The Unhappy Life of Robert Simms part 4.

Here's Part 4! Please continue the support, vote, comment and spread the word! I am currently planning two novels and plan to start writing one of those after the January A2 modules. Until then here is more on the story of RObert Simms... If it's getting annoying me doing this bit by bit, leave me a comment and I'll upload the rest in one big bulk. Thank you, enjoy 


Harry Daniel. 

The radio crackled with the sound of heavy static as the battered Suzuki Swift chuddered along in the morning traffic. The red paint was faded and scratched all over, the years and weather had taken their toll on the loyal car. The right rear wheel was a spare and had been on long past its recommended limit. The engine grunted as it was put back to work, as the traffic shuffled forward another few feet. London was waking up with the routine traffic jams filling the air with angry honks of horns, blaring radios and the distinct smell of wasted petrol.  

Robert sat behind the wheel, suited up and blurry eyed, his head swimming from the events of the previous night. He almost didn’t believe the memories he kept playing over and over in his head. Yet something still stuck nagging at him, almost yelling at him that it was true, that that man, Mr. Iablo had changed his life. He had woken that morning with his head on the floor with his legs flung uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. Robert could not remember falling to sleep, he could barely remember going to bed.

Thinking back now Robert could see Iablo’s grin, strangely more sickening in his memories. He hadn’t seen him leave but he heard the distinctive rattle of his front door, the next thing he knew Robert was awake and stumbling to the bathroom. The man Robert had seen in the mirror was the same one as last night, the one that had been looking for the spark before he had really known what the spark was. Robert had starred for a long time into the man in the mirrors eyes, looking for what had been promised to him. Ten, maybe twenty minutes had passed and nothing had happened. Roberts eyes were looking unhappy and if anything, older.

Whilst the traffic ground to a halt once more Robert had a quick glance into the rear view mirror. Still nothing there. Robert felt humiliated and worse than ever before. Not because nothing had happened but because he believed something could have happened, that things may actually change. A tear rolled down Roberts cheek which he left to fall onto the white collar of his shirt.

The radio continued to crackle and taking his frustration against the world out on the old tape deck player Robert punched the auto seek button several times sending the old technology into a frenzy, trying to play catch-up with its self displaying a flicker of random frequencies on the small screen. Eventually it settled on one station, which was clear and crisp as if in an apology for not being good enough before for Robert.

A soft voice floated out of the speakers. “Happiness is only an interlude between unhappiness.” said the speaker, a rather cheery morning radio show was having a particularly joyful week on people’s opinions on happiness,  how we can be happy, what makes us happy and so on. That particular morning (from what Robert could gather between the elongated periods of static) it was why happiness could not be a constant. The talking had stopped again and static filled the frequency, not that Robert was paying much attention any more. He switched of the radio and aside from the honking horns and growl of countless engines the car was silent. The words however echoed for Robert, their meaning feeling all to familiar to him. Perhaps last nights glimpse of hope was the worlds way of giving Robert some form of happiness.  “Happiness is only an interlude between unhappiness.”  The words rang clear, crisp and consistent in his mind. Robert felt that he was to spend the rest of his life being unhappy, happiness only coming to him in fits of insanity like what he thought had happened last night.

Robert cursed under his breath as the traffic edge forward. How could he have been so foolish as to actually believe what he had seen last night. Had he finally snapped? Robert thought of the possibility, turning it over in his mind. He tried to look at his life from the point of view of one of those psychiatrists he’d seen in poor psychological thriller films. He was, in their professional opinion, a manic depressive who was extremely covert in digressing this emotional flaw to even his closest family members. He lived alone, far from any relatives, had no real friends other than a group of work colleagues that he would chat to if they instigated a conversation which they rarely did, he had no loving partner and mostly kept himself to himself. He also had visions of strange men entering his apartment and offering happiness just by asking them for it. Robert concluded that he would be classed as a recluse manic-depressive male with slight schizophrenia tendencies perhaps sparked or fuelled by an underlying homosexual desire which was never explored.

Robert breathed heavily out of his nose with a slight twitch of a smile creeping in from the left side of his lip; as close as he had ever come to a natural smile and the best laugh he could muster.

“Well done Dr. Simms, another great diagnostic!” Robert said aloud, alone in his car. The traffic rolled forward and Robert was finally able to make his turning only to be stuck in more traffic. He sat thinking for a moment. Maybe he should start seeing someone, maybe not a full blown psychiatrist; he didn’t think he was quite that crazy yet. But maybe a counsellor...?  Yes. Or would it be easier if it just all...

