Introduction
This one is different for me in that I’ve had a lot of help from Flibinite and Ligeia. Ligeia, you won’t know. She’s not specifically interested in mind control stories but she is interested in, and knowledgeable about, literature in general.
Flibinite gave a valid comment/criticism about the split personality of this story which I took on board. Unfortunately, I couldn’t eradicate it without changing the story entirely, so I ended up doubling down on it.
Ligeia is not afraid of destroying my ego, so she gave me a long list of problems as she saw them as well as some solutions. I agreed and took up a lot of her solutions as well as altering the story myself to fit the revised structure and ran with the updated version.
Obviously, this is my story. Neither Flibinite or Ligeia are responsible in any way for my errors and interpretations and general readableness. All mistakes, as well as bad storiness are mine alone.
Girl, There’s A Better Life For Me And You
Mr Mortimer Harbinger
Samhain, 1975 — A Nice Walk To The Hotel
Mr Mortimer Harbinger jerked his head back in surprise when the noise and smell hit him. Where was he? He was staring at a double-decker only a few feet away. The diesel smell was strong. The bus was red. Was he in London? No, there was a United logo on its side. Suddenly the crowd noise focused in his ears and he heard a large number of individual voices. He was in Newcastle. Or maybe Sunderland? But he had rejected the shop in Sunderland, hadn’t he? This must be Newcastle. What was he thinking? He had rejected any Sunderland operations way back in ’39, before the war. What year was it now? He had to think and the answer came as if someone in his head was speaking. ‘Nineteen seventy-five’, it said. It was like the speaking clock.
The bus rumbled away spewing foul smells. He turned and remembered as soon as he saw the shop behind him. It was his new shop. His bookies. He’d just finished the first day of setting it up and was very happy with the result. It looked like being a little goldmine. Just as well as his business had been static for a long time now.
He had foregone his car because the shop was in the centre of the city and he had walked here from his hotel. Now he was going to walk back. It was only a half-hour or so, not even worth a taxi. He shook his head and started.
He sighed a happy sigh and wondered if he was going senile. After all, he was sixty-six. Another perk of the walk, apart from the sorely needed exercise for his knees, was the girls finishing work. It looked like they had all disgorged out onto the streets at the same time and they all looked magnificent to his ancient eyes.
He wished he was young again now because of the fashions and the opportunities today’s youths had. Not that he wanted a divorce though. He was still in love with Vivian and had been since they got married in thirty-nine, just before the war. There was no way he would jeopardise his marriage, but he could look.
An unexpected sight brought his mind back to the moment. A small child had appeared wearing a devil’s mask which surprised him. He smiled at his reaction. The child’s mother smiled back at him as she walked her son to the bus stop. Mr Harbinger wondered why a mother would take a child out at this hour. Then a pair of children appeared, each accompanied by their mothers. These were girls and both wore ugly, evil witch’s masks. Mr Harbinger assumed there was some sort of children’s activity nearby that had just finished. The children’s body language told him they were excited and had obviously had a good time. ‘Halloween’, his internal voice reminded him. Of course. This was becoming more popular now. Probably the American influence. ‘I bet the kids love it’, he thought. No doubt the parents thought the rush hour aggravation was worth the kids’ enjoyment. They were probably right. Once again he mourned the fact they couldn’t have children. Thinking about that actually hurt.
He passed several such children in the next minute or so. But soon the procession passed and his mind returned to talent watching as he sauntered along.
The lights were against him at the next junction so he joined the crowd and mingled close to the objects of his desire. He was careful not to stare here. It was not his intention to make his interest obvious or to make anyone nervous. He only wanted to watch them go about their business without them knowing. A funeral procession driving across the junction caught his attention. ‘Looks like this is a creepy night,’ he thought as it passed and the lights changed.
There was a pub, The Anniversary, close to his hotel which looked like it was worth a visit, so he entered.
Inside was different. It had waitress service. He chose a seat by the window and waited. A waitress appeared quickly.
“Hiya Luv, I’m Gertie, what’r’ye havin’?”
“IPA, please, pint.”
“Okay,” she answered. She turned to fetch his order and said, “Good to see you again,” as she did so.
He frowned. Did he know her? He didn’t recognise her but he’d seen so many people recently when arranging his new shop. He worried again about his age. The last thing he wanted was to be decrepit and dependent.
“Keep the change,” he said when his pint came. She smiled and did. He took a sip and was amazed at how much he enjoyed it, so he took a deeper one. It was as if he hadn’t had a drink in years, rather than the few days it must have been.
Despite his enjoyment of the taste, he only stayed for two pints. After all, he had a lot of work to do tomorrow. Interviews for the remaining staff were not as easy as most people thought. They tired him out. He reciprocated the smile and little wave the waitress gave him as he left. Perhaps he did recognise her after all? She did seem more familiar now. Now, where had he seen her before?