SOLITUDE
Claire lay in an isolation tank in her local spa and started to panic. What made me decide to do this? she thought.
She hated being on her own even in her own home when her husband was at work and her children at school. It was a nightmare situation for her. She needed loud music to keep her company whilst she kept herself busy with a cooking or a painting project, in order to smother the fear of being abandoned.
She needed to touch her husband James’s hand to feel his blood coursing through his body so that her blood flowed in rhythm with his heart, to be reminded that she was alive. Now, in the darkness of the tank, floating in shallow water, she prepared for a peaceful state of mind.
She started worrying about her children’s lunch. Had she remembered to put some fruit in their lunch boxes? She pushed that thought away. She remembered an argument with James over breakfast. She pushed that thought away. She started having a sexual fantasy about her favourite movie star. She took longer to push away that thought.
Then she saw a pinpoint of light in the distance. Breathing slowly and deeply she started feeling calm and felt no pain. She felt as if she had no body. Lights flashed past her, and she heard no sound.
She was thinking with a clear mind. Waves of purple and red appeared before her eyes and her thoughts once more fell away. She felt as if she was an omnipotent being, floating in the universe. Free falling amongst the stars.
Then she started feeling angry recalling the problems she had had with her mother since she was a teenager. She should have handled her mother’s verbal abuse in a more assertive manner. Why did she wait until she was eighteen to just walk away? It was because I was stranded with relatives throughout my childhood and needed some time with her, however bad it was; she answered herself.
You fool, she thought, did you think you could attain enlightenment just lying here?
What is happening? I never get angry with myself, she thought. I have always been positive about myself. Because who else would?
I’m getting out of here, surely the hour is up.
She banged on the lid or the side or the top or the bottom of the tank, not sure which way was up.
No-one responded.
Finally she found a switch in the corner of her tank. Blinding light flooded in as she pushed open the tank.
“Is anyone there?” she called. “I think my time is up”.
She climbed out, looking around for a towel to cover her naked body. Her skin was wrinkled like a prune. Where were her clothes? She looked round the room and saw her door locker was hanging open.
As she approached it she noticed that a layer of thick dust covered the whole unit of lockers.
She reached in and found the jeans and shirt she had been wearing that morning. They seemed a bit smelly and dusty. She felt confused. Her clothes had been freshly washed and ironed, not enough time had elapsed for them to get smelly after just an hour of treatment in the clinic.
“Is there anyone there?” she yelled.
Silence wafted in the shaft of light and dust motes pouring in through the windows.
Fear gripped her. She felt goose pimples cover her body. Her hands started shaking.
What had happened? How long had she been in the tank?
She walked through the building. It was empty, No-one was there, no receptionists, no one waiting for their massage or yoga appointments. No-one gathered around the coffee machine. No health centre staff in their white uniforms of loose shirts and trousers. No soothing music. No sound at all.
Trembling, she walked out to the car park to find her car. I must find out what time it is. Something is terribly wrong. I cannot even hear traffic, she thought.
The car park was full of cars which looked as if they had been abandoned rather than tidily parked.
She found her car and relieved to see something familiar. At last she flopped onto the back seat fumbling for her lap top and searched for the time and date. What! There must be a mistake. The screen showed that it was Wednesday 9 th October 2050, 18.00 hours.
This is not real. It cannot be real. She left her car and wandered in a daze up to the road leading to the beach.
She saw no people. She noticed a mass of vegetation that had pushed through cracks in the road turning them into crevices.
The old part of the college where she worked, in front of the pier was covered in thick ivy and other climbing plants that looked strangely tropical.
She still saw no people. She walked up the path leading to the cliff top and looked across the bay turning left, towards Mudeford, and to her right towards Sandbanks, there was still no sign of human activity. She felt weak with grief, and sank down on to her knees realising that her husband and children might not have survived the apocalypse that must have taken place.
“James, Fiona, Rachel!” she screamed out across Poole Bay, her heart thumping rapidly.
There were no fishing boats, no surfers, no beachcombers, no ice cream sellers on the pier, and no children on the swings.
What world had she awakened into?
She noticed vigorous sea shore plants with thicker vines than she had seen before covering the cliff and the viewpoint terrace.
The only sound she heard was from waves crashing into the shoreline. Where are the seagulls? Where are the crows and swifts?
She walked for miles up towards the holiday homes of the rich on the Sandbanks peninsula trying to take in what had happened. She looked across to Studland where a ferry should have been taking tourists to the sand dunes.
