Cotton Wool World by Eve Westwood - HTML preview

One hundred and eight

Do I want a brandy? I can’t decide. I waiver for too long and the offer is gone. I want to shout for her to come back with her tray. I would like a nightcap. I don’t think it will help me sleep but it might take some of these bizarre thoughts away. She turns back. I lean forward. The guy next to me is still asleep. He’s lucky. His face definitely looks more pleasant this way. Less troubled. The steward sees me and whispers. I look at the dark liquid in the plastic glass and shake my head. I don’t know why. I guess my head likes these thoughts. They keep each other company, there’s no getting away from them. Yet isn’t this what I’m trying to do. Escape. Escape from what. I don’t really know. I guess I’ve known that all along. Sure, I can escape to some degree from the society I despise but I can’t escape what goes on in 95

my own mind. I wouldn’t want to anyway, now I think about it. It’s what makes me.

My life is speeding up. It’s like being sat on a train watching the scenery go by. I’ll arrive at the last stop soon and the journey will all be over.

I’m in a cheerful mood.

I wonder how I would react if we flew through some sort of Bermuda Triangle. Not that I believe it exists but imagine if it did. The key to my interest would be if I survived the transition and wasn’t simply melted or evaporated. To pass though a dimension. To behold a parallel universe. Imagine. Imagine how it would change the way you viewed the world, the universe, time itself. *Note, remember this thought, might make a good kids book.