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Eyewitness: "Tommy"

The Eavesdropper

God of Hyperbole
Joined
Oct 1, 2003
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NYC. USA
Hola!

Here's another short excerpt from EYEWITNESS; A collaborative fan fic project chronicling a modern day raid on Japan by Godzilla. The finished collection commemorates G's 50th Anniversary, and will premier online this September at the Rodan's Roost website.

This is just a sneak preview, I'll be around to link ya's to the finished work which includes stories by Gertrude Smith, C.L. Werner, Doug Wood, Nick Hill and moi.

Enjoy!

~E.

***​



EYEWITNESS:"Tommy"​
by George Thomas​



Tomoyuki Tomita was a nervous wreck, pacing and fidgeting as Doctor Mizuno penned the customary illegible scrawl that supplied him with his monthly renewal of medications.

Halcyon, Darvon, Prozac, Quaaludes and Demarol. Depressants, anti-depressants, barbituates, amphetamines, anti-psychotics, even various placebos. Over the years, Tommy had them all, yet none of them served to quell the nameless dread that plagued him.

"Alright, Tommy," Mizuno called, calm and condescending. "Looks like we're done for today. Now, are you sure there's nothing specific you'd like to talk to me about?"

Tommy shook his head in negative response. "N, no, doctor."

"Alright then, Tommy. Try to relax now. You know my advice regarding your nebulous fears all too well."

Tommy nodded agreement, his gaze darting anxiously about the room. "H, hai, Doctor."

"It's been nearly eight months since you were released from the Sanitorium and referred here to my office. Eight long months. I hate to admit I cannot cure your paranoid delusions or your chronic anxiety, but we have succeeded in managing them to a great degree, true?"

Tommy was not so sure of that. In his rare moments of full cognizance Tommy had considered consulting a different physician. One less reliant upon the kind of extreme chemical therapies he had been subject to while in Mizuno's care. His response was a quick, forced smile. "T, the pills don't help as much...anymore."

The doctor sighed in grim resignation. "I know, Tommy. You've developed a high tolerance to most conventional treatments. That's why I mix them up and keep the prescriptions a little different every month. The colors are always the same though, right? The yellow pills to calm you down, the red ones to help you sleep, the green ones to perk you up."

Tommy half-listened to the doctors standard, familiar diatribe. His attention, as usual, was diverted, distracted by the subtlest of movements and sounds. Something the doctor could only compensate for with closed doors and drawn blinds. Habitually, almost compulsively, Tommy would go to the office's small single window and peek out through the dusty vinyl slats. Today, something was different.

Tommy could hear noises, strange and frightening and not so far away. Light and shadow played menacingly between the barely visible gaps of the blinds. He cringed, startled by what sounded like a distant eruption or explosion. A tremor shook the office, catching the doctors attention as well. The lights flickered, dimmed, then died. "Doctor..." Tommy called in the darkness, seeking confirmation of the phenomena. "Something's wrong..."

"A tremor, Tommy. Just a minor quake," Mizuno surmised. "We have emergency generators here, they should kick in any minute."

Tommy had felt earthquakes before. Another impact, and the sound of a distant blast convinced him this was something else. Something horrible, something he had to see. A far too familiar dread rose as he moved to the window and reached shakily for the drawstring....

Suddenly, "Doctor Mizuno!" The office door was flung wide and an attendant rushed in.

"Hideki," Mizuno half-shouted. "I've told you never to burst in on a session! I..."

"Doctor, there was a broadcast before the power went out...I think we are under attack!" The attendant cried then turned to join her fleeing coworkers.

"Attack?"

The darkened office filled with daylight as Tommy opened the blinds. Great plumes of smoke were rising to the east, as if the harbor district were on fire. The doctor rose to share the view, and together they watched as the black clouds parted, and a massive reptilian horror emerged.

"Gojira," Tommy gasped as the beast appeared. "Gojira..." He watched as the mammoth monster's dorsal plates flashed with radioactive light. He saw the deadly beam of Atomfire burst from its jaws, blasting the surrounding structures into rubble. Then Tommy closed his eyes, gazing inward. He listened as the monster howled a warcry of rage, a cry that resonated with something deep within him, something nameless and inescapable that haunted the edge of his consciousness for far too long. "Gojira." Finally, Tommy realized, his 'paranoid delusion' had a name.

With a final look at the gargantuan daikaiju rampaging on the horizon, Tommy calmly turned away from the window. For the first time in years, he felt strangely relaxed and at peace. The lurking horror he had harbored within himself had been externalized and defined as clear as the light of the day. The feeling was liberating, and Tommy exhulted in a clarity of thought he had not experienced in a very long time.

Before him lay Doctor Mizuno, collapsed upon the office floor. The man seemed to have crumbled at the sight of the monster. He crawled to a corner of the room, gesturing wildly, unable to articulate the mind-numbing fear that gripped his heart and fragmented all content of his once orderly mind. Tommy could see in Mizuno's eyes, the man was on the verge of madness.

With a sigh, Tommy strode to Mizuno's desk, gathering his prescriptions and the doctors bottle of Perrier. He approached Mizuno, and placed each item in turn on the floor in front of him. "The yellow ones to calm you down. The red ones to help you sleep. The green ones to perk you up."

The Doctor cringed in abject fear. Spittle flecked his chin and his shirt. His trousers soaked with urine. Slowly, Tommy uncapped the water and the jar of red pills. The muted sound of distant explosions shook the room as Tommy, now strong and whole, rose to leave. "About next week," he spoke as he stood in the doorway. "I think it's probably best if we reschedule."


*​
 

Brian G Turner

Fantasist & Futurist
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This is actually quite interesting stuff - the prose seems to move fairly well for the genre it's written for. The only thing is I have never taken to Godzilla moveies - all that just passed me by - so I'm afraid I can't give you any form of relative comment on the piece as a whole!
 
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