She found a garden with apple trees crowding themselves out towards the sand. This is a world where plant life dominates, she realised.
She picked an apple and bit into its juicy sweet flesh. She went into the house that was buried in climbing plants to find some drinking water, terrified that she might find dead bodies. She walked through the back door into the kitchen. There were no skeletons; just thick dust everywhere. She found the kitchen sink and had to grip the rusty tap really hard to turn it on. The pipes rattled and squeaked and one muddy drop of water splashed into the stainless steel basin. What am I going to drink? she thought. Then she remembered the stream that ran down to the sea shore in the Branksome Chine. Tears streaming down her face as she recalled the happy walks she had taken down the chine from her home with her daughters, when Rachel would run ahead to hide behind a tree and jump out to surprise her little sister, who stayed holding her mummy’s hand or rode on her daddy’s shoulders. She remembered swimming in the sea with her daughters on warm summer days and, in the winter, enjoying watching the high waves crashing up onto the shore road.
She walked two miles back towards Bournemouth pier finding no trace of the Canford Cliffs Chine, and at last, with her legs and arms covered in scratches she managed to locate the stream amongst the rhododendron trees. She lay down on her stomach, dipped her cupped hand into the muddy stream and took the risk of drinking what could be contaminated water. She tested it with her tongue. It was pure and sweet so she gulped down five handfuls, dripping water through her fingers down her shirt.
She lay back staring up through the branches of the trees. If I am really the only human left on the planet, I could exist on this water and the fruit and nuts that are growing rampant here. She sat up pushing her hair back from her face, surprised that she felt such a strong need to survive.
She was experiencing her greatest fear; total isolation with no protection from another human being.
She hesitated at the path that would lead her back up to her home. No she could not face what she would find there.
Weak with grief she walked back to the beach; still expecting to see some children run out of the woods yelling with excitement as they saw the sea, thinking that she would have a clearer view than anywhere else of any surviving human movement. A boat sailing from France, a plane, a surfer or even a seagull might be seen on this surprisingly clear cloudless day. Claire lay down on the fine white sand in the heat of the sun and closed her eyes.
“Mrs Goodwin!” a voice gently whispered in her ear.
“Your time in the tank is up. I will give you 10 minutes to get used to the lights before you climb out.”
Claire lay in an isolation tank in her local spa and started to panic. What made me decide to do this? she thought.
She hated being on her own even in her own home when her husband was at work and her children at school. It was a nightmare situation for her. She needed loud music to keep her company whilst she kept herself busy with a cooking or a painting project, in order to smother the fear of being abandoned.
She needed to touch her husband James’s hand to feel his blood coursing through his body so that her blood flowed in rhythm with his heart, to be reminded that she was alive. Now, in the darkness of the tank, floating in shallow water, she prepared for a peaceful state of mind.
She started worrying about her children’s lunch. Had she remembered to put some fruit in their lunch boxes? She pushed that thought away. She remembered an argument with James over breakfast. She pushed that thought away. She started having a sexual fantasy about her favourite movie star. She took longer to push away that thought.
Then she saw a pinpoint of light in the distance. Breathing slowly and deeply she started feeling calm and felt no pain. She felt as if she had no body. Lights flashed past her, and she heard no sound.
She was thinking with a clear mind. Waves of purple and red appeared before her eyes and her thoughts once more fell away. She felt as if she was an omnipotent being, floating in the universe. Free falling amongst the stars.
Then she started feeling angry recalling the problems she had had with her mother since she was a teenager. She should have handled her mother’s verbal abuse in a more assertive manner. Why did she wait until she was eighteen to just walk away? It was because I was stranded with relatives throughout my childhood and needed some time with her, however bad it was; she answered herself.
You fool, she thought, did you think you could attain enlightenment just lying here?
What is happening? I never get angry with myself, she thought. I have always been positive about myself. Because who else would?
I’m getting out of here, surely the hour is up.
She banged on the lid or the side or the top or the bottom of the tank, not sure which way was up.
No-one responded.
Finally she found a switch in the corner of her tank. Blinding light flooded in as she pushed open the tank.
“Is anyone there?” she called. “I think my time is up”.
She climbed out, looking around for a towel to cover her naked body. Her skin was wrinkled like a prune. Where were her clothes? She looked round the room and saw her door locker was hanging open.
As she approached it she noticed that a layer of thick dust covered the whole unit of lockers.