Roberts’s train of thought was cut off by a loud, long and overly aggressive beep of a horn from a silver Land Rover behind him. Whilst in a world of his own, the traffic had moved forward a full foot and Robert had failed to move into it; apparently aggravating the owner of the absurdly large vehicle that Robert felt was quite frankly stupid for London roads. Why buy an off-road car if you’re not off road arse-hole. But Robert  nonetheless stuck up an apologetic hand in front of the rear-view mirror for the Land Rover owner to see and Robert's car crawled forward 12 inches to take up its new position. 

The Unhappy Life of Robert Simms part 3.

Here's the third part of the story. If your getting bored of it bit by bit let me know and I'll just post the rest up and move on. This part may make more sense if you have read the other two parts first (found on the right). Please vote and comment. Also keep passing it around! 

The click from the kettle and the bubble of the water against the metal sides snapped Robert’s eyes wide open in shock. He looked down, he was still in his work shirt and trousers. He still held the speeding ticket in his hand as if nothing happened. He dropped his post and ran into his bedroom, the wardrobe doors were closed and, upon inspection Robert found that all of his clothes were in the exact spaces as they were before he’d chucked them out, if that ever happened. Had Robert really just imagined how he’d kill himself? It couldn’t be he thought, he was sure he had died in that cupboard.

Robert made his way to the bathroom to inspect himself. He was fine, the tie hadn’t even left a mark on his neck. To try and calm himself down a filled his hands with cold water, letting it overlap his fingers and fall into the sink. He splashed it onto his face and the cold water hit him like a brick. This was real, he was still alive. Then what the hell had happened to him?!

Almost as if on cue there were three meaningful knocks on the door. Each one sent a chill down Robert’s spine.

Robert had seen enough horror films to know what would happen if he were to open that door. He knew that if he was watching some other helpless soul doing this he’d be screaming at them with every inch of his body for them not to open the door. Every scary film made in the last 20 years told him that opening that door would be the worst thing he could possibly do. And yet, even as he thought this he was making his way to the door. It all seemed too much of a coincidence, and he had to find out what was going on.

Robert placed his right hand on the door handle and his left on the door for support. He paused. Slowly he pulled the handle down and opened the door.

Standing in Roberts’ doorway was a tall, thin man. He had a defined face, each bone seeming to pertrude from his face as if trying to break free of his skin. His eyes were narrow slits, so narrow in fact Robert struggled to see anything beneath the eyelids. The man had no eyebrows nor eyelashes. His hair was black but thin and looked to be falling out. To Robert the man looked as though he was loosing a fight for his life. He wore a black suit, along with a black shirt and black tie. The only colour on the man came not from his skin which held a grey tint to it but from the red handkerchief which was just poking out of the blazer pocket. Although Robert saw all these things he felt he would be unable to describe the man without him being directly in front of him.

The man did not smile nor even acknowledge Roberts presence at the door. Nevertheless Robert was intrigued by his arrival and extended a welcome.

“Hello” Robert said calmly and politely. 

“Good evening Mr. Simms, it’s truly a pleasure to meet you.” The man extended a bony hand. Robert paused, uncertain to make contact with this stranger but trying to be polite as ever shook his hand. The hand felt bitterly cold in Roberts’ warm one. “I’ve heard many things about you Robert, may I call you Robert?”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Robert dropped the politeness, something about this man was all too much.

“Where are my manners!” the man exclaimed in a sarcastic tone. He reached into his pocket with a smirk which stretched his lips further than was apparently comfortable for him. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Robert.

Robert took it from the man, being careful to avoid another touch of the mans unusually cold hands. He looked at the card, it was entirely black on one side, Robert turned it over, again black but on this side, in small red ink was; ‘MR Derrick Iablo’

“That’s Iablo as in e-ablo by the way, people always seem to struggle with that. So Robert, may I come in so we can have a chat, I think its best that I should.” The smirk had faded and before Robert could even reply the man, Mr. Iablo was bustling past him and into the kitchen. Robert speechlessly followed him into the kitchen and stood leaning against the door frame watching the man help himself to a chocolate digestive from the biscuit tin on the worktop. He showed one to Robert as if to say ‘don’t mind do you’ but took a bite out of it anyway.

“Nice place Robert, bit small, but you don’t need much room if you’re on your own I guess.”

