,” she continued as she combed her doll’s hair once more. “My mother and father tells everyone we know, he is the craziest,” she held a hand to her mouth and whispered “son of bitch they know.” She finished with a wicked giggle. Despite himself, Kyle smiled with her.

“Why are you here?” he asked his curiosity getting the better of his good manners.

She shook her head making her braided ponytails swing back and forth across her face. “I don’t know. Something to do with my dreams. I keep telling Simon Says out there the bricks won’t stick together and the line dances under my feet. What does he do? He wags his finger in my face and tells me to try again.” She whispered again with her hand in front of her mouth secretly. “Before I lost my front teeth, I bit that pointy finger after he waved it in front my face for the hundredth time.” She giggled again.

“I am sure he did not like that.” Kyle told the girl laughing. “Was he mad?”

“Oh, he was until the bleeding stopped.” She said with a far away look of one enjoying a favorite memory. “He doesn’t say anything about it, but he makes sure I see the scars at least once a day.”

“Does he still stick his finger in your face?”

She twisted her face in concentration as she thought about his question. “You know, I don’t think he has. He can be strange sometimes.” She looked at her doll and her handy work with a slight frown. “But I like him.” She pulled her doll back to her chest and brushed its hair once more. Her face showed the memory of her small victory over the doctor fade and a new one took its place. Kyle deduced this process of quickly changing thoughts and moods was a common occurrence.

She looked up quickly grinning once more “Hey, you want to play?” before he could answer, she ran to a corner of the room and pulled out a box. She grabbed small army figures from the box and several tanks. “Come on”

“I don’t play much anymore.” He told her hesitantly.
She did not stop pulling out toys but she slowed down and gave him a pitying expression. Just as quickly, she came up with her own prognosis.

“Well, you are crazy.” She told him as if to say nothing else needed to be said about the matter. Kyle, who could not argue the point sat down beside her.

“Look at these men, I have never seen army men likes these.” She held up one of the figures. The man had a tale and pointy ears at the top of his head. He examined some others. Some of the men were covered with blue skin, others wore white robes and wings grew from their back both black and white.. The ‘bad’ guys were gray and pink colored monsters with tusks.
“Awful elaborate for children’s toy’s” Kyle said, a chill going through him as he thought of the pig like men in his dreams. Shaking his head at his wild imagination, he told himself none of his dream creatures grew tusks.

“Yea” the girl agreed. “They are fun to play army with.” She looked up at him eagerly. Kyle looked at his watch and frowned at the time. The girl saw the motion and tried to hide the disappointment coming over her. Kyle guessed she was probably as lonely as he. She however, did not give up on friends and playmates as Kyle had. She kept her heart open for the opportunity; those occasions were obviously scarce for the girl. His hardened heart went out to her.

“Are you here every day?” he asked her.

“No just Monday’s and Thursday’s” she told him sadly, packing the toys back into the box.

“Well, Jessie, I am here every weekday for the next six weeks. I am sure we can play sometime.” Her disappointed face changed instantly. Clapping her hands excitedly, she jumped up and hugged him making him wince slightly. The girl was stronger than she looked.

He left the girl when he heard his name call from the outer room. Back in the Doctor’s office Kyle saw his father waiting for him.

“Kyle,” Simon stopped him before he left. “I am sure you met Jessie?” Kyle’s eyes inadvertently traveled to Simons’ finger trying to find the scars the girl eluded to him. Simon, noticing the search frowned only slightly, and smiled. “Yes, I see you have. He looked at his right index finger. The two scars were definitely noticeable. “She is quite a handful I do say.”

“Is she ok Simon?” he asked obviously uncomfortable. “What I mean is, she doesn’t suffer as I do, does she?”

“Compassion, my young friend?”

“Curiosity. Mixed with concern for the girl’s well being.”

Simon looked at Jack briefly in an obvious understanding between the two. Kyle chose to ignore it still worried about the girl. “Her mind battles with her and she suffers mildly, but nothing compared to yours, Kyle.” The boy nodded tersely and left the room without waiting for his father.