‘Oil of Evening Primrose Rich Moisturising Cream’ the label reads. It sounds like it should have a strong smell and that’s all I care about. It doesn’t have to be a nice smell, just a distinctive one. I’ll make sure I use lashings of it every day I’m away, then never use it again. I need another jar for when I come back. I’ll keep that second jar for at least a year before I open it, then when I do, and I smell the smell, the memories of the week I’m about to have will come flooding back. Not just the memories. I’ll be able to recreate the actual experience and my feelings and everything. But I mustn’t do it too often or I’ll become immune. That’s how your sense of smell works. Zena says. So Evening Primrose, you are my chosen memory agent. I am taking you to the counter to pay for you in preparation for the most important week of my life so far. Shame Zena isn’t coming but that’s her own fault.


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Comment by Adrian Thompson Laisterdyke UK on October 19, 2012 at 7:58

I push at the lid. It opens. It always opens, as though there’s nothing above it. I sit up, stand up, and climb out, using the headstone to help – as ever. I close the lid, and the soil magically covers it. Now THAT’S cool!

First stop is the mausoleum to pick up some clothes, and the mission for this week. A quick push, a creaking door, and I’m in. Sometime, I have to learn that trick that Zena knows – the one where you can walk through walls. She’s been here a lot longer than me though – I only joined up last year, after that little disagreement with the car. Quick change, and skim the instructions. Easy one this time – just go out into the ‘real’ world (I still think of it as the real world, even though it’s really not...), collect a soul, save a couple of people who deserve it, point everyone in the right direction, and home for tea and Pointless.

I leave the mausoleum, making sure – of course – that I lock it behind me. Not sure how the lock works. There’s no key, and I don’t even have to think about it.

Now, try and remember the next bit. Stand on the circle of stone in front, arms up, then out, and the wings pop out – magic!

Now, which way’s Torquay?

Comment by Nikki Heath on October 19, 2012 at 8:36

Why do I want to head to Torquay? It's a nice enough town, I suppose, but I've no idea why that popped into my head. but at least it's somewhere to go; something to do. I'm never sure these days, not since I began to use the cream. Mid-flight, she pulled up, sharply. What WAS this cream doing to her? And when did she learn to fly? FLY? But I'm scared of heights! I've been scared of heights ever since, ever since, but no. That's not right. Her brain began racing wildly as memories flew into her brain. A feeling of unreality washed over her. I've been scared of heights ever since I died in that plane crash...

Comment by Anne-Lise Robin on October 19, 2012 at 9:36

I have to keep calm. Remember what Zena told you "sometimes your brains will remember thing from your old life in the "real world." That's it: I used to live in Torquay and hate cliffs. At least I had this one out of the way. I cleared my head, the fresh air was doing me good. I swiftly angled my body towards London where my real mission was. I wished Zena had been with me. She's my mentor, my instructor in the parallel world. She first discovered this trafficking scam. A team of highly trained invisible thieves had started stealing highly confidential information and expensive artefacts to create chaos in the "real world". The NHS... it was all down to them. I remeber the conversation. "They have to be stopped NOW" roared Zena. "Ok I relented, what's the plan?"

Comment by Stephen Park on October 19, 2012 at 10:46

I dont often relent, I mean, I was reluctant at best. I think Zena knows this, I dont like plans. I'm confident enough, and this she doesnt know as far as I can see. I trust my impulse.

If there is one thing Zena just refuses to understand; its that I've lived, I can make my own decisions, I'm more powerful now than I was before. Zena only knows this world. Her idea of saving the democracy of the real world for us to respect her dictatorship seems to me as somewhat of a contradiction to me. Change needs to happen on boths sides of the paralell, real reform!

A booby trap, thats the only way, neither paralell we know my plan! Two birds with one stone! There is something these thieves want more than anything else, bigger than chaos in the NHS, bigger than the military, bigger than what they could even imagine they are capable of.

Zena’s plan puts me at risk, to her I’m expendable. I’ll show her, I can feel it in my bones, if you excuse the pun!

This is what I’m going to do

Comment by Eve Westwood on October 19, 2012 at 11:28

I have learned a thing or two that Zena doesn't know about from some of the other inhabitants of the 'park' as she calls it.  I've learned that you can traffic information, you can traffic goods, and you can traffic souls.  These thieves, these anarchists, they don't deserve to have a life.  I'm going to save the NHS, then I'm going to send one of them back to the mausoleum while I begin again, begin to live again.  And this time, I won't make so many mistakes.

I circle down, a slow spiral and land gently on Princess Pier.  It is early evening and the lights are coming out, reflecting in the inky water.  The Millennium Bridge admires its reflection, reaching up into the sky and down into the depths of the sea.  Then, another stray memory brushes my mind.  Walking, hand in hand across that elegant structure, I look up, laughing, into the face of a man...

Comment by WP Central on October 19, 2012 at 13:08

.....I was so happy then. Just strolling through London with the man I loved, with no conception of what was to come. He was so handsome and he really had the gift of the gab....well that's what you expect from a politician isn't it. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't have been on that plane and wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation now, flying unseen across the heavens to help people. Funny how he walked away without a scratch or smudge on him, but then I guess he was used to using smoke and mirrors to get out of unpleasant situations. Ok focus for goodness sake that's no. 10 below me and I'm going in. Better find the back door....really must work on that walking through walls thing....

Comment by Caroline Roche on October 19, 2012 at 19:50

and coming through the walls I come unexpectedly on him.  My politician.  He turned and looked straight at me, and gave a start.  But he shouldn't have been able to see me.  And what was that snarling look of hate on his face?  Suddenly he started growing horns and a tail, and I realised why he was able to walk away from me without a single scratch.  He was the enemy, and he was in Number 10!  Startled by my discovery, I shot backwards through the wall, shouting for Zena as I went.  I saw the plan it wasn't just to undermine the NHS, it was to control NATO itself through infiltrating Number 10.  My politician had been tipped to become the next Prime Minister - he may even have become so since my death.  I really hadn't taken any notice.  Zena appeared, and through thought transference captured my thoughts immediately.  "Well done" she shot back.  "WE've been trying to find that out for ages, you've saved democracy on this planet"  Just then my politician appeared, and threw a thunderbolt towards Zena, who parried it with one of her own.  Back and forth the titanic struggle went.  I was helpless to participate, as I hadn't progressed to that level yet.  After hours, the politician was defeated and Zena stood over his prone body.  "Thank you" she said.  'Now our work can really begin".  And as she smiled at me, I was sure I caught the glimpse of some horns under her shining curls … but I couldn't have, could I?

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