Robert stood silently. He was still dazed about the whole situation. First he’d thought he’d died, then he was fine and now this strange man, this Mr. Derrick Iablo was in his house acting as though they were life long friends.

“I can tell what you’re thinking Robert and don’t worry all will be made clear. First of all, you’re not really dead, well, not any more anyway.”  Iablo made a noise that might have resembled a laugh but Robert couldn’t have been certain.

Robert seemed to find his voice again and with a slight croak he asked the man why he was there.

“Well to help you of course Robert!”

“I’m sorry but I... What do I need your help with?”

“With life of course my dear boy! Don’t worry I’ve heard it all before, I know all about you.” The smirked had returned and doubled, Robert noticed the skin was cracking under the strain of the smirk but Iablo seemed unaffected by this. “You’re not a very happy chap are you Robert, you never have been, sure you’ve faked it to please your parents, you’re actually very nice don’t get me wrong, but it’s not fair that you can’t be happy. You need that spark Robert, the spark of happiness that you were looking for in the mirror? Yes I saw that as well, don’t play coy with me. It’s real!”

Although put to him in a condescending manner Robert was forced to agree with him. Even when he was a child he wasn’t happy, but he got by, he pretended, partially to keep his parents happy, partially to stay out of counselling but most of all Robert didn’t want his parents to suffer the social stigmatisms they’d undoubtedly face from having a depressed child.

Christmas time was the hardest, getting all those presents and having to fake joy, he loved the toys he got, he loved his parents he just couldn’t feel the happy warm feeling he knew he should around that time of year. The same thing happened on his birthday as well. He didn’t want to seem like some brat so it made sense to him to hide it all, he knew it was strange but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to know.

“It’s not fair, that’s why I won’t have to put up with it much longer.”  Robert had dropped the politeness now, this man knew too much and Robert didn’t like it. The thoughts of Christmas had struck a chord and Robert’s patience seemed suddenly dried up.

“No, no, no Robert! We can’t have you doing that. It’s so easy to fix, you’re special to me Robert. I can give you the spark.” He paused considering his next words carefully. “That’s why I saved you.”

“Saved me? Saved me from what?”

“Let’s not play games boy, you just tried to kill yourself, you were hanging yourself in that wardrobe in your bedroom.” He paused as if considering his next words carefully. “But I changed that.”

“Wh-?” Robert began but was to stunned to formulate any real questions or words for that matter.

 “Robert I’m going to make you an offer, and I’d like very much for you to hear me out without interruptions please.” The tone reminded Robert of a school teacher trying to explain something to an inattentive class. “Robert, you can have a good life if you could enjoy it, so for you to have that spark, that ability to make you happy, all you have to do, is ask me for it.”

Iablo stood silent for a while allowing Robert to take in what he had said before he continued.

Robert stood stunned. Could it really be true? All that he ever wanted could be real just by asking this man for it. This man that knew too much to be a man. His angel? Roberts’ Knight in shining armour ready to save him from the world. Robert didn’t know where to begin, the entire time Iablo was talking Robert was taking it in and processing it, now that all seemed to come tumbling out in an unstoppable series of question.

“How did you save me? How do you know so much about my life? How do you know how I feel? Are you a magician? An angel? How could any of this be true?!” Robert slumped against the door frame, allowing it to take his full weight as his legs wobbled.

“Robert, I am not an angel, nor a magician, I am a friend who wants to help you.” If Robert had been looking at the man rather than at his own shaking hands he’d have seen the man struggling to contain such a sinister smile it could make a grown man run in fear. “Robert, ask me for help.”

“You can really help me?” Robert asked, still starring at his hands.

“I can.”  

Robert stood, jaw slightly ajar. Suddenly happiness was in reach, this wonderful man was here to make him normal. All he had to do was accept his help and everything would be ok. Or would it? Surely this couldn’t be real? He must be going mad, the depressive like state he’d been in for most of his life had finally caught up with him. But there was something about Iablo. Robert couldn’t quite pick it out but then, staring at the tall thin man’s snake like eyes he realised what it was. The spark he had seen earlier that year, the one that had stopped him trying it before, that had kept him alive for those few months more, it was Iablo’s eye. Robert could see it now as he looked, a shimmer of what Robert craved, a glint of happiness. Robert now knew almost defiantly that Iablo wasn’t of this world however crazy that may be if he helped Robert something may actually happen, something may finally change.

“Ok, help me.”