She reached in and found the jeans and shirt she had been wearing that morning. They seemed a bit smelly and dusty. She felt confused. Her clothes had been freshly washed and ironed, not enough time had elapsed for them to get smelly after just an hour of treatment in the clinic.
“Is there anyone there?” she yelled.
Silence wafted in the shaft of light and dust motes pouring in through the windows.
Fear gripped her. She felt goose pimples cover her body. Her hands started shaking.
What had happened? How long had she been in the tank?
She walked through the building. It was empty, No-one was there, no receptionists, no one waiting for their massage or yoga appointments. No-one gathered around the coffee machine. No health centre staff in their white uniforms of loose shirts and trousers. No soothing music. No sound at all.
Trembling, she walked out to the car park to find her car. I must find out what time it is. Something is terribly wrong. I cannot even hear traffic, she thought.
The car park was full of cars which looked as if they had been abandoned rather than tidily parked.
She found her car and relieved to see something familiar. At last she flopped onto the back seat fumbling for her lap top and searched for the time and date. What! There must be a mistake. The screen showed that it was Wednesday 9 th October 2050, 18.00 hours.
This is not real. It cannot be real. She left her car and wandered in a daze up to the road leading to the beach.
She saw no people. She noticed a mass of vegetation that had pushed through cracks in the road turning them into crevices.
The old part of the college where she worked, in front of the pier was covered in thick ivy and other climbing plants that looked strangely tropical.
She still saw no people. She walked up the path leading to the cliff top and looked across the bay turning left, towards Mudeford, and to her right towards Sandbanks, there was still no sign of human activity. She felt weak with grief, and sank down on to her knees realising that her husband and children might not have survived the apocalypse that must have taken place.
“James, Fiona, Rachel!” she screamed out across Poole Bay, her heart thumping rapidly.
There were no fishing boats, no surfers, no beachcombers, no ice cream sellers on the pier, and no children on the swings.
What world had she awakened into?
She noticed vigorous sea shore plants with thicker vines than she had seen before covering the cliff and the viewpoint terrace.
The only sound she heard was from waves crashing into the shoreline. Where are the seagulls? Where are the crows and swifts?
She walked for miles up towards the holiday homes of the rich on the Sandbanks peninsula trying to take in what had happened. She looked across to Studland where a ferry should have been taking tourists to the sand dunes.
She found a garden with apple trees crowding themselves out towards the sand. This is a world where plant life dominates, she realised.
She picked an apple and bit into its juicy sweet flesh. She went into the house that was buried in climbing plants to find some drinking water, terrified that she might find dead bodies. She walked through the back door into the kitchen. There were no skeletons; just thick dust everywhere. She found the kitchen sink and had to grip the rusty tap really hard to turn it on. The pipes rattled and squeaked and one muddy drop of water splashed into the stainless steel basin. What am I going to drink? she thought. Then she remembered the stream that ran down to the sea shore in the Branksome Chine. Tears streaming down her face as she recalled the happy walks she had taken down the chine from her home with her daughters, when Rachel would run ahead to hide behind a tree and jump out to surprise her little sister, who stayed holding her mummy’s hand or rode on her daddy’s shoulders. She remembered swimming in the sea with her daughters on warm summer days and, in the winter, enjoying watching the high waves crashing up onto the shore road.
She walked two miles back towards Bournemouth pier finding no trace of the Canford Cliffs Chine, and at last, with her legs and arms covered in scratches she managed to locate the stream amongst the rhododendron trees. She lay down on her stomach, dipped her cupped hand into the muddy stream and took the risk of drinking what could be contaminated water. She tested it with her tongue. It was pure and sweet so she gulped down five handfuls, dripping water through her fingers down her shirt.
She lay back staring up through the branches of the trees. If I am really the only human left on the planet, I could exist on this water and the fruit and nuts that are growing rampant here. She sat up pushing her hair back from her face, surprised that she felt such a strong need to survive.
She was experiencing her greatest fear; total isolation with no protection from another human being.
She hesitated at the path that would lead her back up to her home. No she could not face what she would find there.
Weak with grief she walked back to the beach; still expecting to see some children run out of the woods yelling with excitement as they saw the sea, thinking that she would have a clearer view than anywhere else of any surviving human movement. A boat sailing from France, a plane, a surfer or even a seagull might be seen on this surprisingly clear cloudless day. Claire lay down on the fine white sand in the heat of the sun and closed her eyes.
“Mrs Goodwin!” a voice gently whispered in her ear.
“Your time in the tank is up. I will give you 10 minutes to get used to the lights before you climb out.”