Almost as if he had known what he was going to say, Iablo instantly patted him hard on the back.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “I’ll get out of your hair my dear boy. Get some rest, you died today after all!” And just as quickly as he had arrived the man sauntered out of Roberts front door and down the road.

Robert stood up shakily, barely aware of his own body. He seemed to float to his bed feeling terribly tired now. When he reached the foot of his bed he crashed down and fell instantly asleep.

***

If Robert had watched Mr. D. Iablo leave his South London flat he would have seen him turn left onto the road, take 3 steps then disappear as if he had never been there. The only evidence that remained of his presence was the faint smell of a bonfire and a burnt pair of footprints on the scorched concrete.

*** 

The Unhappy Life of Robert Simms part 2.

There next part of the Robert Simms story, sorry for the wait, there is much more to come :) 

He cleaned his flat, better than it had ever been cleaned before. Dust that was as old as Robert was hovered up and thrown out with the rest of the rubbish. When the flat was completly spotless, Robert ran a bubble bath and gave himself a good scrub. When he got out to dry off, steam was rising from him and he couldn’t help notice his similarity to a warm dog shit on a freezing cold December morning. Robert let out his unhappy smile at this thought, it’s a good job no one could see how dirty his mind was after he’d died.

Once dry he stood naked in his bedroom ironing his best suit, a black blazer, black tie, black trousers and a crisp white shirt. This was topped off by his dads old Italian shoes which were so well polished that Robert could see his face in them. Just for good measure Robert also ironed his boxers and socks, better look smart all in all than be let down due to one fault he thought. Then with the flat spotless and Robert all dressed up in his Sunday best he stood in front of his bathroom mirror and examined himself.

Earlier that year Robert had wanted to end it. Before he even contemplated how he could go about killing himself Robert had seen something in his eye, when it had first happend he was unsure of what it was, he only knew that it had stopped him from wanting to commit suicide. Then over the next few months he began to relise what it was, that something in his eye, was something that nearly everyone has all the time, the spark of life. It’s the shine in someones eye, the very thing that makes you feel alive, Robert saw it and realised that he wanted to live, to breathe, to see.

It hadn’t lasted long and hadn’t come back since that day, and Robert had feared that it had truly gone forever. That was why he was back here in this situation he reflected, he hadn’t been able to keep that spark for more than the few fleeting seconds it had been there for and now he wanted to kill himself again.

But, Robert decided, if that spark was there again, even for a second then that’s it, this whole silly idea goes away, he will continue to live even if he can’t enjoy it properly. All he needed was that spark.

He stared into his own eyes for a long time, minutes or hours could have past and Robert wouldn’t have noticed the difference, he wouldn’t take his eyes off of his reflections eyes.

 If anyone had seen him standing there, in his suit, starring into his own reflection in the most hypnotic way, they may have thought him to be a very confused snake charmer.

Without warning Robert broke the stare and turned to face the wardrobe on the far side of the room. He hadn’t seen the spark he wanted and returned to the task at hand. He thought of it not as killing himself but moving on to a place where he could be happy.

He stepped up into the wardrobe and onto a shoe stand which he had positioned under the tie. He tied the tie tight around his neck, just below his protruding Adam’s apple. He struggled for breath then remembered that that was the idea of this operation.

This was it Robert thought, he was about to leave the world and finally, after all this time be at peace. He began to rock back and forth on the shoe stand. It was hard work to do from the angle Robert was at but eventually he picked up momentum.

 The base of the stand thudded heavily on the floor boards below them and the sound grew louder with every cycle of thuds as Robert built even more speed. Thud. Thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud, thud-thud. Then with a sickening lurch the shoe stand cracked on its front two legs and it was sent tumbling forward, leaving Roberts legs to flop uselessly below his dangling body. The fall from the shoe stand wasn’t great enough to break Robert’s neck and the tie did the trick and began to suck the life out of him instantly. Instinctively his hand gripped at his throat, trying desperately to stop him from dying.

Robert was calm in himself though, although the animalistic part of his brain was going crazy, trying to survive, the logical part of Robert told him that this is what he wanted, that soon he will be at peace, no more pain, no more sadness, he will be happy.

Robert’s eyes felt like they would burst out of their sockets, fearful that that could actually be a possibility and at the prospect of his eyes not conforming with the cleanliness of Robert’s flat Robert closed his eyes, letting the darkness of death absorb. A few more seconds and he would be at peace.

The last breath left Robert's body through a gurgle of choking.